Quick kisses with Spencer Reid
◇When, one day, he asks you to pick out his tie, you tie it for him. You tug on it, pulling him into a quick kiss before smoothing over his shirt.
◇When he has to leave for work, you fix his collar for him, pulling him into one last quick kiss before he walks out the door.
◇When he comes home, the first thing you do before letting him take his shoes and jacket off is press a peck to his lips as a sweet "welcome back".
◇When you go to sleep, the last thing you two share is a soft kiss and a whispered "I love you" before falling into unconsciousness.
◇When he hugs you from behind and you turn your head, he takes the opportunity to press a kiss to your lips.
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Tender.
(Simon Riley × Reader)
He closes the door behind, as a pair of hands reach out to touch his shoulders, before they softly tug on the top of his attire. A sigh leaves his lips when you peel the heavy layer off him, freeing him from the stuffy suit.
You smile at him as he loosens his tie, and you hold out your hand to take it.
He watches you as you fold his suit, and set it down on the stool. Leaving it there to be laundered in the morning.
It's a sight he never thought he'd see, and the one he never got used to.
He wonders if Price ever thought the same.
"Never thought you'd settle down, Captain."
He saw his friend grinned, and his eyes crinkled with amusement.
"Never thought you'd bring someone either, Simon." He chuckled before he patted his back, "A beautiful one, too."
He quietly smiled, while his eyes searched for his lover unconsciously.
Lover.
What an easy word to say, for a tangled mess it left behind.
"Oh…" He heard his friend sighed, as he saw the bride bow down to let a tiny, curious hand touch the mantilla. "Look at her. What I won't do to see her smile."
He let out a snort when he saw his friend softened at the sight of her. Captivated. And tender-struck.
He'd call him mad, if he wasn't affected by it.
Just a little shift of his gaze, he found himself staring at a serene face—that is yours. His heart thrummed when you smiled at the little boy, who shyly hid from the bride behind you and his mother.
A sight that'd plague him for a lifetime.
He blinked, as her voice called him to the present.
"You've been quiet for a while now." She mused, "What's on your mind?"
He looks at her, and notes the way you press your lips together, waiting. "Nothing." Is all he said.
You didn't press it further, and he didn't know if it's alright to keep it that way. You knew that it was a lie, you both knew that, but you didn't show it. You understood him, and he yet again took advantage of it.
You give him a small smile, before you turn to the mirror.
That's when his silence falters.
He knew you didn't turn your back on him, and that you only looked away to unclasp your necklace. But his body tenses up, and compels itself to move towards her.
You're at a halt when his hands pull you into him all of the sudden, while his face is buried in the curve of your nape. "I love you." You heard him whisper, and for a moment, you almost thought he bit his tongue from stating further.
"I know." You murmured against his hair, as you stroked his cheek tenderly.
"I didn't deserve it." He spoke in a low tone—a tone that's reserved for confession.
"It's not your place to judge." You replied to him.
"I didn't love you the way you needed."
"You did. A million times in fact."
"I took your love for granted." His voice trembled when he spoke, "I took advantage of your kindness, and I made you think that you love me, even when—"
"Simon."
He didn't resist it when you took his hands into yours, as you stared into his eyes.
"I didn't love you against my will, I chose this myself." You told him, "You never forced me into this. If anything, I should be blamed for it, because I want you."
You give his hand a squeeze as an assurance.
"You're enough for me, Simon."
His eyes widen, before they soften up by your touch. He reaches up to hold your hand, and presses them against his face.
"You're too good for me." He said as he kissed you palm.
"Learn to live with it." You chuckled, "Because I'm not going anywhere."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
He recites the same promise, as he presses his lips against your finger. A kiss, that'll someday be replaced when he's on his knee.
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I have an insane amount of feelings about Mulder breaking down by Scully's bedside in Redux II. No, not breaking down. He doesn't break down. He breaks. For a moment, all his walls crumble and we get to see everything he's holding inside, to a point where it seems almost voyeuristic to be watching. Sure, it's shippy af -- he so obviously loves her and carries all this fear and despair that wants out. But it's so much more too.
He doesn't wake her. He needs this moment for himself. It's too private for even her to see. As so many things in his life, this is a burden he thinks he's supposed to carry on his own. He doesn't want her to worry about whether or not he's going to be okay without her. Because we get to see here, more clearly than ever before, that he doesn't think he would be. This is him being completely and utterly broken by the fear of losing her.
And it doesn't look like a moment he let's himself have because he needs to; it looks like a moment that just happens to him because his world is shattering into pieces and the shards are cutting into his soul until he can't ignore the bleeding any longer. His body can't keep going. And then he glues the pieces back together as much as he can and keeps going anyway.
But that moment is so far beyond seeing him vulnerable. He's in so much pain. And he's all alone in it. Because the one person who would be able to understand and to hold him together is the one person he can't share this with.
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