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#dr spencer reid
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The Years
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Warnings: *SMUT* So you embarrass yourself in front of Derek and Spencer, the details of the case are mentioned and are a little intense, and smut. Like, rough, Spencer smut because there is nothing you can say that could convince me that Spencer Reid is a bottom. And swearing.
A/N: AH THE ENDING PROBABLY SUCKS BUT I TRIED REALLY HARD I PROMISE. Also, this is ridiculously long and not all of it is smut. For a hot second this WAS an OC story but I thought you guys would enjoy a self-insert more so I changed it. LOTS AND LOTS OF THANKS TO MY FAV FIC WRITER AND NEW TUMBLR FRIENDS, @reidmorefanfics and @pomsephone Y’all are the best. Also, remember to shower me in reblogs, comments, asks, messages, likes, and anything else you can think of to boost my ego. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING!!!
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“Actually, that reminds me of a joke that I know.” At the front of the crowded lecture hall, a young Dr. Spencer Reid looks over at his partner eagerly, a smile already splitting his lips apart. Derek Morgan, however, looks over at his partner with a mixture of fear and secondhand embarrassment.
“Reid, I don’t think-” Morgan tries to save him, he really does, but Reid tucks his hair behind his ears and ignores him by starting the joke.
“Einstein, Heisenberg, Newton, and Pascal are playing hide and seek. Einstein covers his eyes and begins counting. While Heisenberg and Pascal run off and hide, Newton takes out some chalk and marks a square on the ground with a side length of exactly 1 meter, then sits down inside the square. When Einstein is finished counting and sees Newton sitting on the ground, he yells, "Ha, I've found you, Newton!". Newton however replies, "No you haven't! You've found Pascal!’”
A short, surprised laugh joins Spencer’s small chuckles, dragging his eyes to the location the sound had come from. Derek looks too, completely taken aback that anyone other than Reid had actually understood the joke. Yet, lo and behold, a young girl sitting in the front row with her cheeks stoplight red and her hand nervously covering her mouth.
Proudly, Spencer nods for Morgan to end the talk, his chest a little puffed out and a smug smile twitching at his lips. They wrap things up quickly, eager to grab some food after leaving campus and before heading back to the BAU.
When Spencer turns to gather his things, grabbing his bag, he notices the soft shuffle of feet against the hardwood flooring of the stage. A pair of black converse peek into his peripheral vision, attached to a pair of long legs that make Spencer blush for noticing at all. Lifting his eyes further, he meets the shy gaze of the only person who had laughed at his joke. It came as no surprise when he sees that your tee shirt had a picture of a cat with the words ‘Wanted: Dead and Alive’ in block lettering.
“Dr. Reid,” Your left hand comes up to push a stray lock of hair away from your face, a single gold band wrapped around your left index finger, “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I just, uhm, I had a couple questions?”
Looping the strap of his bag over his head and letting the familiar weight of it settle against his hip before he responds, Spencer ignores the way Derek looks at him by pretending he isn’t there at all.
“Of course,” Spencer meets your eyes, which are a beautiful shade of (y/e/c). “I like the shirt by the way. I’m not usually much of a t-shirt person, but I might wear one like that.” You laugh, shifting on your feet and twisting the ring on your finger.
“Thank you, I got it as a Christmas present. Along with ten billion other nerdy t-shirts. But uhm, I was curious how old you were when you joined the FBI?” Morgan holds his tongue, pretending to shuffle papers around and not pay attention to the poor girl’s crush.
“I was twenty-two. I finished two of my doctorates the year prior.”
“I thought you had to be twenty-three? I’ve always wanted to join the FBI as soon as I could but I thought I had a little more time. That’s what I read anyways. I could be wrong, you would know more than I do.” You looked down at your shoes, kicking the toe of one converse into the wood, your hair falling forward over your shoulders.
“No, you’re right. I had an age waiver. You’re eighteen? Nineteen? You’ve still got some time to prepare.”
“I’m seventeen, actually.” Your lips skewed to the side, the confession barely above a whisper as you continued to stare at your feet. Spencer blanched, unable to contain his surprise. He was quick to school his features, though, when you finally looked back at him.
“You’re seventeen and you understood his joke?” Morgan couldn’t help but cut in now, stepping away from the table he’d been pushing papers around on and toward the two younger people left in the room.
“A pascal is a unit of measurement equal to one Newton per square meter. By sitting in a square meter, Newton was being one newton per square meter. Which is, again, equal to a pascal. So he was Pascal.” A smile had worked it’s way past the nerves that jumped around your body. You weren’t very used to talking to young, attractive, intelligent doctors who worked for the FBI.
“Although, even if I hadn’t understood the science behind the joke I might have still laughed. You see, there is this thing called the Halo Effect, which is basically a cognitive bias you might develop based on your initial impression of someone that can change how you feel about their specific traits. Essentially, one example would be that someone you find attractive may seem funnier or more intelligent simply because you find them attractive.”
It takes all of a second for your face to turn beat red as you realizes your nervous ramblings have made you reveal the silly crush you had started to develop on the young doctor. Derek’s lips purse in amusement when he sees the similar shade of red that has colored his partner’s cheeks.
“Not that I’m saying I find you attractive,” Your heart stops cold in your chest and you are quick to retract the statement. “Not to say you’re ugly either, because that’s not what I’m trying to say at all. Just that my first impression of you as a nice and attr- I mean, intelligent man could have very well made my amusement slightly biased because I was more willing to like you based solely on my first impression of you. Which was that you are very nice and, and intelligent.”
It takes all the willpower in the world for you not to throw yourself down the stairwell later that day, the embarrassment having barely faded even hours later. The two men had been quick to assure you they knew you weren’t saying you had a crush on Dr. Reid, but they were obviously just trying to protect your feelings. They wouldn’t be FBI Profilers if they couldn’t tell you had a crush on him. The conversation was pretty much over after that, you being suddenly desperate to make an escape and Dr. Reid just as eager to leave the campus grounds.
The whole team teased him about his teenage fan for months after it happened, Derek had been quick to let everyone know when they came back. Reid had tried to hide from them by scrunching down into his seat and covering his face with a book, but it hadn’t helped him at all.
Eventually though, both you and Spencer were able to move on from the embarrassing moment, though neither of you forgot it. Those moments where you’re all alone and the most embarrassing moments of your life come to creep up and embarrass you all over again? The memory always came back during those moments.
The team, however, seemed to forget about it, Gideon and Elle leaving and Rossi and Prentiss replacing them as the years faded the memory for them.
It wasn’t until JJ took her new position at the Pentagon and Ashley left after her brief consultation on the case in New Mexico that the memory came back to truly haunt you both.
The whole team had heard whispers of a ‘probationary agent’ that would be stepping in to assist wherever needed. Hotch was good at keeping quiet and avoiding questions on the matter, somehow keeping Penelope just as much out of the loop as the rest of the team.
No one was even sure when the new agent was supposed to be coming until the glass doors to the BAU opened and in stepped a young woman with (y/h/c) hair and (y/e/c) eyes. Derek squinted his eyes, your face tickling the back of his memory in a way that annoyed him. Spencer tensed, his eidetic memory quick to remind him of the seventeen year old girl that had basically confessed she thought he was cute, and then called him ‘not ugly’ to try and cover her tracks.
“Agent (Y/L/N), nice to finally meet you.” Hotch said, holding the door open as you nodded your thanks and slipped inside his office with a box in your arms.
“That must be the probationary agent.” Prentiss directed the comment at Reid, oblivious to the resurfaced embarrassment that boiled his cheeks to that same shade of red he’d been in that lecture hall seven years ago. He kept his book up in front of his face while he tried to cool his cheeks, looking over the top of the binding and into Hotch’s window.
You’re sitting ram-rod straight in the seat in front of Hotch’s desk that is closest to the door, your box of things clutched tightly in your white-knuckled hands. Your hair is still the same length, swaying at your shoulders. You’ve switched the Schrödinger’s cat shirt for a deep velvet red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled at your elbows.
But even with the obvious nerves displayed in your current body language, it’s easy to see you aren’t the same stuttering seventeen year old Reid remembers. You holds steady eye contact with Hotch, nodding and fluidly responding in such a way that the usually stoic unit chief actually breaks into a grin that dimples his cheeks. When he stretches over his desk for a handshake, your left hand comes up and grips Hotch’s firmly.
“I’m glad it’s a girl, it was starting to feel a little too testosteronie around here with JJ gone.” Garcia had made her way into the bullpen, a cup of tea balanced in her bejeweled fingers as she, and the rest of the team, size up the girl heading for Hotch’s door.
“I don’t think ‘testosteronie’ is a word, baby girl.” Derek teases, trying to ignore the nagging feelings that he knows this girl from somewhere. Maybe they’d met on a case? But no, that doesn’t feel right.
“It is now, Derek. Don’t argue with me or I’ll have to punish you.” She brings the lip of her cup up, sipping at the lukewarm tea still inside and patting Morgan’s cheek with her free hand. Hotch’s door finally opens again and you step out after Aaron.
A hush falls over the room, all eyes trained to the newest and now youngest member of the team.
“We’ll do introductions on the plane, for now I need everyone in the conference room for a case.” Hotch is quick to make eye contact with everyone, his gaze stern and demanding.
Spencer is the last one into the room, practically dragging his feet to one of the chairs around the circle table. Thankfully, you were sitting across the table. Somehow you haven’t seemed to notice him.
“Yesterday Dawes County police found the body of Julia Hastings along a hiking trail in Kladon. This is the second body they have found in the area in two weeks, the first belonging to Heather Greenaway. Both victims are in their early to mid twenties. Hands and feet bound, buried face down. Each victim was struck once in the back of the head, making cause of death blunt force trauma.”
From your spot at the table, you glance up with narrowed eyes as you open the file you’d been given at the beginning of the meeting.
“Where did they disappear from?” Reid asks, a connection forming in his brain as each picture and detail flies up from Garcia’s tablet and onto the projected pictures before them.
“Night clubs around the area, they were working on the night they each went missing. Both girls were bartenders, had been working at their new jobs a week before they were kidnapped.”
“Justin Millers had the same M.O., kidnapping new female bartenders fitting this exact victimology and holding them hostage for a course of five days, beating and raping them before eventually hitting them on the back of the head with a tire iron.” You don’t look up from the file as you speak, flipping through the pictures and quickly noticing the small odd similarities in the victims between this case and Millers’ case.
“Millers has been locked away for a year and a half.” Derek pointed out, using the opportunity to stare at the face of the girl he was sure he knew but still couldn’t place. When you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed in a way that reminds him of Reid and your head tilted just a little to the side, he can feel his brain grab onto the memory just before it slips back through his fingers.
“I’d guess a copycat. Something seems different, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Your gaze slides over the table, looking at faces to get a gauge of their opinions on you. When you make eye contact with Reid, your eyes widen just a little before you duck your head. You should have known he was still here at the BAU, you’d only hoped he’d went to another unit out of desperation for this job.
“We’ll look into that theory, for now I just want a profile as if this unsub is working from his own killing preferences. We’ll discuss more on the way there. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch stands, flipping the cover over the top of his iPad before making his way out of the room. Go bags are grabbed, certain persons avoid bumping into other certain persons, and then the eight hour plane ride to Kladon, Nebraska begins.
“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Emily tests the name on her lips, having chosen to move by the younger girl after the fourty five minute theory discussion that started the plane ride.
“You can call me (Y/N/N), that’s what my best friend calls me.” You had popped the first two buttons open of your dress shirt and slipped your shoes off to tuck your feet underneath you. Tucked between your thigh and the arm of the seat is a book with a Greek title, in your hands is the open case file.
“Just your best friend?” Rossi asks from across the way, just as curious about the new girl as the rest of them, but a little better at hiding it.
“She’s really my only friend.” You shrug, but not in such a way that you seem bothered by the fact. You reach up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. Reid notices the gold ring that still circles your left index finger, light coming from the window glinting off the metal when you move. It’s the only jewelry you wears.
“A bit of a loner?” Derek joins the conversation, moving up the aisle of the jet with a cup of something hot cradled in his hands. He takes the seat directly in front of you, blowing at the liquid in his cup.
“I was more focused on getting through school than making friends. Emma just happened to be the only person who wouldn’t let me shake her.” There’s a smile on your lips as you talk about your best friend, your eyes soft.
“What did you go to college for?” Derek is fishing, looking for something to tell him where he knows you from. It amuses Reid, who has sequestered himself into a corner a little further away from you than everyone else.
“I have a masters in philosophy, with a focus in Ancient Greek philosophy. I have a bachelor’s in Greek, which is the only other living language I can speak and read outside of English, and I have two doctorates; one in Classic Studies and one in Criminology.” Rossi whistles, shaking his head and leaning back into his seat to express what everyone else is feeling.
“You young people just keep getting smarter and smarter. You know how many doctorates I had at your age? None. You know how many I have now?” You look at him with genuine curiosity, drinking in all the information you can about the people around you like it was a class you were taking to survive.
“None.” The laugh that bubbles from your lips is infectious and carefree, it pulls Reid’s attention away from his book and it drags Hotch from the constant state of worry that he mentally paces in. Emily, Derek, and Rossi all exchange looks before their own laughter fills the air. It’s nice.
The feeling reminds you of that scene in Mary Poppins where Dick Van Dyke and Ed Wynn laugh themselves into the ceiling. So light and carefree that it could lift them into the sky.
“Why all the attention on the Greek?” Prentiss manages when the laughter subsides, reaching down for the book the young doctor has tucked away. Η φόνισσα, it reads with a black and white picture of arms twisted to the side of the bookcover. You make no move to grab for it, letting the other woman flip through the pages.
“My father was a Greek Philosophy professor before he died, I suppose it’s my way of trying to stay close to him.” Prentiss looks up from the pages, a look of sympathy in her eyes.
“And your mother?” The change in your entire demeanor is like cold water on the conversation, freezing the group in their spots. You reach for the book, tucking it back into the space between your thigh and the seat.
“I don’t know.” It’s the only blatant lie you’ve told since they started talking to you, averting your eyes and shifting in your seat. No one presses the topic, giving the new girl the space you need.
You take the case file with you when you go to make a cup of coffee in the small kitchenette situated in the back of the plane. Reid is already back there, pouring a steady stream of sugar into the otherwise black liquid.
“Dr. Reid.” You nod your head in greeting, avoiding his eyes by setting your folder on the counter and pretending to read it. You’ve been going over every detail of the case for so long that you’ve memorized everything there is to know. There are notes and theories scribbled into the margins and little sticky notes with questions scattered around the papers.
“It helps to step away for a little bit, that way when we land you come back to it with fresh eyes.” The utensils drawer clicks shut as Reid grabs a spoon to stir his coffee, risking the chance to finally look at you.
You’re twisting the ring on your finger and chewing the inside of your cheek. Without your shoes on, the top of your head comes to his shoulders.
When you look up at him, (y/e/c) eyes thoughtful and just as curious as the day they met, Reid can’t fight the urge that draws his gaze to your lips. The skin there is so very soft looking, surprising him when the thought of kissing them hits him like a train.
He clears his throat, focusing all of his attention on the coffee cup in front of him. The sugar is completely stirred in at this point, but he kind of wants to stay in the hopes that you’ll strike up a conversation.
“But everyone is different so you don’t have to listen to me, just do whatever helps you.” His shoulders lift in a shrug and he’s glad that nobody is there to see him interact with this girl. They would know how he felt before he could even come to terms with it himself.
As quickly as you are there, you leave. Completely flustered and unsure how to go about navigating a relationship that’s foundation was an unintentional love confession. Maybe, you thought as you leaned into your seat and closed your eyes, if I just ignore him then everything will be fine.
By the time the jet touched down in Nebraska, you had fallen into a dead sleep with your book sitting open in your lap. Emily was the one to reach out and gently shake your shoulder, the smile on her face gentle and motherly. Still blinking away sleep, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and book before rushing for the exit.
Unfortunately for you, the shoe laces on one of your shoes hadn’t been completely tied. Add that to the speed in which you were trying to separate yourself from Reid, and you managed to trip over your feet and right into the person you were trying to avoid.
Your bag hit the ground, the book following suit as a warm hand grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled. When you collided with someone’s chest, you didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Reid smelled like old books, laundry detergent, and cinnamon.
“Your shoe is untied.” He said, his voice rumbling in his chest. You didn’t look up, afraid the heat in your cheeks would give you away. You looked down instead, noticing the way your feet were inside the breadth of his stance. One shoe’s laces laid precariously around your foot as if mocking you. Quickly, you took a step away and almost tripped again on your bag. You caught yourself on one of the seats, holding a hand out to keep Reid from grabbing you again.
“Thank you, I’m okay. Really.” You didn’t meet his eyes, every lewd thought you’d had during that stupid lecture about his lips and hands and hair came rushing back at you with every glance. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could see each fantasy written on your face like a lusty, ten-cent romance novel.
Morgan, having stopped to watch the two doctors in your clearly flustered states, suddenly felt it click in his brain. Sure, you were older and not as squirrelly as he remembered, but the way you were looking at his partner was nearly the exact same as you had seven years ago.
Feeling smug for finally figuring it out, he walked up to Spencer with his bag thrown over his shoulder, stopping beside him as they both watched you rush for the exit.
“Can you imagine someone having a crush on you for seven years? Oh, wait.” Bending down to grab his bag, Spencer shook his head in such a way that a few loose curls tangled on his eyelashes. A simple sweep of his hand across his face helped to push it away.
“It took you long enough to figure it out.” Spencer took the lead, dreading the car ride with Derek to the medical examiners. He had been hoping his older partner wouldn’t remember who you were, at least, until the case was solved.
“Oh ho ho, don’t think you can avoid this conversation with insults, pretty boy.” Morgan was hot on his tail, and that was exactly where he stayed for the next three days that the team was in Nebraska.
The killer was, in fact, a massive fan of the infamous Justin Millers. It was just a matter of pinpointing which of the crazy fanatics he was, which might have been easier if the local populace was more open to talking to law enforcement.
It was by a brilliant stroke of luck, or rather misfortune, that the team realized sending you undercover would help on many different levels. Not only did you fit the victimology, (all they needed to do was get you a ‘job’ at one of the local bars) but you would also be able to get information from the civilians that were unwilling to talk to the FBI.
Four days into your undercover mission, you found yourself wiping down the counter after closing. The band was packing up their equipment on stage and your boss had already left. Laily, the only other bartender here tonight, was flirting with the drummer while you closed things up behind the counter.
As was customary, the members of your team had taken turns following you around everyday just in case anything happened. Today just so happened to be Spencer’s turn, you’d managed to slip him into the back room before all the customers had left for the night. It was the only reason you gave Laily the okay when she asked if you would be cool closing by yourself tonight.
“I can’t believe after five years of college, I’m back to bartending.” You grumbled, shouldering the backroom door open with a box full of beer in your hands. Spencer jumped up from the crate he’d been leaning against, holding the back of the door open so you could get in a little easier.
“You were a bartender before?” He asked curiously, trying to ignore the way the low-cut black uniform shirt you were wearing fit against your figure and twisted his insides. Factor in the tight jeans that hung on your hips and the sheen of sweat on your skin from the hot summer night and he could barely focus, let alone protect you from any possible threats.
“The years between my college graduation and my joining the FBI, yeah. I could have done something different, I guess, but I wanted to have a normal young adult job before I spent the rest of my life chasing serial killers and such.” You turned to face him, actually meeting his eyes for the first time this week.
Unlike you, he was wearing his FBI Kevlar. The navy blue tie that he wore was tucked into the top of it, the baby blue sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up around his elbows. You, yourself, were having an awful time trying to keep from getting all kinds of flustered just looking at him.
The young profiler you remember was all wiry and clean cut, the man in front of you is more scraggly. His hair curls around his jawline and his forearms are far more attractive than anybody’s forearms ought to be.
His parents were just showing off, casually bringing a child into the world that looks like that.
“I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He blurted, surprising himself. You could tell by the way his brows dipped down and he took a step back immediately after saying it. Even his cheeks were a little pink.
“What happened between us was like seven years ago and all you did was tell me you had a crush on me. And then take it back. I just don’t want it to affect our work relationship because everyone already likes you a lot and I want to get the chance to like you as well.” For someone who always seems so very shy and awkward, his eyes look directly into yours, narrowing just a little. His tongue pokes out from between his lips and turns all of your bones to jelly underneath you.
He just ages like fine wine and you know that, should you be offered a permanent position at the BAU, that you would have to spend the rest of your working days keeping yourself in check while the man in front of you continued to evolve into a more gorgeous version of himself every year. The Spencer you remember had felt like peak Spencer, now this Spencer felt like peak Spencer, but who is to say that five years from now, when he decides to grow a little stubble and style his hair differently, that he wouldn’t somehow get even more attractive?
You open your mouth to come up with some bullshit answer that you didn’t really mean in order to smooth things over, when the door opens again. Spencer, standing directly infront of said door, looks not unlike a deer caught in the headlights of a truck barreling right at him going way too fast on a backroad.
Time crawls at an unusual pace, the door slowly creaking open and Laily’s voice filtering in the opening. Why did he have to wear that stupid vest? Surely the FBI has bullet proof vests you could wear under your clothing. The only idea you could come up with was, honestly, not a very good one. But it was the only one you had.
Practically launching yourself across the room, you catch Spencer’s lips against your own like the world depends on it. Using your own hands, you position Spencer’s arms around you with one hand on the back of your head and the other grabbing underneath your leg that hooks around his waist. The vest uncomfortably digs into your chest with how close your bodies are against one another, your arms now thrown around his neck, but if he keeps kissing you like this then you’ll be inclined to ignore it.
Just seconds ago he had been begging you to have a normal relationship despite your silly ‘past’ crush, now his tongue was fighting for dominance in your mouth. The irony was not lost on you.
“Oh.” Laily gasps a little when she sees you in such a compromising position. The lights from the bar illuminating every detail so that she could see the way Spencer’s fingers desperately tangled in the strands of your hair or how the muscles in his forearm strained as he hungrily pulled your body even closer than before.
The blush on your cheeks and neck are real when you pull your lips away, fire erupting in the pit of your stomach when Spencer catches your bottom lip in between his teeth for just a second. The look in his eyes is devilish when you tilt your head over your shoulder to meet her gaze.
“I’m sorry Laily, this is my boyfriend, Lance. I just- I heard about all those girls that have been going missing and I asked if he would drive me home.” The look in your coworkers eyes is all you need to know that this does not look like just a ride home. Although, it very well could have led to a ride somewhere if she had been just a handful of minutes slower.
“Nice to meet you, Lance. Gwen, I’ll see you tomorrow. Just,” the mischievous twinkle in her eyes does not go unnoticed by the two doctors in the room still tangled around each other, “maybe clock out before things get anymore heated.” She teases, the tone of her voice suggesting that you will be hearing more of this tomorrow.
“Bye, Laily!” The door clicks shut behind her, followed by the chuckles and giggles of Laily and the band as they leave for the night. You relax into Spencer’s arms, moving as if to pull out of them before they tense around you.
“We should be safe now.” You whisper, looking up into his eyes that burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in them before. That damn tongue sweeps across those perfect lips again, drawing your attention and reminding you that you now know what they feel like locked with yours.
“I think I hear somebody coming.” He whispers back, aware that you can both hear the soft bang of the front door closing and locking shut from the outside. Since the killings, the door was always locked if employees were still inside, as a safety precaution. Nobody else was coming in tonight unless they had a key.
Your lips meet his anyways, too tired to pretend that the heat between you wasn’t there. If this was the excuse he needed to kiss you, then you were all the more willing to give it to him. His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, causing them to open against his mouth and deepen the kiss.
Both of his wide hands splay against your hips, curling into the soft skin there and pulling you toward him with such force that you nearly trip. The hard edges of his Kevlar vest dig into your ribs and collarbone, the rough material scratching against your exposed skin as you push yourself up on your toes. When he breaks from the kiss, both of you gasping for air not from the length of it by from the passion, it is not to end your tryst.
His lips find the pulse at your neck, sucking a bruise at the soft skin there and pulling a moan from deep within your chest.
“Won’t- Won’t Morgan and Prentiss get worried,” your brain feels like the motherboard of a computer that Spencer has taken into his hands and slammed into a countertop, you can’t think when his teeth nip a love bite to the hickey he’s made on your neck, “if we, uhm, we take too long?”
If you thought the Spencer you met seven years ago was different from the Spencer you knew now, it was only because you’d never seen his bright hazel brown eyes darken with lust from beneath those impossibly long golden lashes. He was a completely different person as he unstrapped himself from the Kevlar, laying it on the floor with a solid thunk before gathering you back into his arms.
“They’ll be okay,” He said in between kisses trailed along your jawline. His movements are confident as he dips a hand down the front of your jeans and into your underwear. Your arms tighten around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck when his fingers find the already wet entrance to your sex. His answering growl does nothing to keep you from coming undone as he presses the pad of his thumb to the bundle of nerves there. “I’m guessing it won’t be long before I have you in the palm of my hands, anyways.”
You rock your hips into him, your eyes fluttering shut with a gasp when he thrusts two long fingers inside of you. His other arm is wrapped around the center of your back, holding you to him because lord knows you can’t be trusted on your own two feet at a moment like this.
“Is this why you planned on ignoring me? Because you wouldn’t be able to handle it if I didn’t give you this?” You whimper a response, too focused on the relentless pace he has set with his fingers to come up with anything coherent. Everything about the moment is raw and animalistic, every fantasy you’d had about him during the fifty minute lecture did not even begin to touch on the feeling of his hand actually inside of you.
“Spencer, please.” You whined, dropping your arms from his shoulders and gripping onto his biceps like it will keep your soul from leaving your body. Yet, as heavenly as this felt, and as much as it exceeded your fantasies, you wanted more. Every part of you craved the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, sticky with sweat and feverish to the touch.
On a tight time constraint, Spencer doesn’t make you beg anymore than that. Instead, he delights in the way you cry out when he pulls his hand out of your pants and up to his lips. Your own lips part with a tiny popping sound when you watch him put those same fingers into his mouth with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Strip.” He commands, licking the taste of you off his lips and leisurely working at the knot of his tie. You don’t waste a second in crossing your arms over your body to pull the black material over your head and drop it at your feet. Next to come off is your shoes, clattering across the wooden floor when you kick them to the side.
By the time you make it to your pants, Spencer has only undone a quarter of the navy blue buttons on his shirt.
“I need you now, Spencer.” The buttons slip through your fingers, your hands shaking with excitement more than nerves. Although, the nerves are definitely apart of it. Never in a million years did you think you would be here; in the backroom of a bar in Nebraska, with Spencer Reid doing salacious things to you. While on your first case with the BAU, nontheless.
Doing a complete one-eighty, his hands come up to cover your own just before the last button comes undone. His touch is gentle and prompts you to look up into his coffee colored eyes. The light from the single bulb dangling from the ceiling is no good, and yet somehow he manages to look like a piece of artwork painted by the most skilled hand known to mankind.
“We don’t have to do this here. We don’t have to do this at all, if you don’t want to.” You squint your eyes up at him, using your fingernail to pop the last button through the hole on the other side of the shirt. When you let go, the pieces fall away from his chest like he’s caught in slow motion on a Calvin Klein commercial.
“I said I needed you now, not later.” In response, he scoops you into his arms and wraps your legs around his hips. The electricity that pops and crackles between you is nearly visible in the dimly lit room, the fabric of your bra skimming against his collarbone when you breath.
The little whines and whimpers that fall from your lips are driving Spencer crazy, forcing him to push through the door and lower you to a shorter countertop meant for making drinks. Tonight it would be used for other, more wicked things.
“Someone’s a bit excited.” You breathed. There was no way you could take a full breath in a moment like this. Everything was so heated and yet nothing was really happening.
“Shut the fuck up.” And then he was kissing you, his lips warm against your own. Despite the fact that you didn’t think it was possible, he pulled you closer. You knitted your fingers into his curls and gave them a slight tug. God, you loved these curls.
He began sucking a heated trail down your throat, quite possibly leaving a pathway of hickeys. You would be putting makeup over them for at least thirty minutes before you left your hotel room tomorrow, but for now they were heavenly fire against your skin.
Spencer took away his lips long enough to strip from his remaining clothes and throw them over his shoulder. When he stood in front of you looking like a Roman god, bared to no one but yourself, it made you feel like the luckiest person alive.
“I’m so in love with your body.” He groaned just before his lips found your breast, sucking on your nipple. Your head fell back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You fumbled for a moment, patting around the countertop before your brain turned on long enough to get your hand between your legs and down to his naked erection.
He moaned into your breast as you began to move your hand. He let go of your boob and went straight back up to your mouth. His whole body was tensed up but his lips were soft as they parted against against your lips. The whole world felt like it was on fire, and his every touch was another lick of flames.
You move your hand faster, enjoying every groan and grunt and moan that finds it’s way out of his mouth and into yours. He’s already close to orgasm, you can tell by the way he breaks from the kiss, your foreheads pressed together and your breath stirring in the small space between your faces. His grip is tight when he grabs your wrist to make you stop.
“No.” Every nerve and thought and feeling was consumed by you and everything else short-circuited. Spencer couldn’t get the words out of his mouth to properly express what he wanted, it wasn’t often that the young genius was rendered speechless.
But you knew, you knew that he wanted to be inside of you. You knew that because you wanted him inside of you just as much, if not more, than he did. You shift your hips around on the counter, getting closer to the edge as you widen your legs.
“I’m on the pill.” You whisper, watching the sudden realization that he hadn’t come prepared widen his eyes for just a small fraction of a second. Just as quickly, the fear turns into that devlish grin you weren’t aware someone so beautifully shy and awkward could possess.
“Thank you, Pincus, Sanger, and McCormick.” You barely have time to question the comment, although later you’ll realize he’s probably talking about three of the minds behind the invention of the birth control pill. No longer taking his time, Spencer positions himself right at your entrance before running the tip of his cock along your wet folds.
“Fuck!” He slams into you, running his entire length into your body, hitting depths you didn’t even realize had never been touched until he was thrusting against them. It sends a wave of pleasure through every cell in your body as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him like you’re running out of oxygen.
He holds onto your hips as he repeatedly rams his hips into yours. He has buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting every curse and moan muffle into your skin. The glasses under the counter jangle with every merciless thrust inside you. The sharp bite of his nails digging into your hips makes you hiss, but it’s more from pleasure than pain.
There’s no dirty talking anymore. Every ounce of pretend you both go through while around one another is shed like seconds skins, leaving two people so hungry for each other that it had been too much to bare.
Your fingers are twisted around the short curls at the nape of his neck and your teeth are biting into the solid muscle at his shoulder. The bar always had whiffs of sex and sweat in the air that mixed with the smell of alcohol and perfume, but now it was the strongest scent in the room.
Even as your orgasm starts to build in your belly, you want more. You want to hold him so close that your brain wouldn’t be able to distinguish where you ended and he began. Letting go of his shoulder, your head lolls back and your own nails draw long lines of red down his neck.
“Spencer!” His name leaves your lips in a mix of a sob and a moan, the ecstasy of just his touch alone driving you higher and higher. The sting of his nails leave your hips, one hand reaching to the place where your connected and the other coming up to grip your jaw in his hand.
His thumb rubs against the little button of pleasure that causes your legs to start to tingle like they’ve been asleep for too long. All the while, he ruthless pace doesn’t falter. Sweat sticks a few of his curls to his temples, providing a beautiful glowing effect across the smooth planes and angles of his shoulders and collarbones.
He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss that ends much too quickly for your taste, but you can feel the rapid exhalation of his breaths as it fans across your cheek.
“Come.” Usually a man of so many words, you had always assumed it would be the same in his sex life. Maybe it was true in most cases, but right now his desire to see you succumb to the pleasure of him inside of you outweighs the need to taunt and tease you with words.
Meeting his eyes, getting off on the smug look that twists his lips as much as you are getting off on his dick actually inside of you, you let yourself fall into the sweet release of your orgasm. Spencer doesn’t stop as you come around him, instead he quickens the pace as his own release works its way to the edge.
Your legs are still shaking when he buries himself into you with one final thrust, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He chases the sting of his teeth away with the softness of the kiss that follows, loosing himself in the aftershocks of your own orgasm.
Neither of you move, although he ends the kiss to gasp for air with your foreheads once again pressed against each other. His eyes are closed, the dark pink on his cheeks and neck making him look so much younger than he was. You keep your eyes open, trying to drink in every second and commit it to your memory the way it would forever be in his.
When he steps away, leaving you feeling much more empty than you’d felt in a really long time, the cocktail of your orgasms spill down the inside of your thighs. Suddenly feeling a bit self conscious, you slip off the counter with your arm wrapped around your bared breasts.
The air seems too cold, the bar too quiet, and your mind was too loud with insecurities as you tried to steady yourself on wobbly knees. Nevertheless, you attempt to make a beeline for the backroom door. If you go and put your clothes back on then maybe you could go back to pretending like he doesn’t exist and everything will be fine.
That is until one of those solidly handsome arms come out to stop you in your pursuit of denial.
He’s still naked, standing next to you like a statue carved by the hands of Michaelangelo himself. Although, you aren’t sure the renissance artist would sculpt nail marks into his skin, the signs of your heated escapade only darkening with time. You can only imagine what your own neck looks like, several spots of sensitive skin still overly stimulated from his wandering mouth.
From your vantage point, you can see his swollen lips open to say something, probably that this had been a mistake, when his phone rings from the pair of pants he’d so carelessly thrown to the floor earlier. A small frown mars his angelic features, the side of his mouth twitching with aggravation.
His lips on yours are a surprise you weren’t expecting, despite the sexual encounter you’d just had. This kiss speaks more words than he could ever possibly say, easing all the post-coital dysphoria that comes with the sudden fall from the high you’d been on. It’s gentle and warm, the hand on your arm squeezes reassuredly before he breaks away with one last peck to your forehead. It nearly tears your beating heart out of your chest.
“Come to my hotel room later.” And then he bends down to snag the phone from his pants with an aggravated growl, turning away from you as he lies through his teeth to a worried Prentiss on the other end.
In the backroom, having shimmied back into your pants and going to put your shirt back over your head, you fingers find your lips. They’re just a little swollen, exactly like his, but you wonder if he can still feel that final kiss against them the way that you could.
Oh boy, were you in trouble.
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spencerseance · a year ago
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Story Time
Y/n feels a little neglected by her boyfriend and his constant working so she takes matters into her own hands.
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Category: Smut (NSFW)
Content Warning: Thigh riding, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, light degradation, Daddy kink
Word Count: 3,142
MASTERLIST
Reader
I always loved the atmosphere to Spencer's apartment. It was mature and scholarly, fitting for the Doctor who owned it. It was a shocking juxtaposition to the relationships I maintained in college. Back then all I knew was grungy dorm rooms and college boys who tasted like alcohol, which also fit perfectly for each other.
It had low lighting and sophisticated artwork on the walls. A lovely vintage record player sat by the wall under his plaques and degrees, along with a collection of music under it. Of course, he always preferred Mozart but I've slowly started to introduce him by more recent music. And by "Recent", I mean the 70's at the absolute latest. He was a man of refined taste, and who was I to judge him for that? But relationships were all about compromise. And his music choice just so happened to bring back back traumatic memories of my middle school violin lessons. So we decided to incorporate some Queen and David Bowie as well.
I scanned through the collection we had assembled with my fingers running over the labels as I read. Finally I settled on an old Paul Anka record I got from my grandmother. Honestly, I didn't know it was salvageable until a few weeks ago, and since then I haven't been able to stop playing it. I pushed it into the player and put the needle down onto my favorite track. The song echoed through the area of his large apartment. I smiled gently to myself as I stood up, swaying gently along to the sounds coming from the machine. Listening to the gentle words of love and lust, I couldn't help but connect it to my own experience.
Spencer and I haven't had sex in over two weeks. That may not seem like that long, but it feels like i'm in the parched desert, searching for an oasis. Which is ironic, because everything that he does makes me so wet. I would see him lick his fingers before turning a page, and I would think, God, do I wish I was that copy of... The Magical Mathematics of Quantum Physics. Then I would see him fidgeting with the belt synched around his waist and imagined how it would go if he were to pull it off and bind my hands with it, or maybe how the leather would feel whipped against my skin. Then the vicious cycle continues.
Then, an idea popped into my head. If he didn't want to sleep with me, I would be off of him before he could say the word. But I figured it was worth a shot. I looked across the room to see Spencer hunched over his desk, lost in an old book under the glow of the vintage table lamp he found at a thrift store. Lots of his furniture he got there, which only added to the worn in yet experienced aesthetic to his place.
Spencer was an academic and he always loved to learn. He felt most fulfilled when he was expanding his mind and achieving new accomplishments at work. I was so incredibly proud of him, and everything he managed to accomplish at such a young age. But, It could be a little disheartening to be ignored for a book on physics or homework he had to grade. Or even worse, ignored for a work file filled with serial killers and cadavers.
"Baby?" I asked softly, he hummed in response, "do you wanna dance with me?"
"Um," He coughed, and that was all I really needed to hear. "Not right now, I just got to a good part."
This was a minor setback, but I had a back up plan.
"Okay. I'm going to go get my PJ's on then." I sung, smiling as my plan was set into motion.
"Okay." He said, already preoccupied with his book again.
I went into our bedroom and slid off my jeans and heavy fall sweater, and then threw them in the laundry bin because I know how he loves tidiness. I slid on a lacy black negligee that I've never worn before, and took down my hair, letting it fall down onto my shoulders in waves. I stepped back into the living room and turned down the volume on the record player just a little bit.
"Spencer?" I called, and he hummed again in response, just like he did minutes before. "Do you think that I could sit in your lap and you can read me your book?"
He finally looked up from his book and he did a double take when he saw the things I was wearing, as well as the things I was not wearing underneath it. "Wh-while you wear that?" He sputtered out.
"Well, I told you I was changing."
"Yes, but I didn't think- I mean, you want me to... um... yes. I can do that." He finally gave a solid response.
"Good." I said with a gentle smile. I approached his desk with a certain confidence that only comes with being looked at the way Spencer just looked at me. His eyes followed me as I approached him and I could tell that he was getting more nervous by the second. I liked that I could make him nervous as easily as he did me. He was a smart boy, he could figure out what I was planning on doing. But, he didn't seem to know how to react. So instead he tried not to react at all. He failed miserably.
I stepped in between his legs and sat down on his thigh facing him. I felt him tense up under me. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in the crook of his neck. His large hand found the small of my back and rubbed up and down the length of my spine and leaving tingles in his wake. I was in control for the time being, but based on this touch alone, he didn't plan on that lasting long. At least if this went where he thought it was going.
"Okay," he started, adjusting his hips under me and clearing his throat before he spoke again. He has read to me before in the past, my favorite being either Lolita or A Hero of Our Time in its original Russian. Now, I didn't speak Russian, but hearing him speak the language as well as he could his own was a memorable experience for my heart, my brain, and my ovaries alike. "The sun was gone. Now the first stars were shining and the moon had brightened the fields of grass and wheat. Still the Illustrated Man's pictures glowed like charcoals in the half light, like scattered rubies and emeralds, with Rouault colors and Picasso colors and the long, pressed-out El Greco bodies."
His voice was strong as sure, like this was a lecture he's given thousands of times at Georgetown. But this was one of his favorite books of all time, The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury. With that eidetic memory of his, I knew for a fact that he could read this book with his eyes closed, or even without a book in his hands at all.
As he quickly made his way through the pages of the story, I gradually began to rock my hips back and forth against his thigh, slowly building up friction against my core. Spencer stopped reading, "What are you doing?" He stammered out, bringing a satisfied smirk to my face and pink heat to his.
"Keep going." I mumbled against his neck, speeding up the rate of the grinding of my hips. My arms snuck from around his neck to down his chest and around his back. I let out a gentle moan as I felt the stimulation on my clit. My eyes were closed but I could feel his on me. He coughed and struggled to bring his attention back to the pages in front of him.
"Um, the pictures were moving, each in its turn, for a brief mi-minute or two... There in the moon... the moonlight, with the tiny tinkling thoughts and the distant sea voices, it seemed each little drama was en-enacted." The tone of his voice drifted to near silence as he approached the end of his sentence. He cleared his throat again, and I could almost see the big cogs turning in his brain. He was surely calculating something. I don't know what it was, but if it had anything to do with me or the throbbing cock I felt through the thin fabric of his slacks, then I encouraged him to test his theory full heartedly.
Then I felt his leg begin to bounce under me, making me moan at the desperate stimulation, and his voice grew sure again as he read. I saw a smirk on his face and the timbre of his words feigned innocence but lewdness sunk through nonetheless.
"Spenc-" I moaned and he stopped the movement of his leg and covered my mouth with his hands. I gasped, though it was muffled by his palm.
"Not a fucking word." he growled lowly into my ears, making me feel butterflies deep down inside me. "You wanted me to read to you, so you are going to stay quiet until I finish the chapter. Understand?"
I almost responded yes sir, but I kept quiet and nodded urgently. "Good girl." he praised, but he didn't move his hand from my mouth. His two of his long fingers slipped in my mouth and pressed down on my tongue. Then, after flipping the page again, his other hand reached in between my thighs, nothing separating us but the lacy black panties I put in just for him.
He continued to read the passage, and though there wasn't much left in the chapter, it felt like he was reading me the entirety of an encyclopedia since I couldn't react to the way he touched me. His fingers moved the drenched fabric to the side, and plunged deep into my heat without any warning.
I choked on a whimper that he forbade to escape my mouth with his fingers standing guard there. My eyes squeezed shut as he read. He read so authoritatively that by sound alone, you might have assumed that he was giving a seminar to an auditorium full of people.
Spencer added another finger inside of me, and he increased their speed. He pumped in and out of me and moved his fingers in a come hither motion, his thumb rapidly circled around my clit.
I bit down on the fingers in my mouth to keep from crying out in pleasure. I rapidly reached my orgasm, which had arrived rather quickly after being deprived from his appetitive touch for so long. I released onto his fingers with a choked sob, and he replaced hands with the one in my lap, making me suck my own juices off his fingers.
I didn't even notice that he stopped reading until I was flipped and bent over across his snaky desk. I gasped as his actions forced the breath out of my lungs. He pinned my hands tightly behind my back, like he was arresting me.
"Are you arresting me, Agent?" I quipped slickly, "You're gonna have to call my lawyer."
"Did I say you can fucking talk?" He scolded, ripping his tie of his neck and tying my hands together. Then he slid my thong down my legs and I stepped out of them. "Since you wanted to act like a desperate fucking whore, I'm going to fuck you like one. You don't speak unless spoken to, you don't cum unless invited, do you understand me?" He spoke authoritatively, undoing the buckle of his belt and unzipping his pants.
"Yes, Daddy, I understand."
"Good. Now what do you want Daddy to do to you, little girl?"
"I want you to fuck me."
"Like?" he coerced, tighting the fabric restraints around my wrists. I tried to see his cock spring free in my peripherals as I heard him slide his clothing down his thighs.
"I want you to fuck me li-like the desperate whore I am." He shoved my panties into my mouth and I groaned into the fabric, tasting myself on it.
He lined up against my sopping entrance, running himself up and down, before slamming his member all the way into me. I cried out loudly, but it was muffled by the fabric he stuffed into my mouth, like an apple into a roasted pig's. His fingers dug into my hips so hard that I was positive there would be bruises there tomorrow.
Spencer pounded into me rhythmically, and with such power that the desk was shaking. His pens and décor fell off the table as it banged violently into the wall.
"You're so fucking tight, baby girl," he moaned raspy as his head fell back in complete, unmitigated ecstasy. "So, so fucking wet. Is this all for me?"
"Yes, Daddy," I mumbled out, struggling to keep my eyes opened. He removed the panties from my mouth as a reward.
"Mmm, good girl." He moaned his praises and I felt both my heart and my pussy flutter. I felt all of him inside me, stretching my walls out. I felt him in my chest as he pounded into me, and my legs started to tremble. My pussy clenched around his cock and he swore under his breath.
He was losing it slowly but surely. He was a mess of desperate curses and praises, and his cock twitching inside me was a dead giveaway. I wiggled my ass against him and his hands tightened their grip on my hips, stabilizing my teasing movements. Then, one of his hands reached around to my clit and moved his fingers in rapid circles.
I cried out in pleasure and my toes curled into the carpet below me. I had to bite my tongue from screaming his name as to not brake the rules he commanded to me prior to our venereal actions. I was reaching my peak, but he wouldn't allow me to climax without his permission, yet I couldn't ask or else that would disobey his other command. So instead, I just whined and moaned and hoped to god that he would help me with my needs.
"You ready to come, dirty girl?" He asked delicately, his body still slamming into mine so hard that the impact stung.
"Y-yes, Sir, I am."
"Then come for me." He growled and immediately I felt the knot in my belly aching from build up immediately start unwinding as reaches my release. I was writhing beneath him, a mess of desperate pleads and cries. The way I was tied up, I resembled an animal who had been captured by hunters. He was the hunter, and I was the pray, and he was never planning on letting me think otherwise.
And then, after a couple more sloppy thrusts, he pulled his cock out of me and used his hand to finish himself all over my ass and lower back. I felt his warm seed rain down on me as he moaned from the pleasure of his own hand.
I wanted so desperately to see his face but in my restrained state I could only see so much. But I could feel him gently fall on top of me, pressing delicate kisses to my back and shoulders moving his hands against my body so amiably that I could have started crying. We caught our breath and came down from our highs, and he quickly undid his tie around my wrists. I stretched out my arms, taking advantage of the mobility in them I missed during our activity. I didn't think that the necktie would be able to get that tight, but the marks appearing in the restraints place told me otherwise
"God, I fucking love story time," I said with a laugh, looking down at my bruising wrists. I turned around to see him redoing his belt. He left the room for a minute, but he quickly came back with a warm, wet rag and some lavender scented lotion.  He wiped me down from all of the DNA he left on my skin, and then he rubbed the lotion delicately into my aching wrists. I just watched him as he did it, with the ghost of a smile twitching across my face. When he finished and put down the two objects, he looked at me shyly like a puppy I had scolded. I furrowed my eyebrows.
"Spencer, are you o-" He hugged me tightly. "-kay"
This confused me, but I accepted the affection anyway. I wrapped my arms tightly around the man who normally towered over me. His face buried into my neck, and my fingers found their way into his errant curls.
"I haven't touched you in so long... and I'm so sorry."
"That's why your upset?" I couldn't help but laugh, "Spencer, that isn't something you have to apologize for."
"But you've asked me, and I told you no. I've been so stressed out lately and I haven't been giving you what you deserve and I-"
"Shh," I pressed my finger to his lips, "this is silly. I think it's adorable that you care this much. But, Spencer, you don't have to touch me when you don't want to."
He snuggled into me even further, like he was trying to absorb into me, "You're not upset?"
"No, I'm not," I laughed lightly, my breath moving his hair like a breeze blowing through grass. I rubbed his back lightly in patterns and he sighed into my shoulder, "And even if I was, I wouldn't remember after that. Jesus, Spencer, you fucked me into next month."
"They don't call me The Tardis for nothing." He stood up and I burst out laughing, covering my mouth with my hand.
"That was the worst thing I've ever heard," I joked back, "I am not gonna call you that."
"Even if it means I'll do that again?" He questioned me, raising his eyebrows.
I sighed and pet his fluffy hair like a dog, "Very good point, Spence... If you'll do that again, I'd call you the thinga-ma-jigger from Dr Seuss if that's what you want."
"That's what I like to hear" he said with a chuckle, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards our bedroom to go to to sleep, "And y/n?" I hummed in response, and he bowed himself as we walked speak lowly into my ear, "I love story time too."
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Funhouse Mirror (Reid Request)
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Request: Reader, who typically dresses masculine/reserved shows up to the FBI Halloween event dressed very feminine and everyone is surprised. - @reidmorefanfics​ A/N: (3/29) I’ve just heavily edited this piece, so I hope the re-readers and new readers both enjoy! Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader 
 Category: 
Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: 
Semi-public sex, fingering, penetrative sex Word Count: 4.8k
MASTERLIST ——————————————————
Some call it Mischief Night; others call it Devil’s Night. No matter what you call it, ’twas the night before Halloween, and Spencer Reid insisted that we all gather at the BAU to celebrate after a particularly terrible case.
Normally, I would have whined a lot more about having to return there after a long week at work, but not tonight.
Because I had a secret. I’d been teasing Spencer for weeks about my costume. Whenever he asked me what I was going to be, I would tell him the truth: I have a Doctor costume. I just never said which Doctor.
I’d been planning it all for a long time, and I couldn't wait to see the payoff. Especially with the rest of the team there.
It was going to be amazing.
Styling my hair in the messiest possible fashion, I slipped into my outfit and practically skipped back to my car to head over. I knew that I would be one of the last to arrive, but it was almost better that way. Let them all bear witness to the only slight humiliation of my favorite coworker.
Upon arrival I noticed that Spencer wasn’t kidding when he said he had stashed decorations in his car and locker in preparation for this possibility. The bullpen was adorable, and our invitations to other agents and groups had apparently panned out. There were more people than I was expecting. It wouldn’t matter, though. Only a select few would truly understand the masterpiece that was my costume.
When the elevator doors slid open, I immediately spotted Spencer. He had his back to me, and was leaning on the desk in front of Emily, who was the first to notice me among the crowds. Her eyes widened to take in the sight, and her mouth dropped open with a perplexed joy.
‘Oh my god,’ she mouthed while shaking Spencer’s shoulder aggressively.
Then she said it; the very question I’d been waiting for.
“Reid… Is she… Is she… you?”
The poor, unsuspecting boy finally looked over his shoulder, finding me among the many the same way Emily had. Except the gears in his mind turned slower than hers, which was even more uncharacteristic of the genius.
I wondered if it was because of my outfit.
I was dressed in a sleeveless white button down with the top few buttons undone, exposing more skin than I’m sure these few had ever seen of me. My bottoms merely consisted of a much too short black pleated skirt held up with some suspenders. To top it off, of course I had a very familiar pair of black converse.
But that’s not what really pulled together the signature 'Spencer' look. No, the true pièce de résistance was the dark red cardigan hanging from my shoulders, dropping down further than the skirt itself.
Spencer had not moved in the entire time it took me to walk up to him. His mouth stayed hung open in a confused, entertained half-smile while his eyes bounced between my exposed chest and my bare legs. I couldn't tell which drew his attention more.
“Now, I know I told you I was coming as the Doctor,” I laughed, putting a finger on his chin to direct his eyes back to my face. “But I never told you which Doctor, so…”
I took the moment to move again. To flaunt the carefully studied perfection and spin on my toes. My skirt raised slightly to expose more of my legs, and I swear I heard him squeak at the motion. When I stopped in front of him, I did a small curtsy and finally gave myself a proper introduction.
“May I present... Dr. Spencer Reid. With my own personal touch.”
Emily had devolved into a fit of giggles, and I could see a very amused JJ and Morgan approaching from the corner of my eye.
“Wow, (y/l/n), I almost didn’t recognize you,” Morgan laughed before looking back at Spencer, who had still yet to say a single word.
“Well, that’s probably because I am wearing my very convincing Dr. Reid costume,” I replied as I readjusted the oversized glasses on my face.
“Oh my god, she is you, Spence!” JJ remarked, sharing a scandalous look with Emily before they all turned their attention to the man of the hour.
But Spencer didn’t say what I think anyone was expecting. Once the shock wore off, he was much more preoccupied by an important detail regarding the sweater wrapped around my shoulders.
Shaking his head slightly to reset his thoughts, he finally squealed, “Wait, is that my cardigan?!”
Feigning shock and confusion, I looked down at the fabric before lifting it up around me to show just how poorly it fit.
“Umm, no, I’m pretty sure it’s mine, actually.”
“How did you—?! I thought I lost it!” he shouted. He jumped from his seat to grab the sleeve, but I don't think he considered the fact that when he pulled it towards him, I would be forced to follow. My hands hit his shoulders to prevent us from crashing straight into each other, although I think I would have preferred it if we had.
I'd embarrassed him enough for one day.
“Well, I mean… You did lose it,” I pointed out with a shrug, “‘cause I stole it.”
Morgan shook his head as he covered his face, trying to compose himself as Emily and JJ took the hint that this moment was meant to be shared between the two of us. Morgan had a few more words to say before he left, though.
“Damn Reid, didn’t know you could look like that. Can we replace you with her?”
Spencer’s face had turned a pale shade of pink, and I had to admit it looked absolutely adorable on him. Truthfully, he was taking it a lot better than I expected. I had been worried for a minute that the sudden shock of skin and imitation might give him a heart attack.
“(Y/n),” Morgan pointed out, “not used to you lookin’ like that either. Where’s this girl been?”
“She’s been in my heart the whole time,” I sang, holding my hand to my chest with pride. “And be careful what you wish for, Morgan. You might find that you miss the old me."
The man's eyebrows jumped a full inch higher, but then the softness returned to his features. When I flashed him a wink, Derek just shook his head.
“Well, now, I know that sure isn’t Reid’s personality,” he laughed, “If you’re going for authenticity, don’t quit your day job.”
With that, he left me and Spencer alone. 
The boy genius was still holding onto the sleeve of the cardigan, but in our relative privacy, the surprise had shifted to a playful, delighted look. I bit on my lip out of habit, having to stop when I remembered the lipstick I was wearing.
