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rebeccccccaaa · 10 days

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Poker Face!

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Spencer Reid x Reader

:: It’s game night at Rossi’s, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emily’s place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::

:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda you’re playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...

:: authors’ notes :: i didn’t realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, he’s literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3

WC~ 3.1 k

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“Ok, ok! That’s enough!” Emily shouted, swinging her glass around.

“Careful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,” Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him.

“You guys are relentless,” she continued.

“I can beat him, I know it!” you shouted, your eyes comically wide.

“No shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?” Derek commented.

“I may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,” you argued.

“Honey, you’ve lost eight games in a row!” JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach.

“Nevermind that! I’m gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but I’m kicking you out. It's late and an old man’s got to get some rest,” Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of ‘Boo’s’ and groans.

“Come on, come on. Call your DD’s, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,” he bargained.

Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles.

“I assume you’re gonna take a cab?” he asked you.

“That’s the plan.”

“So we can share since I don’t live far from you. I’ll walk from your place,” he suggested.

“Oh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,” you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, “We’re going to your place and finishing what we started.”

“Oh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. We’re gonna be up all night!” Spencer laughed, and you gasped.

“You’re an asshole,” you shoved him, before calling a taxi.

You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, you’ve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldn’t? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice.

You walked into Spencer’s apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasn’t going to cheat. You knew he wasn’t, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked from the kitchen.

“Whatcha you got?” you asked.

“I’ve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,” he told you.

“Oh! Bring the wine! We’ll drink the beers later,” you winked at him, “Let’s get the fucking party started.”

It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times you’d lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldn’t stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope.

“Ooh,” you cooed, mischievously.

“What?” Spencer questioned.

“Oh, nothing, just had an idea,” you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter.

“This can’t be good,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“Why don’t we spice things up, shall we?”

“No, no way,” Spencer already knew what you were going to say.

“Strip Poker!”

“No!” he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.

“What, you scared? Scared that suddenly I’m starting to beat you and you’re gonna have to take all your clothes off?” you teased.

“No, I am a gentleman and I’m not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,” he argued sassily.

“You are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re just chicken.”

“Ok, fine then. You dealer, or am I?” he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup.

“Why don’t you hit me this time,” you said.

“You got it,” he responded, “Care to shuffle while I grab the beers?”

“Of course. About time we crack those open,” you smiled widely.

Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldn’t help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesn’t know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe he’s always felt this way about you.

Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent.

Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.

But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didn’t know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Spencer’s breath hitched.

You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow.

“What? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?”

“No,” he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again.

“I swear to-” you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.

Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didn’t, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat.

Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly.

“We don’t have to keep going,” Spencer cleared his throat.

“And why would I do that?” Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can.

“Ok, then,” he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.

Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and you’d hit blackjack, or you could build up; but that’s risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasn’t your fault he was distracted.

“Hit me,” you egged.

“You got it,” he responded.

A five. Fuck.

Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him.

“One more time, boy wonder,” you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts.

“I stand,” he mutters, probably knowing he lost.

“Let’s see those cards, baby,” you teased.

“You first,” he told you, and placed your cards.

“Blackjack, baby!”

Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering.

“I did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!” you shouted taunting him and he couldn’t help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment.

“I- I was distracted,” he shuttered.

“Damn right you were,” you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face.

“It wasn’t fair game,” he bantered.

“It wasn’t fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and you’re being a sore loser,” you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue.

Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath.

“I told you, I was distracted,” he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear.

“Blah, blah,” you whispered.

“Don’t give me that.”

“Now, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?” you whispered.

“What’s that?” he bantered.

“You lost.”

“Right, unfairly I might add,” he joked.

“If all you’re gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,” you told him.

“Be my guest.”

Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.

“I thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,” he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.

“Like that’s gonna happen,” you rolled your eyes playfully.

Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek.

He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him.

You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort.

“Fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he told you.

“Let me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?” you taunted him.

“God, no. I couldn’t wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,” he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you.

You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldn’t help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully.

You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.

“Oh jeez, I feel like I could come already,” you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencer’s cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t realize you craved so much until this very moment.

“I’m a bit embarrassed to admit the same,” he chuckled breathlessly, “If you don’t start moving, I’m not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencer’s hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and that’s when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencer’s small apartment.

“Shit. You feel so good,” he breathed out, “I thought I’d last longer.”

“Please, please don’t come yet,” you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencer’s name dripped from your lips like honey.

“Oh, that’s it,” Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that your’s wasn’t also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers.

“I’m close, fuck I’m so close, Spence,” you whined.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

“Ngh!” you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the other’s breath and slowly you began to match each other’s erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencer’s one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you.

When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you.

“That was really good,” you giggled.

“It really was,” he agreed.

“I’m gonna tell everyone about this,” you whispered wickedly.

“What?” Spencer questioned fearfully.

“I beat you in Blackjack,” you reminded him, making him laugh loudly.

“Give it a rest you would?” he sighed.

“No way. I’m gonna tell everyone. And everyone’s gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,” you teased.

“Alright, you won fair and square,” he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.

You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencer’s bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever.

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avis-writeshq · 7 months

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01 — better than revenge

summary: “she’s not a saint, no, she’s not what you think. she’s an actress.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn warnings: fluff, angst with a happy ending, Lila is a real piece of work here, VERY CANON COMPLIANT, Spencer’s a bit of an ass :( wc: 10.4k a/n: special mention to @astrophileous for beta reading MWAH SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

“Hey kid, wheels up in thirty.” Derek nods towards you, dropping a case file on your desk.

You raise an eyebrow, flicking open the case file to the first page. A small laugh of disbelief leaves your lips. “Ooh, Los Angeles, media capital of the world. What’s the occasion?”

“Three murders, all shot in the head executional style.”

Your face falls into a grimace as you grab your go-bag and tuck the file under your arm, following the rest of the team to the jet. “Spence and Gideon are there already, right? Talk about timing.”

Elle can’t help but grin at your words, slinking an arm over your shoulder. “Looks like you’ll see loverboy a lot sooner than you think.”

A shriek of betrayal leaves your lips as you throw her arm off of you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Sure you don’t,” JJ all but cackles as she boards the plane, grinning the entire way.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you grumble, dropping your things on one of the seats in the jet. “Seriously, I mean it. I know how to get away with murder.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow at you, his gaze that of a disappointed yet amused father. “Not the brightest thing to say while you’re in a room full of FBI agents.”

Elle lets out a ‘hah!’ as she sits across from you, crossing one leg over the other as she grins. “Get comfortable, buttercup, six hour flight and you’re not going anywhere.”

“Assholes.” You roll your eyes teasingly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you turn to your case files. “And it’s not like that.”

“Oh, of course not,” Elle snickers, “you’re just friends.”

You throw a pen at her and it bounces off her leg harmlessly. “I can smell the sarcasm.”

“You’ll be smelling more of it,” Derek laughs, ruffling your hair. “Sit tight, kid, we’re in for a long flight.”

Once everyone was settled and the jet was high in the air, the team began to look through the files with Garcia on speaker as usual.

“First two victims, Wally Melman and Chloe Harris,” You recite dutifully, glancing over the grotesque crime scene images. “Seems like they were both killed in public places.”

“Chloe was killed while walking her dog on the beach in Santa Monica which she did every morning, and Wally was killed outside of a massage parlour,” JJ reiterates, sitting down with a cup of tea in her hand.

“In Culver City,” Derek adds.

“Which he went to every Tuesday,” Elle continues.

Derek looks to the rest of the team, a thoughtful look on his face. “Well, if he knows their schedules, maybe that means he follows his victims for a while.”

“And not a single witness. So we know this UnSub can blend in,” Hotch mutters. “Regardless of the location, he has the ability to hide in plain sight.”

“So, he’s meticulous.” Elle nods, her eyes drifting from Hotch to the case file.

“The media is calling Natalie Ryan’s murder the biggest celebrity homicide since Sharon Tate,” JJ adds, looking through the images of the newspaper clippings that were sent to her laptop.

“Great,” You muse, although frustration is clear in your voice. “What does that mean for us?”

Hotch lets out a sigh. “That everybody will be watching.”

***

“This guy is an assassin?” Detective Kim asks with disbelief as the rest of the team reiterates their thoughts once they were in the police department.