“I promise I’ll give it back.”
Spencer clicked his tongue, finally releasing his hold on me as he looked away with an obvious smirk on his face.
“It’s not fair. It looks better on you,” he mumbled. I noted that his usual insecurity had also changed, but tried not to read too far into it. We weren't meant to profile each other, after all.
But it was kind of hard to miss how his eyes averted back to the same two places they kept going so far tonight. I watched him carefully, paying attention to the responses he had as that gaze trailed up my body, eventually realizing that I was waiting for him to look me in the eyes again.
“Are you sure it’s the cardigan you like?”
The tease succeeded in darkening the already red shades of Spencer’s face. He cleared his throat, but was suddenly unable to meet my eyes.
“S-Sorry, I’m just. Not used to it. Morgan’s right, you usually don’t dress like… that.”
I leaned against the desk to open my chest to him in a way that would be characteristic if not for the lack of cloth covering it. I'd always been open to him, after all. I'd just never had his attention like this before. I wanted to keep it for as long as I could, so I waited until he was looking down to cross my legs.
“Does it look bad?”
It was a rhetorical question. I could tell by the way he immediately went back to ogling me that he very much liked it.
I was surprised, however, by the fact he answered.
“No. You look great.”
He caught the slight jump I made in response to his voice. He also caught the way I shot back into a defensive standing position and quickly pulled the cardigan back over my shoulder.
I giggled nervously, then mumbled, “Bit of a narcissist, Dr. Reid?”
“Guess so,” he replied much more confidently.
I wanted to offer him my own retort, to continue the game of wits that we normally had. But something seemed... off. Usually, I was the one teasing him!
But his eyes were burning straight through me, and I felt the fire devour the air from my lungs with white-blue flames. I faltered, taking a step back from him as I swayed side to side.
“Well. I guess I should… go get a drink, and uh, socialize.”
I barely heard his best wishes as I took off, but I wasn't at all equipped to handle his scrutiny.
When had he become so intimidating? It seemed so strange and sudden and... stupid. 
I mean, granted, I did take a pretty big step showing up here in his clothes. In fact, I’d barely thought about the fact that to some it may look like he gave me the cardigan. After all, isn’t that a thing couples do?
Whatever. I was pretty sure that I was considered an even less sexual being than Spencer by most of the people in that room. It wasn’t the first time that I’d been teased for wearing traditionally masculine clothing, which was also typically oversized and particularly modest. A Victorian woman or an industrial man. Nothing in between.
Could you blame me? My day job put me across the table from uncuffed rapists and murderers on a daily basis. But did that really make me completely undesirable? It wasn't like I couldn’t get dolled up if I wanted to. When I tried, I could make myself look like the perfect visage of traditional femininity. I could be desirable - Obviously, because I just had half the people employed here ogling me at once.
Including Spencer, I reminded myself. He was the only one I actually cared about. I’d had a crush on the genius since basically day two (day one he was a bit much) of working here. That was part of why I was doing this; I was hoping that with enough completely blatant clues, he would finally get the hint. Because truth be told, I was deathly shy when it came to romance. Something about offering yourself to someone was scary. And I was never really scared when I was with Spencer.
Excited? Sure. Scared? Never.
So… why did I avoid him for the following hour? Well, that was an interesting question with a horribly boring and predictable answer: I’m a giant coward and a little bit of an idiot.
I couldn't explain the way he looked at me after the rest of the team had left us. It was like he could have devoured me right there. Just remembering it caused goosebumps to cover my skin. Every now and then I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck raise, and when I turned to him, he didn’t even try to look away.
I found myself screaming at him with envy and frustration, Where did this confidence come from?! And where the hell did mine go?!
Was the room on fire, or was it just me? Either way, I had to get out of there. I felt like I was going to explode.
I didn’t even know what office I was in. Luckily, it looked stripped to the bare essentials. I’d hate to be considered a snoop during the party if anyone had seen me bolting into someone else's space.
The time away was necessary and appreciated. Taking a deep breath, I tried to fix my hair to the best of my ability without being able to see it. I found myself once again wondering how the hell he managed to go about life with perpetual bedhead. It fell in my face every five seconds. It'd barely been a couple of hours and I already wanted to cut it off.
While trying to readjust the suspenders and skirt, I jumped at the unmistakable sound of the the door creaking open. I spun around so quickly I almost tripped against the desk next to me.
“I wasn’t snooping!” I shouted on instinct, which earned an amused chuckle from the man who’d come in.
“Uhh… This is an empty office,” Spencer pointed out, shutting the door behind him and swiftly shoving his hands in his pockets.
“I-I knew that.”
He nodded in reply with a disbelieving smile, “So... what are you doing in here?”
Attempting to look even the slightest bit composed, I leaned against the desk with one hand and rested the other on my hip, similar to how I’d stood before. Unfortunately, he noticed the similar stance and drew a number of conclusions. I tried to stave them off, but my voice was shaking and my eyes were still struggling to meet his.
“Nothing. Just… taking a break from the party.”
But any composure I might have gathered was quickly shattered into nothing, because Spencer turned around and easily flipped the lock on the door as he muttered, “Interesting.”
“W-What are you doing?” I asked him, looking past him as he approached me so that I could inspect the now locked door.
“Nothing,” he said with a shrug, “Just taking a break from the party.”
I stood up, but just enough to back against the desk. I held onto its edge for dear life, hoping and praying that the firmness of it would grant me some structural integrity so that I wouldn't melt into an actual puddle on the floor.
Spencer stood in front of me, still imposing and paralyzing in the best way. The flame he'd sparked inside of my chest was raging at the way he began paying special attention to my exposed shoulder where his cardigan had fallen a few inches down my arm.
“You seem nervous,” he remarked as his fingers hooked under the fabric and drew it back up to rest on my shoulders. “Is that part of your costume, too?”
My legs instinctively drew together. My thighs rubbed against each other gently, in harsh contrast to the downright devilish way Spencer licked his lips.
“U-uh, yeah. Sure.”
I brought one arm across my waist, the other holding onto the opposite elbow without thinking about what that meant in this outfit. I wasn’t used to my breasts being out on display, but the man in front of me had already become very accustomed to the sight. I wondered which of us would miss it more when it was gone tomorrow, hidden behind my usual clothing and modesty.
“You know… Everyone thinks that between the two of us, you’re the dominant one. That typical 'tough girl' persona has them all fooled. But… I have a different theory.”
My heart felt like it was in my throat and I was fucking choking on it. I could barely look at him, my eyes continuing to fall back to the ground to our side. I couldn’t even look straight down, because I would see how close to me he was.
That’s why he brought his hand up to my chin. The edges of his fingers barely touched me as he directed me to face him similar to how I had done to him earlier. He didn't need to use force; we both knew I wanted to look at him.
“See, when you’re alone and cornered… It’s not that way at all, is it?”
I was stammering while trying to reply, but he saved me the humiliation.
“You’re not a tough girl at all, are you? No, you’d much rather be my good girl.”
Literally all he had done is spoken to me and touch my chin, which made it all the more humiliating and telling when the only response I could give him in that moment was a pathetic mewl.
It positively delighted the proud bastard.
“The premise of your costume is flawed,” he teased, watching the way my chest rose and fell with renewed urgency. But that wasn’t what really got to me. No, it was the fact that the bastard dropped his hand, and actually turned around to leave.
“W-wait!” I called after him, still rooted in my spot against the desk. I had to, or else I was scared I would have flat out collapsed on the floor in a pile of mush.
Spencer stopped, looking over his shoulder with a look that dared me to do something.
“If I’m wrong then… Show me,” I challenged.
A smile spread across his face as he chuckled, sarcastically repeating back to me, “If?”
“Yes,” I acknowledged at half the volume and double the pitch, summoning the courage to take a few steps towards him.
“I-I’m not convinced.”
“Oh, you’re not convinced?” he mocked.
I visibly shivered when he raised his hand to my face, gently brushing my hair from my face where it had fallen. I decided then and there that the bedhead look wasn't entirely bad. Not if it meant forcing him to demonstrate just how badly he wanted to see my face, fully and unobstructed.
“What do I have to do to convince you, Princess?” he purred.
My breathing rate has skyrocketed, and I could see how he was cherishing the responses he drew out of me with very little effort.
“Force you down on your knees?” he proposed with a similar quiet voice. The hand on my face was falling down, dragging a knuckle over the exposed skin of my chest before he continued, “Or should I bend you over mine?”
If I’d known I could get him to touch me like this, I would have worn cleavage shirts ages ago.
Once he got to the buttons, he diverted his hand, grabbing hold of one of the suspenders and pulling me against him. His lips ghosted against my ear, and I found myself wishing that I could feel them pressed harshly against my skin.
“Or should I just pick you up and fuck you against the door?”
Despite the soft half-moan that left my mouth and all other evidence to the contrary, I babbled, “You’re all talk.”
Effortlessly, he hoisted my body up and slammed my weight against the locked door. I hit the cold surface with enough force to knock the air from my chest. But still, he held me up by the hips with his body crushed against me. His mouth was close enough to mine that I could have taken his lips right there. I considered it, too.
“You sure about that, Princess?” he offered with a flirtatious grin.
Suddenly overwhelmed by the risky nature of this tryst and the reality of the party raging on the other side of a simple piece of wood, I struggled lightly under his grip.
“Spencer! What if someone hears us?!”
“You better be quiet then,” he instructed while the cruel bastard dragged a hand down my thigh and back up under my skirt.
Trying to be realistic, I immediately interjected, “I-I can’t be quiet!”
Not at all listening to the plea, he wasted no time pulling the thin cotton fabric to the side and dipping his fingers into the already soaking wetness.
Just like that, a shaky moan erupted out of my mouth. My head fell back to hit the door, and he did absolutely nothing to stop the noises that began to flow out of me with a startling regularity.
“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you,” he emphatically declared, “It’s that little innocent look that makes me want to fucking tear you in two.”
The filthy language coming from his usually reserved mouth had me panting like I had run a marathon. As his fingers gently played with my slit, I clutched tightly onto his back and dragged my fingernails against his shirt. Immediately, my mind filled with thoughts of our skin melding together. I wondered what it might be like to feel him, bare and broken under my hands the same way that he was taking me then.
“Oh, god,” I mumbled as any arguments I had quickly turned to dust in my mind.
“An interesting exclamation on Devil’s Night,” he quipped.
It earned him a stern, “Fuck off.”
“I can’t. I’m too busy trying to fuck you.”
A fucking prick. A prick who then slipped two of his fingers into my waiting heat. I choked on my own breath as he immediately began working the muscles, stroking his fingers inside me with a thrilling insistence. I was honestly surprised I wasn’t tearing his shirt at that point. My nails definitely pressed hard enough to leave welts, but it only seemed to drive him even more wild. Eventually, the sound became too much, and his mouth covered mine to swallow and share our moans.
Once he began to palm against my clit, I was practically putty in his arms. I had imagined him touching me so many times, but nothing like this. This hedonistic, unhinged man in front of me would be my undoing. My entire body trembled against him as my orgasm hit me with full force, a high pitched keen escaping into the space between us. He smiled, but his hand continued its efforts.
“If you can’t handle my fingers,” he growled as he moved his face up to lock eyes with mine, “then tell me... how do you plan on handling my cock?”
My response didn’t come in words that I tried to form. They only came out in whimpers and unintelligible begs when he removed his hand and used it to help keep me up. I couldn’t even help him remove his pants, as I was scared letting go of him would cause this entire fantasy-come-to-life moment to fade away.
There was genuine shock on my face as he pulled a condom out from his pockets, which solidified my tenuous suspicion that he had come in here with this exact plan. With his other incredibly skilled hand, he managed to uncover himself and don the condom with speed and grace. He didn’t even falter as he kept me pinned against the door.
Fuck, I had thought he was kidding when he used to tell me that he could pick me up. I never imagined it would be like this.
We should have done this like, a long time ago, I thought to myself. If I'd asked him, I’m sure Spencer would have agreed. Because no sooner had he lined his manhood against me, than he loosened his grip on my body. I slid against the door, falling down to the perfect position for him thrust up into me. The friction was overwhelming as I was sandwiched between two very hard places.  
The cry that came out of my mouth was more like a scream, and thankfully Spencer covered my mouth before too much of it sounded. Although, something told me he wouldn’t mind much if he were caught doing this to me.
No, that sparkle in his eye at the noises he made me produce was much too excited.
Pounding into me again, this time with more force and speed, I heard a satisfied grunt in my ear that made my tremors spread through my legs.
“You want them to know how good I make you feel?” he teased, increasing his power enough to make me audibly knock against the door with each movement.
“Tell me,” he started, his fingers tightening their hold on my lower thigh. He accentuated his new pace with words spoken at the same rhythm. “Is this enough proof for you, Princess?”
I couldn’t see him through my delirium, and thank god, because the sight of him ravaging me would certainly kill me. My eyes were clenched shut as I yelled against his hand.
“Yes! Spencer, please! Yes!”
That was all the encouragement he needed, and he took full advantage of the pride I had gifted him with my plea. His hips hit mine with bruising force as a sheen of sweat covered our bodies in such close proximity. He removed his hands to reposition my hips, and thankfully I wasn't able to scream anymore. He had pushed me beyond the normal realms of pleasure into another world.
With both of his hands rooted firmly on me, his lips joined mine to smother any noises I might create. It only served to further my lust for that man. Our tongues tangled in their own battle between us. But my breath was once again thready, and my pulse was beating wildly as my body urged me to give in to Spencer. I complied, feeling the waves of simultaneous tension and release as my walls fluttered desperately around him.
That time, it was his moan that broke through the kiss.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he muttered, the illicit words dragging out my orgasm a few moments longer. Long enough, it seemed, to let him join me jumping into the blissful abyss of the chaotic, knotted mess of our bodies. My toes curled as he thrust into me a few more times, bottoming out and holding me against him as he twitched within me.
Exhausted, my head fell against the door one last time, rolling to the side as I tried to catch my breath. I wasn’t sure how Spencer was still capable of holding me up, much less tenderly lowering me to my feet and holding me upright until I was able to stand. Removing himself with a light groan, he leaned his forehead against mine, undoubtedly also wishing his vision would stop spinning.
But then he kissed me again. A long, languid kiss filled with all remaining desire to have me. I kissed him back, intoxicated and wild with the pleasure still coursing through my veins.
And then he was gone, and my body was that much colder without him. I sighed, trying to fix my hair enough to walk back out into the room with everyone. Because, you know, I just fucked my coworker in a room right next to all the rest of them. The least I could do is look halfway decent when I walk back out there.
Once I was situated, I cleared my throat and looked over at Spencer doing much of the same. But now he was the one leaning against the desk where he had originally found me.
“We should probably… Get back out there. Before they realize we’re both missing,” I said with very little confidence and using way too many hand gestures.
God, I was picking up too many of his habits... and him as a habit, hopefully.
“I don’t care if they know,” he concluded simply.  
“You are a narcissist.”
“It’s not my fault I look so good on you.”
I scoffed, noticing the way his eyes still looked at me like they had before.
“By the way, keep the cardigan,” he added, “I’d love to see how it looks with nothing else on underneath it sometime.”
With a bashful smile, I pulled the cardigan over my chest to cover more of me, enjoying the way our activities made it smell like him again.
“Wait. So we can… We can do this again, right?” I asked.
He seemed to be considering something before he responded.
“Only on one condition.”
Shifting awkwardly under his scrutiny, I bit my lip nervously as I asked, “What?”
“From now on… I’m the only one who gets to see you... like this.”
With a wave of the hand, he gestured to my bare legs. The intention was well noted, and I took the time to button a few of the buttons on the cardigan to cover more of my chest.
“That can be arranged,” I concurred before turning back to the door. I let my hand rest on the handle for a little while longer, reflecting on what had just happened in this unmarked office. I wondered about what it would be like now, knowing what I knew about Spencer Reid, and what he knew about me.
I hoped it wouldn’t be the same as it was before.
“See you out there, Princess.”
Something in his voice told me that he felt the same.
——————————————————
(Tell me what you thought of this piece here!)
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screaming-gently · 10 months ago
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spencer : guys i think he’s our unsub. he didn’t pass the vibe check.
morgan : garcia i’m begging you to stop teaching him modern slang
spencer : looks like you don’t pass the vibe check either, morgan. not with that attitude anyway.
7K notes · View notes
moon-light-jukebox · 12 months ago
Text
Germs [Reid x Reader]
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this gif isn’t mine
Summary: Reader is sure the resident BAU genius doesn’t like her, but she’s not sure why. But even if he did like her, he’s a germaphobe, so he wouldn’t be comfortable with the things she wants to do to him...would he?
Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader
Word Count: 5.6k
Rating: Mature 
Category: Fluff and Smut 
Content Warning: Brief mentions of torture and violence, usually criminal minds stuff, nothing explicit. Light choking, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, language (maybe?) 
A/n: I have come out of fan fiction writing retirement for this one. Let me know what y’all think!  masterlist
y/n - your name
y/l/n - your last name
italicized text is Reader’s sassy inner thoughts
---
I’m not sure if I believe in hell, but if there is a hell, I’m sure it feels exactly like Louisiana in July. Every time I walked outside I felt like I was walking into soup. Gross. I couldn’t help but feel guilty over my sigh of relief when I walked back into the local precinct the team was currently working out of. Young women are dying, and I’m worried about a little bit of heat.
But, fuck, it was hot.
Speaking of heat, I thought as I threw open the door to the conference room only to run smack into the hottest thing I’d ever encountered.
“Shit,” I exclaimed before I thought better of it. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my eyes up, up, up, all the way up his body until I met his eyes; those beautiful honey brown eyes that threatened to have me acting like an idiot if I stared into them for too long.  
Dr. Spencer Reid’s cheeks were tinged pink, his posture stiff, his fingers clutching the file he was carrying for dear life. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he sounded uncomfortable, which made my stomach drop. “My fault.” With that, he quickly maneuvered around me and headed off to complete whatever genius task he had to complete.
My eyes followed him until he was out of sight before I mentally shook myself. ‘C’mon, this is pointless,’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t even like you.’ Which I really thought was true, the good doctor went out of his way to avoid me whenever possible. ‘Plus, he’s a germaphobe.’ This thought was confirmed true. He didn’t shake people’s hands, the only people I’d seen him touch during my time at the BAU were members of the team that he’d known for years, and some of those even seemed reluctant.
Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about germaphobia; since I couldn’t ask the only genius I knew, I did the next logical thing. I googled it. Every person I’d read about seemed to experience germaphobia differently. Some people could have sex, but others were grossed out by the very idea. Knowing my luck, Spencer Reid and his beautiful hands, and his soulful eyes, and his cheekbones that could cut glass was in the repulsed by sex category. Which is fine! Right, it is fine to not be interested in sex; the only problem was I was very interested in every part of him.  
Maybe he thinks I’m gross. Maybe I stink? Maybe he’s just repulsed by my very presence. Regardless, I couldn’t see Spencer Reid ever shoving me against a wall and fucking me senseless.
I sighed, making my way over to the conference table, pulling out a chair before I flopped into it. I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. We had been in Louisiana for almost a week now and we were still no closer to finding our unsub. He was a white man, he worked in a lower-paying job, and he hated women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow it down much.
The unsub was targeting women in clubs and bars, following them outside before he bashed them on the back of the head. After that, he threw the girls over his shoulder and took them to his car; he moved them to a secondary location before he tortured them. The first two victims had survived. They were traumatized, but they were fighters; they both said the same things, ‘he kept my eyes covered the entire time,’ “I never saw his face,’ ‘I did whatever he told me to do.’
We thought the killing of the third victim had been an accident, but that accident had excited our guy enough that he changed his ritual; the killing was crucial now. We had 4 bodies, 2 live victims that couldn’t tell us anything, and no leads.
Sighing, I leaned forward, bringing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hated feeling helpless. The answer to who this fucker was is in this evidence somewhere and I will find it. If it’s the last thing I do.
The doors swung open again, pulling me from my thoughts. Hotch lead the parade of people, followed by Morgan, JJ, and Dr. Reid. Our unit chef looked gravely serious…not that that necessarily meant anything, in the 6 months I’d been with the behavioral analysis unit I hadn’t seen him have any other expression.
Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting what I suspected was speed dial number 1. “Hey baby girl,” he said, without his usual swagger; even he was tired. “You’re on speaker. You’ve got me, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Y/l/n.”
“And I have the always wonderful Emily Prentiss, and the dashing David Rossi on the line, effectively putting my favorite people together again, as they should be,” Garcia quipped. I don’t think she meant to include me in her list of ‘favorite people,’ but it made me smile anyway. “Okay, crime fighters, what’s the play?”
“We’re still no closer to finding the unsub,” Hotch began. “He’s highly organized, methodical, and paranoid; but he hasn’t killed in 3 days, this is a break from his escalation pattern. He’s going to strike soon.” Hotch leaned over resting his palms on the shiny fake wood of the conference table. “Our best chance is to send an agent out there as bait.” There was a general murmur of agreement before he continued on. “Garcia, we need you to find all of the night clubs, bars, and whatever else you can think of in the updated comfort zone.”
The sound of keys clicking made its way through the speaker. “Assuming we’re excluding the places he’s already hit, that leaves us with 3 possibilities.”
“So far he hasn’t struck a place twice,” Prentiss chimed in. “Do we think he’s going to hold to that pattern?”
Reid moved over to the board where the map of the county was displayed. “I think so. This guy is too careful to risk going to a place where he’s been before. The chance of him being recognized is too great, especially when everyone is on high alert.” He gestured to the area he had circled on the map. “His pattern seems to be focusing in on this center point right here,” he said, placing a pin in the map. “This area means something. Garcia, what is the closest club or bar to the intersection of Washington Avenue and Harrison Street?”
“That would beeeeee…The Blue Fox.”
“That’s where he’ll be,” Dr. Reid said confidently, his eyes moving to Hotch’s face.
The older man nodded. “It’s our best lead so far, we have to run with it.”
“It’s Friday night,” Rossi pointed out. “We’ll have to act soon.”
Hotch nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “We need to send agents in there tonight. We know the victims were all on dates or flirting with a man right before their abduction. He targets women that are happy with their companions then waits til he can separate them.”
“Who are you planning on sending in, Hotch?’ JJ questioned.
“Y/l/n is the youngest, she fits the build of the previous victims the best.” His heavy gaze rested on me. “What do you think?”
Like it was even a choice. “I’m in.”
Hotch nodded, accepting my answer. “Good. You’ll partner with Reid.”
“What?!” I squawked, much to my embarrassment. I cleared my throat before I continued. “But, Reid and I…I just thought Morgan would be the obvious choice.” Fuck, I’m just digging a bigger hole.
Morgan gave me an easy smile. “You’re just saying that because you wanna see my moves, little mama.”
Hotch cleared his throat, bringing our attention back. “Morgan is too intimidating; the unsub might not move in if he feels too threatened. You’ll go with Reid.” When he was met with silence he continued on, “alright, let’s get to work.”
-
And that is how I wound up in a club in Louisiana on a Friday night, in a tight black dress, with Spencer Reid beside me. After he walked into the club holding my hand. He doesn’t hold hands, I cringed internally at the thought. He must feel so uncomfortable.
He waved the bartender over, ordering a drink for me and a water for himself before turning to me. “I thought a drink would loosen you up a bit. You look nervous.”
I am nervous. “Right. Thanks.” I drummed my fingers on the bar, my gaze sweeping around the club for anyone who seemed out of place and especially creepy. Most lone men at clubs and bars were creepy, but we need especially creepy.
“Is that because you don’t think I can have your back?”
My head snapped back around. “What?”
Spencer paused to accept the drinks from the bartender, sliding him the money. “In the conference room. You seemed upset that Morgan wasn’t going to be your partner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that because you think I wouldn’t have your back?”
Fuck. I blushed to the roots of my hair. “No, Spencer! God no! It’s not that, I know you’d have my back.” I took a sip of my drink before I said anything else. “It’s just that…you don’t seem to like me very much, and I know you have a thing about germs, and I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t like me.” I was babbling; I was absolutely babbling. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all. Morgan has never seemed uncomfortable around me, so…” I trailed off lamely.
The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. “So, you didn’t want to partner with me on this because you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable?”
I nodded, fidgeting with the straw in my drink.
Spencer moved closer to me, his right hand coming to rest on the small of my back. He seemed as calm as he could be, meanwhile I suddenly had trouble breathing.
It’s for the case. He has to do this for the case. Calm down.
"What do my issues with germs have to do with this?" he wondered, leaning closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck; my skin broke out in goosebumps.
Double fuck. “Well, we’re supposed to be…together. And you think I’m gross. What if you have to kiss me?” TRIPLE FUCK. “Not that we’d have to kiss,” I tried to backpedal. “But we might, you never know. And I just didn’t…I don’t want you to dislike me more than you do.”
The teasing smile slipped from his face, the fingers on my lower back flexing slightly. He regarded me with a tilt of his head. "You're serious?" At my shaky nod, he continued. "Y/n, I don't think you're gross."
“You don’t?” I squeaked.
He lifted his hand from my back then, sliding it up to my shoulder, his free hand moving from the bar to rest on my hip. Spencer brushed my hair back before he leaned forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I felt his lips touch the tender skin of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, unable to suppress a gasp at the contact. Spencer Reid’s beautiful lips slid down to the place where my neck and shoulder met, then I felt his teeth nip the skin before he placed another kiss there. He worked his way back up towards my ear, the hand on my hip moving slightly so he was almost grabbing my ass. “I don’t think you’re gross,” he breathed, causing me to shudder. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Germs don’t bother me in that way, especially around people I know. I wouldn’t have a problem kissing you, baby.”
I was going to need new panties after this. Spencer Reid, awkward, sweet, Dr. Spencer Reid just called me Baby.
“…Oh.” Really, y/n. Oh; you went with oh?
The good doctor pulled back, his face close enough to mine that I could see that he had freckles under his eyes and that those beautiful eyes got more golden towards the center. "Oh."
-
Michael Watkins was the name of our unsub. He was a short white man with a receding hairline and a bad temper. His last relationship had ended 3 months before the first attack; Spencer was right to pick this bar. Shortly after he tried to make my pussy combust with his neck kisses, Reid suggested I walk to the bathroom, assuring me he’d be watching if anyone followed.
Watkins’ hand was in my hair, dragging me outside before I made it to the ladies’ room. I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled to escape, strands of hair being ripped from my head. I shouldn’t have worried, because no sooner had the outside door opened than I heard the velvety voice of Derek Morgan. “FBI! Put your hands where we can see them.”
He attempted to run. Why would anyone try to run from Derek Morgan?  
After the medics confirmed I was okay, I was sent back to the hotel while the rest of the team went with the local police to book Watkins and try to get a full confession.
“Good work,” Hotch said, his hand clapping down on my shoulder.
The highest praise I’ll ever need.
I hopped into the shower right when I got back to my room, not wanting Watkins’ touch on me for a moment longer.
Spencer’s touch, however,…That was a touch I wouldn’t mind having on me. But he’d barely looked at me once he made it outside. I knew he was being affectionate in there because of the case, we were playing a role. I knew that. I still couldn’t stop the twinge of hurt I felt.
But he doesn’t think I’m gross. That had to count for something.
I had just got done blow drying my hair enough so that it wouldn’t look too crazy when I woke up when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Emily, I didn't consider the fact that I was in my pajamas, and my face was scrubbed free of makeup.  
It wasn’t Emily. Spencer Reid stood on the other side of my door, his eyes running down my body before he met my bewildered stare again. “You look comfy,” he commented with that damn little smile on his lips again.
“Oh. Yeah. I took a shower.” Way to go, y/n, you’re really killing it tonight.
“I see that,” he said, his cheeks going a little bit pink. “Can I come in? I thought we should talk.” Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous?
I ushered him in, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bottom edge of my bed; his body angled towards the headboard. I briefly debated about where to sit before I joined him. Don’t make it weird, y/n.
He cleared his throat before he began. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight. I just wanted to make sure we got the guy.”
Right. “Oh, it’s okay, Spencer. I get it. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” I picked at the frayed edge of my sleep shorts, my eyes dropping so he didn’t see anything on my face that betrayed how I was feeling; you can’t be too careful around profilers.
His hand reached out to cover my own fidgeting hands, one of his hands covering both of mine. His hands were so big. His fingers were so long, the veins in his hands were so pronounced. I bet those fingers would feel really – FOCUS.
“I’m also sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” His thumb had started to move slowly over the back of my hand. “I do like you. I like you a lot, actually. I just…” I brought my gaze back up to meet his eyes. “I just get nervous sometimes.”
“You didn’t seem nervous in the club.”
“No,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t nervous then because it was my job. I wasn’t worried about misreading a signal…doing the wrong thing…I’m not the best with social cues.” I had noticed that about him before. “But I am a really good profiler.” And he’s humble too, apparently.
“I know that you couldn’t fake your reaction to me in the club. Your breathing became quicker, I felt your pulse jump under my lips when they were on your neck. I saw how blown your pupils got." He shifted closer to me then, bringing his other hand up to push my hair behind my shoulder like he did earlier in the night. "Just like they are now."
He leaned closer to me, his voice was lower, and it made my stomach flutter. "You're clenching your thighs together, Y/n. Your shirt may be baggy, but I can see how hard your nipples are too." His tongue ran out to wet his lips. "If I'm wrong, just tell me now. If I've misread this, I will leave right now, and we can pretend this never happened." Spencer brought both his hands up to cradle my face; despite how wet my panties were, how tight my nipples are, how badly I wanted him to touch me, this gesture made me feel special. He was holding me like he actually cared about me like I was precious. "But, if I'm not wrong, and you want this too, Y/n, tell me. Tell me you want this too and I won't stop touching you until you scream my name."
I let out a soft whimper then. Like it’s a choice. “I want this,” I leaned into his touch. “Please, Spencer.”
His thumb brushed over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, what, baby?”
“Kiss me.”
No sooner had the words left my mouth than his lips were on mine. His lips were softer than I imagined, they were firm and almost…questioning. When I nipped at his bottom lip, something seemed to break free inside of him. His lips slanted over mine with a hunger I had never felt. His tongue ran over my bottom lip before I opened for him. Spencer’s tongue moved into my mouth while his hands moved; one hand moved back to grip my hair at the base of my skull, tugging firmly, the other moved down to my neck, not applying any pressure, just resting it there in a gesture that felt possessive.
The need for oxygen broke us apart, his lips moving across my cheek to my jaw, then down to my neck. “How could you think I didn’t like you?” he mumbled into my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me. None.”
I threw my head back when he sucked on my pulse point, a moan ripping from my throat. “W-what…what do I do?”
Pulling back from me, he gripped the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for consent before he pulled it over my head. His eyes were firmly on my chest, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He pushed me down slowly on the bed; I was on my back and he was hovering over me. I felt his mouth place hot, wet, kisses from my collarbone down towards my breasts. His right hand landed on my breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipple while his lips moved closer and closer to my left. I tangled my hands in his hair, urging him forward.
“You want to know what you do to me?” he raised his head slightly, making sure my eyes were on him when he flicked his tongue over my nipple, causing me to gasp. “What do you do to me in your little skirts, with your little smiles, and your little laughs?” He gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “You’re all I fucking think about, y/n.” With a growl, he finally took my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He switched to the other breast while he adjusted himself over me, bringing his pelvis down to rest at the seam of my body between my thighs. I shifted restlessly under him, trying to grind my pussy against him. He was so fucking hard.
With a groan, he lifted his head and started kissing his way towards the middle of my chest, moving down to the curve of my stomach. “Do you know how many times I came back to my hotel room after spending all day with you and was so hard I had to cum before I could think of anything else?” he peppered kisses down my body as he spoke.
My eyes shot open at this confession that he seemed to think was no big deal. “What?” I couldn’t believe this. “You…you touched yourself and thought of…”
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties, taking my raised hips as an invitation to remove both from my body. "You. I thought of you." He threw my clothes on the floor, pulling my legs open. His eyes moved over all of me, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. “I thought about kissing you. About making you squirm for me.” He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, his mouth running slowly over my inner thighs. Spencer’s hands hooked around my upper thighs, moving me to where he wanted me. “But, most of all, I thought about this pretty pussy.” He placed a kiss on my clit, chuckling at the wanton moan that came from me and how my fingers tangled in his soft brown curls. “I thought about all the different ways I could make this pretty pussy cum all over me.” With that, he ran his tongue up my slit before flicking it over my clit.
Dr. Spencer Reid was good at everything, so of course, he was good at this too. His mouth moved over me, watching my reaction to see what I liked best. His tongue moved in circles around my clit before slipping down to my opening. His tongue plunged inside me, fucking me, while his thumb came over to rub my clit.
“Spence- fuck- Spencer, please.” My hips tried to shift restlessly, but his arms were iron bars holding me still. He slowly moved his left forearm to rest across my hips, bringing his right hand down to my throbbing pussy. He pulled his mouth away from me, much to my dismay. He pushed one finger, then another into me. My head thrashed wildly, and my thighs started to shake. “Spencer!”
He just smirked and curled his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that made everything in my body pulse. “What, baby?”
My breaths were coming in gasps, my voice was a needy whimper. “Make me cum, Spencer. Please, please make me cum.”
He needed no other encouragement. His fingers continued their steady thrust in and out of me while his mouth covered my clit again. He alternated between flicking my clit with his tongue, then circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly.
“Spencer.” I felt my orgasm rising. “Spencer don’t- don’t stop. I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.”
He kept his pace steady, sucking on my clit, moaning at my words. His eyes had been closed, but at that moment they opened and met mine. Then I felt his teeth ghost over my clit, I saw the want in his eyes. That was my undoing. My back arched, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. I heard myself say his name over and over again. Spencer pushed his fingers inside me, massaging me through the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. With one final kiss on my oversensitive clit, he withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck my orgasm off of them.
He kissed back up my body, and I tried to respond, but I was still so shattered. I had never felt anything so powerful before. He cupped my face in one hand and kissed me slowly. I returned the kiss, moving my hands to the buttons of his shirt.
Spencer broke the kiss, pulling back to look at me again. “Hang on, baby.” His hand came up to still my own. “We can take a second. It’s okay. Just breathe.”
This beautiful man smiled at me then. I felt my heart flutter when he leaned down to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that fell from the corner of my eye that I hadn’t even noticed.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that. He shifted to lay beside me, whispering reassurances to me while I came back down. This was just one of the ways that Spencer was so different from every other man. I didn't feel rushed, or pressured. I could feel how hard he still was, I could feel the tension in his body, but he simply kissed me while he cupped my jaw.
He made me feel…cherished.
I moved my hands to tangle in his hair again, deepening our kiss. He didn’t move my hands away when I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. The fire that I thought had been calmed by my orgasm had come roaring back. Spencer moved his hands to his belt while I finished with his shirt. His shirt came off, tossed in the same direction as my clothes. I pulled his pants and boxers down his legs, watching his cock spring free.
Everything about him was painfully beautiful. His angular cheekbones, the jaw that looked like it was carved from granite, even the toned muscles of his body. He had a small trail of hair that went down from his belly button to his groin. His cock laid against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, running my eyes over his body.
His soft hand came to grab mine, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, smiling softly at me.
I moved to straddle him, lower on his thighs. I took him in my hand, moving up and down, twisting my wrist as I neared the tip, swiping my thumb over his head.
“Baby,” he groaned. “Y/n, as much as I want you to do…whatever the fuck you want with me, I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to explode.” I bit into my bottom lip, unable to totally stop the smile spreading over my face. “Please, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He moved his hands to my hips, urging my body forward.
I raised up on my knees, taking him in my hand again, lining him up with my entrance. The tendons in his neck were strained, his fingers gripped my hips so hard I knew I was going to have bruises tomorrow. As I slowly started to sink down on his cock, Spencer let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard. His eyes were fixed where our bodies were joined, watching his dick slid deeper inside of me.
“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good. Just a little bit more.”
He was so long, he wasn't overly thick, but just thick enough to cause a pleasurable stretching when he breached me that was almost painful. I gasped out a sound that might have been his name when he bottomed out inside me. I slowly circled my hips, adjusting to him. Spencer’s nails dug into my hips as he forced himself to stay still.
“Please move, y/n. Please. You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned as my walls fluttered around him. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Does that make your pretty pussy wetter?” He smirked at my whimper as I tightened around him.
I began at a slower pace, trying to tease him. Spencer quickly lost patience with that; he thrust his hips upwards, meeting my movements, his hands pushing me down onto him. I leaned forward, bracing on hand on his shoulder, the other on the bed. He pounded into me while I tried to match his pace. Spencer’s hand moved from my hip up to wrap around my throat. I nodded, forcing my eyes to stay open as he moved inside me.
His fingers squeezed slightly, pulling my face closer to his. Our lips met in a sloppy kiss. My thighs burned from matching his movements. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly, which only heightened my arousal. “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”
He flipped us over quickly, never pulling completely out of me. Spencer moved to push my legs further apart, the change in angle allowing him to fill me deeper than I thought possible. His hair was sticking to his brow, his cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. He was the most fucking beautiful thing I had ever seen.
One hand held my leg, the other went down to my pussy, his thumb moving over my clit at a rapid pace. “Tell me what you need, Pretty Girl. Tell me how to make this pretty pussy cum all over me.”
I whined at his words. “Spencer, I-“ my voice broke off. I was so fucking close. "I need you." He seemed to understand my broken plea. He brought his body down, his chest flush against mine. He rocked into me at such a fast and hard pace. His hand still in between us rubbing circles around my clit.  
I felt his lips ghost over my ear. “I want to fucking hear you, y/n.” His speed increased, his thrust getting choppier. He was close. “I want this whole fucking town to hear what you sound like when I make you cum. When you cream all over my dick, I want you to scream my name.” With that, he moved his mouth down my neck. He bit the same tender area he had kissed in the club, where my neck met my shoulder.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck yes, Spencer!" I felt myself begin to splinter apart. “Please make me cum, fuck please.” My babbling finally broke as my orgasm tore through me. I couldn’t hear his deep groan when I came, my scream was too loud. I felt the vibration against my neck. It was only as I started to float down that I realized my nails were dug into his back. With a few last thrust and my name on his lips, I felt Spencer pulse, cumming inside me.
We lay there for a few minutes, just breathing before he rolled off of me. I felt overwhelmed, so I was relieved when he tugged me over to him. He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. I felt his lips on my forehead. “It’s very important for women to urinate after sexual intercourse to avoid UTIs, but you have another minute or so before that becomes more urgent.”
I couldn’t control my laugh at his comment. "Thanks, Doc." I kissed his chest. "Only you could make me cum so hard I almost blackout, then go back to being…you." I slowly untangled myself from him, going to the bathroom to handle business. When I returned, I found Spencer where I left him, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his heart. He looked so lost in that moment.
“Spencer?” I asked, crawling on to the bed. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t pretend that something wasn’t bothering him. “When you said that I just go back to being me…Do you not like that?”
My heart broke a tiny bit at the question. “Spencer, no! I love that! I love your little facts and statistics!” How did he not know that? “The best part of my day is listening to you talk. Just being with you is wonderful.” I cupped his face, bringing his gaze to mine. “Sure, I like what we just did; but I liked you before that. I want both.” Fuck. “Assuming you want me,” I rambled quickly. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I know that it doesn’t always-“
He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was filled with hope and promise and…Spencer.
“It means everything to me, Y/n.”
-
I didn’t see the rest of the team until the next morning when we all boarded the jet; I was so ready to go home. I personally didn’t think anything appeared that different. Spencer sat beside me on the couch, but that wasn’t weird…right? We were just co-workers, sitting beside each other super casually. Had we spent most of last night and a little bit of this morning screwing each other’s brains out? Certainly. But you couldn’t see that…right?
Morgan’s chuckle is what confirmed I was so wrong. “Hey, y/l/n,” he called, smiling so hard it looked like his face would split from his amusement. “You missed a spot.” He pointed towards his own neck.
There was a beat of silence before Hotch snorted. SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man who never found anything funny was laughing at me.
I felt myself turn tomato red, angling my body towards Spencer’s, burying my head against his shoulder, away from the rest of the team.
“I bet you’re glad pretty boy was your partner now, huh?”
I may have wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, but it was sort of worth it to see the blush on Spencer’s cheeks.
--
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jpegjade · a year ago
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gideon being a savage and giving our boy some self confidence (kinda)
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It’s Too Cliché (Reid Request)
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Request(s):
reid x reader with the song “i won’t say i’m in love” from Hercules - reader falls in love with reid and she talks abt it with the girls and they try to push her to tell him?
That scene in horse girl where his gold necklace is literally in the girl's face? an imagine about fem!reader telling Spencer how that turns her on?
spencer & reader are long time best friends and after a night of drinking they hookup. They decide it will be best to be FWB.
spencer x fem!reader where they are strictly friends with benefits but one of them catches feelings? lotta angst but fluff in the end?
reader has a bf who doesn’t like spencer but at night she goes to spencer and he’s all like “tell me u need it” & “say that i’m better than him” in a very possessive way you know!
A/N: I personally love this work, so I hope you do, too! 
This is pretty closely based on a number of true events in my life, so it means a lot to me. Please enjoy my suffering 😂 As usual, no Part 2s will be written. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Angst & Smut! (NSFW) Content Warning: Alcohol, Implied non-con, domestic abuse, drunken smut (both implied non-con & w/ blanket consent), fighting, jealousy, break ups, cheating (kiss), penetrative sex, fingering, unprotected sex Word Count: 14K
MASTERLIST
——————————————————
It had started just like this.
It was about a year ago when Spencer and I both made the stupid decision to drink at one of Rossi’s infamous dinner parties despite neither of us ever being able to handle alcohol.
I say it was stupid, but I never once regretted it.
That night, though, something felt different. When I was at the bar, trying to drink away something I didn’t even remember, I was so sure I wanted to go home with him. But now that he was here, his hands raking down my back and his breath smelling of beer instead of whiskey, I realized what was wrong.
He wasn’t Spencer.
Don’t be mistaken – I’d known he wasn’t Spencer when I saw him at the bar. Of course I recognized my ex-boyfriend and could distinguish him from my current… was fuckbuddy too crude a word to describe Spencer?
Fuck, Spencer. That’s why this felt different; it felt wrong. Because my ex’s hands didn’t feel like his, and his lips didn’t kiss me like Spencer would. It hit me then, that these were the exact reasons why I was at the bar in the first place. It was Spencer I was trying to drink away, and it didn’t fucking work.
We’d agreed at the beginning that we wouldn’t be anything more than friends who slept together, but at some point over the past year I’d realized that “friends who sleep together” is actually pretty close to dating. In fact, it’s kind of exactly how I would describe dating.
It wasn’t until July 15th came, and we had both gotten each other a gift for a stupid ass holiday that Spencer had told me about, that I’d realized how completely and utterly fucked I was.
It was bad enough that I got him something for National “Be a Dork Day,” but the fact he knew to get me one back…
I was still wearing the ring he bought me, even while another man’s hand was sliding up my shirt. I could still feel the care with which he’d slipped it on my finger while we lay in bed, like an unspoken promise. The thought made my stomach turn, and I knew immediately that it had nothing to do with the alcohol.
“Hey, can we slow down?” I slurred, clumsily pushing myself away from the man currently holding me down against his lap. “I don’t feel so hot.”
“You seem pretty hot to me," he joked back, and the tone of his voice caused a chill to spread down my spine.
“No, seriously, stop.”
More forcefully now, I frantically shoved at him until I fell backwards, unceremoniously hitting the floor. I heard more than felt my head smash against the dresser against the wall, but I couldn’t even focus on the pain.
My ex was towering over me, waving his arms like a goddamn lunatic while he yelled, “What the fuck is your problem?!”
“My problem?” I spat back, struggling to stand on the ridiculous heels I’d insisted on wearing tonight.
“You were fine until five seconds ago!”  
Laughing to combat the adrenaline currently coursing through me, I shouted back at him at an even higher volume, “Well, I changed my fucking mind!”
“Sure, not until after I leave the bar and bring you all the way here.”
It was so hard to focus on his words, because every few seconds, the world would start rocking. His voice seemed so far away and muffled, even though he was right in front of me, screaming like he always did. I remembered why he was an ex, but it seemed like it was too late.
Apparently, he was thinking the same thing, because one of the few lines I heard with perfect clarity in his rant covered that exact subject.
“You haven’t changed one bit. You’re still just a stupid fucking bitch.”
“Yep, that’s me. I’m a bitch,” I mumbled back, rubbing the back of my head and pleasantly surprised to find that there was no blood. Trying to avoid doing so much at glancing at him, I rifled through the things on his nightstand in the dark to find my purse.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Without even an ounce of hesitation, I snatched my purse, knocking several things down.
“I’m leaving. Bye,” I announced, fumbling with the door that he’d apparently fucking locked despite being the only other person in the house. Or at least, I hoped he was the only other person.  
“You’re just going to show up again in a few weeks," he sneered, and I could practically see his stupid fucking smirk. The image was one of many burned in my brain. I had told myself I’d never see it again.
Why the fuck had I gone home with him?
Before I could answer my own question, the door finally burst open, nearly knocking me over again in the process. He laughed at my struggle, but I was already in the hallway before he could stop me.
“So, I’ll see you then, asshole!”
The door slamming behind me was the perfect finale to the chaos. I immediately hurried out of his house, slamming the next door just as hard. I knew it was childish, but I felt like if I didn’t do something with the anger in my chest, it would devour me.
But once I was outside, I realized that I had to figure out what the hell I was going to do. I could call an Uber and just deal with the ride of shame, but… I didn’t want to. There was only one thing I wanted more than anything - it was the same fucking thing I’d told myself not to do.
So why was I already scrolling through my phone, desperately tapping my fingers against the screen before realizing that I couldn’t spell for shit in my current state. Scoffing at my own stupidity, I just dialed his number instead.
“(Y/n)? What’s up?”
The second his voice hit my ears I felt my body relax. I didn’t even realize how tense I was until then. I hated it.
“Hey are you busy?” I quickly answered, trying to make my way to the curb and hoping that my ex decided to just let my ass freeze outside alone.
“Me? Am I busy? Do I look like I’m hanging out with you?” Spencer was laughing, which I hated. Because every time he laughed, I would laugh, and every single time it reminded me just how much of my happiness revolved around him. And if history had taught me anything, it was that finding happiness in a person was the most dangerous pastime.
“No. Not yet, you don’t,” I joked back, completely ignoring that voice in my head reminding me that this had literally never worked out for me.
“Then no, I’m not busy,” he said through what sounded just like his smile, “Yet.”
Suddenly I didn’t feel sick anymore, although my stomach shook with butterflies now. It made me feel so stupid and naive, but I couldn’t help the way he made me forget everything that had just happened. He didn’t even know how often he’d saved me from the incessant spiraling of my mind.
“If I send you an address, can you come get me?” I finally worked up the courage to ask.
Spencer responded with the completely reasonable question that unfortunately happened to be the last thing I wanted to hear.
“Sure. Where are you?”
“Yeah, about that…” I nervously chuckled, trying to convince myself that he might find it funny. Hoping to god that he’d find it funny. “It’s my ex boyfriend’s house.”
“… What?”
He did not find it funny, and I was ready to throw up again.
“It’s a long story. It’s stupid as shit.” My voice shook, my throat closing around the words as tears started stinging at my eyes before I could realize just how awful it felt. “I’ll tell you when you get here.”
“Right. Send me the address.”
I didn’t know why I felt so angry, but I was. Actually, that’s a lie. I knew exactly why I was mad. I was mad because Spencer was mad at me, and he thought I wouldn’t be able to tell. We were fucking profilers.
“Are… Are you sure it’s okay? I can call an Uber, seriously,” I asked, hoping he would take the out so we wouldn’t have to argue in his car while I was drunk as fuck and still reeling from my piece-of-shit ex-boyfriend.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll be there soon.”
No dice.
Oh well, I thought, how much worse can it get?
“Than—“ I started to say, but before I could get the word out, the dial tone filled my ears. It sounded a lot like the ringing from earlier. It hurt just as badly, too.
Biting on my bottom lip to stop it from trembling, I sat alone in the dark for some undetermined amount of time. Although I could have put on my jacket to warm up, I didn’t. It was clear that I was just trying to punish myself for my choices. Although, in hindsight I didn’t need to. Because once Spencer showed up, I quietly climbed into the passenger seat. I didn’t say anything because I was scared of what would come out. He didn’t try to change it, either. So, for the entire 30 minute drive to my apartment, we were silent.
It should have been comforting; everything about him usually brought with it such a peaceful serenity. But right now, it just hurt. It felt like I was trapped in a car that was on fire, holding my breath to prevent myself from dying by smoke inhalation before the flames ever even hit my skin.
But eventually, I had to breathe. We were seconds away from our destination, and I could have waited. I should have waited. But the thought of leaving him fuming in his car, alone and driving in the opposite direction was just as scary as staying to watch it all burn.
“Okay. You’re obviously mad at me, so are you going to say something?” I blurted out, staring straight ahead at the familiar building.
“Did you fuck that guy?”
I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to pick the right words, but knowing that they weren’t the ones that would come out, anyway.
“If I’d fucked him, Spencer, I would still be inside. You know that.”
“Actually, I don’t know that. I don’t know you at all.”
Attempting to dislodge the lump in my throat, I swallowed spit that still tasted like alcohol.
“Stop being overdramatic.” I whined, acting like any of this was his fault.
“Why didn’t you fuck him?”
He still hadn’t looked at me, his eyes transfixed ahead of us.
I knew that it was finally time for me to face the facts.
“What? What kind of question is that?”
My words were slurred and broken, but I was looking at him now. He didn’t follow my lead, his eyes falling to his hands on the wheel that tightened with each passing second.
“Answer the question.”
“I just didn’t want to!” I didn’t mean to yell, but my brain was still back in that shitty apartment with that asshole. I hadn’t caught up yet.
I shouldn’t have yelled at him.
Spencer ran his hand through his hair then over his face, putting the car into park before slumping forward on the wheel.
“Well, you went home with him, so clearly you wanted to do something.”
He looked so defeated, so ready to give up that it set off all the alarms in my head.
I was so tired of him not looking at me.
“I didn’t call you for a goddamn interrogation.”
When even that didn’t make him look up, I shook the handle on the car door until it eventually popped open. I was too tired to even bother being graceful about it.
Although he still didn’t look at me, it did succeed in getting him to do something, because he just as quickly exited the car.
“Why did you call me?” he called over the hood.
I spun around on my heels to meet his eyes, and what I found was terrifying. It was… Apathy.
“Because you’re my friend, I thought!” I croaked, clutching my chest like it would make the pain go away.
“JJ and Emily are your friends too, and they’re significantly closer.”
Crossing in front of the car, I stood in front of him, lowering my voice again.
“What are you implying?”
His nose twitched as he rolled his lips between his teeth, looking away from me again when he answered, “I’m not implying anything. I’m making an inference.”
“Well state your fucking inference, Spencer,” I shot back without hesitation.
Looking back, I wish I hadn’t. I wish that I had turned and walked inside right then, letting his thoughts stay bottled up. We would’ve forgotten about the incident in a week. We would’ve both gotten lonely again and tumbled into each other’s arms the next time there was a bad day at work.
But I fucked it up, just like I always did. I wanted to make him hate me, so that I could hate him. Because if I hated him, then he couldn’t hurt me anymore.
Or at least, that’s what I thought.
Fed up with the game of cat and mouse, Spencer’s voice took on that warped hushed tone that accompanied only the worst kind of rage.
“You either called me because while drunk, trying to fuck some other man, you realized that he wasn’t the person you really wanted to be with, or you were trying to make me jealous.”
My heart stopped as he spoke, because I knew that it had to be some mix of the two. It always was with me. I couldn’t let us be happy. One of us always had to hurt, because happiness was too scary.
“Really? The only two possible explanations both involve me being in love with you?” I said with a bitter laugh, crossing my arms over my chest.
Judging by the way his eyes fell to them, Spencer knew it wasn’t from the cold.
Defensive. That’s what it was.
“Neither of those require love," he pointed out quietly, almost like the conclusion hurt him more than it was meant to wound me.
“God, Spencer!” I yelled, grabbing my head that still ached from earlier, closing my eyes like it would stop this from hurting. “Stop talking in fucking riddles and just… Just—“
When no more words came out, I did the only thing I could think to do. My hands laced through hair, pulling him down to my level and connecting our lips.
And at first, he kissed me back. He channeled the same frustration that I felt and kissed me with everything he had. But after a few seconds, he tore himself away from me with such extreme force that I almost fell forward in his absence.
Once I’d steadied myself, I wrapped an arm around myself again. This time, it wasn’t because I felt defensive. It’s because now that he wasn’t touching me, I was so fucking cold. He was back to avoiding looking at me, his eyes stuck on the dirt at his feet.
“I can’t fucking do this.”
It wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation, although it was much more explicit this time.
“Yes, you can.” It was a beg more than a reassurance, my fingernails digging into my own arm. “You do this every time, but every time it’s—“
“No, I can’t do this anymore!” he snapped, turning to me to show me the tears that had started to stream down his face. There was no more apathy, just a pain that sickened me, my heart dropping to the pit of my stomach. “I’m not like you! I can’t just fuck someone a-and have it mean nothing!”
“You promised me!” I regretted being drunk during this conversation the most, because it meant that any thought came out of my mouth with a shrill, deafening sound. “Why are you trying to ruin everything?!”