“When you look at the victimology, there’s no obvious links,” Morgan points out. “All the kills were clean except in the instance of the last victim, Jeremy Collins.”

You nod, tucking a strand of hair as you reference the case files. “There’s absolutely no evidence left at the crime scene. Labs have found zero DNA, no manifestation of psychosexual release, and from what we can tell there’s no detectable signature of any kind. These kills are straight forward, almost like he’s on a mission.”

“Remember, our profiles are formulated not just by what’s present at the scene but also what’s absent,” Gideon says to Detective Kim.

“From all the evidence that we’ve gathered, we believe you’re looking for a Type Four Assassin,” Elle explains.

“Type Four?”

Spencer immediately jumps in to explain, gesticulating throughout his explanation. “Type One’s are political assassins like John Wilkes Booth. Type Two’s are egocentrics looking for simple recognition.”

“Type Three’s are psychopaths,” Hotch continues, “cold-blooded killers who leave far messier scenes. Type Four, our UnSub, suffers from a major mental disorder and is frequently delusional.”

“The closer we come to figuring out that delusion, the closer we’ll get to finding the UnSub,” Reid points out.

Everyone is left to their own thoughts and you look over to Spencer, a soft grin on your face. “How was your father-son bonding time?”

Spencer gives you a pointed look, but a soft laugh leaves his lips. “It was… fine.”

“Fine? Out of everyone on the team, Gideon chose you to present a talk about behavioural analysis and profiling to the LAPD. You love conferences. C’mon, give me something!” You nudge his shoulder gently.

“We uh.. we went to an art gallery the other day. We met a movie star, so that was cool…” his cheeks are dusted with a soft pink as he talks and your curiosity only increases.

“A movie star, huh? Look at you, mingling with the high and mighty.” You poke his cheek with a laugh. “Tell me about them.”

He flushes at the contact, clearing his throat. “Um… her name is Lila Archer. Have you heard of her? She’s–”

“Reid, (L/N), we’re meeting with someone,” Derek cuts in, nodding towards the both of you.

You blink in confusion as you follow him to another room. “Suspect?”

“Someone received a note,” Derek says quickly, glancing over at the note in Elle’s hands. “On a newspaper clipping of the latest murder.”

“Lila?”

A blonde woman was sitting in the next room over, her legs crossed over as she waits. Her eyes light up in recognition and she stands up. You can’t help but be impressed as you give her a quick once over. She’s gorgeous, exactly what you expect from a famous movie star.

“I’m Agent (L/N),” You say gently, moving from your spot next to Spencer and holding your hand out. “This is Agent Morgan and I’m assuming you already know Doctor Reid. I understand that you received a note this morning?”

She wearily shakes your hand, her blue eyes flitting between you and Reid. “Yeah.”

“We just have a few questions to ask. We know that these things are sensitive, but we promise we’ll try to make the situation as easy as possible for you.” You shoot her a kind smile, excusing her weariness for fear or anxiety. “Is that alright?”

“Sure.” She respond curtly, shooting a smile towards Spencer before walking past you.

“Uh… okay?” You let out a little laugh in confusion and Derek raises an eyebrow at you.

“What was that about?” He asks, frowning.

You shrug your shoulders, watching as Spencer leads her to an empty desk. “Trust me, I have no idea. Maybe she’s just nervous and wants to talk to a familiar face.”

Derek hums in thought. “Maybe. But usually victims like this are more willing to speak to someone of the same gender. It’s strange that she was so direct to you.”

“She’s been through a traumatic experience. If I got a newspaper clipping with a message written in blood, I probably wouldn’t be too thrilled meeting new people either,” You defend, pursing your lips. “She’s probably just… scared, right?”

He doesn’t respond, moving to follow Spencer and Lila further into the police department. A few questions were asks about her relationship with the other victims, only to find that she was in fact the connection between the other victims. Wally Melman was a producer who Lila met with a few times to discuss a role, only for him to cast Natalie Ryan instead. Chloe Harris looked an awful lot like Lila, so it was likely that the UnSub got rid of her in order to ‘ice-out’ the competition.

“(L/N), may I talk to you for a moment?” Hotch asks quickly, waving you over.