“Ruin it? I’m not ruining anything, (y/n)!” He didn’t come close to matching my volume, but I heard the strain in his voice. The lights of the houses around us started to turn on, but all I could think about were the words flowing from his mouth with such incredible ease, I knew he’d been thinking them long before that night. “I’m not the one who changed things between us, and you know it.”
He raised a hand to his heart, but all I saw was the chain around his neck. I’d gotten so used to seeing it, I almost forgot to look for it. It was the aforementioned Be a Dork Day gift I’d gotten without knowing that he’d bought me a ring for the same occasion. I didn’t dare look at my hand, though.
He’d already seen it. He had seen it on my hand, glinting under the streetlights, and he knew. Even if I hadn’t been wearing it, he would have been able to see the shallow indent on my finger where it had made itself comfortably at home. And in that suffocating moment that still smelled like fire, I was the first one of us to say the word we were both thinking, and it was in the worst possible context.
“Spencer, it’s not my fault that you fell in love with me.”
I swore that the residential street had never sounded nearly that quiet. Even the crickets and frogs were silent; the whole universe held its breath to see if he would deny the truth that we’d both known for a while.
“Me?” he asked, his eyebrows raised with an incredulity I didn’t appreciate. He almost laughed when he repeated, “It’s just me? Really?”
I bit the inside of my cheek and tasted blood that still wasn’t as bitter as the next thing that came out of my mouth.
“…Yes.”
“Okay.” He said softly into the night, nodding with a thought he didn’t deign to share, “Okay, fine.”
With that, Spencer stepped around me like I wasn’t even there and opened his car door.
“W-Where are you going?”
I didn’t want to yell anymore.
He stopped before he got inside the car, his shoulders moving slowly with deep breaths.
“I’m leaving,” he concluded, apparently not finding me worthy of any more explanation.
“Fine!” I didn’t want to yell anymore, so why did I? The poison in my heart had bled into every other cell; it filled my lungs and burned my eyes. “Leave me then! Just like everyone else!”
I couldn’t see his face, but he winced at the words.
“I don’t want to, but I don’t have any other options.”
As he climbed into the car, the only thing we could hear was each other’s desperate sobs.
Before he slammed his door shut, I thought I heard him say that he was sorry.
——————————————————
‘Drinking again because I obviously never learn. What are you doing tonight?’
It had been an hour since I sent him the text, and so far, there had been no indication that he’d even read it. Part of me was hoping that he hadn’t turned off his read receipts, because then at least I would know he wasn’t ignoring me. Either way, it still felt awful.
It’d been two months since the… incident. We never talked about it.  And while I’d seen him constantly at work, things were different. While we still shared hotel rooms when we had to double up and more often than not, he sat next to me on the jet, we didn’t joke around like we used to, and he almost never spoke to me unless it was required. Even when he did, he was so polite. He never, ever took a harsh mood with me. It was like he was compensating for hating me by treating me like a goddamn queen.
I hated it. First, it was obvious to everyone and was embarrassing as hell. But that wasn’t what upset me the most; it was the fact that, again, he thought I wouldn’t know what he was doing. He thought that I would honestly believe his little facade, and I didn’t.
I knew he hated me. I would hate me, too. But no matter how annoyed or frustrated I was, I couldn’t bring myself to hate him. I wished I could. Things would be so much easier if I could hate him.
“So… are we going to talk about the elephant in the room, or…?” Emily started from her position across the table at the bar.
When I looked up, I realized that all three of the women were currently staring at me. I didn’t respond, though, just taking a sip from my straw like they weren’t talking about me. My eyes were stuck on Emily, burning into her with what I’d hoped was a clear indication of how I felt.
“Okay… Apparently not. My bad,” she relented, shrugging and turning to JJ with a look that seemed to say ‘Well, I tried.’
It irked me.
“What are you talking about?” I enunciated each of the words, careful not to sound as drunk as I was planning on getting during this part of the conversation. I definitely didn’t need to give them any ammunition when it came to Spencer.
But it wasn’t Emily that spoke; it was Penelope.
“She’s talking about you and Reid hating each other suddenly after several months of you really, really… not… hating each other.”
The words felt like a knife had been twisted in my gut, and all I could see was the vague memory I had of that night. I remembered most of the words – at least, the ones that mattered. That wasn’t what plagued my thoughts, though; it was the way Spencer had looked while he was crying and telling me that he couldn’t be with me anymore.
The two other women at the table glared at Penelope’s super ungraceful way of prying into my love life, demonstrating to me that they had discussed the subject without my knowledge. I couldn’t be that surprised, although it was a bit annoying.
“Sorry. I blame the sugar,” Penelope rambled off, bowing her head to clutch her sugary cocktail and continue to avoid eye contact with the three profilers at the table.
Recognizing that it must be hard for her, that all of her closest friends were profilers, I tried to go easy on her.
“Tch. We don’t hate each other,” I wrote off with a lazy wave of my hand, “And we didn’t… ‘really, really not hate each other,’ either. We were just friends.”
I noticed what I said too late, and JJ was quick to point it out with an unrivaled swiftness.
“Were?”
Shit.
“Are. Whatever. Don’t read into that. We’re just friends.”
I couldn’t tell if it was worse to be defensive or defeated, so I settled on a very unsatisfying mix of both. JJ wasn’t convinced, though, and she went in on me like I should have expected from Spencer’s best friend.
“Friends that buy each other jewelry? And share beds?”
Had they talked about me when I wasn’t there? Spencer wouldn’t do that, right? … Would he?
“I know for a fact that you’ve shared a bed with Emily,” I deadpanned, pointing an accusing finger at the woman to my right, although it was a weak argument.
“Not like that,” Emily replied with a laugh.
They were being nice to me because they knew I had no leg to stand on. My relationship with Spencer had been anything but subtle. We’d made a show of it since the first day I flirted with him, which happened to be my first day on the job.
Looking back on those days, I always tried to pinpoint the exact moment things changed, but I could never locate it. I figured it was for the best. I shouldn’t have been thinking about that stuff anymore, anyway. So why were they making me?
“I’m sorry, I thought I was coming out for ladies’ night, not a goddamn intervention.”
I sunk back in my seat, crossing my arms over myself in a hug more than a traditionally angry position.
God, what I would have given to have a hug from Spencer right then.
“We don’t have to talk about it, I’m just saying…” She was using her mom voice. “You’ve checked your phone six times in the past half hour, and you haven’t stopped touching your finger where that ring used to be.”
I cursed the psychology that made it harder for us to recognize our own tells. The whole night I had tried to keep my fingers off the spot where the ring used to be, but I guess I’d failed at that, too. It was hard; it felt like such a part of me at that point. Except now that part of me was sitting at home on my nightstand, staring back at me each night when I went to sleep. Spencer always wore his shirts with a tie, so I never knew if he still wore my necklace. I wasn’t going to ask; I didn’t want to know the answer.  
“What? It’s a nervous tic. So what?” I mumbled, unfolding my arms to rub the finger that was now itchy beyond belief. The more I thought about the absence of the ring, the more obvious the feeling became.
“Why are you nervous?” JJ’s eyes were burning into me with the same unrelenting passion that I’d shot at Emily.
I decided that she and Spencer had definitely talked about it, and they had both thought I wouldn’t know. That alone filled me with rage, and if I’d had a few more drinks in me at that point, I would have got up and left.
But I didn’t, so instead I just shouted, “Geez! We said no profiling each other!”
“Fine. No more Reid talk tonight,” Emily caved, raising her hands in a showing of submission.
JJ obviously didn’t want to let it go, but she did. Part of me knew that she wasn’t doing it out of the kindness of her heart – she saw that she’d already accomplished her goal. She had wanted me to just woman up and text him again, rather than stare at my phone and hope that something would change.
And that’s exactly what I did. While the rest of the girls had started talking about some new show on Netflix (focusing mainly on the geographic and legal inaccuracies of the show), I was drunkenly trying to figure out what the fuck to text Spencer.
After almost 5 minutes of contemplation, I settled on something easy.
‘I understand if you’re mad at me. I just want to talk to you, I promise.’
… And hated it immediately. Rubbing a heavy hand over my face, I cursed on noticing that I’d picked up yet another habit from Spencer. JJ shot me a knowing glance before continuing to distract the other two women who had yet to look my way.
‘And by talk, I mean apologize… in case that wasn’t obvious.’
I honestly thought it would work. I’d never had to fight for his attention before, so it was uncharted territory. But Spencer wasn’t the kind of guy to ignore a white flag – even if he was mad at you. I hoped he could read the sincerity in my voice and just give me a chance to explain myself.
But the night continued, and an hour later I still didn’t have any indication that he’d opened my messages. I had already cut myself off from alcohol, worried that the ladies would get looser as the night went on and insist that we discuss something I didn’t want to. In the end, they didn’t, too busy having fun while I sulked in the corner.
When I did stand up, they all looked to me, but didn’t object when I said I needed air. They knew where I was going, and I think they all hoped that I wouldn’t come back. Because if I didn’t come back, it meant that he had listened to me.
My finger hovered over the call button for a full thirty seconds before I decided I was too drunk to talk to him on the phone. I didn’t want him to hear me slur my words if he couldn’t see the look on my face to tell him that I was sober enough to apologize and really mean it.
That was the problem; I needed to see him. Not just because I was lonely and starved for his affection, but because I needed to see that he was okay, and I needed him to see that I wasn’t. Most of all, I needed to tell him I was sorry.
I just wanted to tell him that I was sorry.
‘Please don’t make me say it over text. You deserve better than that.’
Sometimes I was convinced that the universe was out to get me, and by sometimes, I mean most of the time. But never this much; this was just cruel.
Because before I could even comprehend why the noise in front of me sounded so familiar, I was already staring up at the man in front of me, his name falling out of my mouth with no grace at all.
“Spencer?”
Like a deer in the headlights, he stood staring back at me, his phone in his hand with my messages open on his screen.
“… (Y/n)…”
I glanced down at my phone, seeing the small ‘Read 10:39’ pop up. I bit down on my lip to stop them from curling into a smile. Spencer wasn’t ignoring me! He just hadn’t seen my messages! It made so much sense; the guy was probably just at the movies or something.  
“What are you doing here?” I asked, a hope and happiness still clear in my eyes and voice, no matter how hard I tried to bury it.
It didn’t last long.
Before Spencer could say anything, the answer pranced up to him in a sundress and his cardigan. She was laughing, barely even noticing me standing right in front of her.
“Hey.”
It was the rudest I’d ever greeted anyone in my life, and I couldn’t find it in me to care. If she was going to date the guy that I drove away, she might as well have the decency to acknowledge my existence before ignoring me, right?
“Oh! Hello.”
Ugh, she sounded so sweet. So perfectly picked from the crowd of doll-like darlings that everyone thought Spencer would end up with. She was nothing like me – that’s for sure. Which is why instead of being rude back, she just tugged on the sleeve of his shirt.
“Spence, are you going to introduce us?”
It was the question we both needed to snap out of the staring contest that we were all locked in. Spencer cleared his throat, not stopping the girl from wrapping her arm around his.
“Yeah, this is (y/n). We… work together.”
My face twitched at the description he chose. He didn’t even call us coworkers, he said we worked together. The distinction, while minute to some, meant everything to me. He wanted to separate us from an ‘us’ so badly, he was willing to add unnecessary words.
“It’s so nice to meet you!” she said so happily that I had to shake the hand she held out to me.
“You too,” I lied through my teeth, avoiding Spencer’s eyes at all costs, “But don’t let me interrupt. Enjoy your date.”
Her tiny little figure bounced next to him, and I wondered if we ever looked like that.
“Thanks!” she chirped before starting to lead him away. It dawned on me that while she was being sweet, there was a jealousy and possessiveness she was trying to hide from me. Then again, I thought, maybe I was just seeing things I wanted to see. JJ and Spencer talking about me made sense, but I doubt he had told his…
Girlfriend. Spencer had a girlfriend. He had a girlfriend and she wasn’t me. No, I was still standing by myself outside a bar, clinging to my phone with a hand that felt naked without the ring he had given me.
Which reminded me that he wasn’t wearing a tie.
“Oh, and Spencer—!“ I yelled out to him before he got too far away. Without even thinking about it, I had grabbed his other wrist. Both of them looked down at my hand, so comfortable on someone else’s man. I tore it back again just as quickly.
“I—“ The words caught in my throat when all the air vacated my lungs at once. Because I looked up, and in the few inches of skin of his partially unbuttoned shirt, I saw it.
He was wearing our necklace.
When he saw me staring, his eyes shifted away, the flushing in his face visible even in the dim streetlights. His hand twitched, but he held back the urge to fiddle with the small charm.
“What’s up?” He asked after clearing his throat again.
“Uh, it’s nothing. I just… wanted to say that I’m sorry,” I nervously laughed, rubbing my eyes to prevent any tears from forming. Still, in the haze I saw him biting his lip, looking at me and seeing everything I didn’t want him to see. So, I put on my big girl pants and composed myself, shrugging nonchalantly as I explained, “You know, about that thing from earlier. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he immediately responded, his voice breathy and hushed.
It was probably just wishful thinking, but I felt like he almost stayed. We never found out, though, because his girlfriend was tugging him away more insistently now, and he didn’t fight it anymore. He had gotten what he wanted, and I had done the thing I knew I needed to.
So why did I still feel so empty?
I didn’t stay much longer at the bar, and I didn’t dare tell the women what happened. Not that what I was doing at my house was much better than what I would have been doing at the bar. As the world spun around me, I thought about what he must be doing. I wondered how long they’d been together, and whether she was at his house with him.
Did she know about how he likes to read before he goes to sleep? Would the light bother her like it did me? Did he still have my old sleeping mask next to the bed? Would he read to her, like he used to read to me?
Did she know how lucky she was?  
It was suffocating, and my lowered inhibitions begged me to do something stupid. I wanted, no, needed more information. So, knowing that his read receipts were still on, I sent him one more text.
‘I hope you had a good time. Lord knows you deserve it. Goodnight, Spencer.’
If he read or answered immediately, I would at least know that he wasn’t too busy with her to check his phone. If he didn’t… I didn’t want to think about it.
Luckily, I didn’t have to. Almost immediately after the text was delivered, he had opened it.
I watched the dots appear and disappear, slowly dancing across my screen. I don’t know how long I laid like that, but eventually my eyes got heavy. Before I finally dozed off, though, I heard the soft swooping of a new message.
‘Goodnight, (y/n).’
——————————————————
It had been almost exactly four months since I left (y/n)’s apartment that night, but I remembered the night with perfect clarity. She didn’t, but that was alright. It was probably for the best that she couldn’t recall the look on my face the same way hers was burned in my brain.
I hated it, that the last clear image of her that I had was something so horribly ugly. Not to say that she wasn’t beautiful – she was always the most beautiful girl in the world to me. But the frustration and heartbreak on her face that shone clearly through her tears– that was something I never wanted to see again.
But I really shouldn’t have been thinking about any of that, anyway. It was the first date night I’d had in weeks with my girlfriend. However, that didn’t make me think of (y/n) any less. Although I’d told my girlfriend that I was busy with work last week, it wasn’t true. I think she knew that, too, but she had the decency not to mention it. It was just that I’d known that (y/n) was going out, and I hated the idea that if she called me, I wouldn’t be able to come.
Was that fucked up? I never could decide. (Y/n) was still my friend, after all. Of course I didn’t want her to get hurt. Then again, it probably wasn’t fair to abandon my girlfriend’s plans for that reason.
I sighed, running my hands through my hair as I leaned back on her couch, thankful that she wasn’t in the room to see my face reflect the conflict raging on in my head. Closing my eyes, I took in the unwelcome silence of the room. It didn’t last as long as it should have.
When the soft melody of my ringtone resounded through the room, I didn’t need to pick up the phone to know who it was. I didn’t even say hello, just answering it and waiting to hear what she had to say. Part of me hoped that she would just hang up, deciding that it wasn’t serious enough to warrant a return call if she thought it didn’t go through.
That didn’t happen.
“Spencer?“
Her voice was trembling, the two syllables tumbling from her tongue, clumsy and broken.
“Is everything alright?” I spoke quietly, but with what I’d hoped was an obvious concern.
“C-Can you come get me?”
The request immediately struck fear in my heart; I was scared the organ might stop completely. It was already rare enough that she tried to talk to me at all, but the way she whispered the question through what sounded like tears made my blood run cold.
“What’s going on? Are you hurt?”
“I did something stupid and now I just… I really need you to come get me. Please,” she begged, her sobs more audible and her breath too quick and shallow to be safe, “I’m really scared.”
I looked over to the hallway, hearing footsteps come to a halt just out of my sight. Unfortunately for my girlfriend, her shadow was still visible in the doorway. I knew she was waiting, trying to hear what I’d say when she thought I wasn’t aware of her presence. The thing was, I would have said the same thing either way.  
“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” I reassured her, my negotiator voice bleeding through, “Tell me where you are.”
“I-I’m at… at a parking lot by Spirits.”
The most painful part of her sentence was the long pause as she no doubt scanned her surroundings to figure out where she was. It was obvious she’d either had way too much to drink, or something else was really wrong. Neither of those options provided me even the smallest amount of comfort.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon, okay?”
She was crying too hard to respond.
“You’re going to be alright. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
The line cut off before anything else was said, which just made my chest hurt more. There were so many reasons she might have hung up. Her phone might even be dead, and with her as drunk as she was, I didn’t know how long I actually had to find her before she wandered off. So I didn’t wait, gathering my things from the table when I heard a voice that made me freeze.  
“What’s going on?” my girlfriend asked, trying, and failing, to sound innocent. She knew what was going on just from my end of the conversation. I didn’t want to explain it.
“I… have to go,” I said, finally convincing my body to move again and grabbing my satchel off the back of the chair. When I turned around to see her, she was glaring at me, waiting for an explanation. I didn’t have time. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I can’t explain right now.”
Turning to leave, I made it all the way to the door, my hand on the knob when she spoke again.
“… it’s (y/n), isn’t it?”
I swallowed, knowing there was a better way to handle this but not caring enough to put in the effort.
“It doesn’t matter,” I whispered, clearing my throat and keeping my eyes forward.
“Yes, it does,” she said more sternly.
I could tell she wanted me to turn around, and I figured I owed her that much. What I found was exactly what I expected; she stood with her arms crossed and tears in her eyes.  
It occurred to me that being in this relationship was one of the most selfish and unfair things I’d ever done. And the only person who made me feel deeply enough to bring out those awful parts of me was (y/n).
I wanted to feel bad for my girlfriend, but there were much more disturbing visions in my head. (Y/n) was alone, drunk, and sobbing in a parking lot. She was scared. I couldn’t leave her there like that, no matter how pitiful my girlfriend looked or how much of an asshole it made me to choose the girl who’d been too scared to admit her feelings for me and had a remarkable talent for making me feel unwanted. In contrast, my girlfriend cared about me, wanted to be with me, and I’d doled out the same treatment to her that I’d so detested enduring.
“Can we talk about this later?”
While not what was she was hoping for, I think she knew it was coming. Her shoulders fell in defeat.
“As long as that’s where your priorities lie, Spence.”
She sounded so far away. It would take a lot of effort to apologize for this, and I was willing to do it. Just… not now.
“That’s not…” A breath shuddered from my lungs as I realized I didn’t have an objection. She chuckled bitterly at the look on my face, knowing just as well as I did that the priority wasn’t going to change tonight, or any other time soon. “I don’t want to argue about this.”
My eyes finally fell from her, turning back to the door. I wasn’t sure why I said it, but as the door opened, I tried one more time to justify my decision.
“I promise I can explain. I’ll come back later.”
But when she spoke, she said exactly what I expected, and what I wrongfully hoped for.
“Don’t bother.”
I couldn’t waste another second worrying about whether I still had a girlfriend or how I would get her to forgive me at this point – I had to get to (y/n). Luckily, it was a much shorter drive from her place than it would have been otherwise. Part of me hoped that (y/n) would realize where I’d come from, although that also made me feel bad.
What would have been the point? Did I want her to feel jealous? Did I want her to picture me with another woman? Or did I want her to know that I was with my girlfriend because I wanted her to know that I would drop anything for her when she needed me? Probably all of the above.
As I pulled into the parking lot that I figured (y/n) had referred to, I heard the commotion before I ever laid eyes on her. At first, I struggled to identify why the sounds made me so uneasy, but once I heard the distinct, high-pitched shattering of a beer bottle against the pavement, I knew why.
I turned in the direction of the sound and I saw her. She had her arms raised over her head, defensively turned away from the man in front of her. He was red-faced and slurring incomprehensible words at an alarming volume, drowning out the low pulsing of music from the club behind them. And despite being an agent in a field where people are regularly in danger, I experienced a rather annoying phenomenon.
People often talk about the fight or flight instinct, but there’s more to it than that. There are actually four Fs: Fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. All but the last are fairly self-explanatory, and I was currently struggling with the third.
(Y/n) appeared to be stuck on the fourth.
To fawn is to comply with the danger in an attempt to save yourself. It usually only happens when running and fighting are no longer an option.
When had that happened? When in the past few months had he managed to convince the lively girl that I loved that the only thing she could do was lie down and accept the abuse?
A sudden burst of adrenaline spiked through my blood at the sight of a cocked fist, and before I knew it, I was in front of them, tearing the much larger man away from the girl cornered against a truck.
“Get the fuck away from her!”
The two of us collided against another car, and I was both shocked and grateful that the alarm didn’t sound as a result of the force with which we hit it. Unfortunate flashbacks to my most recent physical altercations plagued my thoughts, and I felt that pesky darkness swell in my chest at the sight of him laughing at my reaction to (y/n)’s abuse.
“This isn’t any of your business, man, you need to walk away.”
It sounded just as disgusting as his slurred nonsense, and I wanted nothing more than to wipe the grin off his face.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t give into the urge to smash this man’s head against the glass window of a stranger’s car because in the background I heard a shrill, tired voice begging for my attention.
“Spencer…”
I immediately turned to her when her tiny hand clung to my jacket. I should have looked at her longer. I should have abandoned the stupid piece of shit at the other end of my hands and held her, instead. But I couldn’t quiet the rage that was still building as he spoke again.
“Oh, hold up, hold up!” he said with a growing enthusiasm before he confidently declared, “You’re Spencer Reid.”
I felt my nostrils flare and my jaw clench at the use of my name. He said it with such an obvious disdain, an apparent mockery, it brought my blood to a boil.
“Or, what was it? Dr. Reid? Well, either way, it’s so nice to finally meet you in person.”
Although pinned against the car by my hands on his jacket, he still raised a hand between us to offer to shake hands. Even if I wasn’t a germaphobe, I would never want to touch him for any reason beyond keeping him away from her.
Leaning forward, all I could smell was the most repulsive mix of sweat and liquor. It was nauseating and dizzying, and I wanted nothing more than to get away from it and him as soon as humanly possible.
“I’m taking her home, and you’re going to call a cab and leave by yourself,” I said lowly, relying on the girl still clutching my jacket to hold me back from the abyss I desperately wanted to throw myself into.
“What are you, her dad? Is that what she’s in to now?” he mocked, cocking his head to the side in an attempt to look around me. But I wasn’t planning on him ever getting the chance to see her ever again, and so my head followed to block the view.
But I was soon distracted again, (y/n)’s small tugs gaining speed and force as she cried, “I’m sorry, Spencer.”
I winced at the sound, and my body held tight to the hatred and the man I wanted to take it out on.
“Please, Spencer. I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t say it, but I heard her plea. She was asking me to stop the cycle of violence – to let go of this man who deserved none of my mercy and take her home without any more pain.
Letting go of him was the hardest thing I’d ever done, but I did it. Pushing him back against the truck with one last shove, I stepped back and reached an arm around her as I did so.
“Don’t apologize,” I whispered, turning around to see her up close for the first time that night.
Her face was puffy from the mixture of alcohol and tears that were most evident by the smeared makeup all over her cheeks. Brushing the loose strands of hair from her face, I waited for her to look me in the eyes again before I handed her my keys.
“Go get in my car.”
She didn’t want to leave my side, but I wasn’t entirely done with the man behind us yet. It wasn’t enough to me that I got her away from him now; I wanted him to never see her again. I wanted to wipe him from her life so that he would never get a chance to see her smile again. He didn’t deserve it.
Once she’d weighed her current options, she turned and took off in the direction of my car. I was just glad to see she was still coordinated enough to do that. I guess I could thank her fight or flight for that one, at least.
“Don’t tell her what to do.” A low voice bellowed behind me in a dramatically late fashion. His own perception was so altered that by the time he spoke again, she was out of both of our sights and safe in the passenger side of my car. Remembering why he was angry in the first place, the man raised the side of his mouth in a grimace. “You’re no better than me.”
I might have believed him before I met (y/n). Honestly, a lot of my life was spent wondering if I was truly as good as people told me I was. That voice in my head that begged me to destroy this man was still there in that moment. But on top of it, I heard her. I remembered every time she’d ever told me that I was a good man, a gentle man.
A man worth falling in love with.
But I wasn’t confident enough or stupid enough to bare my soul to a man who only wanted to punish us both for being happy in the same world that he was so miserable in. So, I returned that stupid fucking smirk he had on his face with my own, tucking my hands into my pockets and straightening my posture to look him in the eyes.
“Maybe I’m not. But there is one thing that’s very different about us. Do you know what it is?”
He stared at me with a genuine curiosity, although he swayed in place, barely able to stay upright. And despite all the ugliness around me, my heart was full of the horrible mixture of pain and love. Because when it came down to it, (y/n) had called me. When she wasn’t sure if we were even still friends and she knew I was with someone else, I was still the first person that came to her mind when she needed help.
I summarized that feeling in what I’d hoped would be the most painful delivery for the man who never got that from her.
“I don’t have to hurt her for her to want me.”
It wasn’t that I couldn’t evade the punch that was immediately thrown; it was more like it didn’t matter whether it connected – which it did. But even as my face was forced to one side, the smile never left it.
Sucking my lip into my mouth, I licked off the blood from where the skin had split and turned back to the now horrified face of (y/n)’s ex-boyfriend.
Of all the different punches I’d taken in my life, that one was the easiest. I couldn’t even feel the pain that should be blossoming over my cheekbone, and the iron in my mouth didn’t repulse me like it should have. I gathered it together and spit on his shoe before I concluded, “Yeah. Pathetic.”
He didn’t stop me then. I walked away with no more encumbrances beyond the hole in my heart that begged me not to get my hopes up. But they had already slipped from my hands like a helium balloon held by a child.
When I got to the car, (y/n) was asleep. She hadn’t even managed to put her seat belt on before she gave in to the exhaustion. It wasn’t the first time I’d taken care of her, and I didn’t mind if it wasn’t going to be the last. I just wanted her to be okay.
The drive over was quiet except for the soft sounds of her breath. I found them more comforting than I should have. With every glance over at her, I was overwhelmed by the urge to brush her hair from her face and hold her. I wanted to wipe away the old, smudged make up and kiss her until she smiled again. I shouldn’t have wanted any of those things, but I did. I wanted them more than I needed to breathe.
She woke up when I pulled into her driveway, although she was still barely aware of her surroundings. It required an astounding combined effort to get her out of the car and into her apartment. So much of me didn’t want to leave her alone at all that night, but I knew it wouldn’t be worth the explanations in the morning. I settled on getting her safe in bed.
It wasn’t like she’d remember, anyway.
Before I could get her into her bed, she stopped me. I knew I should have pressed her to keep going; that talking to her in this state wasn’t fair to either of us. Nothing good could come from her drunkenly spilling her heart out to me. She’d done it before, and when the next morning came and she hadn’t remembered a thing… I didn’t want that to happen again.
But when she started to talk, I couldn’t stop her anymore.
“I’m so fucking stupid, Spencer,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes that were already dripping with tears that had formed in a matter of seconds.
Would it be wrong for me to hold her?
I couldn’t decide, so I just placed a hand on her shoulder and we both pretended like it was there to stabilize her.
“No, you’re not,” I reassured her, running my hand down her arm until I got to her hand. When I hesitated to hold it, she made the decision for me. Her grip was unforgiving, her whole arm trembling from the force exerted.
“Why did I do that?”
There were so many things she could have been referencing, and I had no way of knowing which to respond to. Deciding it was the most temporally adjacent, I shook my head.
“It’s not your fault. He’s the one who made the decision to hurt you.”
Her sniffles sounded so loud. The room was dark and still smelled exactly how I remembered it. It felt wrong to be there again, but only as wrong as I could feel with her. I always felt completely at home when her hand was in mine.
She shook her head, too, frustrated by her inability to formulate the necessary words as quickly as she wanted. Shaking her free hand in the air between us, her body bounced with energy she really had no business using in her state. But it was like all her emotions had grown tired of being bottled up and were trying to escape her weary figure all at once.
“I’m not talking about tonight, Spencer," she finally whispered, choking on my name as she started to sway, “Why did I do that to you?”
I didn’t trust myself to hold her, so I just watched her body move in the darkness. Even still, her hand felt so warm and inviting that I almost missed her words.
“Why did I hurt you for loving me?”
It still hit me like a ton of bricks, to hear her utter that word in relation to the two of us. My whole body tensed, my eyes closing to hide from the pain that my brain forced me to recall at her reference. Once I was able to push them aside, I opened them again to find her staring at me exactly like she used to.
I hesitate to describe the way she looked at me for fear of getting it wrong, but it was the same look that made me question every time she ever told me that ‘we’ meant nothing to her. Because when I looked in her eyes, I never saw nothing. I saw an entire universe that stretched into the infinite space that only existed when we held each other. I felt the security and joy that bloomed in her presence like morning glories at sunrise.
There was love in those eyes, too, but I could never be sure if it was just my own affection reflected in hers.
My hand came to rest on her face, and she immediately pressed her cheek against it. She sighed, the noise weak and shaky.
“(Y/n)…”
And she looked up at me again, her eyes begging me to do something to help her.
The worst part was, I wanted to. I wanted to help the pain go away so badly for the both of us that when she leaned forward and closed the gap between us, I didn’t try to stop her. Our lips touched without any hesitance or ambivalence. We kissed just like we always had; comfortably and earnestly.
She ran her hand through my hair, and I held her close, too. The blood from my busted lip and the ethanol on her tongue should have been unpleasant, but I couldn’t be bothered to notice. Because to me, she always tasted like the sweetest peaches at the height of spring.
I shouldn’t have kissed her. I knew the second her lips touched mine that it was a terrible idea. I was the one to pull away, although it took me longer than I wanted to admit. It wasn’t until I tasted salt on my lips that I realized she wasn’t the only one crying. She wouldn’t look at me, her eyes stuck to the floor between us.
“Do you still love me?”
She was afraid. Of what exactly, it was unclear. But the one thing I knew she never needed to worry about were my feelings for her.
“Yes,” I said confidently, still holding onto her face so that I could guide it back to me. I didn’t kiss her again, knowing how unfair it would have been. But I held her close enough that I could press my forehead against hers and feel her breath on my face. “I will always love you.”
“I don’t deserve that,” she immediately replied.
Not letting her stray too far, I held her in place for just a moment longer, making sure that she felt the force behind the words. I opened my eyes to look into hers once again.
“I don’t care,” I mumbled, watching the way she tried to convince herself that I was lying.
But it was true. Of course, I felt she deserved love more than anyone I’d ever known, but even if she didn’t, I wouldn’t care. I would love her, anyway.
She didn’t answer me. Her eyes fluttered shut before any words came to her, and I caught her limp body in my arms. Somehow it was easier to get her in bed when she was asleep. I guessed it was because the emotions we felt were heavier than the dead weight of her.
She would have laughed at that joke if she’d been awake to hear it.
I left her in the bed so that I could gather supplies for the raging hangover she’d undoubtedly have in the morning, and it was strange to move around her space again. I knew it was a violation of her privacy, but it felt so natural to be there.
Walking back into her room felt even more so. I slowly set the medicine and water down on the nightstand, moving towards the bed like she would wake up at the smallest sound. That was a ridiculous thought, though. She was out cold. But that just made me want to touch her more; to make sure that she was okay. To make sure that whatever fantasy her mind wove was a happy one.
I hoped that I was there, too.
But reality wasn’t a dream, and I had to leave. I couldn’t stay any longer because if I did, I was scared I would never want to go. I reached out a cautious hand to touch her but decided against it at the last second.
It would be wrong for me to hold her.
We had already done too many things wrong for one night. She’d gone through so much pain before I showed up, and then I’d just made everything worse. I’d dredged up the ugly mess between us and now I was just… running away.
I didn’t want her to have to feel the way I felt. So, before I finally turned to shut the door, I picked up her phone. I resisted the urge to feel terrible for being relieved that her passcode was still the same.
The blood rushing in my ears and the unsteady motions of my fingers should have alerted me that I was making a mistake, but I couldn’t stop myself. With one final tap, I deleted my name from her call history.
It wasn’t like she’d remember, anyway.
——————————————————
So much had changed over the course of the year. Everyone kept telling me that the time would fly by as I got older, but this year hardly felt like that. I could pretend like it was something to do with the job, but I knew the real reason time stretched ad nauseam.
It had been six months since I fought with Spencer.
I shouldn’t have wished for more fighting, but a part of me did. I wished that we could fight again because at least then I would know that I still meant something to him. Honestly, things had been weird between us for months, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. It was like one day I’d woken up to find that things were slowly slipping back to normal.
But they weren’t normal. It was just different enough to be unsettling. Frustrating. It almost felt like he’d forgiven me, and I felt this unexplainable pressure to move past the fight we’d never actually discussed. But whatever epiphany had led to Spencer’s willingness to move on, I didn’t share it. I was angry. At him? Maybe, I wasn’t really sure. I was just angry, and I didn’t want to be anymore.
It was New Year’s Eve and I was alone in my room, staring up at the ceiling and wishing that I had someone beside me. Although I acted like anyone would do, they wouldn’t. There was only one man I wanted to end the year with, and I was certain that he was spending it with someone who was much happier to see him.
He hadn’t talked about her in a long time. I figured he was just trying to spare my feelings. We both knew it killed me to think of him with someone else, however unfair that was.
I closed my eyes to hopefully end the year quietly, to drift off into a fit of restless sleep and wake up like any other day. But as soon as my eyelids closed, I heard the rattling of my phone vibrating on my bedside table. It was made louder by the fact that my discarded ring sat next to it. I’d never put it away.
There was no reason for me to believe that the call was from Spencer. Aside from wishful thinking, there was no other indication that he would call me at 10:50PM on New Year’s Eve. When I turned my phone over, my stomach knotted into nothing.
Spencer.
“Hello?” I answered, trying to sound as apathetic as possible while my heart tried to pound its way through my ribs.
“I’m at your front door. Let me in.”
That was all he said before the line cut off. I sat up, staring down at my home screen for way too long before I looked at my call history to confirm it had actually happened at all. Sure enough, his name was staring back at me.
It was the fastest I’d ever made it out of my bed and to my front door. Still, by the time I made it to the door, Spencer was covered in snow, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes looking everywhere but at me.  
“Spencer, what are you doing here?”
He closed his eyes to avoid me longer. When he went to brush the snow from his hair, he nearly fell over. My hands shot out to grab him and I was shocked to feel just how cold he was. He had to have been standing out here for much longer than it had taken me to answer the door.
“…Are you drunk?”
“No, not really," he shot back defensively, taking a deep breath and steadying himself, “I… I-I only had a couple drinks.”
I didn’t want to hear his story. I was sure that it would have made me feel bad for him, and I wasn’t particularly in the mood to do that tonight.
“Why are you here?” I asked, wishing that I didn’t sound so resigned.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” he said like it was an answer to my question.
“Did you book a fucking appointment?”
When he finally looked at me, there was an obvious frustration and despondency in his eyes.
“Please, I don’t have anywhere else to go.” His voice shook along with the shivers spreading throughout his body. He should have known better, considering how often he’d told me about alcohol lowering your body temperature.
I didn’t want him to come inside. If he came inside, I knew what would happen.
“Why don’t you go to your girlfriend’s house?” I spat, propping the door further open  in a rather contradictory fashion. I just hated to see him look so pitiful, and I wasn’t going to warm him up myself. The least I could offer was the residual heat of my home.
“We broke up.”
I heard the words, but they didn’t register. They broke up? When? Why? I willed my frantic heart to quiet in my chest, but it just screamed louder. It was annoying, really, to have my head and heart argue opposite stances all the time.
“Then go home,” I muttered, staring at the ground between us and noticing all the shoe marks from where he’d obviously paced back and forth for an inordinate amount of time.
“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” he begged, finally stepping forward and almost closing the distance between us. Instead, he raised his arm to lean against the door frame. Ever since he looked in my eyes, it was like he couldn’t stop anymore. “You were the only person I could think to call.”
It was those eyes that got to me. My heart won.
“… Just get inside. You shouldn’t be driving.”
While it was obvious that he wasn’t nearly as drunk as we used to be when we shared my bed, it still took him a while to stumble into the familiar landscape and remove his winter clothes. The whole time, I just watched him silently. For once, I think neither of us really knew what to say.
If you’d asked me before, I would have told you that the roles would be reversed. I would be the one showing up at his door, desperately seeking out the affection I didn’t deserve. Then again, I guess that isn’t what happened between us. Spencer never really did anything wrong. Unless you counted falling in love with me something wrong; which, I did.
He wordlessly followed me through the halls until we ended up back in my bedroom. Don’t ask me why I led him there – it was some mixture of muscle memory and a longing to hold him much the same as I had at the beginning of the year. It felt safe there, sitting on my bed with him.  
“Why did you break up?” I asked, fiddling with the hem of the t-shirt I’d thrown on to answer his call.
He barely looked at me before he turned his attention back to the wall, mumbling a soft, solemn, “You know why.”
“I really don’t.”
“It was because of you.”
For someone who’d danced around the topic literally seconds before, he was very confident in his answer. Although I could tell from the way he said it that it was the truth, it wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear. Sure, I’d spent months pining after him silently and with a bitchy demeanor, but underneath all of that displeasure was a genuine desire for Spencer to be happy.
Had I ruined that, too?
“Me?” I scoffed, “What did I do?”
Spencer didn’t answer at first. In his eye’s wandering, they had landed on the same object that had alerted me of his phone call. He picked up the ring, rolling it between his fingers for a second before laughing.
“You really have no idea, huh?”
It sounded like something I should have known. His laugh was bittersweet; filled with longing and nostalgia and something else. I could feel the tension quickly filling the air when the ring hit the wood again. Turning his attention back to me, Spencer licked his lips like he was about to say something, but he never did. His mouth hung open and his eyes narrowed as he stared at me like he was recalling a memory I didn’t have.
“Enlighten me,” I said, leaning forward and smelling the familiar whiskey on his breath.
Any attempts to remember what it tasted like to kiss him were redundant, because within a few seconds, that’s exactly what he did. Spencer grabbed my face with so much force I’m surprised it wasn’t a less graceful kiss. But then again, we’d had plenty of practice.
Things moved so quickly as soon as our lips connected, our bodies like magnets that physically had no choice but to draw closer to each other. While my hands quickly worked to remove his clothes, his were much busier trying to roam over every inch of skin that he could reach.  
Seconds after I’d successfully unbuttoned his shirt, he pushed me back against the bed. There was no hesitancy or worry in my body, doing whatever he asked of it. As he removed his pants, I watched the necklace I’d bought him bounce against his chest with each movement.
He joined me quickly, his mouth finding mine with just as much passion as it had before. Six months of pent up desire was pouring out of us, and I was ready to be swept up in the undertow. We only broke apart so that he could remove my shirt, leaving the two of us bare before each other for the first time in what felt like forever.
Well, almost bare. As he kissed me, I felt the gentle tickling of the charm on his necklace against my neck. Without thinking, my hand came up to grab the delicate chain. Spencer froze, opening his eyes to try to figure out if he’d done something wrong in wearing it here. It was such a visual reminder of everything we’d ever had – the good and the bad. I tried to stay focused on the good.
“This stupid fucking chain,” I laughed, toying with it similar to how he’d played with our ring. I bit my lip, looking up with a mischievous smile. “Every time you fuck me and it drags across my chest I just want to tear it off of you.”
“I can take it off,” he offered, just as sad as I’d expected him to be. But he shouldn’t have been sad about it; the tearing it off of him was the wrong part of the sentence to focus on.
“Don’t you dare,” I muttered, pulling just hard enough to cause resistance to urge him back to my lips. With a low, hungry rasp, I whispered against his lips, “Fuck me, instead.”
There was no need for him to argue with the instruction. His hand between us took its time down my stomach, settling against my sex before he slowly ran a finger through my folds. I cried out at the contact, my body remembering him so vividly and reacting on instinct.
Still, there was a question burning in my mind that prevented me from being here with him. It was powerful enough that it forced me to turn my head away from him to free me from our kiss. He slipped a finger inside of me, his sigh hitting my cheek when my back arched against him.
“Did you fuck her like you fucked me?” I blurted out, closing my eyes out of fear that I would see him lie to me. But when he didn’t answer, I opened them to find him waiting.
“No.”
It was the truth.
Breathlessly, and with his ministrations continuing, I wrapped my legs around his waist.
“Why not?” I panted, wishing that he didn’t need a hand to hold him up so that he could touch me more.
Spencer’s mouth twitched into a small smile, his words becoming slurred with a pain I understood.
“I wasn’t in love with her,” he croaked, blinking to rid the tears pooling at the bottom of his lashes.
I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t. I ran my hands through his hair, still damp from the snow, and pulled him back to me. My own jealousy blended together with the relief I felt at having  him in my arms again. It was my own fault he’d ever strayed; I should just be grateful that I got the chance to be here with him again. Even if it was just for one night.
I didn’t dare ask if it was just for one night. The answer would break my heart either way. I could tell by the look on his face when we separated again that Spencer felt the same. A second finger entered me while he watched me, his breath heavy and wild.
“Tell me that you want me," he pleaded. The request caught me off guard, and for a minute all I could do was stare back at him with a mouth filled with wanton moans. More desperately, his voice raw with emotion, he continued, “Tell me that I’m better than him.”
The realization washed over me and took my breath with it. I wanted to give him the reassurance he sought, but my brain was turned to mush by the way his hands remembered exactly how to drive me over the edge.
“I want you,” I vaguely replied, my eyes struggling to stay open between the sloppy kisses he laid on my jaw.
“I want to hear you say it,” he corrected, his fingers curling inside of me to elicit more dramatic mewls from me.
“You’re the only one I want, Spencer,” I sobbed, my body shaking and begging him for more.
He was more than happy to give it, but not before his hand retreated. He dragged it down my thigh, positioning himself at my entrance.
“I need you.” It felt like a confession, the words repeating on my lips. “I need you, Spencer. It’s always been you.”
With one swift thrust, he entered me all at once. His head fell forward and he groaned into my ear. The hand holding him up slipped below my head so that our bodies were impossibly closer.
“God, I missed you,” he slurred, more so drunk on the heat of the moment than the little alcohol still left in his system.
“I missed you, too.”
I didn’t know how strongly I felt until I spoke the words out loud. It was suffocating.
But Spencer seemed like he was breathing better now than he ever had before, beginning to move in shallow thrusts when he spoke again.
“It’s been so long since I got to touch you like this.”
My mind filled with flashes of every night over the past six months that we’d laid in separate beds in the same room. I thought of all the times it felt like he was watching me when my eyes were closed. I remembered each instance where his eyes lingered during quiet moments on the jet or during late office nights.
“Tell me what else you missed,” I demanded in an attempt to clear my thoughts of the sadness that was gnawing at me below the surface.
Spencer appeared to also be trapped in the same loop of memories, but he was much better at navigating it than I was. I suspected he was used to it.
“The way you say my name when I’m between your legs,” he said as his force increased, our bodies sliding against the sheets. He laughed as my nails dragged across the skin of his back, starting at the back of his neck where the golden reminder hung. “I missed the scratch marks you leave everywhere you can reach.”
I chuckled, too, beginning to rock my hips along with him. The harmony that our bodies found was so effortless that it was the first thing to ever make me believe in soulmates.
His hand slid over the outside of my thigh that was cling to him. He guided my leg away to grant him better access, which he immediately took advantage of. Slamming into me with enough force to draw a scream from my chest, his fingers dug into my thigh.
“How your legs shake when I’m buried inside of you," he teased.
My hands had become dangerous, no longer violently creating welts on his skin. Instead, they were gently caressing his face. His stubble felt so familiar, despite having changed since the last time I held him. I was inspecting him so closely that I forgot he could see me, too. It felt like a dream, being here with him.
When his hand grabbed my wrist, I thought he would tell me to stop. I was terrified that he could see the adoration in my eyes and was ready to tell me that this could never happen again. He would see how badly I needed him, and he would leave.
But that’s not what he did. With a tenderness so overwhelming I couldn’t breathe while he spoke, he dragged his lips over my cheek.
“I missed saying your name. I missed the way it feels to hold you.”
I held tighter to him now, my hands sliding over his neck and into his hair. My heavy breathing in his ear didn’t slow him down in the slightest, his hips continuing to rock into me.
Choking on tears I could feel on my face, his motions got more violent while his words got softer. Driving into me with full force, he cried, “For months I’ve had to pretend like—like half of me wasn’t missing. But you were.”
“Spencer…” I warned, my last attempt to stop us from crossing the line that we’d been toeing for a year. But Spencer didn’t care, pulling back and dropping his hand to hold me against him as he buried himself inside me.
“If this is the last time you ever let me touch you, please, just… Let me say it," he said through clenched teeth, an insistent heartache in his eyes.
I wanted to say something more eloquent. I wanted to tell him that this wouldn’t be the last time; that he could always have me whenever he wanted me. But I couldn’t tell him that.
Even as he was there, threatening to tell me that he loved me, all I could say was, “Okay.”
His shoulders dropped in relief, his thrusts becoming rhythmic once again. He didn’t say it at first, waiting until we’d fallen back into the throes of longing before he whispered into our kiss.
“I love you.”
My entire body broke out in goosebumps, my back arching against him and my hands pulling his mouth harder against mine. I tried to kiss him, but he couldn’t contain the words anymore now that they had been said. Through a moan, he repeated it over and over again.
“Fuck, I love you. I love you so much.”
Our bodies were meeting with such force now that I thought we might never be able to separate the same again. I wanted to feel it. I wanted him to become a part of me so that I could never exist without him again.
“Spencer!” I gasped, feeling the way his motions shifted as we neared the end.
“I’ll love you forever. Until the day I die, until the universe turns to dust and nothing else matters, I will still love you.”
He couldn’t stop, but I needed him to. I needed him to be quiet for just a moment.
I reached up, my hand covering his mouth. He closed his eyes, taking the gesture to mean that I didn’t want to hear his words any longer. But that wasn’t it at all.
“I-I need to tell you something,” I said with a shaky voice, “Please, Spencer.”
He turned his head, uncovering his mouth. He tried not to let my words change his movements, but they did. They filled with a possessiveness and a yearning for something he had sought after for a long time.
“Don’t lie to me," he ordered, looking down at me with those amber eyes that drowned me every time. I could never lie to those eyes; he knew that. Because even if I did, he would be able to see it clear as day. Just like he did that night I’d lied and told him that he was the only one of us that had fallen in love.
He deserved to hear it.
“I love you,” I sobbed, locking eyes with him as I did. I forced my eyes to stay open, wanting to remember every second of this. And it was beautiful, the way Spencer’s entire body gave into the feeling we’d avoided for so long.
“I love you,” I repeated, just so he could hear it again.
The catharsis was so powerful, that when he reached down to touch me as his motions finally began to slow, it took almost no time before I was falling over the edge. My whole body tightened around him, bringing him into me with all I had. And although I’d loved him for a long time, it felt differently having said it. His embrace felt like home.
Spencer finished soon after me, burying himself as deeply as he could one more time and filling me with a warmth that I had never been able to find with anyone else. I somehow clung even tighter, nearly suffocating him in the crook of my neck when he collapsed against me.
As soon as he could gather enough strength to move, he used it to hold me. Eventually, he separated our bodies. The bed never felt so cold. But he didn’t go far, turning and flopping onto the bed beside me. Even six months later, he still insisted on sleeping in his spot. When he looked over at me, I was wearing the stupidest smile.
“Do you still love me?” he joked, trying to catch his breath while trying not to let his excitement show any more than mine did.
I didn’t like that, so I cuddled up to his side, running my hand over his face until he had a grin just as goofy as my own. Once I was satisfied, I promised him something I’d ignored for far too long.
“I’m not as poetic as you, Spencer Reid, but I can assure you with the highest confidence that I will love you forever.”
Although he didn’t say it back, I saw it in his eyes. That full-faced smile drew back, and he looked down to our hands tangled together on his chest. Without any other explanation, he turned away without letting go.
When he returned, he held my hand just as delicately as he had on July 15th. The familiar ring slipped onto my finger so easily, finding its way back home.
“Wear it again. Please.” He begged, holding my hand as his eyes scanned over me one more time. I didn’t know what he thought he saw, but I was glad that he would be able to remember it forever. Because that was the beginning of something that I’d never let go of.
It was the face of the woman he loved, ready to unapologetically love him for the rest of eternity.
“Okay,” I whispered, “I will.”
——————————————————
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spencerseance · a year ago
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Just My Friend (Reid Request)
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Request: Can I please request either a jealous Matthew or Spencer smut? I'm not sure which one would be hotter in my opinion.
Request: 13, 21, 31 (smut) with Spencer please!
#13 - "Mine."
#20 - "Could he make you feel as good as I do?"
#31 - "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you forget that asshole."
Category: Smut
Content Warning: Jealousy, Degradation, Fingering, Penetrative Sex
MASTERLIST
Word Count: 3,172
Spencer sat at his desk with his eyes burning a hole into Morgan's head. He held a pen in his hand, and he took his frustration out on by clicking it repeatedly. Morgan was talking to Y/n, having a conversation that must have been extremely funny based on the way that she laughed at everything that came out of his mouth. Her hand playfully brushed against his arm and Spencer thought he might explode. Spencer recognized that look in his eyes. Sure, Morgan flirted with any woman that's conscious, but it was different for Spencer when it was his girlfriend there with him. Of course, he couldn't bring it up to him. Nobody was supposed to know about their relationship in the first place. But Spencer had never been closer to spilling their secret than in that moment.
"Spence, cool it on the pen!" JJ said, looking up from her file with an annoyance on her face. Her expression changed to a cocked eyebrow when she saw the anger on his face coupled where where he was looking.
"Sorry," He snapped out of it, avoiding her gaze and instead looking down at his notes.
JJ had an idea of what was happening. She knew her friends well, and she was good at her job on top of that. But she wasn't a whistle blower. She wasn't going to tell. Instead she smirked, "What's up, Spencer?"
He looked up and pretended not to notice her smugness. "Did you know that if murderous thoughts were a crime then 91 percent of men and 84 percent of women would be guilty?"
She furrowed her eyebrows, "Why is that on your mind right now?"
"No reason," he went back to his notes, "Just thought it was interesting is all."
"Okay, well, make sure to let me know if you'd be guilty so I don't get on your bad side."
"Funny." he scribbled something in his notebook, but it was just irrelevant doodling so y/n didn't see him staring as she approached his desk.
Y/n cleared her throat, "I was gonna go out with Morgan, if that's alright, we were gonna train together." She spoke quietly so no one besides Spencer could hear. He looked up at her, biting the inside of his cheek.
"You're in a skirt." He stated obviously, tapping his pen against his page.
"Good profiling, Genius," Y/n joked, but Spencer didn't find it especially funny. "My gym clothes are in my bag."
"Okay... Then why would I care?" He asked plainly. Y/n stood up straight and blinked at him. She quickly glanced over her shoulder to see JJ's face buried in a book, pretending not to be trying to listen. She turned back to face Spencer. He was irritated, and she knew that. But she really needed to train and Spencer wasn't exactly Michael Jordan.
"I don't know, just thought I'd tell you... Bye." She tapped her fingers on the wood of his desk, before walking back to her own station. She gathered her things and followed Derek out the door.
Spencer left too, pretty soon after with anger powering his movement. He couldn't have told her no. It was her life and he wasn't trying to control her and who she spends time with. Even if it was with his best friend. He also didn't say anything because it was obvious that JJ was listening. JJ was smart as hell but not at all slick. She would have detected something immediately. There's not a bigger giveaway than possessiveness.
He got home and slammed the door behind him. He threw his satchel onto the floor and himself onto the couch. He laid on his back and stared up at the bumps on the ceiling like he was decoding Morse Code.
Spencer got deep into the abyss within his own mind. He couldn't stop himself thinking about all the things that they could be doing right now. She must've known this would triggered something in his brain, and that was probably why she did it. He could see it now, playing out in his head like a movie that he desperately wished would turn off.
They were training. Her form was wrong and Morgan was in a hurry to adjust her. He savored the feeling of her skin in his hands and lingered there for a little too long. He was grabbing her hips and pulling her closer into his body. She felt a spark, of course she did, it was Derek. She turned around and looked at his lips as he spoke. His words slowly changed from advice a some dirty remark that was usually reserved for Garcia. Y/n knew she shouldn't listen, but at that point it was too late. He was leaning in and she didn't want to stop him. They were kissing. My god they were kissing! I'm so stupid! How the fuck could I compete with Derek Morgan?