You blink in confusion but nod, walking over to where he stands by the desk. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“I want you to try and get as much information from Lila as possible.” He gestures to where Lila sits in one of the victim waiting rooms. “This is your area of expertise. Try and find out if there’s any distinct information that she’s given to anyone so that we can track the UnSub.”

“Got it.” You offer a smile, fixing your shirt as you agree. “I’ll update you if I get any new information.”

You make your way over to where Lila was sitting, trying to look as friendly as possible. “Hey, Lila. Are you alright? Can I get you anything?”

She glances over you for a second, looking you up and down before shaking her head. “I’m fine. Where’s Spencer?”

Your brows furrow at his words. “Doctor Reid…? He’s currently going through the timeline of events with our colleagues. In the meantime, I was hoping to ask a few questions, maybe shed some light on the entire situation.”

She raises an eyebrow before nodding. “Okay.”

“Alright…” you clear your throat, taking a seat across from her. “You mentioned that you receive a bowl of red anemones on the seventh of every month. Do you mind… telling me why you like those flowers so much?”

She shrugs dismissively, running a hand through her blonde hair. “They’re pretty. I like the colour.”

You nod slowly, writing that down in your notes. “Well that’s understandable; they’re very beautiful flowers. But they’re a little uncommon as a favourite flower, don’t you think? If you like the colour, a more common favourite flower would be poppies or roses… are you sure there isn’t another reason? The meaning behind red anemones is forsaken love and death… does that intrigue you at all?”

She scoffs, “are you trying to accuse me of something?”

“Not at all,” you say quickly, “I apologise if it comes off that way. I’m just trying to find out as much as possible about the entire situation. For all we know, those flowers could have been sent by the UnSub.”

A short silence lulls in the room as well as an awkward tension. So, you try to take things from another angle.

“I love hydrangeas,” you say gently, a small smile on your lips. “I like the way they’re always bunched together and the colours are beautiful. Only a few people know that I like them though. My close friend and colleagues, my family… do you remember telling anyone about your favourite flower?”

She’s quiet for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know.”

Your face falls and you press a little more. “Are you sure you don’t remember? Maybe… maybe your manager, or a friend of yours?”

“I said ‘I don’t know’, okay?” She snaps, her hands balling into fists as she glares at you. “God, it’s not that hard to understand.”

You lean back in your chair, your gaze hardening. “I understand that this is difficult for you, but any information–”

“I don’t have any information!” Lila huffs, her hands placed in her lap. “Are you stupid or something?”

“The likelihood of these people being murdered because of you is incredibly high,” You say sharply, shutting your notebook. “If you’re withholding information from us it could prove detrimental to the investigation. I’m only trying to do my job. Asking you questions is part of my job.”

Her lips twitch at your words and she scowls. “I already told you I don’t remember.”

“Not remembering and not knowing are two different things, Ms Archer.” You place your card on the table. “If you remember anything, please give me a call.”

You get up from your seat, heading to the door, only to see that it was wide open with Derek and Spencer standing at the doorway. In seconds, Lila’s gaze softens and she runs out of the room, sniffling as she does. Your gaze follows her as she runs out of the police station, a look of disbelief on your features.

“What the…”

“Seriously (Y/N)?” Spencer demands, a frown on his face.

You gape at his words. “What are you–”

He cuts you off, running after Lila. Derek raises an eyebrow in their direction before turning to you.

“You okay, pretty girl?” Derek asks gently, patting your shoulder.

“Honestly? I have no idea,” You confess quietly, biting your lip. “I’ve never seen him get so…”

“Upset? Angry?” he finishes, a small laugh leaving his lips. “You and me both. Look, kid, it’s not your fault. She was clearly being dismissive of your questions and she needed a reality check.”

“It’s not like I’ve never spoken that way when interrogating someone before,” You point out, brows furrowed in frustration. “Even then, Spencer has never had an issue with it. I just– I don’t understand what’s got him so worked up.”

Derek can’t help but laugh. “You’re a profiler. Isn’t it obvious?”

You pause for a moment, thinking through their interaction. “He has a crush on her, doesn’t he? He likes her. Of course he does. Brilliant, now he’s involved.”