Spencer swore and sat up, rubbing his face in his hands. He knew that it was all in his head, but it wasn't going to be coming out any time soon. He decided he needed a drink to help clear his mind. He got up and went to the kitchen. He poured the scotch into the glass, the sound filled the completely silent apartment, which just reminded him that he was here alone. He brought the crystal up to his lips, held the booze in his mouth for a few seconds, and swallowed. Morgan taught him that, it keeps it from burning as it goes down. He hated that he was using his advice when he was probably groping his girlfriend at this very moment.
He looked at the clock on the stove, it was almost midnight. Spencer had been home longer than he thought he had been, so Y/n should be getting home soon too. As if on cue, he heard the sound of keys in the front door. He put his glass on the counter and approached the front door with his hands in his pockets. He appeared behind her as she was locking the door back up.
"Shit, Spence, you scared me," Y/n laughed, going on her tip toes to leave a kiss on his lips. He didn’t kiss back. She pulled away again, confused. She wasn't drunk, but he could smell alcohol on her, different from the one on his own tongue.
"Hm, is there a bar in the gym now?" He moved closer and pressed her against the cold wall. Her eyes were wide as he stared into her. He placed one hand on the door next to her head.
"We got a couple drinks after." She stammered, feeling his breath against her face, "It's no big deal."
"What were you thinking?" He spat, his other hand gripped her hip tightly, assuring a bruise in its place.
"I was having fun, Spencer! And I asked you first, anyway! Not that I should have to."
"Did he touch you?" He asked, ignoring her.
"No, he didn't." She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her brow was furrowed. "He's just my friend, Spence, calm down."
He couldn't help but scoff, "Oh, but you don't hear the way he talks about you when you’re not listening. You don't see how his eyes roam your body a little too eagerly, how he drools over you every time you show up to work in a skimpy little skirt." Spencer's hand that propped him up found itself in the roots at the base of her head. He tugged down on them, forcing her to look directly into his eyes. She didn't respond, not being able to focus. She could barely even breathe. One of his hands slithered up her skirt, while the other was a necklace she wore around her throat. He barely applied any pressure, but the fact that it was there at all filled them both with excitement. Her eyes widened and she let out a shaky exhale.
Spencer chuckled at the way her breaths staggered, "Tell me, does Derek know who's house you came to after your little play date? Does he know that pretty boy gets to do all of the things he only wishes he could do to you?" He pulled his lower lip in between his teeth. His eyes glimmered with a mix of anger and arousal, and Y/n could see it brightly, even in the dark room. "You probably wanted him to touch you like this, didn't you?" His hand squeezed her ass as he spoke.
"N-No." Y/n gasped in response. He flipped her over and slammed her front into the wall, to which she let out a restrained moan. She tried to use her peripherals to see the man behind her, but she could only feel him caressing her skin, leaving goosebumps in its trail.
"You're mine, bitch." His voice was low and raspy, making the pulsations between her legs grow  tireless. "Mine."
She swallowed the lump in her throat, hearing his belt unbuckle and hit the floor with a clang. He hiked her skirt up around her hips and his hand slid in between her legs. She moaned at the feeling of him on her pulsing heat, his fingers gathering up her moisture even through her panties.
"So fucking wet, I've barely even touched you." His voice was a low hum that brought a sweet slickness to her core. He shoved his hand into her panties and smirked at the moan that this action pulled from her lips. "If I knew you liked being treated like a whore so much, I would have given you what you wanted so much sooner!"
"Fuck!" Y/n's eyes rolled back as his diligent fingers stroked her. She choked on a moan as he slid his fingers deeply into her. His other hand reached around her body and circled its finger tips around the bundle of nerves at her crest. She pressed her hands into the wall for more support, the pleasure he flooded her with removed any sense of stability she had.
Then as soon as they came, his fingers left her body and Y/n whimpered at the loss. His hands slid the fabric down her legs, and he used his hands to open her legs wider.
"I'm gonna fuck you so hard you forget that asshole." He positioned himself behind her body, rubbing himself against her.
"He's my coworker, Genius," Y/n teased, wiggling her ass against his clothed bulge, "I couldn't forget him if I tried."
“Watch your mouth.” He used his hands to restrain her hips. "I can assure you, you'll never be able to look him in the eyes without thinking of me." His voice was low. She trembled, as his lips were just centimeters from her. His hot breath tickled her neck. His touch dances across her bare skin, as if he was marking his territory with his fingertips. "No man will ever be able to touch you again without you thinking of me."  
He slid his pants and underwear down by his knees. He used his hand to line himself up with her entrance. He held her body firmly, before harshly slamming himself all the way into her without warning.
"Fuck, Spencer!" She cried as he ravaged her into the wall. His thrusts were violent but purposeful, as if he was trying to split her in half. They were both positive that their lewd sounds would resonate through the whole building. But the genius was more than happy to be seen in a light different from the nerdy Doctor everyone knew him as. And now it was his goal to have everyone know his name by the time they were finished.
Y/n propped herself up with her elbows up next to her head, struggling to stay upright. Spencer repeatedly filled her up entirely, the sounds of their skin slapping together filled the apartment. The mix of the sounds of their sex and the desperate cries that fell from y/n's lips were music to his ears, and he wished that his eidetic memory would work for sound too. But he would settle for sight alone, because the image of himself buried inside of her would stay clear in his mind forever. That one of the many gifts he had that she was jealous of, she wished that she could remember this forever too.
"You feel so fucking good, so fucking tight," He groaned, letting his head fall back with the ecstasy that flowed through his blood, "Morgan only wishes that he could take you like this. But no one knows how to fuck you the way I can." Y/n's legs started to shake as whimpers fell from her tongue. His hands held her still but his demeaning words kept pushing for her release, making her body tremble. "You want to act like a whore, I'll treat you like a fucking whore."
His body was right up against hers like a puzzle that they finally completed. His hands roamed her body and his lips attached themselves to her neck. One of his hands moved up her shirt and gripped her breast, while the other rubbed her clit in circles. Her eyes squeezed shut as she felt his assertive touch overpowering her entire body. She was an incoherent mess of whimpers and moans, and his savored every sound like candy. His hand grabbed hers and held it there on her abdomen, feeling him move inside her. Her stomach bulged with every thrust he pushed into her.
"You feel that, baby? Feel how I fill you up?" He spoke lewdly against her flushed skin. She moaned in response, "Use your fucking words."
"Y-Yes, I feel you," She sputtered out.
"Could he make you feel as good as I do?"
"No, Sir."
"That's what I like to hear," He reattached his lips to her skin and sucked until his presence there was marked like a signature.
His thrust became frantic and tired, and he buried his face into the back of her shoulder. His hands snaked delicately around her waist, an action that was so different in timbre than their whole time together so far. It was soft. But opposingly, the guttural moans he released into her ear alone could have been enough to make her come.
"Oh, God, Spencer!" If he wasn't holding her up, y/n would have collapsed on the floor. She couldn't focus on anything but the way he worked her body, filling her to the brim with overwhelming pleasure.
"You're so fucking hot, letting me take you from behind like a good little slut." His words pushed her off the edge, she moaned loudly as she reached her peak. Her brain felt like mush, and the only thing she could think of was the feeling of him inside and the noises he made to show he was close too. The way she pulsated around his cock made him reach his release, filling her up with his warm seed. They finished with near synchronization, their vocality merging together into a perfect chorus of sinful pleasure.
Spencer pulled out of her, allowing his DNA to spill out of her and drip down her thighs. He let her go, and she immediately stumbled trying to stand unsupported.
"Woah, there!" He laughed, helping her stabilize herself. His energy flipped all the way around, he wasn't angry anymore. He tucked himself back into his pants and zipped them up, and helped Y/n dress back up too. She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth in attempt to hold back a sly smile.
"What?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Maybe I should hang out with Derek more often." His expression dropped, making her laugh brightly. 
"Don't push it."
He then offered her his arm for support, which she took graciously. He helped her back into the bedroom and she lied down on the bed. Spencer grabbed a rag and started to wipe himself away from her skin. They didn't speak, she was comfortable, but he felt kind of guilty.
"You're not a bitch," He finally said, putting the rag to the side. He spoke softly and avoided Y/n's eyes, "Or a whore, or whatever else I called you. I'm really sorry... I was just angry."
"Don't be sorry," she laughed, sitting up and patting the bed beside her. He sad next to her and looked up into her eyes. "Listen, there's nothing between me and Derek. Plus, he takes those fraternization rules seriously... unlike someone else I know." She nudged his shoulder and he exhaled a laugh.
"You know, I was the one in the office who could never get a date, and Morgan was able to pick up whoever he wanted... I guess I just enjoyed having someone he couldn't for a change." He swallowed the lump in his throat and fiddled with the watch that was in his wrist. He was ashamed, and he didn't want her to see it. "I know it's stupid, because I love and trust you both, but I couldn't help but feel like he was taking you away from me. And if he wanted to, I know I wouldn't be able to compete.... which is why I'm upset."
"Shut the hell up," Y/n said, moving herself to straddle his lap and wrap her hand loosely around his neck. She pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, making him scrunch his nose in a way that made her heart smile. "For a genius, you can be incredibly dumb sometimes."
"Wow, thanks." He quipped with an over exaggerated pout. She took her hands and cupped his face, running her thumbs on the lip that he had stuck out at her to prove his point.
"I love you, Spencer. You. I don't want you to doubt yourself anymore because there is so much about you that there is to love." She almost choked up at her own words, even though he was the one being glorified. "You're smart, yes. But you're also funny, and sweet, and sexy, and you... you're just everything a girl could want. I love you, and I won't tolerate you talking down on yourself."
He tried to stop the smile from growing on his face, but he was majorly unsuccessful. Slowly he raised up his pinky finger in the space between him and the girl on his lap. She looked down at it, then back up to him with a confused yet amused expression on her face.
"Promise?"
She chuckled and brought her pinky up to his, linking them together. He allowed himself to smile when she did, taking the ritual as seriously as he would have as a child.
"I promise."
5K notes · View notes
railmereid · 10 months ago
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give love a try // s.r
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Summary: Diana Reid takes it upon herself to play matchmaker and decides to set her son up with her aide
Pairing: Spencer Reid & Y/N
Requested: no
Warning: none, pure fluff, minor awkwardness, but that’s about it
Word Count: 11,060
masterlist
A/N: So this is my apology for “peace” lol, I usually never write fluff because I feel like I’m bad at it and because I’ve never read any super fluffy pieces about having a crush and the absolute roller coaster of emotions involved with catching feelings for someone so, I decided to write it myself. I also started this with dialogue right off the bat, which is also something I never do. Let me know what you guys think! Also, not sure where the gif is from because my friend sent it to me, but if anyone knows let me know so I can credit the creator!
“Mom, it’s a video call-“ He sighed softly as he starred at the phone in his palm. “All I can see is your ear.“ He tried again, but she didn’t remove the phone from her ear. “Pull the phone away from your ear-“
“Why would I want to pull the phone away from my ear?” Diana scoffed at her son. “I wouldn’t be able to hear you that wa-“ She argued, before giving in and pulling the phone away from her ear long enough for Spencer to catch a glimpse of her face. “Oh!”
Her smile grew as soon as she saw her son’s blurry face on the screen she was holding.
“Hi, mom.” Spencer smiled softly as Diana angled her phone, trying her hardest to get a clear image of her son.
“Spencer, I can barely see you-“ She frowned as she pulled the phone away from her face, her son’s pixilated face only continuing to distort as she held it further away.
Even with her glasses on, he was extremely blurry.
“Its just a poor connection-“ He tried to explain to her but her patience was wearing thin.
He had brought her a new phone last Christmas, one that allowed her to video chat with him. He knew she missed him and there was always a part of him that felt guilty for how  much time he allowed to pass between his visits.
She always made comments about how he looked different or how much time had passed since the last time she’d seen him. So, he decided to buy her a phone, that way, she could see him whenever she wanted.
Since then, they’d tried to FaceTime a couple of times but none of them were ever too successful.
They had a handful of failed attempts under their belts, but between the two of them, they had enough determination to try again, no matter how frustrating it was for either of them.
Spencer wasn’t all that thrilled about using his phone and really only used it when he had to, but for his mom, he’d give anything a try. Even if that meant trying to teach her how to use a device he wasn’t even sure he was using right half the time from thousands of miles away.
“How do I fix it?” She asked, tapping the screen and accidentally switching the lens to the back camera in the process.
He was now starring at the cherry oak table top of the table Diana was sitting at.
“Check your WiFi.” He suggested gently and he didn’t even have to see her face to know that her eyebrows had knit together in confusion.
“My WiFi?” Within seconds she’d managed to flip the camera back to her face and sure enough, her brows were furrowed.
He could tell she was growing frustrated. In all honesty, he was too. It wasn’t her fault and he wasn’t blaming her, he just wished that they could figure out how to video chat without any problems.
If it wasn’t one thing, it always seemed to be another. Poor connection. No service. Her finger covering the mic. If only there was someone on her end that could help her figure out how to work the device.
“Why couldn’t we just talk on the phone?” Diana let out with a groan and Spencer couldn’t help but smile.
“You wanted to see me, remember? He reminded her. Even with a poor connection, he could see her roll her eyes at his comment.
“I know, I know-“ She sighed. “This is just so-“ Her brain felt absolutely fried. Her focus was torn between trying to figure out how to work the damn phone her son bought for her and trying to hold a conversation with him for longer than 5 minutes before they decided to use their landlines instead. “Frustrating.” She settled, feeling the same thing he was.
“We’ll figure it out, mom.” He assured her. “Maybe if you-“
He was ready to offer another suggestion, something he’d read a couple of months ago when he first bought the phones on an online tech forum about connection issues, when she gasped.
“Wait! I got it!” She exclaimed as his face came into focus. “I can see you!” The frustration she was feeling moments ago had completely vanished and was replaced by pure excitement and joy. “Can you see me?”
“Yes, I can see you.” He smiled back. Her smile was contagious. It always had been.
“Your hair is so long!” She exclaimed as she raised her hand to her mouth in awe. She was completely blown away by the fact that she could see her son in real time, even though he was thousands of miles away. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” He said, even though he had an awful headache and his back hurt from being tackled by an unsub the week before. She didn’t need to know that though. He knew she’d worry, so he refrained from getting into the details. “How about you?”
“Oh, you know-“ She sighed, pulling her cardigan tighter across her chest. It was absolutely freezing in that damn home and despite her asking them to adjust the temperature, they never listened. She didn’t complain though, because she didn’t want him to worry. Instead, she smiled and settled on, “Same old, same old.”
Despite her attempt to convince him she was fine, he noticed her shivering. He decided against asking if she wasn’t going to bring it up. He knew his mom was a strong woman who didn’t need to be patronized by her son on the other side of the country, so he left it alone.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Diana asked and Spencer swore he almost dropped his phone.
“Mom!” He groaned in protest, but she just chuckled.
“What?” She laughed, noticing the way his cheeks turned pink at her question. “It’s just a question-“ She defended herself. If she really wanted to make him squirm, she would’ve told him she wouldn’t have to ask if he called more often, but she didn’t. When he still didn’t give an answer to her question, she pressed on.  “Are you?”
Spencer would never hang up on his mother, but in that moment, he was giving it some serious thought.
“No.” He admitted softly and her smile only grew. He was definitely confused, considering most mothers would frown when their son informed them that they were still single and there was no hope for grandkids in the near future, but she smiled.
“I met someone I think you’d absolutely adore!”  She beamed excitedly, her voice raising slightly. Spencer was pretty sure she was shouting at this point, but he turned the volume down on his phone and listened anyway. “She’s my aide! Her name’s Y/N and she’s just like you it’s-“ When it came to describing you, Diana couldn’t find the right words. You were like the daughter she never had. “She’s very pretty and I think the two of you would get along very, very well.”
“That’s nice mom-“ He agreed, hoping that if he played into her fantasy and pretended he wasn’t that interested that she’d drop it.
“Do you want me to give her your number?” Diana offered. “I know you’re busy, but she’s a lovely girl and I think-“
“I’ve actually got to go, mom.” He cut her off and watched her smile fall into a small frown.
“Oh!” He could tell she was disappointed. “I didn’t think it was that late there?”
Diana checked her watch with a raised brow, giving him enough time to come up with an explanation.
“I’ve got an early day tomorrow.” He told her, which wasn’t technically the truth, but it wasn’t technically a lie either.
He had to be at the office at seven, which wasn’t too early for him, but for some people, it was.
“Right, well, sleep tight.” She told him, blowing a few kisses into the camera. “I love you.”
“I love you too, mom.” Blowing her a few kisses back, his smile grew as she pretended to catch them.
“Promise you won’t wait so long in between calls next time?” She begged, giving him a stern yet pleading look that he couldn’t resist even if he tried.
“I promise.”
“Good.” She smiled softly. “Good night.”
“Night.” He returned the gesture before hanging up and ending the call.
What had she meant when she said you were just like him?
He had a terrible habit of overthinking things and letting his mind wander. As he starred at his reflection in the blank screen, he found himself doing just that.
Were you a genius?
Maybe you had an eidetic memory?
What if you both majored in the same subjects in school?
Surely, she hadn’t meant that you were afraid of the dark.  Unless, maybe, you were.
Once the seed had been planted in his mind, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, and he didn’t even know you.
It started one day at work when he told a joke that no one else laughed at. He was proud of that joke. He’d worked really hard on it, and all he got in return were blank stares.
He tried explaining it to his coworkers, but they all begged him to stop.
He wondered if you would’ve laughed.
The second time he found himself thinking about you was when he was away on a case. Hotch always made it a point to bring something back for Jack whenever he had to travel, so they’d stopped at a small convenience store on the outskirts of town before heading to the airstrip.
Jack was really into stickers lately, so Hotch searched high and low for the coolest sticker the shop had to offer.
Spencer went in with him, mainly because he wanted to stretch his legs, but he found himself looking at the keychains while he waited for his boss and wondered what it would be like to bring a souvenir home to you.
Would you like it?
Even if you didn’t, would you lie and say you did?
He picked up the small keychain that caught his eye and decided to buy it. If anyone asked who it was for, he’d lie and say he just liked it, which wasn’t really a lie at all. He did like it. He liked it because it reminded him of you.
With each day that passed he wanted to know more about you.
If he was reading a book, he wondered if you’d like it too or what kind of books you’d like.
As he drank his morning coffee he wondered how you took your coffee, or if you even drank coffee at all.
Before he knew it he was infatuated with you. He was completely and utterly obsessed with the mere idea of you.
He was almost always thinking about you, and he didn’t even know you. He just knew of you, but the idea of you seemed absolutely perfect and it was one he was rather fond of.
Unbeknownst to him, his colleagues noticed his change in behavior. Spencer Reid was never really the spacey type. Even when he was lost in whatever was going on inside of his head, he always remained present in conversation, but lately, he seemed to be in a world of his own.
He was rarely ever in a bad mood, but the past few weeks he seemed extra chipper. The sudden shift in his behavior had everyone placing bets as to why.
Morgan was the first one to ask him about it.
“Alright, pretty boy, what’s on your mind?” He asked one day while the two of them were driving back from a crime scene.
Spencer easily became carsick when he rode with Morgan, who was a pretty erratic driver. He always managed to teeter on the fine line between breaking and obeying safety laws when he was behind the wheel.
If he wasn’t complaining about his driving or informing him what traffic violations he was currently breaking, Spencer usually told him about different state’s driving laws and shared useless facts, like how in Maryland it's a misdemeanor in Rockville to “curse and swear or use obscene language upon or near any street, sidewalk or highway within the hearing of persons passing by.”
But he was silent, clearly in a world of his own.
He was caught red handed.
Since his calls with his mother, he hadn’t told anyone about you because there was nothing to tell! He knew it was silly to create a false sense of reality, one where you were his dream girl, but he couldn’t help himself.
He took his mother’s words to heart when she said the two of you were similar and since that day, he couldn’t stop overthinking what she’d meant by that.
He figured if anyone were to understand what he was going through, it had to be Morgan.
“My mom-“ He admitted softly, looking down at his hands in his lap.
“How’s she doing?” Derek asked, placing his arm behind Spencer’s headrest as he looked to him for an answer. If Spencer weren’t in desperate need of advice, he would’ve told him to put both hands on the wheel.
Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair and let out a soft sigh. “Fine-“ He told his friend. “She’s trying to set me up with her nurse-“
That caught Derek’s attention.
“Woah, woah, woah, slow down-“ He chuckled, swerving off the road sightly as his gaze lingered on Reid a bit too long. “Are we talking a real life candy striper or?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, gently shaking Spencer’s shoulder with his free hand to get a rise out of him.
Spencer was quick to swat at him, sending him a stare that begged him to knock it off. Once both of Derek’s hands found their way back to the steering wheel, he continued.
“I don’t know, I’ve never met her.” With his confession, Derek’s brow furrowed. He was about to ask, but before he could, Spencer explained. “My mom told me she thinks we’d be perfect for each other and-“
Now he understood.
“And now you can’t stop thinking about what that means?” Morgan cut him off with a knowing smirk. “You’re not as hard to read as you think you are, genius.”
“What do I do?” Spencer groaned. “I can’t stop thinking about this girl and I haven’t even met her!”
“I hate to let you down, man-“ Derek let out a small sigh of his own. “But from my experience, nine out of ten times the idea of a woman is better than the woman herself.” He explained, recalling a few pretty faces he thought would be absolutely perfect until he got to know them. “We build this entire idea of someone up and then meet them and are let down when we find that they don’t measure up to the impossibly high expectations we’ve set for them.”
That was definitely not what Spencer was expecting to hear. He wanted a solution to is problem, but Derek pretty much told him one doesn’t exist and that he should just give up before he even tried.
“You’re probably right.” He admitted, feeling his chest tightened as he agreed with his friend.
He always did this.
He always fell too hard, too fast.
He’d grown up fascinated with the idea of love after reading about how magical it was and discovering that there was an actual psychology behind it.
He was always polite around girls. Even when he was younger, he always minded his manners. There was this one girl that lived down the street from him, his first crush.
He remembered playing at the park one day when she was there with her friends. She was wearing a yellow dress and had her hair up in piggy tails. At the time, he thought she was the most beautiful girl in the whole entire world.
Her and her friends wanted to swing, but there weren’t enough for all of them to swing so Spencer, being the gentleman he always was, offered her his. She happily took it without saying a word to him.
As he grew older, it was pretty much the same thing. He was either always laughed at or stuck in the friendzone when it came to girls.
He’d spent his whole life hoping to find someone that checked all of his boxes, someone that loved him for him and would accept the love he had to give in return. He was beginning to lose hope.
That night once he was back in his hotel room, he decided to give his mother a call.
After his conversation with Morgan, he was bummed and knew that if anyone could cheer him up, it would be his mother.
His fingers tapped delicately across the screen as he dialed the person he needed most and she picked up on the second ring, bringing the phone to her ear as she answered.
“Mom, it’s a video call-“
“I know, I’m just messing with you.” Diana wore a wide smile as she pulled the phone away from her ear, excited that her son had called so unexpectedly. They usually set a time to call so she was happily surprised when her phone rang out of the blue. “How are you?” She asked, noticing the subtle frown on his lips. She didn’t wait for him to answer before asking another question. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothings wrong-“ He was quick to defend, his nose twitching slightly as he avoided his mother’s questioning stare. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
At any given moment there was a lot on Diana Reid’s mind, but not even an infinite amount of distracting thoughts could distract her from the troubling expressions from her boy.
“I can hear it in your voice.” She urged him gently, not trying to force it out of him but giving the opportunity to reveal what had been troubling him on his own. She was never one to pry. She just wanted to help him in any way she could.
Spencer has a terrible habit of bottling up his feelings. He felt less vulnerable that way. Not to mention, he was more than capable of handling his problems on his own. He didn’t want others to worry about him.
However, the one person he couldn’t keep anything from was his mother. Which was why he found himself taking a deep breath before letting the words fall from his mouth.
“It’s nothing, really I just-“
“Hang on-“ Diana groaned, tapping her screen before shaking her phone. “You’re frozen.” She explained. “Am I frozen?”
“No, I can see you just fine.” He told her as she continued to shake her phone, making him dizzy as he watched his mother’s distorted face come in and out of focus.
“Son of a-“ Diana grumbled under her breath, looking up and somewhere out of Spencer’s line of sight until she smiled. “Y/N, hun, could you come help me?” She asked softly, gently placing a hand on your forearm to get your attention. “I can’t figure this damn FaceTime thing out-“
You were working on an essay next to her the whole time she’d been on the phone. You weren’t focused on her conversation, only the soft piano music coming through your headphones and the sentences you’d been trying to form that defended your thesis.
“Sure thing, Diana.” You smiled, removing your headphones and shutting your laptop screen. “What seems to be the problem?”
As soon as he heard your voice his cheeks heated up.
He couldn’t explain it, but just the sound of your voice made his heart beat faster.
It was so soft, calming even, but it made his pulse quicken and his cheeks flush. There was a warmth that spread through his body that made him feel like he was floating and you’d only said a few words.
The feeling of warmth and floating was immediately replaced by fear as his fight or flight kicked in and he realized that as soon as his mother handed her phone to you, he’d finally be able to see you.
He started to panic.
He’d grown so attached to his fantasy of you that he wasn’t sure he was ready to give it up yet. Morgan’s words echoed around him, clouding his judgement as his fingers moved quickly, making his mind up for him.
He did the only reasonable thing he could think to do and he hung up. He’d tell his mother it was a connection issue and he knew that she wouldn’t question it, but he just couldn’t bring himself to let go of his fantasy. Not yet.
He nervously let out a few shaky breaths as he closed his eyes in frustration and sunk further into the lumpy hotel mattress.
It was a couple of months before Spencer called his mother again.
As soon as your last lecture finished you made your way across town to Bennington Sanitarium for your shift.
It was a beautiful afternoon and even though there was a chill in the early autumn air, you drove with your windows down.
The short drive seemed to take longer than usual, but you didn’t mind. You savored the extra time you got to spend in your car listening  to music and decompressing from your day at school before your shift.
It was truly the only time you got to focus on nothing at all. Your days usually only consisted of work and school, so the time you got to spend in the car was something you looked forward to and cherished.
It was truly the only opportunity you had to clear your mind, and you never took it for granted. Some days, you actually wished there was more traffic.
Which was why when you finally arrived at your destination and turned your keys silencing your ignition, a small sigh left your lips.
You loved your job and the people you worked with more than anything. It’d just been a very long day and you would’ve killed for five more minutes to yourself.
Nevertheless, you entered the large facility with a smile on your face as a few residents waved at you or called out your name with delight as you walked by.
You truly loved this place.
As you approached the front desk you greeted the older nurse behind the counter her eyes shifted from her computer screen for only a brief moment, but when she realized it was you and not an actual patient or their family, she went back to her work and elbowed the younger nurse next to her to get her attention.
The younger nurse sitting next to her, Marley, groaned as the older lady elbowed her carelessly and finally looked up to see you standing there.
“Hey-“ You greeted her with a small wave as she handed you the sign in clipboard and your badge, her eyes shifting back to whatever had her distracted before your arrival.
She was around your age, but you never really got along with her. You always went out of your way to be kind to her, but she never returned the gesture.
“What’s going on?” You asked as you clipped your badge on your waist and handed her back the clipboard.
“Oh, Dr.Reid is here!” Marley explained with a toothy grin. Before you could fully process what she’d said you realized two things. One, you’d never seen her smile before and two, you liked her better when she didn’t smile.
You’d heard all about Spencer Reid.
During your first few weeks at the sanitarium you befriended his mother, who you bonded with quickly.
You were hired as a general aide, someone to help assist the patients with everyday tasks. Most days, you picked up spills, help distribute medication, and just sat down and talked with the residents.
You served as their only real connection to the outside world and those that didn’t have families that could come to visit them often looked forward to the time you got to spend together.
Because of your age, you reminded many of the residents of their grandchild or children. As soon as they saw you they all perked up.
They missed hearing and sharing stories with the ones they loved and settled on listening to and sharing with you instead.
Although you weren’t the only volunteer, you were by far the crowd favorite.
Everyone enjoyed asking you about your schooling and what you were studying. A few of the older woman asked about the boys on campus and shared a few squeals as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
To be quite honest, you weren’t really looking paying attention to the boys all that much. You were really focused on your studies. Too focused, Diana made a habit of reminding you.
If it weren’t for her, you’d probably never take a break.
One day, the older lady who spent most days staring out the window, the one that kept to herself, asked you if you could ask one of the nurses to adjust the temperature, since she was a little cold.
Instead of asking the nurses for permission however, you walked behind the front desk, grabbed the key, and changed the thermostat yourself.
Diana liked that about you.
You didn’t ask anyone for permission, you just did it yourself.
She thought it was a good quality to have.
You reminded her of herself when she was younger.
After that, she requested that you became her personal aide. Although you enjoyed most of the residents and the time you got to spend with them, you were curious about the silent woman who had requested your assistance. Plus, becoming a personal aide meant you received a nice little raise in your weekly paycheck.
You didn’t care about the money though. That was never the reason you took the job. It was always about the experience and what you could learn from the people there that drew you to the sanitarium.
Once the two of you warmed up to each other, the conversation was never dull. You talked about anything and everything.
You shared everything with Diana.
She knew all about your childhood and the town you grew up in, which you learned was only a few suburbs over from where she singlehandedly raised her son.
She shared stories of her son often and the more she continued to share, you found yourself more and more fascinated by him.
Mothers often had a way with words that made their children sound perfect, but you had the feeling that Spencer really was.
Despite the stories she shared with you, you still wanted to know more about him. It was such a funny thought, considering you felt like you’d known him his whole life since his mother was very fond of sharing stories, and photos of him, but somehow that didn’t feel like enough.
You found yourself wondering if his day was going as well as yours had been or what he did in his free time.
During your lectures, your mind often wandered to what it must’ve been like to be a child prodigy attending the same classes and absorbing the same material.
You never thought the day would come when you’d get answers to your questions, but much to your surprise, it had.
As much as you thought about him, you never thought the day would come where you actually met him.
You’d been working at the sanitarium for over a year and he never visited his mother, not even once.
Diana explained that he had a very busy schedule and that it was hard for him to make time to visit, so you never got your hopes up.
But he was here now, under the same roof as you, and you weren’t sure what to do.
Had Diana told him about you?
It was such a silly thought, but surly he wondered why there was a pretty hefty increase to the check he made out to the home each month.
The idea that you were completely infatuated with a man who didn’t even know you existed made your stomach drop.
Everything became all to real and you suddenly felt like you were going to be sick.
“I think I forgot my textbook in my car.” You announced, causing Marley to look up from her paperwork and eye you suspiciously. “I’ll be right-“
She wasn’t listening to you though. Her eyes were fixated on the absolutely breathtaking man behind you approaching the front desk.
With wide eyes, she quickly moved a few papers around and pretended to look busy before letting out in a whisper, “Shit, he’s coming over.”
You turned around to see who she was talking about, but felt your entire body tense as you turned right into someone else’s chest.
“I’m so sorry-“ You were quick to apologize, but so was he.
“It’s my fault.” He assured you as you met his eyes for the first time, feeling your breath catch in your throat.
He was tall, much taller than you expected. His eyes were kind and you could tell by the faint lines around his eyes that he smiled a lot.
He was gorgeous.
Breathtaking even.
Which was why you felt incredibly embarrassed about running into him.
“You’re Diana’s son, aren’t you?” You asked and watched the way he smiled at the mention of his mother’s name. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m-“
“Y/N.” He said your name and you swore it never sounded as beautiful as it had when it rolled past his lips. “I’ve heard a lot about you too.”
There was a moment of silence where the two of you shared polite smiles with one another to mask the fact that you were both freaking out internally.
He was here, finally, and so were you.
You looked nothing like he imagined. You looked nothing like he imagined because he didn’t know it was possible for someone to be as beautiful as you were.
“Nice to see that the two of you met.” Diana chirped, causing the two of you to take a large step away from each other upon her arrival. “I’m going to go play bingo in the dining hall with Maude-“ She started, but didn’t get the chance to finish before her son interrupted her.
“You hate bingo-“ Spencer’s brow furrowed, silently questioning her sudden interest in a game he knew she hated her whole life.
At the same time, you mirrored his confused expression, narrowing your eyes as you let out something she’d told you in confidence. “You hate Maude-“
With a small smirk, she chuckled. Both you and Spencer had caught her in an obvious lie.
“The two of you should chat, get to know each other.” She suggested, patting Spencer’s shoulder softly as she walked past him, towards the dining hall, but not before sending you a small, subtle thumbs up that went completely unnoticed by Spencer.
As soon as she rounded the corner and was out of sight, you turned to face Spencer again, who let out a nervous chuckle as he met your stare.
“So...” He trailed off, not really asking a question but hoping you had an answer of what to do next.
“Uh, we can go to the library?” You offered. “It’s pretty quiet in there this time of day.”
“Ok.”
You lead the way to the library where a few of the residents were reading books. They paid no attention to the two of you as you entered, although it was quite a sight to see.
Almost upon instinct, you lead him to the table where you and Diana spent most days. Your hand wrapped around the back of one of the wooden chairs as he spoke, catching your attention.
His gaze was fixed on the abandoned chess board set up by the fireplace. You’d only ever seen two of the residents play against each other, but neither one of them was in sight.
“Do you play?” He asked, nodding his head towards the board and you nodded.
“I haven’t in a while, but yes.” You explained, trying to recall just how many years it’d been since the last time you and your father had played together.
He was the only one that ever played with you. He taught you when you were young and you became addicted. The only problem was, it wasn’t a really popular game amongst kids and your mother never had the desire to learn, so you only really got to play with your dad who traveled a lot for work.
“Do you have a preference?” He asked, taking a seat in one of the large armchairs before he began setting up the board.
“Not really-“ You lied as you took the seat opposite of him.
You preferred the black pieces because you hated making the first move. It was like Spencer picked up on that and flipped the board so that the white pieces were in front of him and the black pieces were in front of you.
You offered him a kind smile as he made his move and started the game. The two of you played in silence, only sharing a few polite smiles and glances every so often as you moved your pieces around the board.
Truthfully, you didn’t know what to say. For as much time as you’d spent thinking about him, none of it was actually spent thinking that you’d actually meet him and now that he was there, in front of you, you had no idea what to say.
Thinking of how to strike up a quick conversation, you shifted slightly in your seat before clearing your throat softly and asking him, “How was your trip?”
He’d been too busy thinking about what to say to you that he almost didn’t realize that you’d asked him a question first.
“Oh, uh, it was alright.” He let out quickly, ending the conversation just as quickly as it had started.
It was your move again and as you looked at the board and planned your next move, you thought it would be best to let him know that he wouldn’t be stuck playing chess with you for very long.
“For what it’s worth, bingo is over in half an hour so you won’t be stuck with me for too long.” You informed him without looking up.
“Right-“ He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and he hoped that you wouldn’t misinterpret it as a sign of relief.
“You’re a psychology major, right?”
He said the words before he could even stop himself and as you met his stare with a small smile, your brows furrowed. “Yeah, with a minor in child development.” You explained. “How’d you-“
“My mom mentioned that you were reading Freud to her.” He told you with a small smile and you laughed softly thinking about the day Diana nearly fell asleep as you read to her.
“Although his work on dream analysis is discredited, it’s required reading material.” You justified your reading choice as he made his move. “If it were up to me, I’d be reading Piaget’s work.” He lit up at the mention of the Swiss psychologist. “You have an undergrad in Psychology, don’t you?”
It was now his turn to mimic your confused expression as his brow arched. “Yeah, I uh, how’d you-“
“Your mom talks about you an awful lot.” You explained with a small laugh as his cheeks flushed with warmth.
“She talks about you a lot too.” He let out.
“She does?”
“Yeah, I think she might like you better than she likes me.” He admitted and you quickly shook your head in disagreement.
“That’s impossible.” You assured him. “You’re incredibly smart, well mannered and successful, which is something any mother would be proud of.” The blush on his cheeks darkened as you continued to compliment him. “Not to mention that you’re-“ You hadn’t even realized what you were about to say before you had time to catch yourself and immediately stopped yourself from sharing what you were about to. “Nevermind.”
He wasn’t fishing for compliments, he was just curious as to what you were going to say and urged you to continue with a simple, “What?”
You tried your hardest to avoid his stare, looking everywhere but his eyes. “Nothing.” You said, watching the way the corners of his mouth fell into a small pout, as if he were disappointed. “I’m sorry.” You apologized. “I don’t really do this much. I guess I’m just nervous.”
His brows furrowed as he moved one of his pieces and captured one of your own.
“You’re nervous?” He asked in disbelief as his fingers traced over the rook he just captured.
“To be fair, the only pictures I’ve seen of you are your baby pictures and Diana failed to inform me that you were so-“ There wasn’t much thought put into your words and before you could take time to think about the one that you wanted to use, you blurred out the first one that came to mind. “Attractive.”
Your eyes widened in horror one you realized what you’d just admitted. You were never one to be that straightforward with someone. He looked stunned as you tried to gage his reaction, feeling your whole body tense as the air around the two of you became thick with tension again.
Within seconds though, it disappeared as the sound of his laughter filled the quiet room.
“Why are you laughing?” You asked softly as a few of the other residents looked up from their books and towards the two of you.
“I should be the nervous one-“ He told you, quickly composing himself and offering the residents he’d disturbed as apologetic smile. “Not you.”
“And why’s that?”
“My mom has been ranting and raving about you for months-“ He explained. “And not once did she mention how beautiful you are.”
You were absolutely stunned. Your mouth almost fell open and he watched with an amused smile as your cheeks flushed.
You didn’t know what to say.
“It’s your move-“ He informed you with a knowing smirk, reminding you of the turn you’d yet to take.
“Right-“
The two of you talked for hours. Between your game of chess, which was actually a lot more challenging than he thought it’d be, and the conversation between the two of you, it was easy to lose track of time.
Which was exactly what the two of you did.
You didn’t know how much time had passed since the sun went down, but you didn’t care as you listened to Spencer tell a story about his childhood that was very different from the version Diana had shared with you.
She was under the assumption that he once tried to see if he could fly by jumping out of the tree in their backyard, but he was actually spooked by a squirrel and ended up losing his balance, causing him to fall.
There was a warm glow coming from the fireplace that a nurse had lit a few hours ago and as the two of you laughed, all of the anxiety and doubt that you were fixated on earlier had completely disappeared.
Talking to Spencer was easy.
It was like talking to an old friend. You hadn’t realized that Diana had told him as much as she had about you and were pleasantly surprised when he asked you about stories from your childhood and the neighborhood you grew up in.
Turns out, the two of you used to frequent the same book store after school. Your mom took you every Wednesday after school and his mom took him every Tuesday and Thursday.
The two of you missed each other by only a day.
He was in the middle of another story as your eyes scanned the board, plotting your next move.
Each of you only had a few pieces left on the board and you knew that you were nearing the end of the game.
He laughed, telling you about one of his coworkers as your eyes widened. There was no way. You checked. You triple checked before you wrapped your fingers around your piece and moved it into place.
“Checkmate!” You exclaimed excitedly and his mouth fell open in shock. He thought he had you. He’d been so distracted by sharing stories and the way that your tongue kept poking out from between your lips as you were trying to concentrate that he didn’t see your pieces closing in around his Queen before it was too late.
He chuckled softly as you rose to your feet. He was about to congratulate you when the two of you heard someone clear their throat loudly from behind you.
“Visiting hours are over.”
As soon as you turned around you were met with a deep frown from Marley who looked more annoyed than usual.
“Oh my gosh, I didn’t realize how late it was.” You apologized, genuinely amazed by how much time had passed. “Sorry, Marley-“
Spencer offered her a soft smile as he rose to his feet which she completely ignored as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” She told the two of you sternly.
“Right-“ You nodded softly, grabbing your book from the table and your jacket before making your way passed her. Spencer followed close behind as the two of you made your way out of the sanitarium.
He offered to walk you to your car, insisting that it was way too late for him to let you walk alone and you happily took him up on his offer.
When you reached your car, your hand wrapped around the handle as you tossed your book and jacket inside before turning back to face him.
You weren’t sure if you should shake his hand or hug him. Hugging seemed a bit too straightforward, but then again, so did shaking his hand.
Instead, you settled on asking him a question.
“See you tomorrow?” You asked hopefully.
“See you then.” He confirmed.
Except, he didn’t.
He got a call early in the morning from Hotch asking if he could hop on a flight and meet them in Louisiana. In his absence, a case had come up that required his knowledge.
Having no other choice, he booked a one way to Louisiana and left before the sun rose the next morning.
He was gone before you even woke up.
Despite his departure, he couldn’t keep the smile from his face. You were real. You were so much better than the fantasy he came up with.
Everyone noticed.
Everyone noticed how he couldn’t stop smiling and how he seemed to be distracted by whatever was going on in his head. Not enough to distract him from his work however, but enough for Morgan to realize that he wasn’t listening to a word he was saying as they rode in the SUV together.
He was in a world of his own again.
He’d been meaning to ask about his trip and couldn’t think of a better time to tease him than when he had no other choice but to sit there and take it.
“So?” He smirked as he used only one hand to steer the car, something he knew drove his partner nuts.
“So what?” Spencer replied, meeting his stare. He silently begged Derek to keep his eyes on the road. Next time, he was going to drive.
“Are we just going to pretend that you didn’t go to Vegas this weekend?” Derek smiled and even though Spencer tried his hardest, it was almost impossible for him not to smile too.
“I wanted to see my mom-“ He tried, turning to look out the window as he recalled the weekend before Derek could see his wide smile.
He saw it anyway.
“Nothing wrong with that, pretty boy-“ He assured him. “But for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never taken a personal day, let alone an entire weekend-“
He didn’t have to turn towards him to know that he was smirking, he could hear it in his voice, but he did anyway and before he could stop himself, he opened his mouth.
“Her name’s Y/N.” Spencer smiled softly as he recalled the memory of meeting you for the first time.
Derek, who was quite literally on the edge of his seat with anticipation, waited for Spencer to continue, but the kid just sat there with a dopey smile on his face.
He knew Reid had it bad, but he didn’t know it was this bad.
“And?” He urged him to continue and watched as Spencer’s smile suddenly faltered.
“She’s nice.” He let out flatly, almost as if he had been defeated. Derek knew that he had more to say.
“But?”
“But-“ Spencer took a deep breath before admitting what was really bothering him. “She lives in Vegas, and I live here.”
“And?” Derek raised an eyebrow in confusion. “You like her-“
“I said she’s nice.” Spencer was quick to defend himself but Derek rolled his eyes at his comment.
“I know what you said-“ Morgan explained. “But I also know you, and I know that you like this girl.” Spencer was silent. His lack of a reply gave Derek all the confirmation he needed to know he was right. He watched as Spencer silently picked the skin around his nail bed, something he noticed he only did when he was nervous before he asked, “What are you so afraid of?”
He didn’t even know where to begin. As someone who had a terrible habit of overthinking everything, he’d already spent too much time dwelling on everything that could possibly go wrong.
Even though he’d met you in person and you were above and beyond anything he ever could’ve imagined, he still wasn’t sure that you’d felt what he had.
He was nearly positive you didn’t.
His feelings for you were so sudden and unexplainable, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was the only one that felt them.
“She’s absolutely perfect.” He admitted, followed by a small sigh of disappointment. “What if it doesn’t work out?” He asked his friend. “What if she hates my job? What if she can’t handle me constantly being away? What if five years from now she realizes that I’m not who she thought I was and-“
Derek had no idea what he was getting into when he asked Spencer what could go wrong. He forgot to take into account that Spencer had already gone over every possible situation that could’ve gone wrong, twice, and that he was prepared to share all of them with him since he expressed an interest.
“Reid, man-“ He cut him off, partially for his own sanity and partially so he wouldn’t get himself wound up. “You’ve gotta slow down.” Morgan told him calmly. “Take a deep breath. You just met this girl.”
That’s what made his feelings all the more confusing and frustrating. He’d only met you once. He’d spent less than 12 hours with you and he was already thinking about a future with you.
“But she’s amazing.” He argued, as if that would get Derek to understand what he was going through.
Of course she was amazing. She was a woman. According to Spencer, she was a beautiful woman, which Morgan knew better than anybody else that a beautiful woman could drive a man absolutely mad.
“What about her is so amazing?” He asked, hoping to set Reid right and ease his nerves.
“She’s smart.” Spencer smiled fondly. “Not to mention she’s incredibly beautiful. She’s probably the most beautiful girl in the world.” Derek thought he was just smitten before, but he couldn’t help but smile as he listened to Spencer talk about her. “She spoke to me like I was an actual person, not like I was some genius or an awkward inconvenience, and she actually listened to what I had to say. She was kind, not because she had to be or because she was being polite, she genuinely was.” He continued to open up and Derek subconsciously wondered if he ever made Spencer feel that way on accident or if he’d ever noticed someone talking down to him like that. He realized only after he said something that it happened quite often.
“When she laughed-“ Spencer paused, allowing himself to laugh softly as he recalled the sound of your own laughter. “When she laughed, I could feel it in my chest. The only way I could think to describe it was like sunshine. There was this warmth in my chest chest and I felt like I was floating.” He explained and Derek couldn’t help but smile. “Have you ever felt that?”
“Can’t say I have-“ He answered honestly, but then again, Derek Morgan had never been in love or anything remotely close before.
“She beat me in chess.” Reid admitted and Morgan accidentally accelerated. He quickly eased off the gas and waited for Spencer to scold him, but he never did. Instead, he smiled, as if he had been anticipating that reaction from him, even though he hadn’t.
“You let her win though, right?” Derek asked, knowing that it was nearly impossible to defeat Spencer in chess because he’d spent years trying to do so himself.
“No!” Reid exclaimed, still surprised that you’d managed to beat him fair and square. He wasn’t a sore loser, but it was definitely harder for him to focus on the game when he had an opponent as breathtaking as you were.
As strange as it was, something clicked and Derek finally understood Spencer’s dilemma. He’d met the perfect girl, his perfect counterpart, but he was afraid that there would be too many obstacles forcing them apart for them to ever be happy together.
He’d felt like that once before. Granted, it was when he was much younger than Reid was, but he knew the feeling.
Sometimes when he closed his eyes he could still see her. They used to hang out on the playground before lunch in grade school and Derek thought she was going to be his everything.
He’d walk her home, helped her with her homework, and when they got older, he’d help her sneak out of her house so they could make out in the backseat of his car.
He tried his hardest to make things work with her, but she wasn’t as invested as he was. He always saw a future with her. A family. A house. A dog running around the front yard for him to come home to. But she just wanted someone to help her escape and take her mind off of what was bothering her most days. He was only ever a distraction for her.
After spending years fawning over someone who didn’t reciprocate the same feelings he did, he adapted a new approach to women, one that unfortunately stuck, and buried his soft, kind heart underneath a carefree, reckless exterior.
“Sounds like she’s worth taking a risk for.” Derek finally let out. “Even if it doesn’t work out a year from now, a week from now, or tomorrow, you’ve got to give it a try, man.”
Spencer had never heard Derek sound so sure or sincere in his entire life, which was why he knew that he was right.
A few weeks had passed since you officially met the one and only Spencer Reid and you couldn’t stop thinking about him.
You expected to see him when you arrived for your shift the next morning and you were disappointed when he wasn’t there.
You didn’t say anything, but Diana noticed you were looking around for him and noticed the way your smile faltered when she explained to you that he’d been called away on a case.
That was it.
It’d been weeks since you’d seen him, weeks since you spoke to him, and even then, you couldn’t get him out of your head.
Now that you’d met him, you realized he was even more incredible than you initially had thought, which made your heart simultaneously soar and plummet at the same time.
He was truly amazing, a well accomplished man who was easy on the eyes and as much as it pained you to admit, way out of your league.
As your crush continued to grow on him, so did your feelings of insecurity and doubt.
As much as you thought there was something going on between the two of you, you brushed it off, convincing yourself the he was probably just being nice.
But then you remembered when he called you beautiful and your cheeks grew warm just thinking about it.
Maybe he was just friendly.
Your overthinking and overanalyzing  would be the death of you. It was only a matter of time.
You were sitting at one of the tables with Diana, who was playing cards with one of the other residents, Maude, and Maude’s granddaughter who’d spent the last three hours flipping through a stack of wedding catalogs.
She was getting married in the fall and since she wasn’t really close with her mother, something Maude often talked about, she had enlisted in the help of her grandmother to create her dream wedding.
Clippings of dresses, cakes and rings were scattered across the tabletop while Heidi, Maude’s granddaughter, continued rearranging and cutting pages out of magazines.
You were pretending to read a book, which mostly involved you starring at the page for far too long and getting lost in your thoughts, when Maude gently nudged your shoulder.
“When are you going to get married?” She pressed noisily and Diana rolled her eyes as she placed her card down.
“I’m not sure-“ You answered honestly. “There’s no rush, really-“
“But you’re not getting any younger.” The older woman frowned with disappointment and although it wasn’t her place, Heidi nodded in agreement. She couldn’t have been a few years younger than you. She definitely wasn’t older. What did she know?
“You’re right, I’m not-“ You agreed politely, hoping she’d let it go. Unfortunately for you, however, she didn’t.
“So, what are you waiting for?” A new question was proposed as she set her cards down on the table, despite the fact that it was her turn, and shifted so that her full attention was on you.
Her eyes bore deep into yours with judgment and wonder as she raised an eyebrow, waiting for your reply.
“I’ve still got plenty of time, Maude.” You told her lightly. Diana could tell there was a hint of annoyance in your voice and she couldn’t blame you. It was very hard to keep a calm and collected composure when talking to Maude, someone who made almost everyone’s blood boil with her pesky comments and downright rude remarks.
“All I’m saying is your prime years are passing you by and you’re spending them here, with us-“ She pointed to Diana with a look of disgust as if the idea of spending time with the two older women sickened her, even though it was something you enjoyed. Well, you enjoyed spending time with Diana, at least. “I just don’t want your life to pass you by-“
“That’s very kind, thank you.” You cut her off with mock sincerity as she reached for your hand, offering you a small smile and patting it softly.
You wanted to shake free from her cold grip, but you knew that’d be rude, so you tried your hardest not to flinch as she squeezed the back of your hand a bit too tightly.
“Diana, if your son isn’t interested, my grandson might-“ She didn’t even get to finish before Diana scoffed.
“Back off, Maude-“
The woman who hadn’t known when to stop talking was finally at a loss for words as her eyes went wide at her card playing opponents’ sudden outburst.
She looked absolutely beside herself and you had to bite back a laugh as you saw Heidi’s mouth fall open as well.
Before anyone could say anything else, one of the nurses came around and tapped Maude gently on the shoulder, causing her to turn around.
“It’s time for your session, Miss. Ridgestone.” She smiled widely as she helped the older woman into the wheelchair and wheeled her out of the library and down the hall.
Diana offered you a knowing smile and as soon as Heidi had packed up all of her catalogs, leaving a trail of paper clippings behind, the two of you shared a laugh.
“Thank god-“ Diana groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples as she laughed. “I couldn’t listen to another word from that bat’s mouth. She’s nuts.” You continued to laugh as she placed a hand on your knee gently. “I hope you don’t take what she said to heart-“
Your laughter subsided as you shook your head, offering her a warm smile as you placed your hand over hers.
“Oh, don’t worry-“ You told her, “I’m not interested in her grandson.”
She gave you the same look your mother used to give you when you were being sarcastic and although it was meant lightheartedly, Diana’s smile faltered.
“That’s not what I meant-“ She let out softly.
You knew what she meant. Although you would’ve rather just dropped the whole thing altogether, you knew Diana’s intentions were good.
“I know.” With a reassuring smile you squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”
She returned the gesture, patting your knee softly before removing her hand as you closed your book and started cleaning up the mess Maude and Heidi had left behind.
“You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, sweetheart.” She told you. “You’ll have plenty of time to settle down, when you’re ready.” She made quick work of packing away the playing cards she’d been using while you picked up the tiny pieces of paper that Heidi didn’t bother to clean up. “I’m sorry if you felt like I’ve been pressuring you, that really wasn’t my intention.”
You froze immediately, your entire body stiffening as she confessed her apology.
“Diana-“
“Selfishly, I’ll admit, I’d love to have you as a daughter in law.” She continued before you could interrupt. “Not to mention the fact that you and Spencer would have the cutest, smartest, most polite child or children in the world, I’m-I’m doing it again, I’m sorry.”
With a lighthearted chuckle, she set the box of cards on top of your book as you threw away the scraps and took a seat next to her.
Children.
You hadn’t thought that far ahead, but Diana was already convinced that you would have the most wonderful children with her son.
You liked Spencer, a lot, but you still wanted to finish school and take time to find a career you were passionate about before you settled down.
What if he was in a rush to get married or worse, insisted that he be the sole source of income for your family?
Although you were already sitting, you felt like you needed to sit down before your knees gave out.
You kept reminding yourself that you only met him once, but even though you’d only spent a few hours together, they were special and so different from anything else you’d felt before.
Maybe, you didn’t have to think that far ahead.
Maybe, you could try to focus on the present instead of worrying about the future.
Maybe, just maybe, you could allow yourself to fall in love with him at your own pace.
“It’s ok.” You accepted her apology with a warm smile. Your cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, knowing that she couldn’t hear your thoughts but still feeling like you’d been caught thinking about them. She didn’t say anything. If you lost color in your face, she’d be concerned, but she was a mother after all and knew the difference between an embarrassed blush and a sickening flush.