Derek pats you on the back sympathetically. “Come on, pretty girl. We’ve got a job to do.”

***

Despite your original hesitancy, Hotch asked you personally to go with the others, meaning that you had no right to refuse. Well, you could, but that would mean throwing Elle under the bus and she would be much more helpful at the precinct than on set. So, before you could fake being sick and bail the investigation, you, Derek, and Spencer went to check out the set of Lila’s movie, hoping to better observe her interactions with her costars and the staff.

The inside of Lila’s small trailer is hot. Incredibly hot but relatively empty. As you look around, you gather that she’s either a minimalist or just didn’t have to spend a lot time in the trailer at all. Lila sits in front of the little group, wearing a robe to cover her costume: a cyan sequinned bikini set that she looked absolutely criminal in. Her hair has been styled in a classic blowout and you wonder how much time it took to get it to look so effortless.

“I’m not stopping my life,” she says, her voice almost stern as she steps out of the trailer and back onto the set.

You purse your lips as you glance at the paper in the plastic pocket, now labelled as ‘evidence’. Apparently it was taped up to the door of her trailer. Your eyes shift to Spencer who’s gaze doesn’t leave the door that Lila just walked out of for much longer than necessary. Neither of you have spoken since yesterday’s incident.

You hum thoughtfully, as you pull out your notebook, glancing at the notes you’ve been making. “Well, I guess the only thing we can do is talk to the people on set. Maybe they saw something. I’ll see if I can find out who has access to Lila’s trailer.”

Spencer nods in your direction. “Yeah, that’s… that’s a good idea.”

One of your eyebrows quirk up. “Okay…? Why do you sound so surprised?”

He flushes under your scrutiny, clearing his throat as the three of you begin to walk out of the trailer and towards the set. “I’m not! I– I’m not surprised. You’re good at your job.”

“You didn’t seem to think that yesterday,” You respond lightly, your tone petty and passive aggressive, gaze flickering between the cameras and lights on set.

Derek coughs awkwardly before excusing himself and entering further into the set leaving you and Spencer alone outside by a vending machine. Spencer falters at your words and he runs a hand through his hair. The harsh Los Angeles sun beats down against your skin and you fiddle with the notebook in your hands. In turn, he fixes up his sleeves, rolling them up to his elbow, giving you a clear view of his forearms and large hands.

“I’m sorry,” He says softly, chewing on his bottom lip. “I didn’t– I was out of line.”

“You were,” You agree, your gaze shifting between the chilled bottled drinks in the vending machine and him. “Buy me a drink and we’ll call it even.”

A boyish grin grows on his face and he nods, pulling out his wallet. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, awesome. Iced coffee?”

“You know me so well,” you respond with an equally large smile, poking his cheek. “Thank you!”

He presses a few buttons, grabbing a Cola for himself. You can’t help but laugh, giving him a pointed look. He quickly moves to defend himself, “It’s a hot day, okay? An exception.”

“An exception,” You repeat, trying to hide your smile as you crack open the lid of your drink and take a sip. “What happened to ‘Cola has 50 grams of sugar in it. That’s the equivalent of eating two full bars of milk chocolate’?”

He pouts at your words, opening his drink and you watch as a few bubbles rise to the top of the bottle. He takes a swig of his drink, sighing in content. “Shut up.”

You laugh again once you officially enter the set, nudging Spencer with your arm teasingly. He nudges you back, rolling his eyes and poking your cheek. You retaliate by doing the same, swinging your drink as you walk.

Before you could do or say anything else, Derek taps your shoulder. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something.”

Spencer’s brows furrow. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to cross reference answers,” Derek dismisses.

“Let me pull up my list,” You respond helpfully, grabbing your notebook. “Hey, Spence, do you mind canvassing the rest of the crew? See if anyone pays any special attention on Lila?”

He nods at your words, moving towards Lila, sipping on his drink. In the meantime, you turn towards Derek, a curious look on your face.

“Little Miss Madonna has been glaring at you since the moment you entered the set,” Morgan says quietly, his gaze flitting to where Lila was making coffee.

You practically snap your neck as you look up in her direction, watching as she quickly fumbles to make herself a cup of something. You turn away and you could practically feel her gaze burning against your scalp. A frown makes its way onto your face and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. You glance over to where she and Spencer were talking, blanching when you watch as she takes a swig of his Cola.