Cleaning your throat softly, you asked her a question, causing her to perk up.
“Have you spoken to Spencer lately?”
With a small smirk, she informed you, “He called me the other night, but it was a very brief call-“
You nodded softly to show that you were listening, but it wasn’t until she opened her mouth again that you fully processed what she was hinting at.
“He asked about you.”
“He did?” It came out much softer than you intended and your eyes widened ever so slightly as you asked for confirmation.
“He did.” Diana played along. “He wanted to know how you’ve been.“
And just like that your heart was doing that thing again. It was beating faster just at the idea of him and the mention of his name.
“That’s it?” You asked with a small frown, not sure what to make of what she’d just shared with you.
Before you could overthink it, Diana bit back a smirk.
“Maybe-“
Your brows furrowed as you questioned her further.
“Maybe?”
The older woman smiled before shrugging her shoulders and admitting, “He made me promise not to tell.”
You were about to ask another question when one of the nurses from the front desk approached the table.
“There’s a visitor for you at the front desk.” She informed the two of you and it wasn’t until you looked up that you realized both her and Diana were looking at you.
“For me?” You asked and she nodded softly. “I don’t-“ She must’ve been mistaken. “Why would-“ There was no way someone was there to visit you. “That doesn’t even-“ Who on earth would be visiting you while you were working? “I’m with a patient.”
The nurse shrugged her shoulders before walking back the way she came. You turned to Diana, who was trying her hardest not to laugh at your shocked expression.
“It’s rude to leave a guest waiting, Y/N.” She informed you, rising to her feet and pushing her chair in.
“I’m going, I’m going-“ You told her, following the nurse out of the library and to the main lobby.
As you rounded the corner to the front desk you stopped dead in your tracks as soon as you saw him there.
He had his back towards you, but you could tell it was him
Not a second later did he turn around, his eyes meeting yours across the way as he offered you a gentle smile followed by a small wave.
A few of the residents watched on. Word traveled fast around the sanitarium and it wasn’t exactly a secret that you and Spencer ended up losing track of time all those weeks ago and were essentially kicked out at the end of the night.
Unbeknownst to you, the two of you had become a pretty popular talking point of the old women who liked to gossip. The older ladies mumbled to one another softly as they watched Spencer take a few steps towards you before you met him halfway.
You couldn’t hide your smile any longer.
He was here.
“You’re-“ You let out breathlessly, still somewhat in shock that he was finally back after all of those weeks of waiting. “You’re actually here.”
He thought you were even more beautiful than he remembered and wondered how that was even possible, considering he had a pretty decent memory.
His hands were shaking, but you didn’t notice. You were too busy smiling at him, beaming with a joy that you could no longer contain.
“Yeah, I am.” He smiled sheepishly, mirroring your wide grin. “Uh, these are for you-“ He said, handing you the bouquet of fresh flowers he’d been clutching tightly.
They were your favorite flower.
“They’re beautiful, thank you.” A few onlookers gushed loudly as you thanked him, bringing the fresh flowers to your nose and inhaling deeply.  “How’d you-“
It was like you knew what he was going to say before he even said it.
“My mom told me.” He explained with a smile.
“She’s going to be thrilled that you’re here.” You told him. “Two visits in one year is very very excit-“
“I’m not here to see my mom.” He let out quickly and you weren’t quite sure you heard him right.
“You’re not?” You asked with a furrowed brow as a small, gentle hand gave your shoulder a soft squeeze.
“No, he’s not.” Diana answered from behind you.
“I’m here to see you.” He let out softly.
“Me?” You asked with a furrowed brow.
“You.” He confirmed.
Diana bit back a smirk as she watched you realize what was happening. With a small smile you turned toward her.
“You planned this-“ You accused and she just shrugged.
“Maybe.”
“I was wondering if you’d like to go out sometime.” Spencer proposed and you couldn’t believe it.
“You came all this way, just to ask me on a date?” You asked in disbelief, biting back a small giggle of absolute shock.
He nodded quickly before continuing to explain.
“I know I don’t really know you all that well, but I feel like I do, and there’s just something about you that I-“ He was rarely at a loss for words, but as you stood in front of him with kind eyes and a soft smile, his brain turned to mush and his IQ was split in half as he struggled to come up with the right words to say. “I’d really like to get to know you.” He settled, almost instantly regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. “I hope that doesn’t sound weird, I just really-“
“Yes.” You cut him off and his eyes widened.
“Yes?”
“Yes.” You confirmed before asking, “How long are you staying?”
He couldn’t believe you actually said yes. He was hoping, but there was still a part of him that wasn’t sure you’d actually agree to going on a date with him.
“Just for the weekend.” He told you. “I want a rematch, you know-“
“You’re on.” You promised him and neither one of you could contain your smiles any longer.
It wasn’t love. Not yet, anyway. But in a few years, it could be better than anything either one of you could’ve ever imagined.
Tagging a few angel I adore: @thollandss @veraiconcos @thematthewgraygube @dreamybebe @eideticmemory​ @darnittumbleweed​ @gayprentiss​ @agntprentiss​ @gublerscoffee​ @imagining-in-the-margins​ @delicatereids​ @saprentiss​ @emilyshotch​ @malmgg​ @spacedikut​ @babybloodstonebones​ @eideticgenius​ @naturallytom​
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Red Handed (Reid Request)
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Request: Spencer Reid x BAU: Reader smut where you catch Spencer jerking off in their shared room cause he thought the reader would be in JJs room a bit longer. Anyways she catches him and rough smut happens - Anon
A/N: I desperately wanted to write S2 Spencer, so I hope you enjoy it. I know you said rough smut, but I felt like Sub!Spence made way more sense. Besides, I really needed to feed the dommes. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader 
 Category: Smut! (NSFW), Sub!Spence 
 Content Warning: Oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex/creampie, alcohol 
 Word Count: 7,600
MASTERLIST
——————————————————
The one thing you learn very quickly while working as a profiler at the BAU is that there are very few ways to relax in a cheap hotel room. Honestly, the longer I work here, the less I understand why people choose to stay at places like this on vacation.
Even when the case was over and I sat in this bleached out room with clipart like pictures, I couldn’t find a way to relax. JJ and Elle had tried to show me their methods, hoping that, in the very least, it might trigger some inspiration for me.
Half a bottle of wine later, I found nothing except the realization that I would probably have a headache in the morning. After about 30 minutes of listening to the two girls talk about dating, I decided to finally make my exit for the night. It wasn’t that I was bored by the conversation (Elle had some very interesting stories), but it just reminded me way too much about just how painfully single I was.
… Not that going back to my room would help with that. Not long after I joined, I’d been inadvertently volunteered to room with Spencer. Basically, when we were the only two left, I didn’t complain about it. The truth was, I enjoyed being in his room. Interestingly enough, the genius was pretty quiet at night. If I didn’t talk to him, he spent most of the night quietly reading and occasionally sneaking glances that I’d pretend I didn’t see.
But that was the problem with rooming with Spencer or spending any time with him at all, really. The kid was so fucking adorable. Every time I looked over and saw those big, soft brown eyes staring at me filled with a curious reverence, all I could picture is how cute he would look with my legs wrapped around his head.
He was a sweet boy. It wouldn’t be right for me to corrupt him like that. So, I left him alone and let him ogle me from afar in peace. As far as I knew, he wasn’t even interested in sex, let alone the type of… activities… that my fantasies involved.
With my half full bottle of wine, I quietly unlocked the door to our shared room, recognizing that Spencer had mentioned he was trying to go to bed early tonight. It was part of why I’d left to hang out with JJ in the first place. The room was almost entirely dark, so I’d stopped for a moment to let my eyes adjust to this new environment.
I wasn’t drunk, but I wasn’t entirely sober either. So when I finally started to move forward, I was probably acting way more cautious than I’d needed to. He wasn’t a fucking bat; he wouldn’t be able to hear my breathing.
Breathing.
That’s what I heard when I inched further down the small corridor by the door. I passed the bathroom, almost tempted to turn on the light just so I could see what was happening. But the quick, irregular beating of my heart was my intuition telling me to stay very still.
I peeked around the corner as silently as I could, and some deep part of my subconscious was trying to prepare me for what I knew I would find. But I honestly don’t think I would ever be prepared for it.
The curtains hadn’t been drawn completely shut; the pale lights of the small town filtering through the darkness and finding the bed where Spencer lay. It looked like something fit for a fucking painting.
But it wasn’t just the romantic lighting that took my breath away. No, it was the unmistakable sounds flowing from the boy wonder. The heavy breaths belonged to him, and from my precarious position I could see that his head was thrown back and his eyes were unable to stay open. There was a quick movement under the covers, and the simple sound of sheets rustling and quiet moans filled the air.
I hadn’t taken a breath in what felt like an hour, but my eyes wouldn’t leave him. The image of him pleasuring himself was far more intoxicating than the wine. Part of me felt terrible for watching him do something so intimate, but the rest of me was just burning with an ungodly amount of lust.
Still, I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t just stand here forever - eventually he would figure it out. Being a mature adult, I decided that it would probably be best for me to just sneak back out of the room, no matter how much I did not want to do that.
Slowly, my feet began to step backwards. It was a good, simple plan. It should have been easy to leave the same way I came, but fate clearly had other plans. Because before I got too far, Spencer’s voice stopped me in my tracks.
“(Y/n)…”
What happened next was a goddamn disaster. I would like to blame the alcohol for my stupid ass decisions, but in my heart I knew I would have had the same reaction even if I were stone-cold sober. Because Spencer Reid moaning my name while touching himself in the room that we shared was too overwhelming a sound.
With an audible gasp, I dropped the wine bottle I’d been holding.
It clattered onto the ground, alerting Spencer of my presence in the most chaotic possible manner. Unable to think of literally anything else to do, I practically leaped into the bathroom beside me.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That was the only thing I could even begin to think, my brain looping the last five seconds over and over in my head.
“(Y/n)?” Spencer called out (again), his voice in an entirely different register.
“Hey Spencer!” I yelled back with an equally uncomfortable voice, “I’m going to take a shower really quick! Sorry to bother you!”
Smooth.
If he suspected I’d seen him, he did the right thing and said literally nothing about it. From my new position in the bathroom, the silence was somehow even more uncomfortable than what had just happened.
After a moment of attempting to reboot my broken psyche, I realized that I should actually shower if I was going to figure out how to keep up this charade of acting like I hadn’t just caught my adorably innocent coworker jacking off to the thought of me. I mean, that had to be what was happening, right? There was no way I’d misheard my own fucking name in my favorite boy's voice.
Taking advantage of the excuse to take a ridiculously cold shower, I pondered my options for the rest of the night as carefully as I could. There were a few different ways to handle this. I could act like nothing had happened, and continue to wonder what fascinating fantasies the doctor had drummed up in that brilliant mind. Or, I could confront him.
The second option, while riskier, also had the potential for some of the most delicious payoff. It also had the direst consequences. Because there were only two ways that I could realistically see myself letting that option end: Either I would finally figure out just how cute he looked with his face buried between my legs, or we could literally never interact as normal coworkers ever again. And honestly, that second one might happen no matter what.
Unfortunately, the best person to ask about the statistics of the outcomes of coworkers sleeping together was precisely the person I couldn’t ask about this right now.
I tried to get a handle on my thoughts, but the longer they reverted back to Spencer, the more complex the fantasies got each time. Now when I heard him moan my name, I could also feel it being whispered against my neck. I could picture the way that devilish little tongue he liked to sweep over his lips would feel in more interesting places.
Without even noticing, my hand had made its way between my legs, lightly tracing the areas I wanted to feel him touch. But my hands weren’t enough, and it was honestly bullshit to think that I would have to get myself off for something that he had started!
I held onto that frustration, allowing it to feed into my egotistical desire to go lay claim to the apparently not-so-innocent boy that I’d just caught red handed. Because if he wanted to use me to get off, then the least he could do was repay the fucking favor.
Barely drying myself off, I tried to look as presentable as possible without also losing my nerve. I wrapped myself in the skimpy hotel towel, tucking the free corner into the top and trying to address damp hair one more time. Once I walked out of the bathroom, I would be crossing the point of no return. But truthfully, we’d already crossed that point the second that damn wine bottle hit the ground.
So, I thought, fuck it!
Upon opening the door, I noticed that the room was significantly lighter than it had been when I got here. It was obvious that Spencer had been unable to sleep after that massive hit of adrenaline - which meant that he was either planning on ignoring me once I came out of the shower, or he had planned to talk to me.
Spencer was a planner. Much like how he played chess, he liked to know all of the potential futures. With everything. If you ever watched him in the silence, you would see the gears turning in his mind, running through every possible divergence of whatever action he was focused on.
But I can confidently say that, based on the look of shock on his face, Spencer had never expected this to happen.
“Hey—“ he started, looking up at me before his eyes widened. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his voice disappeared mid-sentence. With his mouth hung open I could see how his tongue rolled in on itself before he bit down on it, trying to hide the obvious arousal that had immediately developed at the sight of me barely covered in the crisp white hotel towel.
I didn’t speak. I started by bending over to pick up the still tightly fastened wine bottle, setting it down on the desk beside me before I continued on my path towards his bed. When our eyes locked, all I felt was the anxiety rolling off him in waves.
“W-What are you doing?”
He’d waited until I was right beside him to ask the question. His hand closest to me gripped the covers of the bed in the hopes to distract me from the way his legs shifted to try and hide further evidence of his undoubtedly lewd thoughts.
My fingers found their way to the back of that same hand he’d used moments earlier, drifting softly against the skin. He was practically shaking underneath me when I decided to give him some reprieve from his silent suffering.
“I heard you.”
I spoke softly, but he responded even quieter.
“What?”
“I heard you say my name.”
His hand shifted under my touch, lightly pulling away, but not enough to separate us entirely.
“I didn’t—“ he started to deny it, but I wasn’t in the mood to listen. There wasn’t enough time in the night for him to pretend like it hadn’t happened.
“Get up,” I ordered simply, bringing both hands up to cross over my chest.
“Why?”
It wasn’t a bad question. There were many reasons I might have demanded he get up. For example, I might have wanted him to get up to kick him out of the room, or in the very least humiliate him by forcing him to show me the tent that had pitched in his pants since the second I walked out of the bathroom.
“Get out of the bed,” I repeated.
“I don’t…” The weak response wasn’t even well thought out. I gave him another second to come up with words to end the sentence, but he just kept tumbling over his tongue.
“Now.”
This time, Spencer complied almost immediately. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed towards me, he stopped before our bodies could come too close together. I wondered if he could feel the heat of my body against him from this distance. Regardless, if he didn’t before, he would soon. When he sat up it didn’t last long. Swiftly and with the full force of physical training that was required for most of us, present company excluded, I grabbed his arm and pulled him from the bed.
He stumbled onto the ground, which happened to be exactly where I wanted him. From the way he didn’t even try to get up from his knees, I think he knew it, too.
I stared down at him from my new position with a cold glare that was harder to keep up than I thought it would be. Honestly, all I wanted to do was smile at just how precious he was. He’d taken so quickly to his role.
But he didn’t deserve my smiles or praise yet; he had been a naughty, selfish boy.
“Apologize to me.”
Spencer kept looking at me with those big puppy dog eyes, like he could beg me to take mercy on him so soon. When he didn’t get his way, he managed to squeak out the most pathetic apology I’d ever heard.
“I’m sorry.”
I didn’t believe him.
“Why are you sorry, Spencer?”
The only thing worse than no apology at all was an apology that wasn’t genuine. He didn’t even know what he was sorry for, just that I wanted him to say it. And as flattering as it was that he was eager to please me, I also wanted the apology I deserved.
“I-I don’t know.”
At least he admitted his own incompetence when it came to social situations. Especially such… delicate ones. But I believed in his ability to be a fast learner.
“Sure you do. You’re a genius, right? You can figure it out,” I cooed, using one hand to run through his hair. I’d always wanted to touch it, but never had an excuse. Until now. It was even softer than I’d imagined.
I couldn’t wait to see just how much I could make him do with a good handle on that hair. But for now, I just enjoyed the way it slipped through my fingers.
When he still didn’t answer my question, I decided to give him another chance.
“Why are you sorry, Spencer?”
His head followed my hand, but his eyes fell to the ground at my feet. I could hear the shift in his breathing and see the way his hands began to clench as he tried to think of how to get out of this mess.
“Now you’ve got nothing to say, huh?” I teased, deciding that I already missed the way it felt for him to look at me.
With all the care in the world, I gently lifted his chin with the tips of my fingers, guiding his attention back to me just in time for me to start to pull at the edge of the towel that held it in place.
“Would it help if I took this off?”
Before the plush fabric could even hit the ground, I heard a small whimper escape Spencer’s lips. He clenched his eyes shut in an obvious attempt to avoid looking at me. While I knew he was trying to protect himself - to prevent the obvious manifestation of his desire in his eyes - I couldn’t help but tease him.
“Am I not pretty enough to look at?”
“N-No—“ he stammered, his eyes opening and the vision before him stealing the words from his mouth.
“No, I’m not pretty?” I asked with an angry pout, my other hand rising to tangle in his hair.
“No! I-I—“ Despite the struggle, he managed to keep his eyes open and on me long enough to formulate one coherent thought: “You’re… beautiful.”
The words were music to my ears, but I couldn’t let myself enjoy them just yet. Because if he really thought I was so beautiful, then it was downright unacceptable that he would let his eyes wander away from me as often as they were. The restlessness was not welcome when he was with me.
Grabbing fistfuls of his beautiful chestnut locks, I pulled on them hard enough to elicit a surprised yelp. He scrambled to find the ground beneath him, to stop himself from tumbling forward or grabbing onto my naked body for balance.
“Then look at me,” I ordered forcefully, my teeth clenched together as I held his head just high enough that he still had to look up to meet my eyes.
Slowly, he did, his eyes sharing that same quiet adoration he always tried to hide. I could practically hear him begging me to show mercy for the way his tongue tied itself into knots. I didn’t listen.
“Apologize to me,” I insisted, tugging his hair so that he would expose more of his throat to me. He struggled to keep his eyes on mine, but he managed to do so.
“I’m so sorry.”
The pathetic crackling was more genuine than his previous apology, probably only because he knew exactly what to apologize for this time.
I released his hair, watching him drop back to his knees while trying not to look away from me for a second. Pride swelled in my chest at how easily he’d fallen into this role. It wasn’t surprising, but it was nice, nonetheless. With two gentle hands, I gingerly fixed his hair before withdrawing from him completely.
“Take off your shirt and stand up.”
Now it seemed when I gave an order, he was already halfway there by the time the words left my tongue. Quick to stand, he took a little bit longer to take off his shirt. I knew he was self conscious about his looks. It was hard not to be when his best friend was Derek Morgan. But I loved the sharp angles of his body that were contrasted with the softness of his features. I liked to run my fingers down his skin and see the way his muscles tensed at my touch.
“You’re such a pretty boy, Spencer,” I whispered as I did exactly that, my nails dragging over pale skin. Goosebumps rippling from my touch. “My pretty boy.”
He released his breath slowly, an almost imperceptible smile twitching at the corners of his lips from the praise. He was having a hard time looking at me now, but I didn’t mind. Instead, I just walked behind him, reaching my arms around and slipping them into the waistband of his pants. That time, his breath hitched in his throat, his entire body jerking as my hands didn’t bother waiting around any longer. I wanted to have him as naked as I was. I wanted to have all of him, as soon as I could.
I pulled down the pants just enough that gravity removed them the rest of the way. Running my hands over his hip bones, I hummed at the way he audibly gasped when I drew near his arousal.
“I love how sensitive you are to my touch,” I whispered into his ear, noticing how his head turned towards the feel of my breath against him.
It didn’t last long, though. After a brief moment of admiring his figure, I left him in his place just long enough that I could grab the wine bottle I’d abandoned on the desk earlier. I grabbed one of the shitty plastic wine glasses the girls had bought and poured myself another half serving.
The truth was, I was probably just as nervous as Spencer. Maybe. I’m pretty sure I could hear the poor thing’s heart beating from across the room. When I looked back, I noticed that he’d reverted to his earlier position, of his head bent back and his hands clenching the air.
I wasn’t entirely sure if he was trying not to touch himself or if he was just trying to will some confidence into himself. But he wouldn’t need confidence with me; I’d give it to him.
“Get back on your knees.”
The words broke his concentration, and he quickly complied. His eyes trailed after me as I passed, his heavy breath loud enough that I was surprised I didn’t feel it on my legs when I sat down in front of him.
He was staring cautiously at the way I began to unfold my legs. I curled one finger to beckon him closer. Making his way over to me, he was still careful not to touch me. He was waiting for permission, which I then gave by smoothing one hand over the sensitive skin of my inner thigh before giving a gentle pat.
No words were necessary, and Spencer bent forward to rest his cheek against my leg. His eyelids fluttered shut, his breath now feeling cool against my heated skin. Just that sensation alone was already filling me with a deep need for the man currently nuzzling my thigh.
Running my hand through his hair again, I drank half the contents of my glass to hopefully distract myself from how badly I wanted to just order him to fuck me already. But then he started to move against the skin, desperate, tiny mewls stumbling from his lips.
“Good boy,” I whispered, guiding him closer to my heat by his hair, “Since you can’t figure out how to properly say you’re sorry, I’ll let you apologize another way.”
His eyes opened at that, and I felt him swallow against my leg. His breathing was so thready I was a little concerned he might actually pass out.
“Go on. Be a good boy,” I reassured him with a sly smile, “I’ve seen that tongue. I know you’ll make me feel good.”
It took surprisingly very little encouragement to convince Spencer to do what I wanted him to do. Before I’d even finished talking, he had pressed his face against me and slipped his tongue between my folds.
“Fuck!” I immediately cursed, gripping my glass tighter when he began making long strokes up and down my entrance. After the briefest introduction, his methods went from shy and hesitant to full on ravenous.
Keeping his hands between his legs, he buried himself against me so closely I wasn’t sure how he would manage to breathe. Then again, he didn’t seem to care, breathing in only the sounds of pleasure he could force out of me with his mouth.
“Shit, Spencer,” I gasped, causing him to stop his ministrations and look up at my heaving chest.
It was the last thing I wanted him to do, so I quickly ran my hand through his hair and pulled him back against me.
“Don’t stop,” I begged, dropping my head back when he immediately returned to slow lapping motions, “God, I love that mouth of yours.”
The praise had its intended effect, with Spencer muffling a small moan against me. The gentle vibrations earned him a large smile while I quickly downed the rest of my drink, realizing that I wouldn’t have nearly as much downtime as I’d originally thought.
This either wasn’t his first rodeo, or he was a much quicker learner than I’d thought. Then again, he had probably memorized a million anatomy books. Maybe that researcher mentality was worth something to me, after all. But it all still wasn’t enough, and I wanted to see just how much more he could give.
“Touch me, Spencer,” I ordered, my voice husky and filled with urgency, “Use that hand you used on yourself.”
Once again, he moaned against me between thick lapping motions, his tongue exploring as deep inside of me as he could before he would replace it with his finger. He started with just one, and immediately I was surprised by just how much more stimulating it was.
I’d fantasized before about those large hands, but now that he was struggling to fit another finger in, I glanced down at his legs and wondered how the fuck I was supposed to take all of him.
But Spencer wasn’t worried about that, or anything else, at all. Once he did get the second finger in, he began to pump them into me at an exponentially increasing rate. The empty glass tumbled from my hand onto the floor beside him as I grabbed his hair with both hands.
I wanted to share my thoughts, to tell him that he was amazing and how close I was to finishing on those ever-gesticulating fingers, but I couldn’t. My voice was replaced with loud, throaty moans and garbled attempts at his name.
Recognizing that my end was fast approaching, Spencer closed his lips around the small nub at my crest, his tongue beginning to make small, feverish circles around it. My nails were digging into his scalp, my legs closing tightly around him while I bucked helplessly against him.
If he was at all struggling, he didn’t make it obvious. In fact, he seemed extremely pleased with his current situation, his moans heavier and louder. Once they had calmed down, he applied a soft suckling pressure that tore me from reality, tossing me headfirst into an ocean of pure euphoria.
The inaudible scream contorted my face, and I let my body curl around him, riding the waves of pleasure he granted with a roll of his tongue.
“Spencer,” I purred breathlessly when I finally started to come back to the Earth.
As the tension against him relented, he barely stopped to take a breath before immediately continuing what he was doing. Normally, if I had all the time in the world, I would have let him continue to lap up the evidence of my desire. But right now I was still exhausted, even more so because of my orgasm, and I wanted to make sure we still had time for me to take him on a proper ride.
Tearing him away from me was harder than I expected. He resisted my efforts until I’d all but pried him off me, and even then his fingers and tongue stayed on course until they couldn’t reach anymore. I looked down at him, craning his head back and licking the area around his lips to try and taste me on his skin.
“You’re so fucking adorable.”
I was almost pained by the sight, wishing that I could borrow his memory just to remember this moment forever. I traced the outline of his jaw with both hands, coming down to wipe his face.
He smiled, and it was beautiful to see. I realized it was the first time he’d given me a full on grin the whole night, and I was melting.
“Come lie down,” I whispered when I finished cleaning his face, patting next to me on the bed.
In a fashion fit for Spencer, he climbed into the bed and immediately attempted to curl up against my side. His hands were still kept close to his chest, his body wrapping around me while he tried to calm his still erratic heart.
“Hmm. Why am I not surprised you’re a little cuddle bug?” I teased, my hand drawing lazy patterns over his side. He hummed happily back, pliable under my hands that eventually coaxed him onto his back.
“Are you having fun, pretty boy?”
The question was genuine, but it seemed almost unnecessary after it’d been said. He was staring up at me with a dopey, lovesick smile, his hand trying to grab mine when I dragged my palm over his chest. When he remembered that I was waiting for an answer, he gave a little nod.
“Use your words,” I reminded him, letting him take my hand and squeeze it tightly.
“Yes,” he crackled, his voice weary from what he’d been busy using his mouth for, “Yes, you’re amazing.”
“And here I thought you had finally run out of words,” I chuckled while crawling on top of him and coming to rest against his hips.
“There are other things I’d like to do with my mouth instead,” he mumbled, his tongue darting out before he dragged his bottom lip between his teeth. Spencer’s apparent penchant for going down on me was duly noted and much appreciated, but it wasn’t what I wanted from him right now.
“Oh?” I responded, using my thumb to pull and press against his soft yet chapped lips that had been pressed against me moments before. He was clearly feeding off the attention, and before I could stop him, he’d taken my thumb into his mouth, sucking gently on the finger while his tongue covered whatever it could reach.
With a buck of my hips, I tried to reroute my mind. “As talented as your mouth is,” I breathily moaned, “I want to try something else.”
My body was quickly growing impatient, my legs nearly shaking with the need to ride this man for all he was worth. Inching closer to his erection, I used one hand to grip him firmly, earning a loud grunt and a weak thrust from him.
“A-Are you… sure?”
I was impressed he could maintain the willpower to ask, and it started to worry me. As much fun as it was to boss him around, I would have hated to make him do something he didn’t want to. Before I went any further, I slowed my hand down to a halt, running my other hand down the side of his face.
“You can tell me no, pretty boy,” I reassured him, “I won’t be upset with you.”
“No! I-I…. I want you to!” he practically shouted, “I want—“
I didn’t let him get the thought out, my hand around him tightening and beginning to sloppily stroke him.
Somehow, he persisted, eventually concluding with a strangled, “I want to make you feel good.”
I giggled, drawing my body up further and dragging my now soaked sex against his cock still in my hand.
“Are you sure you’re not just being selfish, Dr. Reid?”
His eyes rolled, his breath hitching as he pressed his hips up against me. But I didn’t let him come closer, maintaining my distance and the pace of the gentle roll of my hips. I noticed out of the corner of my eyes that his hands were hovering, struggling not to touch me. His willpower was more impressive than I’d originally guessed.
“Tell me,” I started, running my hands down his chest while I continued to rock against him, “is this what you were fantasizing about?”
“Fuck.”
The word was like music to my ears. It was so rare for Spencer to curse, and to know that I was the one driving him to such lengths filled my chest with butterflies. My hips were moving faster, trying to elicit more lascivious noises from him.
“There’s my naughty boy.” I said between a moan. Spencer’s thrusts were becoming more purposeful, each one lining up with me in a specific position on top of him. I wasn’t stupid; I knew what he was doing.
“Were you thinking about how it would feel to fuck me?”
He only whimpered in response, his head lolling in a sad attempt at a nod. It was confirmation enough for me, although in another situation I might have made him answer with his words. The poor thing was clearly overwhelmed.
He wouldn’t have gotten away with it if he wasn’t so cute. But there was something about his eyes screwed shut, his mouth either hung open or clenched so tightly his teeth would grind against each other.
On the next thrust, I let him achieve his desired result, letting the head of his cock breach my folds just enough to draw another loud, broken moan from him.
“Now that you know what I feel like,” I teased, freezing in place and holding his hips down, “I bet it’s all you can think about, huh?”
“Yes, please, (y/n).”
My name was uttered with such a pure longing and desperation, it took my breath away. Once I started to pull away from him, his hands made the daring move of grabbing my hips, although they didn’t apply much pressure yet.
“Please what?” I asked, quirking my head to the side.
“Please, fuck me.” If that crudeness wasn’t enough, he quickly followed it up with an even more broken, “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Removing my hands from his hips, I placed them on top of his. I led them up my sides, purposefully avoiding my breasts as I drew them along my collar bones. “Oh really? Anything?”
“Yes,” he pleaded, “Please.”
“Okay pretty boy,” I finally acquiesced, removing both of his hands from my chest much to his dismay. “Then what I want you to do…” I placed them gently by his sides, squeezing them to offer the option to hold onto the sheets instead, “is for you to stay just like this and look real pretty for me while I enjoy myself.”
His heavy breathing only got worse the longer I took, and once his hands were positioned, I cradled his face in my hand, trying to draw his attention back to me. He opened those hazel eyes, filled with pure devotion and fervor.
“Can you do that for me?” I asked, tracing along his jaw one more time.
Spencer went to nod, but then corrected himself, his voice shaking with enthusiasm, “Yes. Whatever you want.”
“Good boy.”
That was the last thing shared between us before I repositioned my hips and slowly lowered onto his length. The longer I drew it out, the longer and louder he would moan, his hands crinkling the sheets.
“God, you feel so fucking good, Spencer,” I whined, a delirious smile spreading across my cheeks. I slid onto him with ease, slick with his saliva and my own arousal from all his hard work. “You did such a good job getting me ready for your cock.”
I was absolutely certain that he deserved the praise, his hands remaining right where I’d placed them. His eyes were fixated on me, even through a lustful haze. It was clear how highly he viewed me, and his entire body trembled with each movement.
“I’m so proud of you, my pretty boy,” I continued, my hands now exploring every inch of his chest and arms while I rocked on him, still not giving him the kind of stimulation that he desired. “Say my name.”
“(Y/n)…” Although it was quick, his voice was still so muted. It sounded so much like when he was trying to hide his illicit behavior.
But I wanted to hear it. I wanted to hear him begging my name, savoring the way it tasted on his tongue.
“Louder,” I ordered, “I want everyone to hear how badly you want me.”
“(Y/n),” my name fell from his lips louder now, but he was still biting his tongue.
I must admit, I was also a little distracted, my mind focused entirely on his full I felt with him inside of me. My hips were lifting in small, rhythmic motions, slowly rising and falling to enjoy the way my body stretched to accommodate his size. While I hummed happily, Spencer’s throat was filled with high pitched moans.
“You look so pretty like this,” I said with a smile, a single finger toying with his bottom lip while my other hand was firmly pressed against his chest for balance. The muscles of his stomach and arms were tensed with restraint.
But then something inside of me swelled as I realized just how close we were to having never experienced this moment. Spencer would have been happy to let me get myself off in the shower, and then go to bed and act like it never happened.
The thought took control over me, and the next time I slowly raised my hips, I dropped back onto him with my full body weight.
“(Y/n)!” he shouted, his hands lifting off the sheets before gripping even more of the hotel sheets. His lips kept moving to mouth my name, but no words were coming out.
“I can’t believe you were going to deprive me of this,” I scowled, looking down at him with the bottled up frustration of all the nights I’d gone to bed with him only a few feet away.
Luckily for Spencer, though, that’s when he finally built up the courage and sincerity to say the two magic words.
“I’m sorry.”
I felt the words as they fell from his lips, my hips slowly down and my movements becoming shallower in return.
“Are you?” I teased, “Are you really sorry?”
“Yes! Fuck—!“ he yelled as I slammed back down onto him, his entire body jerking under me. His hands gripped the bed so hard the sheets lifted off, pathetic sobs wrecking his body. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I let my pace quicken, my hips dropping in rough, deep motions.
“Doesn’t this feel better than your fucking hand?” I groaned, biting my bottom lip and trying to commit the feeling of him to memory.
“Yes. You feel amazing,” he praised, his face contorted in absolute bliss while he tried to keep his eyes open, “Y-You’re perfect.”
I could see from his eyes just how closely he was watching me, trying to build a repertoire of images for him to recall later when I wasn’t around.
But that was the thing; he wouldn’t need to remember this to bring it back. Because as far as I was concerned, he was mine. We could have each other whenever and wherever we pleased. If he wanted to use me to get himself off, there would always be a consequence to pay if he failed to return the favor.
“Next time you want to touch yourself,” I warned, grabbing his chin roughly, “remember that no hand will ever compare to the way I can make you feel.”
“I want to show you,” he panted, a thin veil of sweat forming on his face while he tried to maintain his breathing, “I want to show you how sorry I am.”
He must have seen the hesitant curiosity on my face, because he quickly followed up with a clearer explanation, “I-I want to fuck you.”
There was something in those warm hazel eyes that steeled over; a dark, burning desire to match my intensity. I couldn’t stop the smirk that crept over my lips at the thought of Spencer losing control.
“Fine,” I said with a brief shrug, prying his hands off the sheets and placing them at my hips, “Fuck me, then.”
As soon as my hands left, he gripped my hips hard enough to leave ten small crescent indents in their wake. I sighed at the contact, closing my eyes just for a second to enjoy the rare display of force. But his thrusts weren’t as powerful, starting slow and relatively shallow compared to how I’d been riding him.
“I said fuck me, Spencer,” I mumbled, trying to come down harder on him. But his hands stopped me, so I whined in frustration. “Show me what you were fantasizing about,” I spat, “Fuck me!”
Apparently, my words struck a chord within Spencer, and soon after his grip on my hips was used to hold me down while he drove into me like a man unhinged. My entire body shook with each thrust, and part of me was just shocked by how much power he had hidden in that thin figure. With each motion, he bottomed out inside of me.
“Spencer!” I cried out, my hands gripping the bed to stop me from falling on top of him. Our eyes were locked, his hands now forcing me further down against him as his thrusts became disjointed.
“(Y/n), I-I can’t hold on much longer,” he whined, his eyes barely able to stay open. “You feel so good. You—fuck!”
He threw his head back when I clamped down on him, a string of foreign curses quickly following.
“Fuck, Spencer, I’m almost there,” I begged, “Please—!”
I didn’t even notice the way he had sneaked his hand between our bodies, his thumb swiping over my clit and eliciting a shrill moan from me.
“Harder!” The vague instruction wasn’t lost on Spencer, who chose to increase the power of both his hips and hands. Within seconds, I was collapsing in on myself. The tension that had built up in my stomach was about to snap.
I opened my eyes, immediately finding Spencer’s soft yet determined gaze. Without considering why, I lowered myself to close the gap between us. Our lips crashed together for the first time, not bothering to waste the precious little time that remained in our first night alone together. Our tongues found each other quickly, and I wondered why it felt like I’d kissed him a million times before.
It was the gentle, loving moan that Spencer shared between our lips that pushed me over the edge. My arms wrapped around the pillow under his head, pulling our mouths closer together while my trembling legs tightened around him. Spencer’s motions didn’t stop, the tight circles he drew at my crest and his thrusts continuing despite the resistance of my walls fluttering around him.
Eventually, once he felt my body begin to relax, he followed after me. With a few more sloppy thrusts, he used both hands to force me down flush against him. I cried out at the sensation of him bottoming out in me before flooding me with his warmth.
“Spencer,” I sobbed, my mouth unable to stay on his any longer. My body slid down against him, going limp in his arms while he gave a few more thrusts to ensure that my body would take every drop he had to offer.
We laid there for a long while, and once I got my strength back, I tangled my hands in his hair, my head resting against the crook of his neck. I peppered little kisses against the sensitive skin, enjoying the way his happy humming sent vibrations through my lips.
“You’re such a good boy,” I purred against him, my hips moving just enough to cause him to jerk under my touch. He sighed, his hands sliding across my back and holding me against him.
With a hushed, drunk laugh, I whispered in his ear, “You know what?”
Spencer paused, turning to try and look at me from our tangled position.
“I think I forgive you.”
—————————————————— 
The next morning was the most pleasant I think I’d ever been after a case. I managed to dodge the suspicious glances from JJ and Elle, but only barely. When they’d asked me why I seemed so much happier than when I left, I’d just told them the truth… I’d taken a shower and figured some stuff out. I just left out what I’d figured out, and everything else that followed.
I knew they didn’t really believe me, but I guess they also found the possible theories too implausible. They didn’t bring it up again, and we all sat quietly and tried to enjoy the same old boring continental breakfast.
“Why, would you look at that?” Morgan’s voice was the first to break the monotony, a big grin on his face as he motioned to the man that had finally come to join us. “Reid’s awake in time for breakfast.”
Spencer’s groggy smile quickly faded at the jab, and he shied away from the group and headed straight for his favorite part of the day.
“It’s not that uncommon,” he mumbled while filling a cup with sugar and a splash of coffee.
“I don’t know. Something seems different about you.”
I wasn’t sure if Morgan was just being facetious, or if he had genuinely noticed a change in his best friend. Because let’s be honest – Spencer has always been jumpy and shy. Then again, maybe that was what Morgan sensed. Because as soon as Spencer met my eyes, there was the tiniest flash of a smile.
“You’re being ridiculous,” he replied, turning to join his friend at the table. I didn’t blame him for not wanting to sit next to me. We hadn’t exactly discussed how this morning would go, but a little distance was probably a good idea.
But then it happened. The chaos returned.
“Whatever you say, pretty boy,” Morgan said.
The words were uttered at the worst possible time. Right as Spencer had taken a sip, he’d just as quickly choked on the hot liquid, sputtering half the contents out of his mouth. I barely withheld my laugh, stifling it with my hand while I tried to avoid looking at the two men to our left.
Elle was watching me with narrowed eyes and a clever smirk, noting the way I was struggling to hide my reaction. It wasn’t until then that I realized how much more suspicious it would seem that I wouldn’t want to laugh.
Spencer took off to the bathroom, presumably to clean off the coffee he’d just gotten all over his chest. Meanwhile, I returned to mine, sipping it and avoiding eye contact with both of the women now turned to me.
“… what did I say?” Morgan asked, clueless to the entire situation. Once he looked over to us, Elle finally gained the confidence to voice her conclusion, albeit in a sneaky manner.
“Really?” she laughed, “Pretty boy?”
“What?” I cheekily replied with a small shrug, “He is pretty.”
——————————————————
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spencerseance · a year ago
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Playing With Fire (Reid Request)
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Request: 21. hi! can i request a smut for spencer reid? (or mgg. whatever's fine) just the purest filth you can come up with 👀 breeding kink, degrading, spitting in y/n's mouth. thankss :)
A/n: Hi! I'm sorry this one took me a while, I hope you see this! Enjoy the smut, you filthy animals!
Category: Smut
Content Warning: Oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, degradation.
Word Count: 5,300
MASTERLIST
Someone once said, "If you hang out with chickens, you're going to cluck and if you hang out with eagles, you're going to fly." It was a quote made primarily for parents of kids with friends they don't approve of, but even so, the meaning still stands. You will become who you surround yourself with, so pick your friends wisely.
I didn't understand that as a kid. I was me, I wasn't anybody else
Even when I went through my life actively proving the theory, I didn't realize it. I could have been put in boxes of set personalities throughout my entire life. But I was still me.
But then, I realized what it meant. I had been working for the BAU for over a year, specifically under Penelope Garcia as a Technical Analyst. Or as Penelope called me, her protégé. I flocked to her as soon as we met, not only because she had a welcoming presence, but because our backgrounds were the same. I realized soon that after months of being locked in a room with her, I had become her. I picked up her various mannerisms. The way her voice would pick up when she got excited, or even the way she would flirt with Morgan for no reason other then she enjoyed it.
But I was not allowed to flirt with Morgan, she made that explicitly clear. So eventually, my adopted habit fell into somebody else, the other person I spent most of my days with. Spencer.
Spencer and I's relationship was, for lack of a better word, unexpected. Not necessarily unexpected of me, anyone who knew me knew what I was like. But definitely unexpected of him. Our resident genius with a 187 IQ and a presumed virginity, up until the point where he started responding with equal allusiveness. It was rare when he played along, but I savored every little comment he made towards me like it was a candy I never got to buy.
No one in the office ever mentioned the flirting between the two of us. they were used to it with Morgan and Garcia. In fact, I'm sure that's how they saw us. For the most part, I think that's what we were supposed to be.
But it got difficult to describe. I had a bad habit of reading signals incorrectly, or living too far in my head, or even just coming on too strong at all. But sometimes, the lines defining us were blurred, and I couldn't read them anymore. One minute our relationship would be strictly professional. But then the next, he'll say something that makes me question everything.
But no matter how confusing it gets, Spencer Reid is my friend.
Presently, Spencer and I were called to help Penelope with party preparation. I was completing my work out for the week by doing several rounds up and down the stairs to bring groceries and decorations up to her apartment. On my last trip, I opened the door to see Penelope and Spencer talking in the kitchen.
"Hello?" I called with a singsong voice, placing the bags down on the counter.
Penelope turned around, with fake blood tears trickling down her cheeks. Spencer just stood awkwardly behind her, resembling a little kid struggling with a social situation.
"You alright, Penelope?" I asked, trying my best to stiffly the laugh in my throat. She sighed, clearly disappointed by my reaction, or lack-there-of.
"You...didn't even flinch," She said, discouraged. "JJ's right. I told her I wanted to go scary this Halloween, and she just laughed at me, and she said that I don't have a scary side."
I bit the inside of my cheek, genuinely feeling guilty for not playing along. "I'm sorry Pen," I finally said,  looking to Spencer for some help.
"If it makes you feel any better, you probably do." Spencer consoled. We both turned to him curiously, he straightened his back up in the way that told me that he had knowledge on the fact that he was excited to share.
"Really?" Penelope asked.
"Yeah!" He said enthusiastically, "The building blocks of the human personality are complex, varied, and multifaceted. Its essential to ones mental health to want to express these hidden personalities, and its just a fact of nature that everyone has one." He explained, nodding along with his words as if that itself was an argument.
"Everybody?" I squinted curiously, a habit I picked up from him. I hopped up on the counter in-between grocery bags. "You have one?"
"Oh, absolutely, yeah." he continued to nod. I glanced slyly at Penelope, who returned the look with equal inquisition and subtle enthusiasm. He squinted as he tried to decode our silent communication, so I clarified to make it easier.
"We want to see it." I grinned and Penelope nodded expectantly. "We wanna see Dr. Spencer Reid's hidden personality."
He looked between the two of us and spit out a string of jumbled word fragments in attempt to form something salvageable. "Uh, you- uh, right... here? Right, like right now you wanna see it?" He tripped over his tongue. That was the bad part of having a brain that runs a mile a minute, your mouth can't always keep up.
"I have fake blood running down my cheeks. Right here, right now." Penelope said, sliding her pink glasses back onto her face, wanting to see him in HD.
"Okay," He said with a sigh, "But once you see it, you cant un-see it."
"Quit the theatrics, Shakespeare. Get on with it." I teased, grabbing a handful of cereal out of the new box I opened up and shoveled cheerios into my mouth.
"Fine! Fine..." He trailed off, letting his eyes close and looked down at the ground. He put his hands on his neck and made a strained groaning sound, which almost reminded me of a Werewolf transformation in a bad teen movie. I raised my eyebrows and fed myself cereal like popcorn at a movie theatre. The show hadn't even started, but I was already amused.
"I know what you're thinking." He finally spoke, peeking his head up stifly and thrusting his hand out in front of him. His voice and his face were both completely stoic. I recognized the quote immediately from a movie we watched together a few weeks ago. But I bit back the laugh that was my natural reaction, and decided to let him finish. "You're thinking, did that guy just fire five shots? Or did that guy just fire six shots? You're gonna have to ask yourself a question. Do you feel lucky, punk?" He trailed his words away, closing his eyes and his fingers, as if to say 'And, Scene'.
"Boy Wonder! Wow!" I grinned brightly, clapping my hands together, "You could be the next Clint Eastwood!"
"That was Clint Eastwood. Dirty Harry." He clarified plainly, nodding his head. Garcia nodded back with a small 'ah'. I rolled my eyes.
"I know, smartass, that's why I said it." I shot back, he ignored me.
"I know its not as effective as my dominant personality-"
Fuck.
I choked on the cheerios, cereal dust spewing into the air as I coughed. I hit my chest, clearing my throat, "Your what, now?"
He blushed, and his eyes frantically darted between me and Penelope. "You know... my dominant personality... as in my main personality." He clarified. I felt myself burn up, realizing my mistake and suddenly finding the appeal in moving away and changing my name.
I opened my mouth to respond, but it felt like sandpaper. I wasn't exactly sure what I could say that would make the situation any better. We just stood there in a painfully long, uncomfortable silence, until we were saved by the familiar ring of Penelope's phone. She announced that we had a case, and I had never been more grateful for murder than in that moment.
Thank God.
-
At the end of the week, the case had ended and we  were finally able to relax. The unsub was a man who found out he had ancestral ties to someone with a significant role in the Salem Witch Trials. He started having vivid hallucinations that played into the fantasy he had of being a Witch Hunter, and he started killing women whom he believed were witches.
Though my time and experience here weren't exactly extensive, I figured that was an especially strange case. Even though it was over, I couldn't bring my headspace back to anything normal. We were done, but I still stayed at the BAU. I had no work I needed to accomplish, but I wasn't ready to go home yet. So instead, I became delving into work for next week, trying to get ahead. It wasn't my job, I wasn't a profiler like everyone else, but I figured it couldn't hurt.
Then the door swung open and I jumped out of my skin. I turned to see Spencer walking in, clearly amused by my reaction. We hadn't spoken much since what happened at Penelope's apartment. Not because things were awkward, though there might have been that too. But more, the cases take up all of our time, we don't have any space left to tease each other like normal. Our lines may be blurred, but during cases we were strictly coworkers.
"Jesus, Spencer, you almost gave me a heart attack." I exhaled, settling deeper into my seat. Even though he scared me, and even though it was slightly uncomfortable being alone with him, I was very happy that it was him that was still here so late.
"Oh, sorry." He laughed, sitting down in Penelope's chair and wheeling over to me. "What are you still doing here?"
"I didn't feel like going home yet." I answered plainly. It was true, but not entirely. For the sake of my sanity, I tried to keep work and home completely separate. I managed to leave the darkest parts of my life behind me, and like a flower, I bloomed into something greater than I've ever been. At work, I'm swarmed by the immense darkness the world is capable of. I don't want to bring that home and infect the life I've worked so hard to fix. That includes the bad thoughts  that swim through my brain like blood. They weren't welcome in my home, so my solution was to wait until they were no longer there. It wasn't faultless, but it was a plan. And for a majority of the time, it worked.
"Is everything okay..." He questioned though trailing away, distracted by the image on the screen in front of us. In the corner of the digital casefile was a man tied to a chair by red ropes. He furrowed his eyebrows, leaning into the desk on his elbows. "Open that picture, zoom in on his wrists."
I raised my eyebrows at him before shrugging and complying, enhancing the image for him.
"Those are Shibari ropes. Japanese bondage." He identified. I looked at him curiously.
"Oh, really? I know what those are, how do you know what those are?" I asked. I knew what the ropes were, but only after a google search. I knew Spencer was excessively well educated, but something tell me he never took a college course on BDSM. No. Either he's done research in his free time, or he's had first hand experience. And for some reason, both options made me feel something that I couldn't explain.
"You know what they are? You must not be as innocent as I thought." He laughed, enjoying the way my confident face faltered at the lewdness of his words. Spencer was clueless sometimes, especially when it comes to women. But I was positive that this time he knew exactly what he was doing.
"You didn't answer the question."
"They taught me in boy scouts," He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes, "How do you think?"
"Hold on," I turned in my chair to face him more directly and confrontationally, "Are you telling me that you have experience with this?"
"All I'm saying is books can only teach me so much." He said as if that was the most natural response he could think of. Though his answer only made me more disjointed, as did the way he wet his lips with his tongue. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pretended that I was completely unaffected.
"Are you trying to seduce me, Dr. Reid?" I joked, in the same way we always joke with each other. But it was simultaneously a serious question and I was genuinely curious of what he was trying to accomplish. Normally, he would blush profusely at my remarks and turn into a stuttering ball of nerves. But this time he didn't.
"Why, is it working?"
I choked on my spit, surprised I didn't fall out of my chair. He just laughed and leaned back, radiating a confidence I've never seen from him before, even compared to other times we were alone. I was happy to see him comfortable. But, it seemed like there was more behind it, he was playing with fire. I just hoped that he meant what he was saying, otherwise, he was going to get burnt.
"Come on, its late." He waved me over as he stood up, "We can head out together." He reached down and pressed the button to turn off the computers and its monitors. Instead of scolding him because of it, I found myself grabbing my things and following him with an eager obedience that was almost embarrassing.
It was safe to say my mine was no longer anywhere near those case files anymore, so so wouldn't be breaking my rule by going home. But something told me, or at least it hoped, that I wouldn't be going home yet. At least not alone. It was crazy how one minute he's a sputtering mess, and the next he's radiating a dominance I didn't know he was capable.
Then I remembered the conversation. He had another side to him that I haven't gotten to experience. But finding it was my full intention. He wanted to play with fire, but I held the torch.
"Spence, do you want me to give you a ride home?" I asked him, adjusting my bag over my shoulder, "I know you were planning on just taking the bus."
He smiled and wet his lips with that damned tongue again. Why doesn't he lick my lips for a change?
I felt weightless watching him, he was a movie that I could see a thousand times and not get bored. But Spencer was so much better than anyone in the movies. He was real.
"You could give me a ride any day."
I stopped. That's enough. If he wanted to play this game, then were gonna play. And I never lose.
"You okay?"
I hesitated, before eventually nodding a wordless response. He watched curiously as I put my bag on the ground and sat down on his desk, flattening out my skirt. I looked up at him and swiped my tongue quickly across my lips as a subconscious mimic of his prevalent habit. "Do you remember that conversation we had last week? At Pen's place?"
He shifted in his stance, before taking a quick glance of the room to make sure it was empty. "How could I forget?"
"Right..." I leaned back on my hands, "I want to know more about this... dominant personality of yours."
He furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms. He paranoiacally looked once more around the room before he finally humored me. "I told you. It just means it's my main-"
I cut him off, "That's not what I mean and you know it-"
"Don't interrupt me." He commanded. I couldn't help but grin, pulling my lips smugly in-between my teeth.
"There it is." I hummed contently.
He scoffed, "You don't know what your talking about."
"Oh, don't I?" I laughed, watching and appreciating the way his face twisted. "Spencer, you just implied that you have experience with Japanese bondage. I think I know more than you think." I reached out and grabbed his tie. I didn't pull him closer, but he came closer on his own. I just ran the maroon fabric slickly between my fingers. I cleared my throat before speaking again, "Do you remember how I got the job here?"
"I remember everything, Y/n." His eyes trailed down the length of my body and I tried to pretend it did nothing to me. I looked at him, urging him to continue. He sighed. "You were a hacker. And we caught you."
"That's right, Mr. F-B-I," I exaggerated the enunciation each initial, as if that itself was a point I was working to prove. "I was a criminal, and you caught me. Tell me, was there ever a time where you wanted to, you know... use those fancy handcuffs of yours?" I trailed my foot up his pant leg. He one-upped me, placing his hands on the desk on either side of my body. His face was mere inches from mine, and I could feel his cool breath on my face. His breath was fresh and minty. Of course it was. The man was perfect, and his hygiene was clearly no exception.
"Is that what you want?" He asked, as if it wasn't obvious. The heartbeat in my core was a drumming that I swore was loud enough to hear. I remained expressionless, even almost bored. I didn't want him to have the satisfaction of seeing just how badly I wanted it.
"Hmm." My eyes scanned his form as I pretended to think. But I didn't need to think at all, I've been imagining him bending me over this very desk since the first day I saw him. Finally, I looked back up at him through batted lashes. An angle of me I'm sure he could get used to. "You're the profiler here. You tell me."
As soon as the words left my mouth, his lips crashed into mine. I smiled into the kiss at the easy win I earned. I tangled my hands into his messy hair and pulled him in, urging him to go deeper. I opened my mouth to allow him access, he traced his tongue across my lip in the same way I had previously wished he would.
His hands cupped my cheeks in a way that was almost sweet, and I moaned softly into his mouth.
But then as quickly as he came, he retreated. He flipped my body over with no warning, harshly slamming my front into the wood. I swore at the bruising feeling, though it was strangely satisfying and brought a prominent slickness between my thighs.
His large hand found the space between my shoulder blades and pushed down forcefully. The other hand traced up the back of my thigh, before moving under my short skirt and settling on my rear. My eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his hands, the very ones that have clouded my fantasies for over a year.
"You think you're fucking cute?" He taunted, squeezing my ass harshly and forcing a whimper out of my mouth. "You're not. You're just a needy fucking whore, who thinks she can get whatever you want by laying yourself out for me on my desk." He moved himself to be directly behind me, I could feel the growing bulge through his pants.
"That's because I always do, Dr. Reid." I replied, wiggling my ass against his bulge. His hands gripped my hips harshly, his fingers digging so tightly into my flesh I swore he was summoning bruises.
"You're so fucking mouthy." He tsked. Then I heard a familiar metal jingling sound coming from him, my eyes widened and I tried to look over my shoulder to see if my suspicions were correct.
Handcuffs.
He was taking all of my suggestions, which only filled me with more satisfaction. Sure, he might think he was in charge, but every little thing I mentioned to him he applied. I was in charge, whether he knew it or not.
His hands gripped my wrists as he handcuffed them together. The material was icy cold against my skin and I gasped at their contrast to his warm hands.
"Looks like you caught me again, Agent."
"Shut the fuck up. Get on your knees," He commanded, grabbing me by the chain of my handcuffs and yanking me to the ground. I winced at the sharp pain in my wrists, but the pain also excited me in a way I've never felt before. He grabbed me by the jaw and forced my mouth open. Naturally, I stuck my tongue out. He bent down, his face once again again so close to mine. Part of me wanted to lean forward and kiss him, but part of me knew that that was an inherent softness he wasn't looking for. The same part of me that knew that this side of him existed at all. It hadn't been wrong so far.
He looked me directly into my eyes as he spat, letting it fall onto my tongue. I closed my mouth again and swallowed.
He hummed a wordless praise while his hands undoing his belt and his zipper. "Why don't we put that mouth to use?"
He pushed his pants and boxers down on one fluid motion, relieving his painfully hard erection. My eyes widened, a reaction that filled him with an arrogance that annoyed me. My instinct would have to wrap my hand firmly around his base, to wipe the smug smile off his face. But I moved my hands to be greeted by a painful reminder of my restraints.
So his hand found a firm grip in my hair, creating a lazy ponytail, and guiding me into his length. I flattened my tongue and dragged it all the way up, before wrapping my lips around his swollen head.
A guttural moan slipped out from the back of his throat, which was like music to my ears. I swirled my tongue around his head, swiping away the beads of precum away. Then slowly, I took an inch of him into my mouth before pulling away. His hand on the back of my head only pushed me all the way down his shaft.
I gagged once he hit the back of my throat, so I pressed down on the pressure point on my thumb to mute the reflex. I started to move my head up and down on his length, his hand guiding me until we found a rhythm.
"Good girl," he praised out quietly. I moaned in response, and the vibrations resonated through him and forced a moan out from his mouth. His eyes squeezed shut as his breath became errant. His head fell back, to which I mentally praised myself for my efforts.
The friction of the carpet was bloodying to my knees, but I didn't let my motions falter. I needed to hear the lewd noises of moans and praise coming out of his mouth, because even at my expense, it was ultimately for my benefit. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, finding it impossible to breath at the same time. Still, I proceeded, up until the point where he harshly yanked me off of him. I fell back from my position on my knees, hitting the ground.
"Get up!" He commanded, I struggled to obey with the lack of use and feeling in my hands. Eventually he sighed and grabbed me by my shoulders and easily yanked me back up before forcefully returning me to my position, bent over in the desk. The breath was forced from my lungs as I was slammed against the polished wood. "Useless bitch, can't do anything without help."
"I-I'm sorry, Sir."
"Yeah, you fucking better be." He scoffed, hiking my skirt up past my hips and my soaked panties down my legs. I stepped out of them, he picked them up and reached around me to put them in my mouth. "Open. I'm tired of hearing you speak."
I opened my mouth, accepting the cloth. I tasted my own arousal, wet on my tongue.
Then without warning, he slammed into me entirely. I gasped through the muffle of the fabric. He slipped easily out before once again bottoming out inside of me. His movements picked up to evenly paced thrusts that case with the regularity of waves crashing on the beach. His moans were quiet, but apparent, and I allowed for them to resonate within me and build me up. The harsh pressure of the tables ledge against my hips only added to my uncontrolled desperation.
"You look so hot like this," He said, his voice strained between moans, "Gagged, and letting me use you however I fucking want. I bet you like being used, huh, you little whore?"
I whimpered out in response, feeling far to overwhelmed to speak, even if I wasn't gagged. He continued to thrust into me with so much power that his supplies and novelties were falling off and hitting the floor. I felt him up in my chest and selfishly wished that he could stay there forever.
"You feel so good," He praised under his breath, at a decibel I wasn't sure I was meant to hear. But I did, and I felt my toes curl in my shoes. It was a rare mix of praise and censure that was what made my head spin, but Spencer was somehow able to do it perfectly and I was already teetering on the edge of my release.
Spencer's firm grip on my hips was the only stability I was able to maintain without my own hands. The jingling of the chain link restraints were an audible reminder of how much power he had over me. He owned my body, I just didn't know it until now. However something told me that he knew all along, and he was just waiting to render.
His thrusts moved parallel with his breathing; from composed to frantic in just a matter of moments. The noises that slipped off his tongue was so incredibly beautiful that it seemed almost as if I had died and gone to heaven. I gagged on the fabric as I moaned out, desperate for my release, but not willing to without permission.
I felt his pulsating cock twitch inside me and I knew he was nearing his release too.
"You wanna come, don't you, filthy girl?" he asked, his hand snaking around to my front and rubbing my clit in natural circles. I felt like I was about to pass out from the overwhelming stimulation. "Do you?" I whimpered and nodded rapidly, feeling tears pricked the corners of my eyes. "Come for me, you fucking whore, show me who you belong to."
I came immediately to his approval, feeling like I was melting into a puddle as I finished. My legs shook under my body, to the point where I was weak in all my limbs. He continued to fuck me to the point of overstimulation, and I thought that he was going to split me in half.
He eventually followed suit, his words an incoherent mess of swears and moans. His thrusts went erratic before he finally emptied himself inside me, filling me with his warmth. I just wished that I could see the look on his face as he was overwhelmed with pleasure, though the idea alone could have been enough to make me come all over again.
He then tiredly slipped himself out of me before tucking himself back into his pants. He helped me dress up, but cursed when he saw the bruises that he had painted across my flushed skin. I spat out the panties from my mouth and breathed heavily.
"Ah, shit, these are bad." He said, digging the key the handcuffs out of his pocket. He undid the clasps, and I sighed content my as I stood up, stretching out my fingers to stimulate blood flow. He stopped me and grabbed me by the wrists again, only this time his touch was overwhelmingly soft and sweet. Though if it was anything harsher, I might have cried in pain from my now raw wrists.
"I'm so sorry," He pleaded looking up at me in a way that resembled a kicked puppy. "I was incredibly irresponsible using these, I don't have the proper things to treat the marks."
"I have hand lotion in my bag," I suggested. It wasn't ideal, but it was something. Aftercare was one of the most important parts of sex, and I think it bothered him that he couldn't take care of me as well as he wanted. Though, the sentiment was there, and that in itself was healing.
He dug through my bag before finding my aloe-vera hand lotion. He squirted some into his hands, before rubbing them together, and then gently massaging them into the red marks in my wrists. I just watched as he did, smiling to myself at the effort.
"I'm really sorry," he repeated again, his face reading with overwhelming guilt. "I shouldn't have done that. Next time, I'll be sure to have the proper supplies-"
"Next time?" I perked up, "There's gonna be a next time?"
His face dropped, and his mouth melded into different shapes as he tried to speak but nothing came out. I couldn't help but smile and shake my head, putting my finger up to stop him.
"I'd love for there to be a next time." I said honestly, and his face immediately relaxed. "But for now, let's worry about deleting the security footage."
"Oh shit!" He jumped away from me, as if that would make us look any less guilty. "I'll do that, you clean up."
I nodded and hopped off his desk. I went to the bathroom to clean myself up, grateful that no one besides Spencer would see me looking like this. No one would see, as long as Spencer succeeds in destroying the evidence. The idea, however, made me nervous. Spencer was a genius, but he could work my body infinitely better than he could any technology.
When I came back out, Spencer was waiting for me at the front door. He held my bag and my jacket, I thanked him and took them back. I slid on my coat, but couldn't help but furrow my eyebrows at the pleased smirk that laid plastered on his face.
"What did you do?" I asked, crossing my arms tightly across my chest.
He responded wordlessly by holding up a small silver flash drive. My eyebrows widened and my mouth fell into a small ‘O’ as I processed what that meant. I would have scolded him if I wasn't admittedly impressed.
"I won."
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reidscanehand · 8 months ago
Text
The Statistical Probability of Falling in Love
Master List to The Statistical Probability Series
Spencer Reid x BAUfem! Reader
Category: Fluff 
TW: Mentions of bullying, cursing, kind of a depressing mental space at the beginning, mentions of an erection, and again, like...desiring somebody beyond the realms of friendship. 
Also, good lord, he’s so awkward, so this is kind of overdramatic, but all in good fun. It’s also kind of super long because I have no filter. And I loved this request by @radtwinkie .
This request has taken me literal ages to complete and I am so sorry for that! It’s really just because I genuinely loved this request and thought it was so precious and lovely; I really didn’t want to mess it up...all that to say I’ve rewritten it at least twice, so I hope it’s close to what was imagined when requested. Thank you @radtwinkie for your patience and I hope you all enjoy! xx
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~ “Most of us have nicknames - annoying, endearing, embarrassing. But what about your true name? It is not necessarily your given name. But it is the one to which you are most eager to respond when called. Ever wonder why? Your true name has the secret power to call you.” - Vera Nazarian ~
Spencer is not a huge fan of nicknames. Part of it, of course, was the intense bullying he’d received as a child and teenager. Which was, frankly, rather hard to get past, even as an adult. He loved his BAU family, and for the majority of his time working with them, he felt loved and seen and accepted. But every so often Derek would make a comment that hit too close to home, Hotch would shut down one of his tangents with a slightly more annoyed tap than usual, Rossi would roll his eyes a little harder than usual, Penelope would seem genuinely overwhelmed, or Emily or JJ would be just a little too relieved to get to walk away as he began to ramble. It felt vastly unfair; Spencer wasn’t one to believe in karma, but there was something in him that felt like...maybe he deserved this acute loneliness. The brain he had been given, the intelligence he had...only for it to be received with...not hatred, exactly, but a sort of begrudged acceptance felt like a penance for the brain he was lucky to have, but never asked for.  
No one is perfect, but in those moments when he allows his anxieties and insecurities to get the better of him, Spencer can’t help but feel that his perceived imperfections are maybe too much? 
JJ is overly competitive, but Will loves that about her. Hotch is borderline humorless, especially when it comes to the job, but both Beth and Haley were able to see beyond that. Rossi is sarcastic, too wry sometimes for his own good, yet he is loved and respected. Derek can be testy to the point of meanness, and yet he always seems to be showered with affection by Penelope and many, many women. Penelope is quirky, sure, but always adored and never doubted. Emily could be borderline cruel and yet still manages to maintain a level of intimacy with the team that Spencer just does not seem to have. So, though nobody is perfect, Spencer is worried that he is so imperfect that his brain has muddled himself a hole he will never be able to leave. It feels like an absolutely hopeless situation...that is, until he meets you. 
It was after a particularly gnarly case in Los Angeles that Strauss decided to hire a new communications liaison. The publicity surrounding the case was fierce prior to the BAU’s arrival, but their involvement only brought more attention. The case was incredibly complicated and the investigation dragged on longer than anyone wanted it to. The press was practically vicious by the time the thing had been solved and, upon arriving back at Quantico, the whole team was shuffled into several meetings with Strauss regarding how best to handle press moving forward. Strauss didn’t want to add anyone to the team, nor did anyone else, really, but after an exploratory meeting with you, she was impressed and you were hired. 
Had it been literally anyone else in the universe in your position, Spencer’s convinced they would’ve fallen flat on their face. The team really didn’t want a new member, Emily and Derek were borderline hostile about it prior to your arrival, and Penelope was so nerve wracked by change that her thoughts flew from hacking every piece of technology you owned to hugging you like a teddy bear in a matter of seconds. Spencer himself didn’t love change. The balance of life at the BAU was temperamental at best with the type of work they did, so the addition of anyone was jarring. However, from the moment you walked through the glass doors of the BAU, Spencer knew everything would be alright. At least, for the rest of team. He was well and truly fucked. 
First of all, and rather most importantly to Spencer, you’re super nice. Not just “nice”, but rather so nice that the word itself feels inadequate. After your first case with the team, you noticed that Hotch was having a hard time. Well, everyone noticed (they are profilers, mind), but you were the only one to do anything about it. Spencer is still unsure of whether you were unaware of Hotch’s incredible reserve, or you’re just so kind you weaseled your way around it, because when you offer him a hug before boarding the jet, he not only accepts it, but leans into you and reciprocates. He thanks you for it. The team is dumbfounded. Not to mention the absolutely cracking job you’ve done of handling the publicity surrounding the case. You’re quick to underplay your work on this one, but it was a rural town in Mississippi and you handled the delicacy of the case with a level of grace and tact that blew everyone away. Thus, secondly: you’re rather mind-blowingly excellent at your job. Spencer swears you could be a profiler with the capacity you have for human emotion. Whether it be a newspaper reporter, a grieving parent, an obnoxious local television personality or the unsub’s family, you seem to have a knack for talking to people, making them comfortable, and keeping the entire team safe, well cared for, and out of harm’s way in the public eye. Spencer even heard JJ mention to Emily that, had you always been the communications liaison, the BAU’s position in the bureau would never be questioned. And finally, though Spencer’s a little ashamed that he has such a fixation on it: you are incredibly pretty, which is always just a little hard for Spencer to get around. And had you behaved like everyone else, he would have acclimated to it, as he had with the other attractive women he worked with. But, the thing is...you don’t behave like everyone else. 
~~~ 
It’s on your first case with the BAU that it happens. 
Spencer’s been careful not to say too much around you. He desperately wants to make a good impression, though at this point he’s not sure why. He wants you to...like him, he supposes. Not in a loving way (not yet, anyway), but just in a generally pleasant “you’re not so bad” kind of way. Thus far, to his mind, he’s gotten away with it. It’s sad, really, that he almost feels as though he has to pull off a trick, a magic trick of sorts, in order to make a good impression with new people. Truly, you’re so kind and lovely that he could probably be himself and you’d still like him, but that’s something Spencer’s not very willing to leave to chance. He’s cut himself off on at least three different tangents since the case started, worked carefully to correct people in a more gentle manner than usual, and allowed his answers to come at what feels like a more natural pace than he typically would. Hell, he even shook your hand when he met you, just to stave off what Spencer feels is the inevitable stasis of weirdness he’ll be in when you finally get to know the real him. He’s fashioned what he hopes is an appealing version of himself in order to get to know you. He’s damn near head over heels for you already, but nothing prepares him for this. 
While he’s worked hard to cut back on The Reid Effect in order to keep you at arm’s length, the Mississippi heat and intensity of the case are waning on his determination quicker than he’d like. There are obvious burns on the victim, dumped unceremoniously in a creek in a woodsy area, but the burns had gone unmentioned by the local cops prior to the BAU’s arrival to the scene. As it’s your first case, Hotch pairs you with Spencer and Rossi to go to the most recent crime scene to get a feel for the back and forth with the BAU and the local police department. Spencer can feel the sterile version of himself falling back with every second as the local PD prove themselves to be relatively useless. 
“The burns,” Spencer says, slowly, trying to forestall his corrective nature. “Why weren’t those mentioned in the initial reports?” 
“Oh, we assumed those were from the sun. Exposure, ya know?” answers Sherriff Riley. 
“That seems a bit...farfetched,” Spencer corrects, carefully, ever so slowly. 
“Now I know y’all don’t know nothin’ ‘bout the Mississippi sun, but-”
“Actually, this area of Mississippi sits in the 2 to 3, low to moderate range of the UV index, meaning that, while it’s advised to cover up on bright days if you’re prone to burning and wear the suggested average 30 SPF sunscreen, which is the average SPF suggested for the majority of the country, it’s not that far removed from what you’d find in Quantico or D.C. In fact, in a wooded area like this, it’s almost entirely unlikely that someone would sustain burns of this nature.” It’s out before he can stop himself and Spencer cringes inwardly at the quickness with which the facts fall from his mouth. He can feel you looming behind him, can almost feel your breath hitch as Sherriff Riley stares at Spencer blankly, attempting to take in what he just said. As is typical when this occurs, Rossi steps in.
“Basically, we think the unsub is burning them as part of the signature,” Rossi explains. 
“Oh,” Sherriff Bailey says vaguely. “Okay. We’ll let the medical examiner know, then.” Rossi smiles and steps toward another part of the crime scene, diverting the attention of the Sherriff. Spencer gulps, his throat suddenly dry as you sidle up next to him. 
“How did you know that?” you ask, quietly. Spencer can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s terrified that he’ll see some form of ridicule or rejection in your eyes and, even in the mildest of forms, his not really sure he could deal with it. 
“Um,” Spencer begins, awkwardly. “I have this...eidetic memory thing?” He cringes inwardly again as he phrases this fact as a question because he feels kind of ridiculous. 
“What does that mean?”
“It’s like...I’ll read something, or even, sometimes see or hear something, and I just...remember it. Auto-didacticism, to some extent,” he answers, trying not to sound as nervous as he feels.
“Like, forever?” you ask. “You remember stuff forever?” He gets it together to look at you because your tone is confusing to him. You’re not being rude or teasing him, you’re just genuinely asking questions.
“Uh, kind of...I don’t forget much,” Spencer says. “I can also read really fast, so I gather that information at a relatively rapid rate.” 
“How fast do you read?” you ask, turning your body to face him. Spencer stares at you for a moment, sifting through your facial cues and mannerisms, perplexed at the honest curiosity you’re exhibiting. 
“Well,” he swallows, scared that, at any moment, this genuine air of interest that you’ve granted him will shift into something he’s more used to. “20,000 words a minute.”
“Wow,” your eyes widen. You look down for a moment and smile to yourself. “You’re a proper genius then, aren’t you?”
“Actually, I don’t really believe that genius can be quantified-”
“That sounds like something someone who’s definitely a genius would say,” you tease, gently. 
“Then I guess I am a genius...because I did just say that,” he responds quietly. You stare at him for a moment allowing a gorgeous smile to play on your lips before throwing your head back in the prettiest laugh he’s ever heard. Spencer feels a grin growing on his face because you’re not teasing him meanly, but playfully. And you’re not laughing at him, but with him, at a joke he made. And he’s pretty sure you’ve complimented him. You, a pretty and sincerely nice woman, just complimented him, Spencer Reid, awkward nerdy man that he is, in the woods on an FBI case. And he made you laugh. And now he can’t stop grinning. 
“Got any other facts or figures for me?” you ask, again, so very genuinely. He just stares at you, unsure of what to say as his brain can barely comprehend what’s happening, let alone come up with a singular fact or statistic. “Seems like I’ve got you tongue-tied, Stats,” you smile. 
“Stats?” he asks, cautiously, your kind stare not allowing the bona fide grin to move from his face. 
“Do you mind if I call you that?” you ask, a sudden hitch in your cadence making Spencer recognize that you’re also nervous. “It’d be nice to...have a friend, you know?”
“Stats, huh?” he whispers to himself, his grin not abating. “I'd love that, actually, Y/N.” 
“Cool,” you smile, giving him a look that he’s damn near sure he’d kill to keep. “You feel free to make up a nickname for me too, if you’d like, Stats,” you say, walking away. 
And now Spencer knows he’s in trouble because he literally can’t stop grinning. Even when the case gets harder, the idea that you want to be his friend...that you think he’s worthy of a fun nickname, that you might think he’s interesting, that you’re - dare he believe it - playful with him.... he simply can’t wrap his head around it. 
~~~
It happens more often than he’d like to admit and being the baby of the BAU family (even though, much to his annoyance, you are definitely at least a couple of years younger than Spencer and he is still considered the baby) comes with its price. And when you’re a certified genius in possession of an IQ of 187 and the social skills of a scared butterfly, things like this tend to happen. For Spencer, it’s really not a big deal at this point. 
The team has been called to help the Sacramento Police Department due to a string of medically coerced heart attacks. The unsub is forcing heart attacks on his victims by delivering them an overdose of caffeine. The victims are all mild caffeine addicts, either drinking excessive amounts of coffee, tea, or energy drinks which the unsub is lethally dosing with absurdly high amounts of the stimulant. At the roundtable, Spencer chimed in with the average amounts of caffeine found in typical sources: 80 mg for the average energy drink, anywhere from 50 to 235 mg for the average black coffee - only to be cut off. He’s used to being cut off, either verbally or, as had just occurred, a gentle tap on the arm from Hotch. What he isn’t used to is your response. The briefing is over, everyone breaks to gather their go bags and prepare for the incredibly long flight to Sacramento when he feels a gentle pressure against his back, right in between his shoulder blades. He turns and almost smacks into you. 
“God, you have long legs,” you say, “you’re almost impossible to catch up to, Stats.”
“Sorry,” Spencer replies, not ever quite sure if people are joking or not. 
“Long legs are a virtue,” you correct, whether you’ve caught on to his apprehension or not, Spencer’s not sure, but he appreciates it either way. 
“How can I help you, Y/N?” he asks. He still hasn’t come up with a nickname for you. As you’ve grown closer over these past few cases, he’s not sure what to call you. You seem set on a platonic friendship, though he’s very quickly gained a completely understandable crush on you, meaning that his ideas on nicknames are tending toward the rather overly affectionate variety. Plus, your name suits you. It’s just as lovely and perfect as you seem to be, anyway. 
“I was wondering, Stats,” you begin, awkwardly, “if you could finish what you were going to say.” 
“What do you mean?” Spencer stares at you, a little lost in your eyes. 
“The average amounts of caffeine thing you were saying,” you amend, staring up at him all wide-eyed and curious again. “I was listening and, um, I think Hotch tapped you or something and you stopped? It seemed kind of rude, to be honest, but...well, I wasn’t quite done learning yet.” 
Spencer is so dumbfounded he can barely speak, let alone recall the average amounts of caffeine found in typical sources. You want him to finish a statistic. A borderline meaningless, completely random fact that he knows from a glance at a newspaper or medical article. You caught up to him in a hallway, nearly chased him down, to learn something from him. He opens his mouth to speak, the beginnings of a sound dying in his mouth. Once again faced with your abject kindness, Spencer finds that he can’t quite string two words together, much less finish his thoughts from moments before. 
“Have I done it again, Stats?” you grin at him, all twinkly and precious. 
“Done what?” he rasps out, still in a daze of confusion. 
“Rendered the resident genius speechless?” you sweetly tease, that delightful smirk toying with your mouth again. It takes Spencer a second to realize he’s straight up staring at your mouth rather than responding. 
“Uh, yeah,” he manages to say. “Uh, yeah”? What the fuck? His mind is moving again, but not in a helpful way. 187 IQ, my ass. “I guess you have.” 
“That’s kind of fun,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. You look back up at him and Spencer is once again bowled over by the fact that you’re just being kindly playful. You’re not being mean or even too terribly jokey, you’re just...God, you’re so sweet. “It’s nice to be able to keep you on your toes.” 
All of my body parts - tip to toe - will be at full attention as long as you keep looking at me like that, he thinks, jarred by the abrupt, ever-so-slightly salacious turn of his thoughts. He’s suddenly very aware of how very pretty you are, how good you smell, and how playful you might be in- 
“Is it?” he gasps, the air finally deciding to reappear in his lungs as he attempts to break through any thoughts of you in his bedroom. Despite how delightful those thoughts may be. 
“Yeah,” you say, wrapping an arm through his and walking you both toward the bullpen to gather your things. “It’s a nice reminder that even geniuses are human. I’ll hit you up for facts just to keep it interesting, is that all right?” You can hit me up for literally anything and I will worship the ground you walk on, he thinks, but all he can manage is a kind of nod. Spencer swears his body is on fire from your touch, but he feels almost sad as you begin to pull away. You squeeze his arm and look down before deciding to continue. 
“Just know that I’m always listening to what you say. No matter what it is,” you reassure him. And as you walk away, it’s not his sexual attraction to you that plagues his mind, it’s the fact that Spencer’s falling in love with you. 
~~~
Spencer had been quite certain that, almost a year into knowing you now, your relatively regular habit of sneaking close to him to ask him for a quick statistic or fact would assimilate his entire body to your presence, but no such luck there. You do it more regularly now, and Spencer’s very nearly got the hang of it. Part of it is the closeness, this he knows. And it has nothing to do with his semi-germophobic tendencies and everything to do with the fact that his lungs can’t seem to get used to how absolutely gorgeous you smell. And his eyes can’t seem to get used to how beautiful you are. And his ears can’t seem to get used to how melodic your voice is. Again, IQ Points? Almost entirely useless for something of this nature. 
At this point, he’s relatively sure you know the effect you have on him. It’s pretty hard to miss. He knows this because, obviously, he’s an incredible profiler, but you also both work with a bunch of incredible profilers who have all noticed your effect on him. 
“Seems like Pretty Boy has found himself a Pretty Lady,” Derek sing songs one afternoon. You’re all on the flight back to Quantico from a successful case in Montana. Despite the fact that you've most definitely just entered the jet’s bathroom, Spencer nearly throws his back out as he whips around in his seat to make sure you don’t hear. 
“I have not,” he defends, lamely, his cheeks burning. 
“Oh, come on, Spence,” Emily tags in from across the aisle. “You’re pretty obvious.”
“Well, obviously not, because she doesn’t know. And if she does, she clearly doesn’t want the same thing, so will you please, please not say anything?” Spencer knows he sounds frantic and desperate, but if any of them ruin...whatever this is between you, he’ll almost certainly kill them. JJ stares at him for a moment, her eyes widening at his panic.
“You don’t think Y/N likes you?” JJ looks genuinely surprised, as does Derek and Emily. 
“Not...not in that way,” Spencer murmurs, pretending to brush some lint off of his sweater so he can look away from them all. 
“Kid,” Rossi jumps in from his spot across from Emily. “She calls you Stats.”
“It’s just a fun nickname-”
“You always sit with each other on the plane.”
“I just sit near her, it’s not usually the other way around-”
“You hang out with each other outside of work.”
“I don’t have any other friends and she takes pity on me-”
“Reid,” Hotch says from his seat near the front of the craft, not looking up from his paperwork. “Don’t be dumb. You’re way too smart for that.” The conversation thankfully dies as you reenter the cabin, returning to your seat next to Spencer. He gives you a quick smile as you return to your book. He also tries to pretend everyone isn’t staring at the two of you, but it’s hard considering they’re all being annoyingly obvious. About twenty minutes later, you put your book down. At this point, JJ and Derek have fallen asleep, and Emily looks no more than a few minutes away from it. 
“Hey, Stats,” you whisper, very close to his ear now. So close that he’s pretty sure you can feel the heat from his blushing cheeks.
“Yeah?” 
“What’s the statistical probability of you allowing me to use your arm as my pillow right now?” Your playful smirk is toying so preciously with your lips that Spencer thinks he might agree to a root canal if you asked. 
“100% likely,” he smiles, trying not to sound giddy. 
“Thanks, Stats,” you sigh, laying your head on his arm. Your breath evens out rather quickly. Spencer attempts, he really does, to focus on his book, but the gentle weight of your head, the sweet smell of your shampoo, the adorable scrunch of your nose as you dream, all give way to him giving up on the book and deciding to simply stare at you. Stare at you in awe, it would seem.
“Don’t drool, kiddo,” Rossi whispers, “it’s unseemly.” 
“I’m not drooling,” Spencer argues weakly, his hand twitching with the desire to check whether or not he’s actually drooling. 
“Listen, Reid,” Rossi says, moving to sit across from you, next to a sleeping Derek. “I may not know what it’s like to have an IQ of 187, or an eidetic memory, or be able to read 20,000 words a minute, but I can imagine that it can’t be easy to wander through life with that kind of brain.” He glances at you and, as if on cue, you snuggle slightly into Spencer’s arm. Without thinking, he wraps his arm around you, thankful the armrest is already up, as you snuggle into his side, a small grin decorating your pretty face. Spencer stares at you, unabashed affection in his gaze. He looks back up to Rossi who is watching the scene before him with a wistful smile. “I’m sure it’s not easy to wander through life alone with a mind like yours. And if I had a girl like that-”
“But, I don’t have her, Rossi,” Spencer whispers, the truth of the statement creating a gentle, but unignorably present lump in his throat. He swallows, trying to keep it together. 
“I think you do,” Rossi disagrees. “Look, I know we tease you from time to time, and I’m sorry if that ever goes too far, but...if I may: don’t let this pass you by. Y/N is the only person I’ve ever met who fully recognizes and celebrates how lucky we are to have you. And that’s something you can’t lose, kid.” With that, Rossi stands, crossing back to his seat. 
Spencer rubs the back of his free hand over his mouth now that Rossi is looking away. He wasn’t drooling, but he knows he might as well be. Because he’s in love with you. And it’s a fact he’s been avoiding admitting to himself because he’s not at all sure what you’d do with this information. Or what he will do with this information.
~~~
The jet touches down in Quantico and Spencer gently wakes you up, but you’re so tired he lets you lean on him, nearly carrying you from the plane. When you get into the office, Hotch quietly orders Spencer to drive you home as you’re far too tired to get there safely. He agrees because he kind of planned to do that anyway, but it’s nice that he doesn’t have to bring up the concept to you. He gets your keys from your desk, and leads you to your car on the parking deck. 
Spencer helps you into the passenger seat, and you immediately are fully asleep again, which leads to him buckling you in. Your nose scrunches up in your sleep and, without thinking, he leans forward and places a gentle kiss on it. You groan slightly in your sleep and Spencer snaps his head back, hitting it on the roof of the car.
“Fuck!” he yells in pain. Your eyes pop open, suddenly very awake. You take in the scene over you with a great deal of confusion, as Spencer looms over you, clutching the back of his head. 
“Spencer!” you yelp, “are you alright?” 
“Yeah,” he grunts through gritted teeth, “just superb.” 
“What are you doing?”
“Um,” he winces, pulling his body out of the car. “Buckling you in to take you home.” 
“Oh,” you say. “Did you hit your head? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he whispers, now lying to you and himself. “Let’s get you home, Y/N.” He starts the car and pulls out of the parking deck, heading toward your apartment, which happens to not be too far from Spencer’s, a fact he is not proud to be thrilled about. You’re about five minutes down the road when you speak up again. 
“You still don’t have a nickname for me, huh Stats?” you tease. In the dark of the car, Spencer can’t see it, but can hear the smile on your face. He’s also relieved that you can’t see his renewed blush.
“Can’t say I have, Y/N,” Spencer smiles.
“And why’s that, Stats?” You sound like you’re fully enjoying yourself, but he’s still amazed at your ability to tease him without being mean. 
“I don’t know,” he states, surprising himself with his honesty, “nothing seems to suit you.” 
“Oh, really?” you counter. “Let’s see, I used to be called lots of fun and horrible things...my family calls me Y/N/N, which I actually can’t stand, but you knew that one. I got called ‘Four Eyes’ in school when I first got glasses-”
“Same here,” Spencer mumbles. 
“Ah, kids are nothing if not somewhat unoriginal,” you joke. “A mean girl in middle school called me ‘The Grotesque Girl’.”
“Seriously? How...why?” There are many words that run through Spencer’s mind when he sees you and not a singular one involves the word grotesque...or any of its synonyms. He’s rather horrified that you ever had to deal with that.
“Um,” you murmur, your voice slightly quieter now, “I don’t know. I’m not the prettiest of girls, and I most certainly wasn’t back then-”
“Y/N,” Spencer interrupts, trying not to sound as utterly in love as he is, “you’re one of the most beautiful women I know.” For the first time in a long time around you, he feels himself cringing inwardly at his overly honest admission. 
“You have to say that, Stats,” you say, somewhat wistfully, “you’re my friend. Besides it’s alright,” you perk back up, “not all of us can be as gorgeous as you.” 
“Y/N,” Spencer speaks slowly, trying not to reveal too much, even though his resilience is waning fast. “Please understand that when I say you’re one of the most beautiful women I know, I mean you’re actually the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
“Stats-”
“I will brook no arguments,” Spencer insists, attempting to turn the conversation back toward more lighthearted fare. “I’m a genius, remember.”
“Well, fine,” you joke, and Spencer can hear the smile in your voice again. “I suppose if genius thinks I’m beautiful, I must be.” You’re quiet for a moment before speaking again. “You know I call you Stats in, like...a nice way, right?”
“Of course,” Spencer answers quickly.
“Good,” you whisper, partially to yourself. “I just...I know that bullying can be rough and kids call each other names and just...I...”
Spencer pulls into your apartment complex and turns off the car, looking at you as you stare forward, clearly trying to decide what to say. 
“I just so highly respect you,” you whisper. “And I know that you still get teased and you still get... I know that it can be really rough sometimes. And I never want you to think that I’m...making fun of you. I just want you to know that you always have a friend.” 
Spencer feels the tears forming in his eyes and he can’t confidently tell if it’s because of how overwhelmingly genuine your reassurance was, because he’s exhausted, or because you’ve, in the space of about ten minutes called him your friend twice. And he loves being your friend, really, but he has now admitted to himself that he wants to be way more. He covers your hand with his own and squeezes it. You squeeze back and his heart is melting. He sniffles, trying to control himself.  
“Let’s get you to bed, Y/N,” he manages to say. Spencer gets out of the car, grabbing your go bag from the back. 
“Stats,” you say, as you get out of the car, “how are you getting home?”
“Oh, I can walk from here,” he says, vaguely, rather looking forward to the ten or twenty minutes of silence to contemplate how best to work on his aching heart. 
“Would you,” you start, clearly a little unsure of yourself. “Would you maybe want to stay here?” 
Spencer doesn’t trust himself to respond. His brain and body feel as though they’ve separated in this moment. There are so very many thoughts running through his brilliant head and half of them make him blush. In this vast chaos, his body opts to simply stare at you. You look away for a moment, contemplatively, then look back at him. 
“It’s really late,” you continue, “and it’s kind of cold. And, not to be selfish, but it would give me far more peace of mind if I knew you were safe.” 
He looks at you, ever in astonishment at the utterly uncomplicated quality of your kindness. He simply nods, grabbing his go bag as well, and follows you into your apartment. He’s been here before, but this time feels entirely different. More intimate and intense, though he’s fighting at the feelings, trying to quash them with every breath. You easily convince him to share your bed. He’s mildly pleased by the fact that he pretended not to want to for about five seconds longer than he thought he would. As Spencer gets into your bed, you scoot closer to him than he thought you might. Arm to arm, leg to leg, you begin to doze off, which is the only reasoning he can give to the fact that you turn your body in towards his as you fall asleep. He watches you for a moment, allowing himself to prop his head on his arm and unabashedly admire you. 
“Got some facts about sleeping for me, Stats?” you ask, yawning, barely awake.
“Sure,” Spencer whispers, finding it easier to speak to you now that your eyes are closed, “you got enough energy to hear them?”
“I just like hearing you talk,” you admit. Another flutter pokes Spencer’s heart. 
“Alright,” he says, glad you can’t see the heart eyes he’s sure he’s giving you. “Um...humans can survive longer without food than they can without sleep. This discovery is mostly attributed to the 19th century Russian scientist, Marie Mikhaïlovna de Manacééne.” You hum in response and he smiles as he continues, “She conducted one of the earliest experiments on extreme sleep deprivation. She found that when she deprived puppies of sleep, they all died within four or five days, despite every effort to keep them alive, like food and water.” 
“That’s sad,” you breathe, the cutest pout in the world adorning your face. Spencer clears his throat. 
“Hmm, no more dying puppy facts, then,” he jokes, ashamedly proud of the breathily delicate giggle that escapes your lips. “When you sleep, your brain sort of unifies all of your thoughts and skills. So it reorganizes and strengthens when you sleep. That’s why sleep is important.”
“Mm, m’glad you never get a full night’s sleep then,” you hum. “Imagine if your amazing brain got a full night’s strengthening sleep? You’d be unbeatable, Stats.” 
“I think you’ll find I’m pretty unbeatable now, Y/N,” he jokes. You snuggle slightly closer to him, rendering him almost breathless.
“S’not true, Stats,” you tease. “S’why I like to keep you on your toes. S’fun to see you speechless for a second.”
“I’m not speechless right now,” he half-heartedly argues, just happy to have you so close to him. He can hear the slight tremor in his voice and hopes you’re exhausted enough not to pick up on it. 
“'Cause I’m indisposed. Half asleep Y/N isn’t at her full powers of genius incapacitation.” 
“Big words for a sleepy baby,” Spencer breathily laughs. 
“Mmm,” you hum into his arm. “You should call me that more often.”
“What’s that?”
“Baby,” you whisper, your voice fading as you fall further asleep. Spencer can’t breathe. This is too much. It’s so intimate and you’re so warm and beautiful, and you smell so good, and you just told him to call you baby. 
“I can’t call you that, Y/N,” Spencer mumbles, almost hoping you don’t hear. And the universe seems to take pity on him as you’re finally fully asleep. 
~~~ 
He may be a genius, but it always takes Spencer’s brain a second to click on when he wakes up. He’s actually spent an embarrassingly large amount of time thinking about this brief span of time between sleep and full awareness. He wonders if, due to the substantial abilities of his brain, it might take his brain a longer time to catch up to his body when he wakes up. He’s also wondered if it might go faster because of his brain’s capabilities. This thought process briefly cross his mind when he opens his eyes and it takes him a few minutes to fully process where he is. And the fact that you’re still asleep next to him. 
Next to him is a generous term for what you’re really doing. You’re nestled so closely into his side that Spencer’s scared he’ll wake you up if he breathes too deeply. As if aware of his thoughts, you nestle your head impossibly deeper into his chest, and it’s so precious that Spencer’s suddenly worried his now pounding heart might wake you up. He’s just happy he’s got a shirt on. If your head nestled into his bare chest, he feels positive he’d never recover. He returns his head to the pillow, finding that it slots just perfectly above yours. And that’s when the universe decides to turn the intensity up a few notches. 
“Mmm,” you hum into him, a sound that rumbles through Spencer’s chest with a warmth he’s only dreamed about. “Darling.” 
What. The. Fuck. 
Spencer blinks ten times, rapidly, not convinced he’s awake. He allows his eyes to flicker towards you. You’re still asleep. You have to be, you would never-
“Mmm, Spencer,” you keen gently, eyes still closed as your nose proceeds to give his chest an Eskimo kiss. He’s going to have a heart attack. This is it. This is the end. He’s going to have a heart attack and die, right here and right now. He’s equal parts terror and absolute joy as your arms snake out from their spot beneath your head, reaching towards him, one slipping behind his neck, the other finding a home on his chest. It’s then that everything goes south. Spencer assumes that you actually thought you were dreaming and the reality of touching an actual breathing human was so shocking that that’s what actually caused you to wake up. 
Your eyes flutter open, staring at his chest for a moment. You squeeze your eyes tightly, only to open them again a moment later. 
“Good morning,” you rasp, clearly uncomfortable, but still unmoving. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Spencer lies, his voice gravelly with first use. “Why?”
“You’re trembling, Spencer,” you whisper, your hand pressing into his chest with an ever so slight pressure. Oh, that he was fully aware of as he’s trying desperately to control his body’s natural reaction to you, nearly pulling his hips off the bed as he pulls his groin away from you. 
“I’m fine,” he responds, surprisingly evenly for such a tremulous situation. “I need to...go to the bathroom.” He gets up and thinks he manages to mask his...issue, thankful that you have a guest bathroom. Once in there, he slams the door shut and turns on the sink as loudly as possible, allowing himself release...a release for which he feels mildly ashamed, but he eventually cleans himself up and reemerges. 
He’d assumed you’d be in your kitchen, but when he walks in there, you’re nowhere to be found. Spencer sighs deeply, because he knows you better than he knows himself and he knows that, because you’re not in the kitchen, he’ll find you sitting in your room, still in bed wanting to talk. Because he knows you know something’s up with him. 
He adds coffee grounds to the machine and water, turning it on before crossing to your bedroom, to what feels like inevitable doom, at this point. Because he didn’t pull away from you this morning. Because he stared at you until he fell asleep. Because he can’t come up with a simple nickname for you because he wants to call you something altogether more loving than what he’s sure you’ve envisioned. Because he’s in love with you and he’s worried you now know. His steps feel heavy as he walks towards what he’s sure is the inexorable begrudging acceptance he’s managed to avoid for a year. Spencer can feel a lump forming in his throat with the idea that your kindness to him might transform into the mildly resentful behavior of the rest of the team. He’s not sure he could bear even a slightly snide remark from you. It might actually kill him. He enters your room and you look up at him, a bewildered expression on your face.
“Spencer, are you okay?” 
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he sniffs, trying not to cry. His voice is still thick and heavy. It feels like it’s not in his body, as though the sound is coming from somewhere else. He can only really hear his heart, pounding so loudly he can hardly hear anything else. A warmth encompasses his middle and he looks down to see you, your arms wrapping around him, your head pressing into his chest. He wraps his arms around you as the tears begin to fall. 
“I don’t want you to hate me,” he chokes out, really crying now. 
“Darling, why ever would I hate you?”
“Because...because I ruined it, just like I ruin everything,” he sobs. 
“Sweetheart, you never ruin anything,” you coo, rubbing delicate circles into his back. 
“No, I do,” he cries, clinging onto you tighter. He doesn’t want to. He wants to run away, to go hole up in his apartment to try and get over this, but you don’t let go and he can’t seem to make himself let go either. “I ruin everything because I can’t...I can’t be normal. I can’t stop thinking, can’t stop remembering...my brain will never slow down and that’s-that’s why I can’t-”
“Shhh,” you breathe, pulling Spencer closer, if possible. His head nestles its way into the crook of your neck, but you don’t pull away. You begin to tangle your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, gently combing through it. “Darling, you never ruin anything. Oh my goodness, you brilliant genius, you. You make everything better just by being yourself. And I’m so sad that you can’t see it that way. Normalcy is overrated, anyway. And why else would you be so important to the team? So important to me?” you continue to ramble and Spencer continues to cry, the rumble of your voice calming the rougher edges of his anxiety. “Oh, baby, how long have you felt this way?”
“Forever,” Spencer manages to croak. “Until...until I met you. You make me...you make me feel better. Like it might be okay to...be me.” 
“It’s more than okay to be you, darling. It’s absolutely wonderful,” you whisper. It’s at that moment that it hits him, squarely in the heart. He pulls up his head and stares at you. Your eyes are glassy, your lips set a gentle smile. 
“You called me...you called me ‘darling’. Y-you called me ‘sweetheart’. And...and ‘baby’,” Spencer rasps, not letting you go. It’s barely a question, more of a statement because he can’t quite comprehend what’s happening. 
“Yeah,” you let out on a huge sigh. “Is that alright? A bit more intimate that ‘Stats’, but...it seems more appropriate.”
“How-” Spencer falters, not wanting to let himself believe it. “How is it more appropriate?” You stare up at him, a curious look in your eyes as you consider his face. He can’t breathe anymore. 
“Because I love you.”
Spencer is pretty sure his heart explodes. Because he’s staring at you, profiling your every micro expression, every look in your eyes...and you’re telling the truth. A grin tickles its way onto your mouth. 
“Have I done it again, Stats?” But he doesn’t respond. He cups your face in his hands, taking a deep, elated breath before closing his lips over yours. After what feels like an eternity later, he pulls back from you, but doesn’t let you go, pulling you into an impossibly loving embrace.
“I love you,” Spencer whispers. “I love you so, so very much.” He presses a kiss into your shoulder, into your cheek, into your temple, and another on the top of your head. You giggle into him and it’s like he’s floating on air. 
“I’ve loved you for so long, sweetheart. I thought you knew, I thought you didn’t feel the same way-”
“I couldn’t...believe that someone like you could love me. That’s why I couldn’t come up with a nickname for you because all I wanted to call you was-” he cuts himself off, afraid he’s going too far. You run your hands up his chest, cupping his face in your hands and pressing a small kiss to his jaw.
“What did you want to call me, darling?”
“My love,” he says, so tenderly it feels like the air could break it. The sweetest smile he’s ever seen grows on your face. 
“You are the most extraordinary person I know, Stats,” you say, wiping away the residual tears on his cheeks with your thumbs. “I was worried that I wouldn’t be quite enough for you-”
“You’re perfect,” Spencer interrupts. 
“Nobody’s perfect, Spencer-”
“You’re perfect for me, my love,” he corrects. A beautiful blush glows on your face. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing another gentle kiss to his lips. 
“I could easily say the same about you, darling.”
~ “Nobody is perfect until you fall in love with them.” - Unknown ~
4K notes · View notes
jpegjade · a year ago
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this describes all of their personalities (1x01)
derek: athleticism without thinking about it
spencer: yes, he is an adult but also spins absentmindedly in a spinny chair bc spinny chair (also how tf is he able to sit like that)
hotch: trying to figure out when he became the dad of two teenage men
gideon: “someone put me out of my misery” 
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imagining-in-the-margins · 11 months ago
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Blush (Reid Request)
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Request: Post prison Reid goes to his shy girlfriend’s house and finds a sex toy in her sock drawer. Spencer confronts her bc she would never usually own something like that. And it gets smutty. I just thought it would have been funny. A/N: You said funny, but other horny folks and I said rough sex. So, I hope you still enjoy it! Also, soft moment at the end because I am a sucker for aftercare. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader 
 Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+ ONLY) Content Warning: penetrative sex, oral sex (female receiving), sex toy (vibrator, female receiving), fingering, overstimulation, Dom/Sub dynamic, jealousy, unprotected sex/creampie, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, soft degradation, brief implied Dom Drop and aftercare scene included Word Count: 6.1k
MASTERLIST
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The worst part about my job wasn’t the late nights — you get used to those pretty quickly. The problem was that I never got any warning for when they were about to happen, which meant that all of my plans were tentative at best. Half the time I didn’t even bother writing them down, knowing that I probably wouldn’t be able to make it, anyway.  
Luckily for me, my boyfriend was a very stubborn and persistent person, so he would usually wait up for me when we did have plans. Unfortunately for both of us, though, things had been… different… lately. It had only been a few weeks since he got out of prison, and the shift back to normal had been hard, to say the least. So, I figured the least I could do for the time being was to make a note of when I was supposed to see him so that he wouldn’t be left waiting for me.
This is all to say that when I came home from work that night, there was no reason for me to believe there would be someone else in my apartment. And yet, as I turned the corner into my room, I was confronted with the sight of a person sitting in the dark on my bed.
“Spencer!” I squeaked, practically jumping in the air and clutching my chest.
“Hey there, bunny,” Spencer cooed, tilting his head as his eyes scanned over my uniform. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought he was looking for something on them; a sign to prove that I hadn’t actually been at work.
“Someone’s been out late.”
“You scared me,” I responded. I’d chosen to ignore the accusatory tone in favor of beginning to remove the outer layers of my uniform. I felt Spencer’s eyes watching me hungrily, following my hands as I stripped down.
“Why is that?” he asked, a darkness bleeding through the tone.
I shrugged, unsure what other reaction I should have had to a man in my bed at night, especially considering it’d been months since that was a normal occurrence.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be here, that’s all,” I explained, tossing my clothes into the hamper beside me and grabbing one of his shirts that I’d grown attached to while he was away. That decision, however, only seemed to further irritate him.
“You weren’t expecting your boyfriend to come see you?”
“No, not really. You didn’t call me, and you know how jumpy I get,” I answered, slipping straight from my shirt into his. It was strange, the hostility that I felt permeating the tiny room, and I had a feeling I was missing something I was supposed to know.
“Yes, I do,” Spencer said quietly, running a hand over his face in what appeared to be contemplation.
The silence between us didn’t last longer than the time it took for my pants and bra to hit the floor, leaving me clad only in his shirt and a pair of flimsy cotton underwear.
“Come here, bunny,” he instructed before beckoning to me with one finger. That was when I realized that one of his hands had been concealed the whole time, hidden behind his back. I tried not to read into it; he was probably just holding himself up. But still, there was something almost animalistic in his tone that made me pause as he said, “Come sit on my lap.”
I complied, unable to resist the temptation even if I'd wanted to.
“You’ve gotten bossier since you got out, you know,” I giggled, approaching him with a pep in my step that was meant to hide any insecurity I had over how else prison might have changed the man I love.
“Does it bother you?”
His voice softened almost immediately upon touching me, his hand taking mine as soon as he could reach it. When I tried to straddle him, he just shook his head, guiding me to turn so that my back was to his chest.
“No…” I somewhat lied as I took my seat.
‘Bother’ was the wrong word, but I didn’t have a better one. It was different, strange, and… Thrilling, the man who had emerged from the other side of the prison walls.  
“You like it, don’t you?” he read my mind, speaking my thoughts into my ear, “Knowing that I can’t resist touching you?”
And true to his word, his hand released mine and started dragging down my waist and over my inner thigh. His fingertips pressed so harshly against the sensitive skin that I felt them long after they’d left.
“Spencer…” I sighed, letting my head fall back against his shoulder.
It had been so long since the two of us had been like this together. Of course, we’d slept together practically minutes after he’d been released, but this felt different. There were no distractions or plans or things to do. It was just the two of us with roaming hands and too much time.
“I was worried about you when I was in there,” Spencer spoke again, this time through clenched teeth. The words didn’t surprise me; he’d told me as much every single time I stepped foot in the prison. There had been a number of times when he even specified what it was that he was worried about - although he’d never prepared me for what came next.
Forcing his face into the crook of my neck, he started to lay heavy kisses against my neck, mumbling an angry insult against the skin, “I know how needy you are. How much you crave the attention of men.”
“That’s not true!” I tried to defend myself, my words interrupted by a wanton moan as he pressed his teeth into my shoulder.
“Be quiet,” he growled, “When you came to see me, you seemed so… put together.”
I tried my hardest to follow his instructions, biting down hard enough on my tongue that I should’ve tasted blood - because his hand was going everywhere but where I wanted it, his nails now digging into me and leaving marks any way that they could. Still, I feared that the whimpers they elicited would be enough for him to justify a punishment.
Although, that didn’t sound bad, either. Spencer and I had experimented a little bit with rough play before he was so rudely taken from me. We'd never delved into any extremes, though, since my sweet boyfriend had always insisted that it would be wrong to corrupt me… no matter how badly I wanted him to.
So I had resigned myself to the idea that I would have to convince him another day, sometime in the future when he couldn’t ignore the impulses anymore. And before prison, I'd honestly thought that the day might never come. That was, until that night, when Spencer’s mouth and hand roamed over my body with a possessiveness that should have frightened me.
Before I could even ask what had gotten into him, he gave me my answer.
“I thought that you might have found someone else to satisfy those cravings.”
The world came to a record-scratch stop, the breath vacating my lungs so quickly I nearly choked on their absence.
“I would never do that!”
Spencer, sensing my sudden urge to leave his lap, wrapped his arm around me and held my hips down flush against his.
“I know that now,” he laughed through the struggle, “Because while I was waiting for you, I found something very interesting.”
I paused again, my mind racing with all the things he could have found. It was a short list of things that would actually make me feel some sort of shame, but the possibilities for things that could be misconstrued were endless.
“Wait—“ I rasped, grabbing onto his arm with both of mine as he finally revealed a small, familiar object clutched in his hand.
“It turns out I didn’t need to be worried at all.”
Holding down the button on the small bullet vibrator, Spencer quickly lowered it between my legs before I got a single word in edgewise. Instead, the only noises leaving my mouth were a surprised yelp, followed by deep, heaving breaths.
“Because my sweet, innocent little bunny found a way to take care of herself,” he mocked, no doubt noticing that within seconds, I’d turned to pliable putty in his hands.
“Spencer, stop,” I panted in the least convincing manner.
“No. Tell me, is this what you did every night while I was gone?” he demanded, rolling the toy in soft circles over my clit to avoid overstimulating me immediately.
I hated the fact that he knew to do that, and as a result I couldn’t answer him. I just sat there, a mess in his arms as he continued to angrily grind insults through his clenched teeth.
“Is this how you replaced me?”
I managed to get out one firm word with a shake of my head, “No!”
“Did you even miss me?”
The vulnerability in the waver of his voice broke me. Realistically, logically, I knew that Spencer couldn’t honestly be jealous of something as simple as a sex toy. He knew how much I loved him; how much I needed him. But I could also tell that he’d been away for too long, and his insecurity that had existed when I first met him had returned. But as sad as it was, I knew a convenient way to show him why he had nothing to worry about.
“Yes! Yes, I missed you so much,” I cried, trying not to focus on the sensations that were flooding my mind with desire. I couldn’t do anything until he told me to. I needed his permission.
“What did you think about when you used this, hm?”
“You. I thought of you,” I promised, finally allowing my legs to shake to show him how close I was to coming undone.
He didn’t look pleased. His hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and forced my head to the side so that he could inspect my face. I let him, confident that the only thing he would find was my submission.