“You don’t mind, do you?” You hear her ask as she drinks and Spencer hurriedly shakes his head.

A quiet scoff leaves your lips and Derek nudges you with a look that reads ‘behave.’ You lift your hands in surrender and follow him over to where Spencer now stands by himself, Lila gone to talk to some other staff member.

“An exception, huh?” You ask Spencer, referring to his aversion to germs and sharing food. Your tone is mostly teasing despite the underlying bitterness beneath it.

“Shut up.” He mutters quietly, cheeks hot from embarrassment of being caught.

Derek snorts, clapping his shoulder before moving on.

***

The next day, you were going over the evidence that was provided by the LAPD. Considering that it was a relatively young case, there weren’t copious amounts of evidence, meaning that there were still untied strings to go through. The entire situation proved more difficult than necessary; no one seemed to notice anything amiss when it came to Lila and her relationships, and considering that the actress wasn’t very forthcoming with the information she knew, you were hitting dead-end after dead-end.

Although geographical profiling was more of Spencer’s expertise than yours, you figured it wouldn’t do anyone harm by triangulating the previous three murders. He was standing beside you, his presence not unwelcome as he guides you step by step on how to plot an understandable and accurate profile. Hotch had asked him to coach you through the entire situation and explain his point of view, as well as his thought process when it came to geographical profiling. With a comfort zone now clearly expressed, you were discussing probable suspects on the phone with Garcia.

“Will Hunter… currently the town hermit, previous criminal record of armed battery and robbery,” Garcia recites, and you pull up his file.

“Mm… maybe? No, I don’t think so. His crimes don’t match the UnSub’s profile. He seems to be messier, uh, tending to use bats and knives than a clean shot to the head. And the profile suggests that the UnSub is able to blend in with the crowd.” You hum in thought, turning to Spencer.

“Hermits like Will Hunter wouldn’t be able to do that,” He explains to Garcia, putting his file into the ‘unlikely’ folder.

Garcia sighs in frustration and you can hear her furiously type away on her computer. “How about–”

“Hold that thought,” Elle says quickly, cutting Penelope off apologetically. “(Y/N), did you know Lila’s here?”

You blink in confusion, slowly shaking your head no. “She’s here? I didn’t get any calls from her.”

Elle shrugs at your words. “She looks like she’s going to burn a hole through your head.”

Your brows furrow and your gaze shifts to the blonde woman through the office window. She has her arms folded over her chest, a scowl on her face, before her cheeks burn in embarrassment of being caught. Spencer follows your gaze, his face lighting up at the sight of the actress. It’s almost as if he has selective hearing when it comes to his celebrity crush, clearly not hearing the part where Elle points out that Lila has been glaring at you the entire time.

“Can we talk outside?” You ask Elle quickly, getting up from your seat, not taking no for an answer.

Spencer opens his mouth to say something before he shuts it, watching as you drag your other co-worker out of the room. Your attention shifts between Lila and Elle, your brows furrowing.

“What is it?” You ask, your back turned towards the actress. “Why is she here?”

“She gave me a list of people who know what her favourite flower is,” Elle says quietly.

Your ears go red at her words, your eyes practically bulging out of your head. “Excuse me?”

“She called me yesterday,” she explains, handing you the list of people. “She said that she remembers who they were and came in today to give me a list of people.”

You scoff in disbelief, throwing your hands up in the air in frustration. “I gave her my card.”

“She called and asked for me.”

You scoff again, rolling your eyes. “Oh, so suddenly she can remember everything when she talks to you, but nothing when she talks to me? She’s not very slick.”

The door behind you opens, revealing Spencer who has been listening in the entire time. His jaw is clenched and a frown is etched upon his features as he looks at you accusingly.

“Maybe she just didn’t remember,” he points out harshly as you and Elle re-enter the room.

An incredulous look makes its way into your face. “Excuse me?”

“She didn’t remember, and now she does,” Spencer says, and from the corner of your eye you watch Elle slowly leave the room once more. The door closes with a soft click.

“That doesn’t change the fact that she went to Elle and not to me,” you respond, trying to keep your voice even and your words clear. You take a deep breath in an effort to calm yourself down.

Spencer scowls at you. “Maybe she has every right to go to Elle after you snapped at her the first time you tried to talk to her.”

“Are you– are you being serious right now?” A humourless laugh leaves your lips as you glare up at him. “Look, Reid, I’m sorry that I’m not her biggest fan and that I don’t kiss the ground she walks on, but I was doing my job. A job that I believe I am quite good at. It’s not like speaking harshly is unheard of when it comes to the retrieval of information.”

He flinches when you call him by his last name but he stands his ground. “If you were so good at your job, you wouldn’t have to speak to her that way,” he argues, and you can see the vein in his forehead begin to protrude.

His words sting and bite you and suddenly you feel your resolve snapping. “You know what?” The words are slow and deliberate as they leave your lips, and you jab a finger against his chest. “I get that you have a crush on her and that you’re finally going through puberty but that does not mean that you can ignore the job you are currently on.”

He swallows thickly and he opens his mouth to retaliate but you push your finger against his chest once more.

“I am not finished.” Your voice is low with frustration and annoyance as you scowl, glaring up at him. “I don’t care who you’re attracted to or who you want to sleep with. I don’t give a damn if that someone is victim in the investigation because it’s not my problem. I do, however, have a problem when you undermine my ability to do my job and do nothing to fix it.

The worst part is the fact that you’re my friend. You’re supposed to be supportive and helpful and– and– and understanding.” Your mouth is moving quicker than your brain can register and you’re stumbling over your words as you snap at him. “I’m supposed to be able to go to you if I’m going through something. I should be able to talk to you if someone or something is bothering me, but now I’m just afraid that you’ll call me crazy and then criticise me all over again.”

His face falls and he looks at you like a kicked puppy as the words slowly sink in. He reaches out to you, his hazel eyes searching your face but the only emotion that you’re showing is anger. You push his hand away, the frown set on your eyebrows. It’s only then when you realise that Garcia has been listening into the conversation the entire time, your heart lurching to a stop when you hear her cough on the other side of the line.

“Um… is now a bad time to say that I didn’t get any other hits for the profile?” She asks tentatively through the speaker, and you feel your face burning.

“I need air,” you announce to no one in particular, before grabbing your files and storming out of the room.

Elle catches your arm on the way out, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “(Y/N)-“

“Hey. Sorry.” You bite your lip, loosening the grip you have on your papers. “Where’s Hotch?”

“With Derek and Gideon,” she says gently. “Lila got another note and we’re going to check on her manager. Do you want to come with?”

You exhale before nodding. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

“Okay.” She squeezes your arm gently, her eyes flitting between you and Spencer who was inside the conference room, pacing back and forth. “Is… everything alright?”

“Honestly? No.” You offer her a wry smile, shoving your files into your bag. “But it’s fine.”

She chuckles a little in disbelief, leading you to the black SUVs outside. Derek and Gideon were already there, waiting patiently for the two of you while Hotch has already left in another SUV. Apparently the ‘no profiling each other’ rule was thrown out the window as soon as they saw the state you were in, and Derek quickly makes his way over to you.

“(Y/N), are you–”

“I’m fine,” you snap, before closing your eyes tightly and letting out a deep breath. “Sorry, Morgan. I’m okay, just had an argument with Reid.”

At that, his eyebrows shoot upwards. “Since when did you call him ‘Reid’? And what do you mean you had a fight with him? He literally can’t say no to you.”

“Yeah, that was before a Miss Archer walked into the room,” you mutter bitterly. “Shot a literal arrow through his heart. She put her name to good use. I never stood a chance.”

“Hey now, don’t say that,” Elle says, climbing into the SUV. You follow closely behind and she continues. “He’s just confused right now.”

You can’t help but scoff. “I really doubt that.”

Gideon starts the car, looking at you through the rear view mirror. “You’re a profiler. What do you really think?”

The words die at your tongue and you deflate into the seat of the car. You hate to admit it, but Gideon is right. You should be able to figure out exactly what Spencer is thinking. After all, he’s your best friend– you shouldn’t have to be worrying about guessing games when it comes to him.