“Spencer, please,” I said through strained vocal cords, my eyes barely able to stay on his as he held the toy against me without any reprieve. He didn’t say anything, yet, just watching me struggle to stay silent and compliant while his pupils grew wide at the sight.
And just when I thought that I wouldn’t be able to hold on any longer, he said those magical words.
“Go ahead. Come.”
His grip on my hair tightening, he continued to taunt me, his mouth just a few inches from mine.
“You know you want to. Come on this little toy and pretend it’s what you really want.”
My body immediately responded to his command. Letting my head fall back into his hand, the rest of my body went rigid, the tremors in my legs intensifying as the orgasm dragged on.
I knew Spencer was watching me, but the shameless pleasure I was experiencing was too overwhelming. I should have pretended to be at least a little disinterested in it, at least for now. I wanted him to be reassured that I would always prefer him to a motor, no matter how much it made me feel.
It wouldn’t be the last orgasm of the night, or at least I hoped not, so I didn’t try to linger in that euphoria any longer than necessary. The problem was that I actually hadn’t used the toy in a few weeks, and I’d just worked a ridiculously long shift and was exhausted. So as soon as I came back to earth, I went completely limp in his arms.
Spencer laughed.
“Are you tired now, bunny?” he said through a little pout. The gentle roar of the vibrator stopped, and both of his hands were on me again. He ran his fingers over my jaw to force me to look at him.
“You got your fill and now you think we’re done?”
“No. I want you,” I slurred, still catching my breath and gathering my strength to be more convincing. It wasn’t that hard, considering his reaction to my words. He grabbed my jaw, his palm covering my nose and mouth while he pulled me closer.
“You want me?”
“I need you!” I yelled, trying to make the muffled words coherent.
Despite the darkness, he felt so playful. The thin ring of his dark honey colored irises visible from the hallway light sneaking past the door. He looked so beautiful, and I got the sudden urge to wrap him up in my arms and remind him just how loved he really was.
But what he had planned would probably be good, too.
“I know you need me. I’m worried that you might have forgotten,” he explained, dropping his hand down so he could toy with my bottom lip, dragging it down to see if I would dare act without his order.
There was no winning, though, because in not breaking the expectations he placed on me, I failed to show him enough of my desire.
“Have you forgotten how I make you feel?”
That time there was no right answer because I would win either way. He would be proud if I told him the truth, that I could never forget the way he made me feel because he was written on my skin and imprinted in my heart.
But if I told him I’d forgotten, he’d be forced to teach me again— to treat tonight like the first night we spent hours tangled in sheets, trying to memorize the tiniest nuance of each other’s body.
By the look in his eyes, he was remembering that night, too. Satisfied with the plumpness of my lips, he lowered his face so that our lips were barely touching before he whispered, “Let me remind you.”
Spencer didn’t actually kiss my lips; he just let the words linger against me before diverting his mouth in a hot trail of sloppy kisses down my jaw. It quickly descended, and the second he had a chance, he latched onto the sensitive skin of my neck and began to suckle harsh bruises over my pulse.
I cried out at the sensation and the statement such an action made. He didn’t even bother asking me if he could mark me, because to him, I already belonged to him. But as soon as he finished with one mark, he would move to a new spot and start the process all over again.
When he'd exhausted the skin on my neck, he began to move down over my collarbones, pausing to sink his teeth into me just enough to leave a mark behind.
“Every night I dreamt about kissing you. About marking every inch of your skin so no one is mistaken,” he growled against my skin, his hands digging into my hips before lifting me from his lap and tossing me onto my back on the bed.
His hands were rough and clumsy as he grabbed a handful of his shirt, pulling me to sit up. I understood the order before he said it, removing the shirt to free more of his canvas. And no sooner had the shirt hit the bed than his hands found my wrists, forcing me down and pinning me against the bed.
The silk tie he wore hung between us, reminding me that while I lay there covered in only my sweat and arousal-soaked underwear, he was still fully clothed, ready to make a mess of me once more. I looked to him with a smile, but I was met with rage. An unbridled hatred for all the men who got to see me while he was gone.
Dragging his nails harshly down my chest, he marked the skin of my breasts with his hand first before he grabbed one, kneading the flesh with a force that made my hips buck against him.
“I want an excuse to destroy any man who so much as looks at you wrong. Anyone who looks at you like you don’t belong to me.”
I couldn’t handle the way he looked at me as he said it, the brown of his eyes no longer visible to me as the darkness inside of him covered everything. I didn’t need to see; I trusted he would lead me through it.
“There wasn’t anyone,” I whined, knowing he wouldn’t believe me but needing him to hear it nonetheless.
He didn’t appreciate the answer, lowering himself to begin suckling his marks over my chest.
“Bullshit. You’re just too sweet and naive to notice the way they look at you. But I see it,” he explained, almost sounding sad under the jealousy and insecurity, “And now when they look at you, they’ll see me.”
A choked sob left my lips at the feeling of his hands and mouth laying claim to whatever they could. The pressure and warmth provided a distraction from everything else that could possibly be bothering me. Nothing in the world mattered except the man on top of me.
There was a tenderness in the way his tongue circled over my breasts, manipulating the pebbled peak in his mouth. The attention and care paid to each side made time slow down. It was the calm in the eye of the storm; a reminder that he was still capable of praise and love, even at his most unhinged.
He stopped when he was out of breath, pulling back to look at the pattern of petechiae he’d left scattered in his wake. I stayed silent, hoping to see the adoration on his face, but I could tell that something was still missing for him.
Spencer left me there, standing up and beginning to remove his tie and unbutton his shirt. For a while I didn’t move at all, scared that it would earn his wrath or be seen as an attempt to hide from his eyes, even when they weren’t watching.
But eventually I started to sit up, my fingers drifting over the new marks he’d left.
“Tell me what you want,” he ordered, not looking at me past the small sliver visible in his peripherals.
“I-I want…”  I tried to say it, but my throat felt dry as he stripped in front of me, revealing the rest of the barely faded bruises and wounds he’d sustained during his prison stint.
I felt guilty, having already grown used to the marks on his face that seeing them elsewhere stole words from my mouth.
Spencer saw the horror and guilt on my face, and it snapped the thin thread of patience and control he was trying to hold onto.
“I’m waiting.”
“I want you to fuck me. Please.”
“No. You don’t deserve it yet.”
I quickly realized that whatever I said wouldn’t have mattered; he had already chosen the path we would take. When he approached me that time, as naked as I was, I felt even more cornered. Like he was coming to devour me.
“Not only did you take what’s mine, you hid it from me. So poorly, too,” he chastised, stopping his approach just above my legs, his lips ghosting over my hip bones.
“While I was locked up and dreaming of you, you replaced me with a fucking toy.”
I wanted to protest his words, but he never gave me a chance. My voice was cut off by a sudden, throaty cry as his tongue ran along my sex. There was no chance for me to recover my senses before he began to sloppily explore whatever he could, switching between short lapping motions and thrusts inside me.
He barely stopped to breathe, but when he did, he growled against my inner thigh, “Is this what you thought about, bunny?”
Nodding like he would be able to see it thrown back against the pillows, my heels dug into his shoulders, trying to bring him closer again. He took pity on me, but only for a moment before I heard a small chuckle.
“Or maybe you thought about this?”
I didn’t have to wonder for long, with Spencer acting on his words before they were even finished. With one rough motion, he buried two fingers into my heat soaked with his spit and my own arousal. It still hurt enough for my legs to shake, but Spencer forced my hips down with his arm wrapped around my leg.
Everything in the room disappeared. The only sounds I could hear were my own muffled cries mixed with the lewd sounds of Spencer’s mouth as he kissed my poor overstimulated body. Between my moans, I could also hear his, low and insistent.
His fingers filled me so completely I wondered how I would be able to fuck him at this rate. It seemed impossible to take his cock when I could barely handle what he’d done so far.
“Spencer, it’s too much! I-I can’t—“
When I say that I cried, I mean it. Tears that had been pricking at the sides of my eyes quickly pooled and fell, and Spencer made no mention of it. I knew he could hear it in my voice, but he continued his ministrations without an ounce of guilt. The tears weren’t from fear or pain. They were born of my body’s inability to control how badly it wanted him.
“Yes, you can,” he corrected my earlier protest, issuing one final warning before continuing, “You can, and you will.”
I couldn’t tell which was less forgiving: the slight curve of his fingers with each thrust or the speed with which he deftly swirled his tongue and sucked on my clit until I couldn’t hold back my voice any longer.
That time as I came, my back lifted from the bed despite his best efforts to hold me down. He followed me, still, refusing to change his pace even as my nails dug into his scalp and my legs closed around his ears without reservation.
Spencer was a man on a mission to destroy me, and he let nothing stand in his way. Even when I was fully broken, laying with wet cheeks and trembling legs, he didn’t even wait to wipe his mouth before he demanded, “Tell me what you want.”
“Please... sir,” I weakly whispered.
He recognized from the pause that I wasn’t planning on finishing my plea, and he ever so politely pressed on, “Please what?”
“F-Fuck me,” I managed to say.
It was clearly too pathetic for his tastes, because he quickly rejected the request with a dark and angry, “No.”
I didn’t even see him grab the toy, but I certainly heard it roar back to life. Tears streamed down my face before it even touched me. Despite them, a smile was spread over my face because I could feel it. I felt the tension in his body as it seemed to transfer to me and build in my loins.  
Then it was too much, aching in the best and worst way all at once. Spencer approached me, his eyes staring into mine through the tears that blocked my vision.
“Please, don’t make me,” I slurred, trying to appeal to his merciful side hidden behind that slightly scary but mostly fascinating exterior.  
“I’m not making you do anything. You had no problems finishing on it before. I’m just trying to give you what you want.”
As he spoke, Spencer stroked the side of my face, clearing any stray hairs and moving my face so he could watch the tears roll down.
“I’m just trying to spoil you, bunny. Say thank you.”
“Th—“
The word didn’t get far, with his hand pressing harder between my legs until my mouth twisted into the pleasure he sought to exact. My earlier smile had transferred to him, and he watched me with unmatched enthusiasm. Like the scientist he was, he was testing how far I would go before I actually begged for mercy.
He wanted to break me, just to see if he could.
And break I did, losing track of just how many orgasms I’d had and hoping to god there wouldn’t be many more to follow. This one was so quick and so harsh, I barely had time to remind myself to breathe before it was over.
“Good girl. There you go. Look at you. You said you couldn’t do it but you’re doing so well.”
Spencer’s voice was the only thing tethering me to the world, the vibrations moving slowly down my leg to prevent the whiplash of sensations. I tried to look down at his hands, my eyes barely staying open, but Spencer guided my face back to his. With soft, slow breaths, he implicitly demanded that I follow his lead and recalibrate before we continued.
My body needed it more than I’d thought, greedily accepting the air and the calmness of the moment. I wanted so badly to wrap myself up in him, to bury my face in his neck and succumb to sleep in the arms of the man I loved. But I couldn’t. It was crystal clear in his eyes that Spencer wasn’t finished yet.
“Look at me and tell me what you want.”
Swallowing thickly and speaking lowly, I confidently and clearly replied this time. If he wanted to break me down to nothing, that nothing would still be poised. That nothing would still tell him without a doubt in her mind what she needed from him.
“Fuck me, sir.”
“Do you think you’ve earned it?” he said it more as a chastisement than a genuine question, and I knew the answer he was looking for.
I shook my head no, too scared to say the word.
“But you’re still asking me to fuck you?” Spencer asked, setting the vibrator aside and letting his hand gently massage my shaking legs.
“Yes, sir. I’m begging, sir.”
Begging was not an overstatement or hyperbole. My entire body was shifting towards him with every motion of his fingers. Like the world’s best puppeteer, he commanded my body to move at his will although it was deathly tired.
“Fine. Only because you asked nicely,” he teased, pursing his lips to mock my pout, “and you look so fucking precious.”
As he climbed on top of me, he took his time pressing gentle kisses over all the teeth marks and bruises he could find. His breath tickled my skin, and it almost felt cool against the heated surface. I was still so overwhelmed that even that minuscule sensation coaxed a low moan from my throat.
“So needy...” he laughed at the sound, “I can’t believe you thought a little toy would ever be enough for you.”
“I need you, Spencer. I’ll always need you,” I speedily replied, unable to keep my hands from lacing through his hair, forcing him to look at me the same as he’d made me earlier, “I’ll always want you.”
It was a slight distinction, a nuance he might have not even considered in the moment. But once I said it— once he heard it— his features softened.
“That’s right, bunny. You’re such a precious thing. I just need to make sure you’re taken care of appropriately,” he sarcastically cooed.
I didn’t even mind. All I could think of in that moment was the feel of his erection pressed against my thigh. He spread my legs, letting them fall limp to the side as he positioned himself at my heat. But as soon as he entered me, roughly and all at once, my muscles jerked around him.
He kissed the side of my face while he chuckled, contrasting his brutal entrance with a tantalizingly slow pace.
“This is what you were waiting for. Wasn’t it? This is what you thought about?”
“Yes,” I sighed.
The exhaustion took so many things from me, but it didn’t take the overwhelming love I felt for Spencer Reid. Feeling him, sharing his breath and surrendering my body for his use and pleasure was all that I wanted.
He must have heard that in my panting and mewls, because he returned his own moan as he struggled to keep his pace light.
“God, I missed this,” he said through clenched teeth.
Although so dreadfully tired and sore, I forced my hand to move. I forced myself to drag my hand down his back, my nails leaving angry welts behind. They were a message to him; confirmation that he was okay to continue.
A promise that he could let go. A promise that I could take it.
Spencer heard it.
“You’re such a good girl. So happy making me feel good.”
His praise was genuine and paired with ruthless thrusts. Of all the bruises that would be left in his wake, I hoped that the pattern of his fingers on my hips would last the longest.
I gasped when he suddenly shoved his arm under my back, canting my hips forward to better serve his needs.
“That’s what gets you off, isn’t it? Knowing what you do to me?” he growled into my neck, unable or unwilling to look me in the eyes as he wrecked what was left of me. “Or is it what I make you want? How I make you feel?”
I honestly didn’t have an answer. Both of them were true, but both also missed the point. It wasn’t just knowing that I drove him mad enough to take me despite the tears, and it wasn’t that he made me like that— it was knowing that beneath it all was the man I loved, giving me all of himself and knowing I would still love him after.
Then again, there was the carnal side. I would be lying if I pretended like his ravishing me to his heart’s content didn’t spark something in me. Even then, as he fucked me hard enough to shake the entire bed frame, I wanted more. I wanted him to leave evidence of him on every inch of my being. I wanted to be utterly wrecked and owned and loved by that man.
He knew it, too. He loved it, too.
“You weren’t like this when I met you, you used to be so fucking pure,” Spencer sneered, bringing his hand up to squeeze my chin and force my lips in another pout, “Now look at you. Look at you.”
The only way I could follow his instructions was in the reflection of his eyes, which were too absorbed by the darkness to be visible. But I didn’t need a mirror.
I could feel the way he controlled me. I could feel him taking over. I let him.
“Please, Spencer.”
It was my final plea, a cry for him to take mercy on my weary body and let us both find peace together.
With a few particularly powerful thrusts, Spencer almost lost himself in the pleasure. I could see the way his face creased as the sweat dripped from his brow. His breathing was heavy and irregular, his grip on my face dropping to my jaw just shy of the column of my throat.
“Crying and begging for me to make you come again. My pretty, greedy little bunny.”
I wanted him to grab me wherever he desired— and it was obvious where that was— but I recognized his apprehension and decided to let it pass unannounced for now. Heaven knew we were both already beat from the sudden escalation in our relatively vanilla lifestyle.
“Please, sir,” I croaked, baring my neck to him to show him his hand there wasn’t required for him to control me. “I need it.”
Spencer didn’t answer with another taunt or promise that time. No, instead he answered by exerting all remaining energy in his motions. He bottomed out inside of me with each thrust, his mouth finally finding mine again through the heavy breaths and moans.
He kissed me even harder than he fucked me, and I felt the crescendo growing again, slower but more powerful this time. Because it wasn’t just the physical aspects of the sex, but also the way our tongues mingled together and shared the space between us.
In that moment, we were hardly two separate people anymore. Spencer felt like an extension of myself, a piece of me that couldn’t be removed without permanent damage to my heart. My hands held his face, forcing him to stay with me, his lips on mine as my final climax of the night took over me in creeping waves. When my mouth couldn’t stay closed for his kisses any longer, he laid them on my cheeks instead.
“Good girl,” he said so sweetly before his own release followed.
Buried as deeply as he could within me, Spencer let out a noise also similar to my cries from before. His relief was visible in each of his muscles, his body slowly giving into the bliss as his warmth filled me.
I could hardly move, but I once again found the strength to stroke his back, bringing him back down to earth and back to me. His tired body collapsed onto mine with no grace at all, and I would have laughed if he weren’t crushing me.
“Shit,” I mumbled with the last breath I had left.
“Language,” Spencer mumbled back, although the word was barely comprehensible with his mouth still smushed against my neck. Thankfully, he showed mercy for only the second time that night and rolled off me before I suffocated under his weight.
With my newfound freedom, I laughed, delirious and happier than words could describe.
“I’m too sleepy to care ‘bout rules,” I whispered, also apparently too tired to talk right.
Spencer didn’t mind though, considering he was smiling back at me with a gentle, loving look that I felt like I hadn’t seen all night. It was a welcome and calming change of pace.
“I know you’re tired. We need to clean you up, though.”
He nodded when I groaned in response, having fully expected my resistance to moving. But then he said something peculiar, something that sank into my skin and raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
“You’re all dirty now that you let me touch you,” he said.
I sat with the words, replaying them in my head as he practically carried me to the bathroom. I mulled them over to the sound of the bath running and thought of how to respond for as long as the water stayed warm.
Because while I knew what I wanted to say so badly, I wasn’t good with words like him— especially not in my current state.
But I couldn’t let that be the end of the night. I couldn’t let him think those words without correction.
“Hey Spencer?” I said, breaking the silence while his hands carefully caressed my arms, gently washing the bruised skin.
He stopped at the sound of my voice, clearly being ripped from his own mind.
“Yes?” he asked, cautiously and quietly, almost unheard over the splashing water.
“Thank you for taking care of me. You’re a kind, gentle, wonderful man, and I love you very much.”
Silence followed, his hands falling down to my lap as he undoubtedly repeated the words to himself, hoping to find some flaw or lie in the logic. But he wouldn’t find them because they didn’t exist. In that moment particularly, there was nothing at all I could criticize. My heart was too full of love to feel anything else.
“I just thought you might need to hear that,” I explained, slipping my hands under his palms and coaxing his fingers to intertwine with mine.
With the tiniest chuckle, the kind that came out more an exhale than anything that could be properly called a laugh, Spencer followed suit.
“Thank you, bunny,” he whispered with a crack in his voice, pulling me closer and wrapping our arms around my chest. Letting out a small sigh of relief, he rested his face on my shoulder with a small kiss.
“Anytime.”
——————————————————
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spencerseance · a year ago
Text
Character Work
Matthew and Y/n's characters weren't supposed to be together but the fans love their chemistry so the director wants more tension on screen.
Tumblr media
Category: Smut
Content Warning: Penetrative Sex
MASTERLIST
Word Count: 5,115
Reader
We were all in the room on set, waiting to start filming the next episode of the show. I was sitting at the table with the more minor characters, trying my best to stifle my laughs as Matthew made faces from across the room. He of course was grouped with the stars of the show, and unfortunately that separation kept me from having an excuse to talk with him as much as I wanted to.
I was only supposed to be here for an episode, maybe a handful at most. But the reception from the viewers had earned me a job for at least an entire season. I wanted to take credit for it, but I was convinced that the reason they liked me up there was because of Matthew.
Our first scene together was one where my character, Ariel Heather, was being held captive by a serial killer. She was an agent from a different branch in the FBI, but her rookie partner made a crucial mistake and consequently got the both of them kidnapped. Her partner died in front of her, stabbed repeatedly in the chest. Heather, however, he had other plans for. He wasn't going to kill her, though, not right away.
It seems like a hard gig to have, as an actor fresh to the industry. But in reality it was too easy, maybe even a little boring. All I had to do was scream and try to look semi-attractive, even when covered in fake blood. I knew I wasn't well known enough to be typecast, but that's certainly what it felt like. Sure, I had a scream perfect for this kind of thing, and I suppose beggars can't be choosers, but I'd prefer it if I could get a job with a little less blood.
Then, Spencer came in to save Heather, and that was the first time I got to see Matthew up close. Though of course, I didn't see him a lot, as he was behind me untying my restraints. But I felt him, his breath against my back and his eerily soft hands against my skin. In that moment, I forgot that I was on camera. He pulled the rope off my wrists and I jumped out of the chair and turned around to look at him for real. He towered over me, though that wasn't intimidating. It was, however, intimidating in how gorgeous the actor in front of me was.
He then grabbed my hand, which wasn't in the script, and pulled me out of the building like we were in a Michael Bay movie where the building was about to explode behind us. His gentle touch, though insincere, made my heart flutter. I looked at him like he saved me in real life. It wasn't on purpose, but how could I not?
Our scenes together gradually increased, and so did our time together away from the camera. One night, there was a BAU movie night, I was the only one invited that wasn't part of the shows main cast. Then he brought me a coffee, saying he needed another because the first wasn't made how he wanted it. Then we started watching Breaking Bad together, and stronger feelings began to develop. At least for me they did, I was struggling to hide that on screen. That was why I got booked for more episodes. Because Spencer Reid's fans were tired of him being unhappy. They were tired of traumatic story lines and relationships that never went anywhere. The writers knew that, and I became his next arc.
Of course, I didn't know that until today.
"Okay, Y/n, Matthew," The director walked into the large room, "the viewers love your chemistry and so we're going to give them what they want. It's not explicit in the script, but give us some tension. Please and thank you."
Shemar and AJ looked to us with smirks on their faces I felt myself turning bright like a tomato. I tried not to, but it's kind of complicated trying to disobey your own nervous system.
"Okay, that's cool." Matthew looked to over to me, awkwardly holding his coffee with both hands. "That's cool, right?"
"Yes! Yes. That's... cool." I stuttered out with a nod.
"Alright," The director clapped his hands together, "Let's start with the opening scene in the bullpen."
He walked away and the rest of the cast and crews attention left with him. But Matthew and I were still left to brew in what he just said. Matthew immediately stood up straighter and looked at me with a grin.
"Ready to flirt?" He asked, nudging me with his shoulder. He had to bend down to reach me, as he was significantly taller than me.
"Always." Shit, did I really just say that? "Wait, I-I mean... I don't-"
"Hey, don't hurt yourself," he laughed, putting his hand on my shoulder, "Plus, you're cute when you try not to blush." His grip on me fell as he walked away from me. My mouth fell open, and my eyes darted around if anyone was there to assure me that he did in fact just say that. But no one did, I was just standing alone awkwardly, attempting to pick my jaw up off the floor.
Kirstin then approached me, even though she needed to be getting in front of the camera in just a few moment. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" She asked, her pink Garcia glasses on.
"I'm...yes, I'm good...but can I ask you a question?" I asked, crossing my arms tightly across my chest. She nodded. "Does Matthew usually... flirt a lot on set?"
Because he seemed to do that a lot with me at least.
She burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. "Matthew? Are you kidding me? Have you seen how he flirts on screen? Not all of that awkwardness is acting, trust me." she patted my shoulder and started to walk away, but she hesitated and turned on her heels again. "But... if you know something that I don't, then you legally have to tell me. Okay bye."
I blinked down at my feet before leaving for the costume tent. I got dressed in my characters clothes. A knee length pencil skirt, a tucked in button up, and high heels, everything a shade of black. Usually she would wear outfits with more give, pants and combat boots, for example. But in this episode Ariel was officially transferred into the BAU and she wanted to make a good impression. I got my makeup and hair done, and then I was ready just in time for them to call me up.
I got to the set and I stood behind the camera as the scene started.
"Action."
"So as I'm sure you're aware, there have been some rumors going around," Thomas said stoically, looking around at the people sitting at the conference table, "and I'm here to confirm those suspicions. We are going to be joined from now on by an Agent some of us have worked with in the past. Strauss was there to witness her ability and her kinship with the BAU, and she approved of an official transfer from the New York Branch."
I stepped into the room and their eyes turned to me.
"Meet SSA Ariel Heather, she worked with us last month on a case upstate."
"It's wonderful to finally meet everyone!" I said, bringing my eyes to one person in particular. He had a wide smile on his face. I pulled my lower lip between my teeth. "Nice to see you again Agent Morgan and Jareau... You too, Vegas." I winked.
He coughed and looked away. I took a seat at the circular table right next to him as Hotchner brought the focus of the meeting back to business, a case in Deadwood South Dakota. A killer who believed that he was Wild Bill, a legendary gunfighter of the Old West. I would have expected Spencer to be fully immersed in this case, as he was a big fan of history as well as cowboy culture.
But he wasn't, he was thinking of something else entirely. Eventually he leaned closer into me and spoke quietly into my ear, "I'm glad you're here, Ariel."
"Oh, really?" I leaned forward, supporting my head up with my hand, "I can't remember you looking me in the eyes once since we've met."
His eyes finally met mine but you could see that it took some effort. I hadn't realized how big his eyes were until now. He was speaking his lines, talking something about how people tend not to hold eye contact was a premeasure to protect yourself from anticipated embarrassment. But I only knew the words he spoke from the table read from last week. But now, my head wasn't there. His eyes were deep and sunken, but besides that they held a childlike wonder inside of them. Like I could see the whole universe within them. My god, they were pretty, and that was coming from Y/n, not Ariel.
I needed to stop this, I couldn't risk people wondering why I'm so good at pretending to be attracted to him. Or wondering why I seem to act the same way around him off screen as on screen.
"Hey, Pretty Boy, Little Mermaid, eyes to the front." Morgan spoke with a smirk that was all Shemar.
"Sorry!"
-
We all stood their in our makeshift Saloon, looking down at a body shot by a Colt 1851 Navy. The exact type of gun Wild Bill had used.
"Why does he believe he's someone whos been dead for 83 years?" The sheriff asked looking around at the Wild Bill themed bar the accident happened in, "Does he think that all of this memorabilia is for him?"
"He's suffering from an extremely specific psychosis. He probably grew up around here, surrounded by this man advertised everywhere he looked. Then, he probably looked at his situation with his abusive, alcoholic mother, and then he looked at this folk hero and figured that that was the better option." Spencer stood up from his crouched position by the cadaver on the floor. The sheriff nodded and left the room, leaving me and Matthew alone in the scene. Though the cadaver on the floor made the situation less than ideal, nonetheless.
"Why do you know so much about cowboys?" I asked the genius, picking a Wild Bill mug off the shelf and examining it.
"Technically, Wild Bill isn't a cowboy. And I've researched it a lot, mostly... I also... no, forget it." He spoke, flipping through the newspaper that was left on the floor of the scene.
"No, what?" I pressed, turning my attention back to him.
"I guess I always thought, you know, if I wasn't in the FBI, I'd be a cowboy." He said softly looking up at me for the briefest of a second before looking back down. He reminded me of a puppy.
"Oh, really? A cowboy?" I laughed, picturing him in a cowboy hat, trying to ride an animal. He would be a good cowboy. A good one in practice, not necessarily. But a cute one, absolutely.
"Yeah. I'd be a lousy one though anyway. I'd fall off anytime I'd try to ride a horse." He said with deprecation. He put down the newspaper and started walking towards the door, so I put down the mug and followed closely behind him.
"Hmm... maybe I could teach you." I hummed, a small smirk coming onto my face. "I've always been pretty good at riding."
"Is that so?" He chuckled, getting into the drivers seat. I moved to the passenger side and buckled in as he started up the SUV.
"Yes, Dr. it is. Ask any of my ex boyfriends."
He choked on air, caught off guard by my remark. I laughed again, "I'm kidding."
"That's bold of you, little mermaid. You're bold." he spoke in a tone very different from the one he had been using before. He was going off the script "You know what I've noticed about you?"
"What's that?" I coughed out quietly, trying to go along with it.
"You're always so audacious around me, but the truth is, I think that it’s a cover. I think that I make you nervous." He turned to look at me and I had to swallow the lump that was developing in my throat. "Do I make you nervous, Ariel?"
I blinked and at first I couldn't come up with any words. How was I supposed to hide my stupid crush on the guy if he was eye-fucking me across the room all the time? Or in this case, a foot away from me. I looked into his eyes, and they held a cockiness that made me feel butterflies. I wanted to see that look in his eyes again, preferably as he held me against a wall.
"Matthew, I-" He broke out into a smile, and I furrowed my eyebrows. "What?"
"You called me Matthew." I completely forgot we were on set. We were being watched by one hundred eyes at the same time. I looked around to see the director staring at me, Shemar smirking, and Kirstin with her jaw dropped. I let myself completely carried away with the fantasy of Matthew in front of everyone I worked with.
"Cut!"
"Shit, I'm sorry everyone." I stuttered out. I thought that I might end up passing out from the embarrassment. I pulled down the sun visor mirror and looked at myself, everywhere you could see skin was a fresh shade of pink.
"It's okay, I got a little out of character. I'll stick to the script next time." Matthew consoled, putting his hand on my shoulder. I tensed up and shrugged him off of me and, getting out of the car. I walked past the crowd that formed around us and I went to the bathroom.
AJ was coming out as I was going in, she held her hand out to try and stop me, "Woah, Y/n, are you okay?"
I ignored her and closed the door behind me. I splashed cold water onto my face, hoping my makeup was water proof, and dried it again with paper towels that felt like sand paper. I propped myself up on the cold ceramic and looked at myself in the mirror. Everything was fine, you did not just practically moan the name of your coworker out loud for everyone to hear. You wouldn't do that, you're not stupid. You've barely been here two weeks, that did not just happen.
"Y/n, it's Matthew." Matthew knocked on the door. That totally just happened. Fuck.
"Occupied!"
"Are you okay? Do... do you wanna talk about it, because I'll be honest, I'm to stupid to figure out what happened in the first place."
"I'm having girl problems, you really don't wanna be in here right now."
"You're a shit liar, Y/n. Can you open the door?" His hand jiggled the doorknob and the sound of him trying to get in filled the whole room. "Please?"
I sighed and switched the lock, he opened it enough to see me but he didn't come in or pull me out.
"They moved onto a different scene so we have time to talk."
"Do I have a choice?"
"Of course you have a choice." He said, but his hand that then wrapped tightly around my wrist told me a different story. He dragged me all the way to his trailer. I wasn't sure what to do, so I just let him and I prayed to god that no one would see.
He opened his trailer door and had me walk in first, following after me. I've been in here before, on several occasions. But this time was the most uncomfortable because I was pretty sure there would be no Walter White involved. I wasn't sure what to do with myself, so I awkwardly leaned on the arm of the couch. He shut the trailer door and then stood in front of me. I stood back up to try and make the height difference less drastic, but he still towered over me.
"If I made you uncomfortable in there, I'm really sorry, and I'll just stick to the script next time." He said lowly, holding eye contact in a way that his character could never even dream of.
"You didn't make me uncomfortable, Matthew, the problem is I said the wrong name." I tucked my hair behind my ears. His arms crossed tightly across his chest and his eyes quickly darted to the side as he tried to figure out what I was trying to say.
"I know, but I don't understand why that's a big deal. I fuck up on my lines all the time, it's just I say them with authority so no one notices... but I guess they'd notice the wrong name. I don't-" he rambled on, much like Spencer does. They were more alike than I had realized.
"No, but I called you Matthew because..." I sighed, "because you do."
"I do... what, exactly?" he asked with his eyebrows furrowed, sitting down on the couch. I sat next to him, looking at my lap, but then I made myself look into his eyes.
"You asked if you made me nervous, and the truth is you make me so fucking nervous."
"I said that as Spencer." He stated the obvious, and I couldn't help but chuckle, even though I wasn't exactly amused. It was more of a pity laugh for myself.
"I know... but it felt real so I reacted real. I can't react to you as her." I sighed, and combed my fingers through my hair anxiously. I didn't look at him but I saw him looking at me. I couldn't tell what his face was saying, but my anxiety told me that he was uncomfortable and I shouldn't have said anything. "I don't know, I'm struggling to separate myself from her. Sorry, I don't know how I'll manage to have tension with you onstage, I'm not good enough to pretend it's not awkward."
"It doesn't have to be awkward." He posited, "Maybe I can help you get used to the idea. We can do some character work."
I didn't respond, and that itself was an answer to him, apparently.
"Maybe Spencer and Ariel need more..." He hesitated, "heat." I turned to look at him and he looked back. I expected him to have a goofy smile plastered on his face, but he remained completely serious.
I blinked, "I, um... how do you mean?"
"Ariel is debating whether she wants to stay at the BAU or not, so Spencer can't just flirt. He's gotta really give her a reason to stay. You know?" My breath hitched under his gaze, so I just silently nodded in response.
He scooted closer to me, and spoke lowly into my ear. "So he won't just flirt. Maybe he could kiss her. Mark her as his territory." His hand brushed my hair behind my ear so his breath blew onto my skin with his words. His breath was hot but it left cold chills in its wake. "Maybe he could lift her up, and she could wrap her legs around his waist." He smirked at my perpetually blushing cheeks.
"Come on Y/n, give me something."
"I don't know how this is helping me."
“You're not as innocent as you say you are." He brought his hand up and held my chin, "You wanted me in there, I saw it in your eyes. You weren't pretending, either, you're not that good an actress."
He sharply pulled my face to look him in his eyes, "Tell me what you want, sweet girl."
I looked at him, and his eyes held a certain intensity that I hadn’t expected from him. But I wasn’t complaining. Still, I was on the fence about how far I wanted this to go. But I blurted out a response before I could think of any consequences.
"Kiss me."
He immediately pulled me into his lap and I straddled him, making my skirt ride up around my hips. I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck and hungrily pressed my mouth to his. He kissed me back powerfully. One of his hands gripped my hip firmly while he slid the other through the base of my hair and held on to the roots. A silent urge to go deeper. My tongue swept across his lower lip and his mouth parted instantly. The moan that escaped him was soft, but I caught it and swallowed it hungrily.
His hands traveled down and meekly fiddled with the buttons on my blouse.
"Is this okay?" He whispered against me and an assured nod was the only response I could muster. His fingers worked diligently to open up my shirt and I shed it off my shoulders. I worked to open his too, but the way his mouth traveled down my body made me lose ability in my hands. He kissed the part of my breasts that spilled out over the cups of my bra, and I secretly hoped that there would be marks there tomorrow morning. His hands undid the clasps of my bra, and let the fabric fall of my chest. "God, Y/n, I've fantasied about this for so long, but it's so much better in person."
His mouth around my breasts peak and his tongue swirled around it, kneading both in his hands.
"Matthew," let out a shaky moan, and let my eyes flutter shut at the stimulation. I finally managed to get his shirt off and pulled it off his body.
“Is that the right name this time?” He joked, referring to our scene together earlier in the day.
“Shut up.” I responded lazily. I felt him laugh in response and it vibrated against my skin. "Matthew, I need you. Now." I commanded and he looked up at me, amused with his tongue resting on his teeth.
He tsked, "Needy girl." His hands trailed up my inner thigh, his touch so light it was hardly there at all. His fingers drew a line up my slit through my panties, and his finger picked up my wetness even through the fabric barrier.
"There's no time for that, they could call us back any-" I cut myself off with a moan as he ignored me, pushing my panties to the side, and moving his finger up and down my slit.
"They'll wait if we make them."
"You might have that luxury, since you're the star of the show or whatever, but I don't think I'm quite there yet," I said through a laugh. He laughed too, as if we were having a normal conversation, but his fingers were sliding into my heat as we spoke.
I moaned as he pumped into me, and the feeling was incredible as he started to move faster. However, we were pressed on time and I couldn't even remember if the door was locked or not. So my hands fell to his belt buckle and started to undo it. Someone was probably going to walk in at some point, but I didn't intend on stopping. That just meant we had to get straight to the point. This time, he didn't ignore me and he moved me off him. He opened a drawer to the side of us and pulled a condom out of a box.
I slid my panties down my legs and stepped out of them as he sprung his cock free and slid the condom on. I returned to my former position straddling his lap, and he grabbed my hips as I hovered over his member. I used my hand to line him up with my entrance, and then I lowered onto him completely. A gasp escaped my mouth as he stretched me out entirely, he groaned lowly. I exhaled once I settled at his base. I sat still for just a moment as I adjusted my hands more stably on his shoulders. He gave me a soft smile, and I shyly returned it.
Then, his hand pressed into me harder to encourage my movement. So then, I picked myself up a little bit, and lowered back down. A little more, and then back down. I picked up the pace and bobbed up and down onto his cock with a strange confidence that I've never had around him before this moment. His head was thrown back, his eyes were squeezed shut, and his mouth remained agape as a series of cordial moans fell out from it. The sound was incredible, ringing into my ears with the grace of a holy choir. Funny how those two things could be so easily compared, when one of them was directly going against the beliefs of the other. His moans were all of the encouragement I needed to move faster. I grinded my hips as I moved, as if I was signing my name onto the scripture that was his body.
"Fu-uck, Y/n," he dragged out his curses and he finally opened his eyes again, landing them on my own. Once the eye contact was there, I was physically unable to break it.
I watched as the sweat born from our exertion stick his curls to his forehead. His face was flushed and rosy. He looked angelic, like a portrait on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. He was quite possibly the most attractive person I've ever seen. And he was definitely the most attractive person I've ever had the pleasure of feeling in my stomach.
"Holy shit, M-Matthew!" I cried out, feeling him in places that have never been hit before.
"So fucking responsive, Princess," he praised with that ceaseless amused smirk of his, "If I knew you'd react this well to my cock then I would've pulled you in here a lot sooner."
He gulped and his Adam's apple bobbed. "Your pussy was definitely worth the wait."
His hand then traveled from my hip to circle my clit in circles. I was getting blinded from the ecstasy that filled me as he filled me, and my fingers dug into his shoulders so hard that I knew there would later be marks. He didn't mind though, instead, working my body even more studiously.
"Ma-Matthew," I struggled to form words, not even his name came into my head without effort, "I can't last much-ah, shit! I'm gonna-"
"Come for me, Pretty Girl," He encouraged, and his words combined with the almost overwhelming stimulation he provided me with was enough to push me over my edge. I was a blurred mess of whimpers and mewls, as my orgasm washed over me, and the twitching of his cock inside me was the cherry on top.
"You feel so fucking go-od," he struggled to get out as he neared his own orgasm, "You look so hot, coming on my cock."
I was exhausted from my own relief, but I didn't let myself slow down the pace of my hips as I tried to get him there too. I pressed my body tightly against him, like I was trying to melt our sweaty forms together into one.
"So close-" His breath hitched as he spoke, cutting himself off. Then, he sloppily thrusted into me, before he finished and came into the condom.
We sat there for a few moments, just catching our breaths. I looked at him again and couldn't help but smile at him. He grinned back and pressed another kiss onto my lips, a sweet one this time. Innocent.
I picked myself up off of him, and he stood up after me. He disposed of the contraceptive, and I started to collect my clothes again and put them on. He did too, redoing his pants and shirt. I bent down to pick up my discarded panties but he dove in and grabbed them before I could.
"Matthew!" I scolded as he held them high above my head. He just laughed in response and I shook my head with mock disapproval. I put my bra back on and my shirt followed, so if it weren't for the panties Matthew continued to hold out of my reach, you wouldn't have suspected that anything happened. I flattened out my skirt again, just to be sure.
Two knocks on the door startled us, "Are you guys screwing in there?" Kirstin asked loud enough for everyone to hear, and opened up the door before we could response. It wasn't locked after all, so I suppose it's good that we finished when we did. Matthew quickly hid my panties behind his back so Kirsten wouldn't see as she came in. But based on her face, she saw and was just pretending she didn't. "They want you to do that scene again. They sent me because everyone else was nervous for what you were doing in here." She turned around and left us alone again, but the door was open.
Matthew burst out laughing and I punched him lightly in the shoulder.
"What! She didn't see anything!"
"She could have! Now give me those back!" I tried to grab my underwear again but he quickly shoved it into his pocket.
"You want me to do the scene commando?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. He just nodded with a stupid grin on his face.
"It's fine! You'll just have to flash the camera some other day." He hopped out of the trailer and I followed awkwardly, not liking the way it felt without my underwear at work. I closed the door behind me and quickly stumbled to walk beside him.
"Hey, Y/n?" He asked.
"Hm?" I responded, haunting our walking.
"If you want those back, you're gonna have to come pay me another visit." He said, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Wow, Matthew, you could at least buy me dinner first." I joked.
"You know what? Sure. Want to get Pho tomorrow night? Say, around 6?"
Blush came back into my cheeks, as if this was a different person from the one fucking me in his trailer just moments ago. But I looked into his kind, reassuring eyes, and after that I couldn't help but smile.
"It's a date."
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erin-bo-berin · a year ago
Text
Sweet Cheeks
MASTERLIST
This was an anon request for a smut where Spencer and the reader have a Garcia and Morgan like relationship and boy was this fun to write. I think I got to around 3,000 words before I even got to the smut part so I might’ve gotten a little carried away. Happy reading!
Also, HUGE thanks to @multifandommandy​ for inspiration and help with Morgan quips in this. You’re the best. :)
Spencer Reid/Reader
Rating: M (smut)
Word Count: 5,056
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“Last night around 2 am in Alexandria, Virginia, Desiree Armstrong was brutally murdered in her bed.”
Your finger pressed the button on the remote to bring up more images of the grizzly murder on the screen. You grimaced, looking away.
“Yeah, this is why I never look, kid,” your mentor Penelope Garcia said from the round table, her back turned towards the screen.
“It was definitely brutal alright,” Emily Prentiss commented.
“There’s so much blood, you can hardly tell what happened,” Derek Morgan piped in.
“Don’t remind me,” you groaned, “The poor woman.”
“Has the autopsy report come back yet?” Jennifer Jareau—JJ for short—questioned.
“Yeah. She was stabbed 24 times with a-”
“Kitchen knife. It looks a lot like a Santoku knife. They’re similar to a chef’s knife, but they’re shorter and thinner with a flat blade instead of a curved one. Mostly, they’re used for mincing, slicing and dicing. You can tell because the stab wounds are slightly longer than a normal knife wound would leave,” Dr. Spencer Reid cut in.
You gave him an exasperated look.
“Okay hot stuff, would you like to come up here and finish my presentation for me?”
He grinned, looking back down at the file.
“Anyway, as I was saying. Her 18 month old Willow was missing from her crib when the neighbor found Desiree.”
“That means she’s been missing for at least six hours already,” David Rossi noted.
“Which is why we need to get a move on,” Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner said, “Let’s go.”
Everyone gathered their things, heading for the door.
“See ya later, Dite,” Spencer called over his shoulder as he headed to the door.
You grinned at his special nickname for you, remembering how the nicknames had all started between you two.
“You know how to reach me if you need me big boy,” you called back.
“You two sound like Derek and I,” Penelope chuckled from behind you.
“Well I did learn from the best.”
When you’d started at the FBI, you were placed in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Working under Penelope Garcia, their tech analyst as her assistant/protégée, you were anxious to learn as much as you could.
You were endlessly amused at the playful banter and nicknames Derek Morgan and Garcia had for each other. Although it appeared to be flirty, it was none other than just platonic teasing and banter. They just had the personalities for that.
To not be a profiler, Garcia sure could pick up on things as well as the actual profilers.
Like your almost immediate crush on Dr. Spencer Reid.
Maybe it had to do with the fact that it took you a few months to finally be comfortable around him. 
You could do your job well, but not without awkward fumbling or the nervous voice cracking.
One time he actually thought you were losing your voice and suggested you drink some warm ginger tea with honey for it. He couldn’t see you through the phone, but your cheeks flamed from embarrassment.
Garcia had laughed for almost ten minutes when you told her.
“Loosen up Y/N,” she said, “He doesn’t bite.”
“I know,” you grumbled, “But he makes me nervous.”
“Well it never hurt anyone to be a little flirty,” she pointed out, “Try it sometime. Even if it’s not reciprocated it can go a long way for your confidence and helping you be more comfortable around him.”
You had to admit she had a point.
Thus, your nicknames for him began.
-
“Ready to help sir,” you’d walked into the briefing room where the team was sitting around the table, working a case.
“Okay, Y/N we need you to look up every male in a 100 mile perimeter of D.C. that owns a Lamborghini,” Hotch said.
“Well that’s gonna be like looking for a piece of hay in a haystack,” you mumbled.
As good as Garcia was, you knew broad searches were still tedious to comb through without other search parameters.
“Narrow it down to owners that are between the ages of 25 and 35,” JJ said.
“Are married or have just recently been married,” Morgan added.
“Okay, keep it coming,” you scribbled your notes on your notepad.
“Look for owners that have no children. Also, check their financial records. They might’ve come into a large amount of money recently,” Spencer said.
“Got it, sweet cheeks. I’m off to search.”
You left to head back to yours and Garcia’s lair, missing Spencer’s raised brows and slightly flustered and confused expression.
Morgan smirked at Spencer, holding back a laugh.
“Which cheeks?” he teased.
Spencer blinked slowly, looking quite dumbfounded.
“She means the ones on my face...right?”
Morgan laughed out loud at this as he stood to grab more coffee. He patted Spencer’s shoulder on the way out.
Pretty boy had a lot to learn.
-
Sure, the first nickname had kinda just slipped out. But Penelope was right. It kind of was enlightening to tease Spencer. It was amusing and adorable when he would get flustered.
What you didn’t expect was Spencer’s nicknames for you.
The phone rang and you hit the answer button.
“Y/N’s the name, researching is my game.”
“Wow, you sound just like Garcia,” came Spencer’s voice.
“She learned from the best!” Garcia called from across the room.
“I need your undivided attention, bright eyes.”
The pet name slipped from his lips so easily that you actually stared at the phone, making sure you were actually on a call.
“Y/N?”
“Bright eyes, huh?”
“Yeah, you’re not the only one with Garcia rubbing off on you,” he chuckled.
“Okay. I’m all ears,” you positioned your hands above the keyboard, ready to work, “Fire away, stud muffin.”
It’d been five years since you first joined the team. You and Spencer were now incredibly close and flirty nicknames were now an everyday occurance. 
Even Garcia and Morgan were no match for your banter and here you’d thought theirs was crazy enough.
Maybe it was because you had feelings for Spencer, maybe not, but it didn’t faze the team much at all. They were used to Derek and Penelope, so it was just another day at work.
That didn’t stop their passing comments on the matter.
“Jeez, the sexual tension in here is so thick I can cut it with a knife,” Garcia once commented.
“Will you two ever just suck it up and date?” Rossi shook his head after listening to another every day banter.
“Can these two just fuck already or something?” Was a comment you’d accidentally overheard Morgan say when neither of you were around.
You weren’t exactly sure what to call you and Spencer, but he was a friend and that seemed to be how it would remain, regardless of your crush.
“Any luck in finding Willow’s father?” you asked Penelope as you scanned Desiree Armstrong’s documents.
“Nope,” Garcia huffed.
The two of you nor the team had any clue who would have done this to Desiree. They decided to start looking for a father, to see if he could be a suspect. So far, a search for him turned up nothing. He seemed to be a ghost.
Your phone rang and you answered it with a click of a key.
“Hey Aphrodite, I need your brains.”
Aphrodite or Dite was what Spencer had taken to calling you pretty early on. It was quite flattering considering what she was the goddess of.
“Well if it isn’t Hunky Brewster,” you commented, “And to think the genius needs my brains, I’ve never felt more special.”
“That you are,” he chuckled, “I need you to look into a neighbor: Evan Kelly. The victim’s sister said he had been bothering her for a while.”
“Gotcha,” you typed out the name, waiting for search results, “I’ll hit ya back when I got something.”
You hung up, beginning your research.
Spencer was in front of the murder board, studying it. So far, they only had Evan Kelly and the missing father. 
He was currently on the phone with Y/N, going over the findings on Evan Kelly.
“Basically there wasn’t a window this guy hadn’t peeped in,” your voice came from the speaker.
“Any arrests?”
“Nope. Seems like this guy was just a creep.”
He sighed, rubbing his jaw, thinking.
“Any luck finding a father of Willow?” he asked.
“Garcia is still looking, but he’s just not there,” you said.
“Like not in the picture?”
“Like doesn’t seem to exist. We can’t find a record anywhere.”
“Look into adoption records, see if you can find out if she was adopted. She might not biologically be Desiree’s,” he said.
“Good point,” you said, “Now I know why you’re the genius.”
“I aim to please, pretty lady,” he smirked.
“I’ll get back to you in an instant, sugar lips.”
When he hung up, he turned to see Emily staring at him, jaw dropped.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head in exasperation before she spoke.
“What did you do to her?”
The team was back at headquarters, working hard to find the precious little girl.
You sat at the round table, working on the new lead the team had just discovered.
“So let me get this straight,” JJ said, “Willow Armstrong was adopted by Desiree Armstrong, although not through a legal company. As in, the company wasn’t legit?”
“More like it wasn’t done through any company at all. There was no paperwork, no legality, nothing,” Garcia answered, “It’s basically like the birth mother just handed over Willow and disappeared.”
“Maybe that was part of their verbal contract?” Rossi brainstormed.
“If so, then there might be an angry birth father out there,” Spencer thought out loud.
“And nearly impossible to find,” Derek sighed.
“Um, hello? Have you met me and my protégée here?” Garcia asked, motioning between you and herself, “We can find almost anything.”
“Any luck on finding an adoptive father of Willow?” Hotch questioned.
“No, there wasn’t a father,” you said, “Desiree was a single mother but her ex-boyfriend Scott Griffin knew she wanted to adopt apparently. I’ve contacted him and he’s willing to talk to you guys.”
“You never disappoint, angel face,” Spencer mumbled, still studying the murder board.
“Okay, Morgan, Reid you go speak to Griffin. We’ll stay here and see if we can track down the birth mother,” Hotch said.
“Got it. Thanks baby girl and protégée,” Morgan teased.
A moment later they were out the door.
“I hadn’t spoken to her in some time until just a few weeks before her death,” a bereaved Scott Griffin said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“We’re sorry for your loss,” Morgan said sympathetically.
“Mr. Griffin, did Desiree ever mention the name of the birth mother?” Spencer asked.
Scott sat, thinking for a moment.
“Yeah. Yeah, she did. It was a unique name. Lorina something. Lorina Cano I believe. She wasn’t from here, but she lived around here she said.”
“What about the birth father?” Morgan asked.
“I never got a name, but Desiree said she claimed the birth father didn’t even know about the baby.”
Morgan and Spencer shared a look before turning back to Scott.
“Thank you for your-”
“Wait, there’s something else. I don’t know if it’s relevant, but the last time I talked to Desiree she said she thought there was a man following her. She caught him on her surveillance once.”
Morgan nodded while Spencer pulled out his phone.
“Thank you. We’ll see ourselves out.” Morgan said.
With a knowing look at Derek, Spencer hit your number, putting the phone to his ear.
You answered the call, putting it on speakerphone so Penelope could hear as well.
“Hola papito, how may I help you?”
You heard Spencer’s easy chuckle.
“Dare I ask what that means?”
You opened your mouth to speak but Garcia answered for you, not even looking up from her computer.
“Hot daddy,” she called.
If you could see him, you were sure he was blushing a bright red.
“I forgot to mention you’re on speaker, so keep it clean, both of you,” you chuckled.
“We need you to pull the surveillance from Desiree’s house. Scott Griffin said there was a man stalking her,” Morgan said.
“Okay will do. It’ll be ready for your viewing pleasure by the time you get back,” you said.
“Thanks Dite, you’re the best.”
“You know it, dreamboat.”
Half of the team were following other leads while you, Morgan, Rossi, Spencer and Garcia attempted to view the surveillance footage. It was slow going since it was pretty grainy.
Spencer stood in front of the big screen in the briefing room, studying it closely, his chin resting in his palm as he watched. He glanced over his shoulder at you.
“Honey, can you come here for a second?” he asked.
“Sure, sweet cheeks,” Morgan smirked, walking over to him.
Spencer looked at him, exasperated.
“Not you. Y/N.”
“Oh I see how it is. That hurts, kid,” Derek said, a hand over his chest mocking hurt.
You noticed Rossi’s lips quirked as you walked past him towards Spencer.
“Not. A. Word,” you mumbled to him.
“Do you see this car here?” Spencer pointed to the screen, “I think our suspect just got into it. Can you zoom in and see if we can make it out?”
This, he said to Garcia.
“On it, boo.”
He turned to you.
“I need you to see if you can find anything on Lorina Cano. If we can find her, maybe we can find the birth father.”
“Yup. My fingers are ready.” 
You were back in your chair working on your task, Spencer watching from behind you.
“Okay, got it.”
You pulled up the page for him. He read it, his chin resting on your shoulder.
“Do you mind?”
“Not one bit,” he mumbled, still reading.
You rolled your eyes, turning back to the screen. Your heart sunk when you saw the same thing he just had.
“Dammit,” he groaned.
“She’s been dead since last year,” you mumbled, feeling defeated.
“Well I guess we have to track down the mystery father another way,” Rossi mused.
“I’m sorry,” you frowned, feeling like you’d failed.
“It’s not your fault Y/N, don’t worry,” Spencer said, pecking your cheek, “I have an idea though, I’ll be back.”
You were still stunned from the kiss that seemed to come out of the blue. It took you a second to notice the other three staring at you, raised brows and amusement all over their faces.
Your gaze went back to the screen quickly, your cheeks flaming hot. 
Derek’s amusing response made you blush even further.
“Reid never kisses me like that.”
“Guys, I think I got it!” Garcia said, rushing in with her laptop.
You had been lounging at the round table eating your dinner. She’d been sympathetic to your frustration and ordered you to take a break from your research to have some dinner.
“Got what?” you asked, slapping Spencer’s hand away from stealing more of your fries.
“Ow!” he pouted.
“Fine,” you groaned, putting one in his mouth.
You turned back to see, once again, the entire team staring at you two. Garcia especially.
“What’d you find, Garcia?” Hotch prompted.
“Right. Yes. Okay, so from the partial license plate I found who I believe is our unsub. His name is Noah Elliot and he works for a trucking company. I just spoke to his boss. Well, get this. We know the father didn’t know about the baby, right? Somehow he got clued in—whether by a friend, a family member, who knows—about little baby Willow and he was furious. So, he finds Lorina I’m assuming and finds out that she gave Willow up for adoption. Somehow he found Desiree and killed her, kidnapping Willow. If you think I’m done yet, I’m not, I have so much more! According to the boss, a truck recently went missing from the company, they haven’t been able to trace it. Noah hasn’t showed up for work in a week and the boss was cleaning out his locker since he was gonna fire him when he finally showed up again. In the locker he found this.”
Garcia turned her computer around. Pictures of Willow and Desiree had been hidden in his work locker, assuming no one would ever find them.
“He was stalking her,” Emily said.
“Yeah and hardcore,” Garcia said.
“Garcia is there a way for them to track that missing truck?” Hotch inquired.
“Yes, they’re working on it now and before you ask the address is being sent to your phones right now.”
“Let’s go,” he ordered, the team following behind them.
“Be safe!” you and Penelope called after them.
“I’m exhausted,” you sighed, plopping down in your chair.
In total, it had taken a little over 24 hours to find little Willow Armstrong, safe and sound. After managing to activate the tracking of the missing truck, Noah Elliot was located and caught trying to cross the Virginian border into North Carolina. He would be going away for a minimum of 25 years.
Willow would be placed in the care of Desiree’s sister. It was a bittersweet ending. Even though the child had been saved, it still upset you knowing that the poor little girl had lost her mother at such a young age. But, it was a win. Not all cases ended happily and you were glad this one had.
“Same,” Garcia mumbled. 
You were waiting for the team to come back. Garcia had ordered pizza and everyone was going to relax and rewind before heading home. It was well deserved. They had been on the move almost constantly throughout this entire case.
“Good work today, bright eyes,” she smirked.
“Stop it,” you groaned.
“Aphrodite, Dite, Angel Face, Honey,” she replied, heavy emphasis on each nickname.
“Okay, so? You call Derek nicknames all the time. Spencer too and the others.”
“That’s different. I do it out of love and you know Derek and I just have that type of close, comfortable relationship,” Garcia pointed out
“That’s the same with me and Spencer. I don’t see your point.”
“Yeah because you don’t see all the flirting that happens around this office like we do,” Garcia gave you a look, “You were feeding him fries earlier for God’s sake! I wish you two would just do something.”
“Well that’s going to be hard to do considering it’s a one way street, Penelope.”
“You clearly don’t know the boy genius like I do,” she smirked, “He doesn’t...what’s the word for it? Flirt. Not like he does with you because he’s comfortable around you and likes you.”
“I love you Garcia, but you’re delusional,” you heard a noise in the hallway, “Say is that the delivery guy?”
You hopped up to go check.
“I swear Y/N, I will lock you two in a room if I have to,” she mumbled.
You turned around, an eyebrow raised.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” she grinned innocently.
You walked out into the hall, Garcia at your heels and found Spencer carrying three boxes of pizza, a big smile on his face.
“Someone order pizza?” 
You were the last to leave, so it seemed. You wanted to tidy up your desk and get some work done so you wouldn’t have to worry about it later. 
You stood in the deserted hallway, waiting for the elevator.
“Late night for you too?”
You startled and turned to see Spencer exiting the BAU, walking towards the elevator.
“I didn’t know anyone else was here.”
“Sorry for scaring you, by the way,” he chuckled and you waved it off.
“Tough case, huh?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, walking into the now opened elevator.
“You did some great work, Y/N,” he said, walking in behind you, hitting the button for the lobby.
“Hey, you’re the real hero here,” you smiled, “I just do computers.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t know what to do without you,” he said then quickly clearing his throat, realizing his mistake, “I mean we wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
“Well, thank you. That’s sweet.”
You rode in silence until a loud crash rang throughout the elevator, followed by a shuddering sensation. Suddenly, the elevator came to a complete stop.
“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” you gasped.
“Uh, well. This isn’t good.”
Spencer hit several different buttons with no luck. The elevator still hung between floors and you were stuck in here.
You were literally stuck in an elevator with Spencer. 
With your feelings bubbling to the surface even more lately, especially during this case, this was your worst case scenario.
This was not good.
“So,” Spencer said, pocketing his cell phone, “Hotch said it would be at least an hour or so before he and the building engineers can get down here.”
“Wonderful,” you mumbled, pacing the very small space of the elevator.
You were sort of freaking out. Not because of the actual being stuck part, but because you were afraid of what you might do or might say. This was dangerous territory.
Of course, there was no way Spencer knew that and he obviously interpreted your anxiety as a reaction to being stuck.
“Hey, calm down, it’s okay.”
He grabbed your elbow, stilling your steps in front of the metal doors. You slumped back against it, but at least you stayed still.
“You okay?” he asked, concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Studies find that the best distractions in stressful situations are meditation, helping others and-” he paused.
With a quick purse of his lips, his eyes glanced upwards nonchalantly and his brows raised just the slightest.
“Orgasms.”
Your eyes widened, sure you’d misheard him somehow.
“I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m not an idiot, Y/N.”
Your mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“What exactly are you saying?” you asked hesitantly.
“I think you know good and well what I’m saying.”
You were astonished and exasperated.
“Dammit Spencer, if you’re just messing with me, I swear.”
He was closing in on you now, a slight grin on his lips, tongue flicking over them in a quick movement, moistening them.
“I’m not,” he whispered.
Then his lips were on yours. It took a moment for you to get over the initial shock, but when you did, you were kissing him back. 
His hand that rested gently on your cheek, slid into your hair, pulling your head closer to him. After a minute of pure heaven for you, he pulled away much to your dismay.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he murmured, lips hovering over yours.
“Yeah?” you whispered, eyes still on his lips.
You were on cloud nine and you just wanted his lips back on yours.
He hummed his response, pressing his lips towards yours again. His hand slid along your waist, pulling you into him. Your lips moved feverishly with his, your first initial soft kisses quickly gaining intensity.
“Hold on,” he said after parting from you again.
He shedded his suit jacket and your eyebrows rose. He moved to the opposite side of the elevator, tossing the jacket over the camera that hung in the top corner.
You bit your lip, trying to hide your giggle.
“Just in case,” he smirked.
It took about only two steps for him to be in front of you again, his mouth busy against yours once again. 
You still hadn’t quite wrapped your mind around the fact that you were currently trapped in an elevator, your back pressed against the metal doors, making out with Spencer. But then again, you didn’t want to focus on anything but him at the moment.
A small moan escaped you when he tugged your lower lip gently, teasingly. His hands had somehow made it under your dress, sliding up your bare thighs.
You broke away with a gasp when his touch ghosted over your nether region through your underwear. He pressed his lips together, pulling them inward, his dimple showing up because of the expression.
“Is this okay?” he asked, hand hovering near your pulsating core.
“Y-Yes,” you managed to croak.
You don’t know just how long you’d been lost to his kisses, but he had gotten you worked up and you could feel yourself throbbing with the want. All the sexual tension the both of you had shared was coming to the surface and you were craving every bit of it ten times more now.
His fingers traced a line upwards along the outer portion of the undergarment, his lips on your jaw, making a slow descent to your neck. He was taking his time with you and it was driving you crazy. His hands slid up, pushing your dress up with them.
You reached out for his pants, unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down. Other than your heavy breathing, the only sound was the slow grinding of the zipper as you pulled it down slowly. Your anticipation and arousal were making you short of breath and Spencer pulled back, eyes searching your face.
“I’m sure,” you answered his questioning expression, firmly.
That was Spencer. Always making sure to think of the other person first. You knew he wouldn’t have continued if you weren’t comfortable with it. 
His own arousal had grown to match yours, though his was obviously more apparent. You pushed his suit pants down, his underwear following.
Before you realized it, he’d hoisted you up and your high heeled feet were crossed behind him. His hand reached down, pushing your underwear to the side with a determined roughness as he kissed you. Then he was inside you.
Your hand tangled in his hair as he thrust gently to begin with, his eyes locked on yours. You felt a funny sensation in the pit of your stomach that wasn’t caused by your desire. 
The way he was looking at you was giving you extreme butterflies. It was as if you were the most beautiful woman in the world to him. 
Your hips moved in time with his and you bit your lip, whimpering from the pleasure. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. 
“Fuuuck,” he groaned lowly, sending your body aflame even more so than it already was.
Never would you have thought that Spencer moaning in your ear would be so hot, but it was.
The more he thrust into you, the more your moans became less restricted, flowing freely from your lips.
“Spencer,” you moaned, gritting your teeth, “Harder.”
If he wanted to fuck you as hard as he wanted against these elevator doors you’d be totally okay with it. 
He obeyed your wishes, his body rocking into yours, one hand behind your head to keep you from hitting it. You briefly register the thought that even during a situation like this he was caring enough to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself. 
“Y/N, shit,” he grunted, the sound sending shock waves down to your core.
As much as you loved his nicknames for you, you couldn’t help but love hearing your name fall from his lips in such extreme pleasure.
You grinned slightly, his nose pressing lightly against your cheek as he pulled you closer to him, his thrusts becoming uneven. He was on the brink of losing it, you knew it.
“Come on Spence.” 
Your hand gripped his hair and he lost all control his groan rippling through you. You had trouble realizing that you were the one having this affect on him.
But he wasn’t done with you, yet.
If he’d told you once, he’d told you a thousand times that he knew how to be a gentleman.
You reached down to finish yourself off but his hand moved yours out of the way, thumb landing on the bundle of nerves that sent an electrified feeling through your veins when his touch reached it.
“If you don’t know me by now, Y/N,” he grunted, his thrusts coming hard and fast.
“G-Gentleman. I know,” you moaned, your head lolling back against the metal doors.
His lips ravished your throat, his combined efforts releasing the fire in the pit of your stomach. You completely let go, your breathy moans filling the elevator, your back arching away from the doors.
When the intense feeling had subsided, your eyes opened to find him watching you. Your cheeks heated as you realized how out of control you must’ve been the entire time. But instead of being horrified or regretful, Spencer was smiling at you.
He cupped your face in his hands, kissing you gently, igniting the butterflies once again. It was this that truly confirmed that you’d fallen and fallen hard for Spencer.
After parting, you readjusted your clothing in silence, not exactly sure what to say.
“So, uh, wow,” he laughed a bit as he pulled his suit jacket back on.
He’d retrieved it from over the camera shortly after you’d disconnected from one another.
“Yeah,” you agreed.
Your legs were definitely feeling like jelly at this point and you were pretty sure he could tell. It had been pretty amazing sex. 
“I know this is kinda backwards from how it’s usually done,” he chuckled, suddenly timid, “But could I take you to dinner sometime?”
Your hand found his and his fingers automatically threaded through yours. You kissed his cheek before answering.
“I’d love nothing more.”
The whirring of the elevator startled the two of you. Ironic how it was just in time, it seemed.
The elevator arrived back to the floor of the BAU and you were surprised to see Garcia and Morgan in the hallway.
“What are you guys doing here?” Spencer asked, stepping off the elevator, you at his side.
“Hotch had a thing he wanted us to do,” Garcia explained lamely.
“Like getting us out of the elevator?” you asked, suspicious.
“Yes! That’s it.” Garcia said, eyes flickering to yours and Spencer’s joined hands.
She was heading back to her lair when you heard her call.
“See Morgan? I told you stopping the elevator would work!”
Spencer’s jaw dropped and you gaped after Penelope dumbfounded. 
Derek laughed heartily at your matching reactions before following after Garcia, calling over his shoulder to Spencer.
“Hope you had fun, sweet cheeks.”
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Cupid & Psyche (Reid Request)
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Request: Reader and Spencer both have feelings for each other but don't act on it, a serial killer called "the cupid" abducts people & sets them up, but when the couples can't sell that they're in love, he kills them. Spencer and reader have to act like they're in love to buy time for the team to save them.
A/N: First of all, are you actually a writer for a crime show? Because this is gold. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader 
 Category: Angst, Smut in second half (NSFW) 
 Content Warning: Dubious/Non-con (kissing as described in request), consensual fingering, penetrative sex, loss of virginity Word Count: 9.3k
MASTERLIST
——————————————————
It is a strange experience to meet a very important person under the worst possible circumstances. Call it star-crossed lovers, soulmates, or fate— it didn’t matter. All I knew was that the day I met Spencer Reid was the best and worst day of my life.
It started like any other normal day, and almost ended like it, too. But it didn’t.
There is something distinctly terrifying about your home no longer being safe. I was just lying in bed, trying to quiet my mind enough to fall asleep, when I'd heard the unmistakable sound of the front door to my house being broken down. With no subtlety or caution, it took the man less than 2 minutes to find his way into the first bedroom.
That room happened to be mine.
I don’t remember much, but I do remember the sharp pain of something hitting me over the head as I tried to open my window. With perfect clarity, I could recall the look on his face when he pinned me against the ground just to realize I wasn’t the one he was looking for.
He left me there.
Survivor’s guilt, Spencer had assured me multiple times, isn’t only a product of situations where someone else dies. And that was clear, because my roommate had lived, and I still felt terrible. Terrible that she had been the target of most of the monster’s rage.
I was the one who had called 911, and I was surprised when I heard the sound of swiftly approaching sirens. I didn’t stay on the floor. Painfully and slowly, I tried to crawl through my concussed delirium to my friend.
Luckily, the FBI made it there first. A voice loudly announced their arrival, and I felt a wave of immense relief rush through me. The first person to make it through the door, however, wasn’t what I was expecting.
The first thing I noticed was that he was wearing red converse high tops with mismatching socks. The second thing I noticed was how soft his hands were when they pushed my hair out of my face, helping me off the ground.
Maybe it was my damaged brain, or the adrenaline coursing through my veins, but this stranger wrapping his arms around me felt like home. The way he picked me up and carried me out of the building gave me the strength to breathe as he gently instructed me to.
Spencer had since then told me about transference, that I only liked him as a person now because he had been there to help me when I was in danger. But I didn’t remember anyone else from that night. I didn’t keep talking to any of them.
It was just him.
When I got to the paramedics, he kept my hand in his. He didn’t leave and he didn’t ask me what happened. Instead, he asked me about things I loved; the things that made me happy. It was a welcome distraction.
Spencer somehow kept me sane. Not just that day, but every day after that. At first, he kept in contact with me through letters. Like, as in snail mail letters… from less than thirty minutes away.
As romantic as it was, I quickly realized I needed more.
He must have felt the same, because soon I received a letter containing only his phone number. I called him immediately, and we talked for nearly 3 hours. It felt so effortless.
Talking to him made the darkness brighter. It made the painful memories change into something we could share. He kept me tethered to reality and made me want to stay there.
After a few months, we finally decided to see each other in person again. He always made sure we were in public. At first, he said it was because he wanted me to associate the outside with happiness again; to remind me that I could exist in the world without everything going wrong.
But I thought it was also something else.
With Spencer, there were clear boundaries.
On the day I told him about my new apartment, he insisted on walking me home. Standing outside the door to my new home, I think he could tell I wanted to kiss him. I didn’t end up doing it. I just couldn’t, especially considering the fact that, earlier that day, he’d told me about the only time he ever crossed a boundary with a victim on a case.
Perhaps sensing the indecisiveness in the sway of my body on the balls of my feet, he all but flat out said that we could never happen. I was so desperate to keep him in my life that I didn’t even try to fight for him.
I’m not sure which he hated more.
Since then, each time we met, he would follow me back to my apartment, but never further than that. I never asked him to come in, no matter how badly I wanted to. I wondered if it would always be like that. I hoped not.
That hope was the reason why I waited up each time he left, no matter what. I would sit there for at least an hour, hoping that he would change his mind and turn back around to knock on my door and beg to come inside.
It didn’t seem so crazy, that one day it would be too much and we’d have to act on it. So, when I heard a hard, anxious knock on my door not 20 minutes after he left, I walked over, anticipation building with each step towards it.
I opened the door. The only thing I saw before the world went dark was that the man on the other side of the door was not Spencer.
——————————————————
I woke up to stale air that reeked of bleach. Some vague memory dictated that I’d been in a place like this before. Opening my eyes slowly, I realized in the dim light that I was in a motel room.
The memories all came back at once. I shot up in the bed in a panic, running to the door to realize it was locked. The windows were locked, too.
My heart felt like it would burst through my chest, the blood rushing in my ears and my hands shaking more than I thought possible. The sound of my hurried breath filled the room and my mind.
That was, until I heard him.
“Hello?” Spencer’s voice came from behind the door of the shared room. I ran over to it, both hands against the wood as I whispered back.
“Spencer?”
“(Y/n)?” The shock in his voice hurt my chest. “A-are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Are… are you okay?” I returned, listening in the relative silence for whatever truth or information I could glean from it.
“Yeah.”
He was doing something, but I couldn’t tell what until a small piece of paper was nudged through the gap in the bottom of the door. In Spencer’s characteristically goofy writing, I could make out the message.
‘I recognized him. My team is on the way. We just have to stall. I’m sorry.’
I wanted to ask him why he was sorry, but it was clearly not safe to speak about it. I guessed that we were being watched. Beside me, there was a webcam set up facing the bed, the light indicating it was on. So. I took the paper, folding it up and putting it into my pocket.
“Why are we here?” I asked, unable to resist.
Spencer paused, probably trying to figure out what he could say. But if he recognized him, surely he knew why we were her.
“I made a mistake.”
I let the vague words hang, pulling my hands back from the wood just in time to hear the lock unlatch from the door.
“Open the door,” a third, garbled voice said through a speaker in the room. They didn’t have to tell me twice; I threw the door open and quickly jumped into Spencer’s arms.
They still felt like home.
His face buried in my hair, his hands clinging to me like static, he somehow already started to ease the dread. But we were still here. He whispered into my ear, “I’m so sorry. He must have heard me talk about you. I-I just…”
Talk… about me? I thought, wishing I could pull back and ask for more, but knowing this wasn’t the time.
“I just don’t understand. This… so far he’s only targeted a very specific type and it doesn’t fit. I didn’t think I was putting you in danger.”
His words were so fast and hushed, it was dizzying. His breath on my ear and the confusing nature of the words made the anxiety set in again.
“What type?” I asked, scared of the answer. I wasn’t sure which was worse- the situation actually being my fault this time, or this being second time my associations had led me straight into the hands of a serial killer.
“… Virgins.”
The word sent a shock through my body as I got my answer, and I immediately broke apart from the embrace. My cheeks burned as they flushed, my chest heaving with the realization that this time it was at least partially because of me that this was happening.
But Spencer didn’t know that about me. Was this man stalking me? How did he know? It didn’t really matter, though. We were already here.
Spencer was watching me with a confused concern that quickly morphed into an expression of horror.
“Oh.”
That was all he said. He tried to shield the mounting panic from my perception, but he failed. I didn’t know what was going on. Evidently, he did. He either couldn’t tell me, or didn’t want to.
Luckily, he didn’t have to.
“Take a seat on the bed,” the robotic voice commanded.
Suddenly, my feet felt bolted to to the floor. I was too scared to move.
Spencer recognized my deer in the headlights expression and put his hands on me, trying to help me onto the bed. One hand brushed over my pocket that kept the note in it.
The message was received. We just had to stall. It would be okay.
Once we’d sat down, he didn’t remove his hands. One stayed on the small of my back and the other held onto my hand resting on my thigh. It was the only thing keeping me from screaming.
“Dr. Reid,” the voice started, and his fingers gripped harder against me as it did. “You have spent months now in denial. You have deprived not only yourself, but (y/n) of one of life’s greatest treasures.”
The man speaking paused like he was disgusted with the both of us.
“Do you honestly believe that you know better than the divine universe?”
Spencer was breathing heavily, his eyes fixated on the camera, but the side of his body pressed up against mine.
“No.”
There was hatred in his voice.
“I don’t believe you.”
“What treasure?” I piped in, unable to control myself with the adrenaline lighting every nerve I had on fire. Spencer looked at me now, like he was remembering something. His clenched jaw slackened along with his hands.
“Love,” the voice answered for him.
I looked away from Spencer, tucking my hair behind my ear as I tried to figure out what the fuck was happening. Was this psycho trying to play matchmaker? There were simpler ways to do that. None of which involved kidnapping.
“Your inaction cannot stand any longer. It ends today,” the speaker instructed as the lights began to dim even further. The soft glow of yellow reminded me of candlelight.
This man was insane.
“I will be your Cupid. I will guide you through the hardest part. When it is over, you will thank me for doing what you were too afraid to do.”
When I realized what he meant, I wanted to respond. I wanted to scream back that we didn’t need his help; that I didn’t want it to happen like this. But I couldn’t. Spencer was gripping me so tightly, begging me with his eyes to remember not to fight.
We just had to stall. But what did that mean? And for how long? Was I supposed to…
“Whenever you hear the sound of this bell,” he paused to allow a chime to fill the room, the lights pulsing in time, “you will proceed to the next step.”
I couldn’t breathe. My head was pounding along with my heart, and I clutched my chest to try and convince myself I was still alive at all.
“If you do something wrong, Dr. Reid, you will hear this noise.”
A harsh buzzer sound tore through the room, and I flinched like the sound had shocked me.
“If you fail three times, I will have no choice but to take her away from you.”
Spencer’s hand was shaking.
“Because if you fail, you don’t deserve her,” he clarified before the bell chimed again.
“You may begin.”
“Spencer, what is going on?” I immediately asked, tears welling in my eyes as he turned to bring me closer. He pulled my face to his chest, shushing me gently.
“I’m so sorry,” he croaked before breaking us apart. With his hands firmly on my shoulders, he swallowed. “I-I… I have to…”
The terror in my eyes was, I’m certain, the least romantic thing in the world.
“I have to kiss you. Is that… is that okay?”
On instinct I shook my head no, only because nothing about this was okay. I’d wanted to kiss Spencer for months, but not like this. Not if he didn’t want to.
“Yes,” I answered so quietly I was surprised that he heard it.
“Are you sure?”
I felt like time was running out. Like any second now, the buzzer would ring. It felt suffocating and overwhelming, and something told me that no matter what I said, it wouldn’t be enough for Spencer to believe me.
So, I took action. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my hands tangling in his hair as I drew him closer. When we touched, the first thing I noticed were that his lips were somehow softer than I’d imagined. The kiss was hesitant and panicked, but I tried not to focus on that.
Instead, I tried to feel the emotions that were hiding behind the tidal wave of fear. I was too afraid to end the kiss entirely, so when I stopped to breathe, I opened my eyes to look into his.
He seemed… lost. In what, I was unsure. I bit down on my bottom lip that still tingled with the feeling of his.
This time, he was the one to move. He placed both of his hands against my cheeks. The warmth and security the touch provided felt like a life vest keeping me afloat while stranded at sea.
I gave myself to the kiss, and Spencer seemed to respond to that. Slowly and without breaking apart, his hands slid down my sides and brought us as close as the position would allow.
It felt like an eternity kissing him, and not in a bad way. I tried to forget what had led to this. I knew it was playing into what this creepy motherfucker wanted, but it was all I could think to do.
If this had to be the first time Spencer and I kissed, I wanted it to be as much like I wanted it to be as I could make it.
That was the thought I had when the bell chimed. I jumped at the sound, my fingers wrapped within his hair tightening slightly.
“W-What does that mean?” I asked under my breath.
He sighed, pressing our foreheads together and clenching his eyes shut.
“I don’t know.”
They were his least favorite words, and it only made it worse to say them here, under these circumstances. He was shifting in place, trying to think of what to do, or say, or anything. Eventually, he managed to open his eyes.
“Can I try something?”
Dumbly, I nodded. Despite telling me, I was still surprised when he lifted me off the bed, carrying me a few feet before laying me down on my back. I turned my face to the side and saw the light of the camera staring back at me.
Dread set through my stomach, and I gripped Spencer’s arms like they could provide me safety. He used a hand to gently guide my face back to him.
He looked so different like this. I hated to have these thoughts right now, but it was impossible not to. The way he looked at me with his pupils blown wide in the golden light was intoxicating. And when he licked his lips, I remembered that they were the very same ones I had just kissed.
“Are you okay?”
His voice was shaking as much as his arms, like he was holding himself back from so much. I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded instead.
“Tell me if you need me to stop.”
I arched my back when I felt his hand begin running down my side. It was terrifying and humiliating, to have this experience knowing someone was watching. Knowing that something horrible will happen if I don’t play along. It hurt worse knowing that it would also hurt Spencer either way.
“I-If you stop… he’ll hurt you.”
He smiled at me, a sad, meaningful smile as as he said, “I’d rather he hurt me than I hurt you.”
I didn’t even realize the tears falling down my face until his thumb began to wipe them away. He gave me a quiet, chaste kiss on the lips before moving to my jaw. I gasped at the sensation, my hands wrapping around his head when his lips were against my neck.
“I’m so sorry. You deserve so much better than this.”
The words felt like daggers to my heart, and I tried not to think about the rest of the world for a moment. I stared at the pattern on the ceiling, letting my body respond however it saw fit to the way Spencer delicately laid his lips across the column of my throat.
“Just…” his voice caught in his throat, and the words stuck to my skin, “Just pretend that I’m someone else.”
My mind immediately rebelled against the thought, but I couldn’t tell him why. This situation was fucked up enough. I can’t even imagine pausing to take a moment to say, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. When we escape from the serial killer, do you want to try this again sometime?’
“I can be whoever you need me to be,” he continued.
It just made me feel even worse. I felt so guilty, to think that some part of me was enjoying the way his body felt pressed up against me. But what if he wasn’t? In some fucked up way, was I an accomplice in his suffering?
“Just close your eyes and picture someone you love.”
I didn’t have to close my eyes for that, but I did it, nonetheless, hoping that it would make it easier for him. Finally finding the courage to move, I hooked one of my legs around his, pulling his body closer to me and sighing at the way it felt when he bumped against me.
His tongue on my neck became more insistent, and I bit down on my lip to prevent myself from giving the creep watching any satisfaction. Still, I wondered how Spencer would have reacted.
“Kiss me, Spencer.”
It was more a beg than anything else, with the purposeful use of his name. He dragged his nose up my jaw, opening his eyes to look at me with that calming look he gave me the first night he met me. Except this time, it was mixed with something else.
“Are you sure?”
The way he said it lit a light bulb in my mind, identifying that feeling as the same one I was experiencing.
Longing.
“Please,” I whispered, my fingers lightly tracing the outline of his jaw as I guided his lips to mine.
I’d never done this before. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve kissed men, but never like this. I’d never had one of them hold me so softly, expressing so many emotions with just one little touch that it sent shivers down my spine.
I swiped my tongue against his lips, implicitly asking for his permission to continue, the same way he’d kept asking for mine. With only a little hesitation, he accepted. And no matter how hard I tried to contain it, I couldn’t help but whimper into his mouth.
He must have heard it, because he immediately brought his hand to my head, lacing it through my hair and pulling me impossibly closer to him. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to shut me up, or just look more convincing for the camera.
Maybe he just wanted to? Probably not.
It didn’t matter; the thought vacated my mind the second the bell chimed. My eyes shot open only to see that Spencer’s had opened, as well. There were only so many other steps we could take before things got way too real.
How much longer was his team going to be?
This time when he pressed our lips together, it was with more force than I was expecting. Soon after, his hand that was on my hip had begun sliding up my side under my shirt.
“Oh, god.”
Embarrassingly, my skin broke out in goosebumps. I took a sharp inhale of breath, closing my eyes before his hand stopped completely in its tracks.
“Is this alright?”
If only he knew why I was reacting the way I was - the thoughts that I’d had about this exact feeling. The way that his skin was even softer, even warmer than I’d ever thought.
“Yes,” I sighed, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he urged with a broken voice, “Please.”
Instead of trying to maneuver that conversation, I opted to kiss him. Having gotten past the initial stage of awkwardness, our mouths slid across each other with a renewed vigor.
That was, until his hand got to its resting place against my breast. My body entirely froze, and my exhale shook with all the nerves rushing back.
“You’re okay,” he whispered onto my lips, the words sounding even more intimate than our current embrace, “I won’t hurt you.”
And he didn’t. His touch was soft as his fingers danced along the outside of my bra. My eyes fluttered shut when he kissed me again. I wondered if he noticed the way his body was beginning to rock against mine ever so slightly. The friction was driving me insane.
“Tell me what you need from me,” he said through a heavy panting, “I-I want to give it to you.”
With a sudden rush of boldness, I tugged on his hair to separate the two of us enough to see the other’s eyes.
“The truth,” I said through swollen, well-kissed lips, “I want the truth.”
He looked terrified and confused, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to swallow the doubts no doubt crawling through him.
“About what?” he asked quietly.
“Do you…” I paused, noticing the way his body froze in place, his hand shrinking back slightly to rest against my ribs. “D-Do you want me?”
With blown pupils and empty lungs, Spencer’s mouth open and closed a few times as he tried to get his voice to make a sound.
I never got my answer.
Before he could say a single word, I heard the unfortunately familiar, unmistakable sound of a door crashing open. I closed my eyes, bringing my hands over my ears and shrinking into myself as the chaos rung through the room.
Spencer’s body left mine so quickly that I almost accepted that as my answer. When I opened my eyes, I saw him standing with his hands in the air; the same hands that had been holding me seconds earlier.
I didn’t move until JJ had come to my side, helping me off the bed and asking me a bunch of questions that felt so far away. Spencer frantically looked at the panic on my face, then down at his hands before bolting out of the room.
He didn’t come back.
——————————————————
Every time I asked the team to see Spencer during the interviews, I would get an awkward non-answer telling me that it was probably best he was left alone for now. While I understood, it didn’t make it hurt any less.
My calls to him also went unanswered. Not that I needed to hear it from him — I could hear the same lines about professional boundaries and transference running on repeat in my head. I accepted that it was probably the only answer I’d ever get to the question that had sent him literally running away from me.
Even if he did want me somehow, it wouldn’t ever happen. Especially not now. And as heartbreaking as that was, it didn’t make me want to see him less.
I missed him. Not just his body that I momentarily got to hold, but his company. Since I met him, we’d become close friends. Dare I say he was my best friend. To lose him to a serial killer’s perverse fantasy seemed… wrong.
I knew I had to give it one more try. I had to attempt to convince him one more time that things could be normal. At least, I hoped that things could be normal again.
Despite the sun quickly setting, I knew Spencer wouldn’t be anywhere near sleep if he was in town. The poor thing never slept. In fact, it was probably time for his evening cup of coffee he had every day like clockwork. I wanted him to share it with me, just like we used to.
So, after making myself presentable— no sense in going overboard when he probably wouldn’t even answer my phone call— I gathered my things to head to the cafe.
Quickly enough so that I couldn’t second guess myself, I dialed his number.
My phone was wedged between my shoulder and ear, balancing precariously as I struggled to hold my keys and purse. I paused for a moment and found myself suddenly remembering the night I had opened my door to find someone else there.
And just like that, the door seemed so heavy; so impossibly difficult to maneuver. I stared at it vacantly and hoped that the feeling would disappear.
It did, but for a strange reason — music.
It was the soft humming of Spencer’s ringtone on the other side of my door. It was so quiet and muffled that I almost didn’t believe it was real. But it was, and it was his. I would recognize it anywhere (God knows he gets too many calls from work).
Then, it was quieter; receding from my door as the man with it was about to run off again. Terrified that he would leave before I could talk to him, or just see him and know that he was okay, I flung the door open without caring about what monsters might be on the other side.
Thankfully, there were no monsters. Just Spencer.
“… Hey.”
That was all the insight the genius had to explain why he was standing outside my door at 8pm for no apparent reason.
But that was fine, because all I could offer in response was a shaky breath and another soft, “Hey.”
“Sorry to show up like this I just… I hoped we could… talk.”
The nervous wobble of his voice did more to calm me down than I’d like to admit. In a way, it also made me guilty. I felt bad how relieved I was that he was also an anxious mess.
“Yeah,” I dumbly responded, not giving him any indication of what we should do next.
His eyes kept glancing away from me, unable to maintain eye contact and looking at something over my shoulder.
“C-can we?” he finally asked, “…Talk?”
“I’d like that very much,” I said, but then didn’t move. We just stood there for another couple of seconds until he was gracious enough to point out the flaw with my current plan of saying as few words as possible.
“Do you want to go to the cafe or do you want me to…”
“Come in?” I finished for him, before realizing that I was essentially blocking his way into my apartment.
“Oh. Yes! Please! Come in. You’re already here so, you should just come in,” I nervously rambled, trying to make sense of the fact that Spencer Reid was going to be inside my apartment… alone. “I-I’ll make a pot of coffee.”
Shuffling awkwardly inside, he stood just inside the door instead of outside of it. He was waiting to see where I would sit, but I hadn’t exactly decided yet, either.
“You know me well. I can’t ever say no to coffee.”
“Don’t think that one is exactly a well-kept secret, Spencer,” I responded with a light laugh, the butterflies returning to their soft flutter in my gut. It was weird how quickly we fell back into our rhythm.
He just nodded, accepting the slight dig at his caffeine habit. His eyes followed me across the room, his feet staying firmly rooted a few feet away from me even as I sat down on the couch.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” I asked once he finally sat down. My hands were smushed between my thighs as I tried not to give away just how nervous I actually was.
“The obvious thing, I think?”
He clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it, either, which was reassuring in its own way.
“The serial killer kidnapping us thing?” I responded with a smile to hopefully lighten the incredibly tense environment.
“Yeah, that’s the one…” he laughed, running a hesitant hand through his hair. His tongue swept over his lips, and I tried not to stare at it. It was still so hard to believe that only a couple weeks ago that tongue had been on my lips and kissing my neck.
“I just…”
His voice broke me out of my reverie, and I shook my head gently like it would physically knock the thoughts away.
“I wanted to apologize. For everything. It was my fault you got wrapped up in it and… the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was, a little bit.”
He turned his legs towards me, but his upper body shifted further away. I wasn’t a profiler, but it really felt like mixed signals.
“It was just… Morgan kept asking me questions and I let my guard down with suspects around and that was just so stupid. I never thought it could actually affect you. If I’d known you were a—“
Honestly, the fact he couldn’t even say the word virgin made me even more uncomfortable. I hadn’t even decided whether I would ever tell him if I got a chance. But now it didn’t matter. He knew, and it clearly bothered him.
“I shouldn’t have mentioned you at all,” he amended his thoughts, “I’m sorry.”
But truthfully, there was something else weighing on my mind.
“What were you saying about me?”
“What?” His mouth puckered before he sucked his lips in, worrying the skin. I watched his hands begin to fumble with each other. But any distractions weren’t going to work right now.
I had waited long enough; I wanted answers.
“He… he thought you were in love with me after what you said. So… what did you say?”
He grimaced, then took a sharp inhale before blowing out an equally uneasy breath.
“Would you believe me if I said I don’t remember?”
… said the man with the eidetic memory.
“Spencer!” I screeched with laughter before punching him on the arm, “What kind of lame ass excuse is that?”
“So, no?” he asked, obviously hoping that I wouldn’t push it. My glare told him that he had no such luck.
“I don’t know…” he started, looking down at his hands instead of me, “I was whining about not being able to see you because of the case and Morgan asked me if I’d ever considered being…”
There was that hesitance again, his teeth closing over his tongue to try and prevent the words from escaping. The words looked painful, which hurt me in turn.
“More than friends,” he managed.
“And… what did you say?”
The lack of pause between his confession and my response only unnerved him more. He sighed, picking at his nails like those hands that had touched me so gently could work their way out of this.
“You know,” he muttered with a shrug, “Transference… professional boundaries…”
He still wouldn’t look at me.
“I see… Are those the only reasons?”
That caused him to look up, his eyes squinted with genuine confusion. But he had to know what I was asking, right? He heard himself when he spoke?
“I mean, are there other reasons? Like, do you not want to be with me? Do you not like me?”
“What?” he spoke far too loudly, and far too quickly, “I didn’t say that—!”
“Did you enjoy kissing me?” I cut him off, changing the route of the conversation to hopefully land us in waters that were more transparent, even if one of us would drown there all the same.
“That’s not a fair question,” he replied with a trembling voice, “It wasn’t exactly an easy time to distinguish feelings.”
“Then kiss me again.”
I heard the way the breath caught in his throat, his eyes widen and jaw slackened as his brain processed the request. He had heard me correctly, but for some reason his mind was rejecting it.
“What?”
“Kiss me, Spencer. Right now.”
Sitting up straighter, I turned my body to him and moved closer. When our legs bumped together, I stole the warmth he so effortlessly gave. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and his eyes flickered back and forth across my face.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” I urged him, placing my hand more confidently on his leg, “I want you to.”
He wanted to do it. I had to tell myself that, because otherwise I was ruining everything we had built. I’d been paralyzed with the fear of losing him for so long, but now I was just stuck with the desire and longing he’d left on my skin.
He had to feel it. I could see it in his eyes.
“Please. Kiss me.”
Then, before I could blink, his arm was around me. Tugging me closer to him, his lips crashed onto mine clumsily, but with purpose. My hands flew around his shoulders, holding onto him and the moment as tightly as I could.
Apparently, he didn’t need that much convincing. Because now that we were here, his tongue was more insistent than that night in the motel. His hands roamed my body, and I could feel the desperate gasps for air between each movement.
For a moment, I almost tried to end the kiss, but he held my face to stop me from leaving too soon. When we did finally part, his teeth held onto my bottom lip as it slipped away.
The second he opened his eyes, they were burning into me. I let my lips tingle, catching my breath before I decided to ask the question I was still waiting for an answer to.
“So… What do you think?”
His answer took a form I wasn’t expecting. Before we could even fill our lungs, his mouth captured mine again. Although not the words I thought I would hear, I accepted the way he kissed me as confirmation that he felt the same stifling longing that had plagued me for so long.
When he pressed his whole body against me, I found myself leaning back and pulling him with me. Because this time, there was no one watching. It was just the two of us, allowed to surrender to the desire we’d danced around for so long.
“Spencer…”
His name felt welcome on my tongue. His nails dragged across my back over the thin layer of my top and goosebumps ripples over my skin.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” he mumbled into my ear. His hands seemed so reserved, staying far away from the areas I wanted him to touch the most.
“Please, Spencer,” I whimpered, “touch me.”
His hands hesitated, hovering over my chest before falling back to my hip.
“I can’t.”
The two words hurt, and the insecurities buried deeply in my mind were blossoming anew.
He saw it, and immediately explained, “I can barely hold myself back when I kiss you, (y/n). If I touch you again, I…”
“I don’t want you to hold back.”
There was a long silence, his eyes displaying his thoughts so vividly in front of me. He was trying to determine whether I was lying. His logical brain told him what I was requesting was irrational, but it wasn’t.
“But you’re—you’re a…”
Again, he had paused. He couldn’t say the word. I hoped that soon, he would never have to again — at least, not about me.
“I’m asking you to change that.”
His eyebrows jumped up, his body moving away from me as he held a hand to his chest, obviously shocked by the idea. But was it really that surprising? I thought I had made my interest obvious over the past few months but apparently, I hadn’t.
“Me?” His voice had nearly jumped an octave, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the sound.
“Yes, Spencer. You.”
Still, he looked bewildered, like I was preparing for some massive practical joke. But I wasn’t. So slowly, I grabbed his hand, leading it to the bottom of my shirt and slowly pushing the fabric up.
The tips of his fingers were much too soft for someone who so often wielded a gun. I wasn’t going to complain; not while they ghosted around the edges of my bra.
“Show me what that genius brain is good for, Dr. Reid.”
I wasn’t sure what about that sentence it was— whether it was the honorific, the humor, or the flattery— but he sprung into action at a dizzying pace. Within seconds he’d pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it to the side before picking me up with ease.
I squeaked when I felt my body leave the couch. He hugged me close in the bridal position, not even bothering to look down at me as he made his way to my bedroom like he’d been there a million times before. Wondering for a moment if he could actually see the stars in my eyes, I allowed myself to feel the burning anticipation and anxiety of what I hoped would follow.
Spencer looked nervous, too, but in an entirely different way.
“Tell me if you need me to stop.”
He spoke so quietly, I wasn’t sure how I even heard him. It didn’t matter, though, because once his hands were on me any worries I had on that front disappeared as I whined, “Please, don’t stop.”
If he had been cautious in touching me before, he wasn’t any longer. Those large, warm palms slipped behind my back and unclasped my bra with only a little difficulty, which was impressive enough, considering I was lying down.
He waited for me to remove the bra, granting me the power to decide whether or not I wanted him to see me yet. While at first, I almost gave into the nervous voice in the back of my head telling me that I would never be good enough for him, I was persuaded not to listen by the calm and steady adoration in his eyes.
And those eyes roamed over my figure as soon as the garment was gone. Then his hand followed, hovering softly over my ribs before letting his fingers drift over my breast.
“You’re so beautiful.”
The romantic words only barely matched the dark, predatory tone that bled through each syllable. When he went to kiss me again, he let those feelings come through loud and clear, his tongue claiming as much as it could reach.
I openly moaned into the kiss, my hand running down his side. Each muscle I touched would tense under my touch, and soon enough I rested my hand against his hip.
He ended the kiss, moving that skillful mouth down my jaw to my neck. I tried to sustain my thoughts long enough to voice them, eventually managing to speak.
“Can I touch you?”
“Yes. God, yes,” he enthusiastically replied as he pulled back just long enough to remove his shirt before his mouth continued its assault over my collarbones.
The spark that he lit inside of me was now raging through my entire body and I was becoming overwhelmed with how badly I needed things to escalate quickly. With an uncharacteristic bravery, I slipped my hand down between us so I could cup him through his pants.
His mouth that had been kissing me gently changed, his teeth digging into the sensitive skin as he stifled a moan against me. I let my fingers experiment, providing varying pressures as my hand slid along the smooth fabric of his slacks.
Spencer surprised me by beginning to rock into my touch, his hands gripping me tightly as he sought for things to escalate the same way I had. Which is probably why his hand also found the waistband of my pants.
“Can I take these off?”
His voice was strained, trying to maintain the gentleness while his body undoubtedly told him to tear the fabric away without another thought. But he wanted me to want it; he wanted me to agree.
“Yes.”
With that, he didn’t waste time in removing them, his vision clinging to each inch of skin as it was exposed to him. Once they were out of the way, his hands held my legs during his ascent, his lips peppering soft kisses along the way.
I closed my eyes, trying to memorize the way it felt to be showered with his affections. My breathing was unsteady and loud as he pressed a long kiss against my inner thigh before withdrawing completely.
Huffing in minor annoyance, I opened my eyes to see him smile at the same time his hand cupped my sex over my underwear. I jumped with a gasp, but his hand remained still for a second as he read my reaction, trying to gauge my comfort level.
Once he was satisfied that I wasn’t begging him to stop, he began to move, rubbing soft strokes along the fabric.
“Is this okay?”
“I want more.”
“Patience,” he chuckled, giving more pressure as he continued and noticing the dampness soaking through the fabric. He bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes closing as that obvious restraint returned.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.”
“I told you,” I gasped between breaths, “I want more. I’m ready.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Without any other warning, one slender finger breached my entrance, and I nearly screamed from the sensation.
“Spencer!” I shouted, feeling my muscles clench around him as my body begged him for more.
For the first time in awhile, he wasn’t kissing me. He was just watching me, noting the way my body squirmed around his touch.
“Is this the first time a man’s touched you here?”
I wasn’t actually expecting the question for some reason, which was silly, considering the nature of his job. However, he hadn’t figured out that I was a virgin, so how would he have noticed that I’d never gotten past second base?
That elusive darkness appeared in his eyes once again as I slowly moved to nod between the lewd noises.
“Y-Yes.”
Spencer’s pupils dilated at the sound of my voice, and he casually brought another finger into me as he spoke, “I had no idea you were so fucking innocent.”
No matter how difficult it was to speak, I tried to continue. I was worried that if I stopped, he might doubt my ability to continue. Truthfully, I hadn’t told him because I knew that so many men were terrified by the prospect of an emotional attachment from a hook up. But something told me that wasn’t an issue here, so I admitted it freely now.
“I didn’t want you to be scared.”
“I’m definitely not scared.”
He took my hand that had fallen away from his pants and brought it back to its prior resting place, rubbing it harshly against the fabric over his erection to remind me of his desire.
There was something about the way he was so comfortable commanding my movements, telling me where he wanted me and what to do that made this experience so much easier. But at the same time, I didn’t want him to feel like each step forward was only made by him.
“Take off your pants.”
I made my instruction very clear, yet still whimpered when he removed his fingers. I watched the way they moved carefully, already missing their touch. But that was okay, because he was now using them to reveal something much better.
Although thrilling, the size of his length was simultaneously terrifying. I’d rarely used anything in those late night trysts with myself, and some illogical part of me was worried he wouldn’t be able to fit. But that was nonsense — we’re built for this, right?
Judging by the way he was beaming with pride, I’m guessing he had noticed my enthusiastic shock. I wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face and replace it with something equally wanton, so I reached out and gripped his erection with no hesitation, beginning soft strokes along the length of him.
“I want to fuck the shit out of you.”
The way he said it was not through clenched teeth or anger, but with a desperate desire. It made my body ache, wishing more than anything that I could give him that release.
“Then do it.”
“Not this time. I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.”
This time?
Like he heard my thoughts, he repeated with a hint of a smile, “This time, I’ll be gentle.”
My eyes lit up with hope as he straddled my legs, one hand holding him up while he leaned forward to kiss me with as much longing as he had before. This time, however, the energy had shifted. The languid, sloppy kisses showed me that imprecision was okay, that imperfections were just as enjoyable.
Between us, I could feel the way he lined himself up against me, the tip of his sex pressed against my heat.
Resting his forehead against mine, he spoke the words quietly and close, “Are you ready?”
Cautiously, I nodded, scared that my voice might break the moment. But Spencer didn’t appreciate my silence, and brought his hand up to caress my face.
“Say it. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you, Spencer.”
Unhurried, he sunk into me inch by inch, his eyes inspecting the way my face contorted with pleasure and a slight pain at the intrusion. His thumb rubbed gentle circles on my cheek as he continued for an impossibly long time.
“Fuck, (y/n),” he moaned, his eyes finally fluttering shut as he bottomed out inside of me, “You’re so tight.”
He was practically kissing me as he spoke, so I, too, mumbled the words into his mouth as he began to move, drawing out of me at a torturous pace.
“I was waiting for you.”
My words did more to him than I thought they would, and his hips snapped forward into me with one fluid motion.
“Shit,” he cursed, “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Although slow, his thrusts were strong, and each time he stretched me open my lower body would tremble, my fingernails digging into his arms or back — whatever I could reach.
Soon after, his movements became faster, with the sound of his low moans in my ear driving my pleasure to new heights. Something about the way our bodies started to meld together, with my mind unable to keep up with where I ended and he began, made another strange and familiar feeling bloom in my chest.
With both hands, I pulled his face back so I could look into his eyes, biting my tongue whenever my mouth wasn’t falling open with lustful sound.
“Spencer—I…”
I what? I knew what. Almost every fiber of my being begged me to just say it, let it be known so that we could move past it. But there was still that one piece of me that told me not to, that the words said in this circumstance would be tainted with distrust.
“Say it.”
His answer caught me off guard, and my eyes met his to find not a single ounce of worry. Instead he stared at me, his gaze displaying the same words that hadn’t yet reached my throat. The rhythm of his movements faltered for just a second as he slowed his pace once more.
“Say it,” he repeated softer now.
“I love you.”
He smiled at the words, relief washing over his features as he waited another moment before he kissed me. In that time where the only sounds we could hear were our heavy breaths, hearts pounding, and our bodies joining, I could feel myself falling even more in love with him.
“I love you, too.”
His answer pierced all the other sounds, and my back arched as all the feelings became too overwhelming.
“God, I love you.”
The next kiss we shared was just as sloppy, but now it was only because our hearts were so full that they overflowed. I was drowning in the sensation of him surrounding every part of me, and I knew that he was the paradoxical cure — The only way I could get relief was to throw myself headlong into his love.
And so, that’s what I did; I rushed into the pleasurable abyss without looking back. All the muscles in my body began to tense, and it only took one more rough thrust for me to come undone. I threw my head back against the pillows, shouting out what was supposed to be his name as my heat pulsed around him.
He groaned in pleasure, his hips hitting me harder now as he struggled to remain composed through the duration of my orgasm. I knew that’s what he was doing because seconds after it was over, he spoke.
“I don’t know how much longer I can last like this.”
Still out of breath, I panted while I responded, “Don’t hold back, Spencer.”
The words were vague, but I could tell by the way the sweat dripped from his brow that he knew what I wanted. Swiping his tongue over his lips, he barely managed to get the words out to ask my permission one final time.
“Are you sure?”
Taking his face into my hands again, I forced him to look directly in my eyes that were clouded with lust and euphoria.
“Show me how I make you feel.”
Suddenly, I saw something flicker in those golden irises that gave me a deeper understanding of just how precious this man was to me, and I to him. He buried his face into the crook of my neck, and I laced my fingers through his hair to hold me closer to me.
And then with one final thrust, I felt his muscles tense and tremble under my legs that were wrapped around his waist. An unfamiliar warmth spread through me, bringing with it a lightness in my limbs.
“(Y/n)…” he mumbled as his hips jerked a few more times, ensuring that my body accepted all that he had to offer me.
“Spencer,” I returned, giving one final moan before his weight fell onto me, his arms unable to hold himself up any longer.
We laid there like that for awhile, with him resting against my neck and feeling the way my pulse beat gently against his face. Meanwhile my hands drew barely-there patterns along his back and shoulders, trying to soothe the tired muscles.
Once he did move, he pulled out with a small hiss from the unwelcome friction. I couldn’t help but smile at just how tousled his hair had become during the frenzy. He didn’t notice, though, still too drunk on what had just happened.
He plopped down next to me on the bed, turning his head to look over my naked figure. When his eyes came back to my face, he must have noticed the emotions lurking behind the way I was staring at him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his hand coming up to stroke my cheek, “Did I hurt you?”
I turned my body towards him, but maintained the distance between us when I replied, “No, you didn’t.”
“Come here.”
We both smiled as he gave his chest a few small pats to show me exactly where he wanted me. Scooting over to him, I felt my cheeks start to burn with embarrassment and unbridled joy.
I could hardly believe that I had just lost my virginity, and to Spencer nonetheless. And now he was practically pulling me onto him because he couldn’t stand how slowly I was coming back to him.
After I was settled, he let out a sigh of relief, his hand stroking the top of my head and playing with my hair.
“Thank you. For letting me share this experience with you,” he explained quietly, careful not to move too quickly or speak too much.
My palm rested over his heart, still just trying to accept that this wasn’t some crazy, wonderful dream.
“No, thank you, Spencer,” I said with a smile, “I put it off for so long because I was scared. I always heard horror stories about how it hurt and was so awkward and uncomfortable and…”
I tilted my head to look up at his face, finding him looking at me with a slight concern and an even larger curiosity. He was hoping I might ease that pained part of him that was still convinced he might have made a mistake.
“It didn’t hurt. It was wonderful.”
And then he smiled, his cheeks dimpling as it slowly took over his entire face the longer we stayed happily curled against the other. But soon he realized what the situation normally called for, and spoke the words I didn’t want to hear.
“Do you want me to stay?”
My mouth twisted into an awkward half-frown as I tried not to look bothered by the question.
“Do you want to leave?” I returned, finding it to be the only safe way to respond.
“No,” the word was said with a nervous chuckle.
“Then don’t leave.”
It seemed to be so simple; and it turned out, it really was. Spencer wanted to be with me, and I wanted to be with him. Not once during this experience had I been worried about transference, and breaching professional boundaries had been the furthest thing from my mind.
All I could think about when I lay with him was the way my heart felt like it was finally complete after years of searching for someone suitable to hold it. Resting my eyes for a few seconds before I would have to get up and ruin the moment to clean myself up before bed, I chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking…” I started, causing more bubbly laughter to spill out of my lips between the words, “At least we don’t have to worry about me being a part of any more virgin sacrifices.”
He snorted back, shaking his head and bringing both arms around me and pulling me tighter.
“No, we do not. But… I’m looking forward to showing you a few more new experiences.”
“I can’t wait,” I replied with a toothy grin, crawling further up to press a hard, passionate kiss against his lips. His fingers brushed over my hair, smiling into the kiss until we couldn’t hold it any longer.
“Good,” he said playfully, “Because we don’t have to wait.”
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