Hotch is the first to arrive at the manager’s office, watching as your group pull up in front of the building. Once everyone clambours out of the car, they enter the building, a sigh of relief leaving them as they enjoy the air conditioned lobby. With a flash of a badge, the receptionist is quick to tell you which floor and room number Michael was in.

“Floor 11, Room 03,” you mumble to yourself as you scribble it down in your notes.

The elevator ride is silent and you rock back and forth on your feet as the lift begins to rise. Your head is spinning with thoughts and regrets as you consider the harsh words that you spat at Spencer’s face less than an hour ago. You must not have been hiding your frustration well because Hotch finally says something.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, much like a father would when their child is having a tantrum. It’s fitting.

You shrug. “I will be.”

“Is it to do with Reid?”

You cough awkwardly, glancing back at the notes in your hand. “That obvious?”

Derek snorts from behind you. “Yeah, a little.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with him,” Elle adds, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“I am– I am not in love with him!” You all but shriek, shooting her a half hearted glare and you stutter out a response. “I mean, I– uh– I like him but–“

“You are a horrible liar,” Derek cackles and you groan.

Hotch and Gideon watch amused at the interaction, and the latter finally pipes in.

“Profiling isn’t something you can just turn off,” he explains to you, his tone gentle. He reminds you of a grandfather giving advice to their youngest grandchild, and a small smile makes its way onto your face. He continues to speak, “it’s subconscious and it becomes a habit. The only time it stops is when you either need it most, or when you don’t want to see anything.”

The elevator comes to a stop on the eleventh floor and Michael’s office wasn’t far away. The writing on the frosted glass reads ‘1103, Michael Ryer & associates, talent management’ and Elle raps on the door.

“Hello?”

“Mr Ryer?” Gideon calls.

She knocks a few times again before opening the door entirely. “Michael–”

You’re met with Michael Ryer, dead in his arm chair and shot to the head, just like all the other victims. Despite having faced these circumstances before, you still feel sick to the stomach as you stare at Michael’s lifeless body and soulless eyes. It’s unnerving.

“Up until now every victim was a person who could be perceived as a threat to Miss Archer,” Hotch comments as they enter the room, pulling out his phone.

“Yeah, but Michael was a friend,” Elle says with a frown.

You look up from your notes. “He was a threat to the stalker.”

In less than twenty minutes, the LAPD dispatched forensics and evidence teams to the office. Lila and Spencer were on their way back to her house, deciding that it was best to deny the stalker access to her. You rifle through Michael’s belongings: his schedules, his files… everything until you come to one particular manila envelope.

“Morgan, Elle, look at this,” you murmur, pulling the photos out of the envelope. “Pictures of Lila… nude.”

A flash of a grimace passes along Elle’s face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears. “He was probably paying someone to keep them out of the press.”

“The name on the file says Joe Martinez,” Derek mutters, turning the envelope over.

The name must have struck a chord, because Detective Kim’s head immediately snaps around to look at you. “Paparazzo?”

You blink. “You know this guy?”

“Yeah, I deal with him a lot,” Kim responds, his face stoic.

“We should follow that lead,” You comment, tucking the photos back in the envelope and looking over at Detective Kim and Derek. “I’m ready to go when you are?”

After an okay from Hotch, you, Derek, and Detective Kim make your way over to the Joe Martinez’s place. After knocking on the door to his place multiple times, Derek decides to open it in the way he knows best: by kicking it down. You grip your gun, holding it out in front of you as you travel through the hallways.

“Clear!” You yell out upon pushing another door open, seeing nobody inside.

“(Y/N), you need to check this out,” comes Morgan’s call, and you follow the direction of his voice

Pinned above a small desk are picture upon pictures of Lila Archer. When she has lunch, when she’s out with her friends… it’s almost as if this person has completely documented her life. It’s a little nerve wracking, knowing that someone could follow you and take photos without anyone even realising.

“Hey is that–” you pause, pulling a piece of paper off the wall. “This is Lila’s schedule.”

Derek blinks in surprise. “I’m guessing he’s not supposed to have that?”

“No,” Detective Kim responds, and your gaze shifts to the table.

“Hey, isn’t that–” you feel your heart practically stop as you see who’s in the photos.

“That’s Reid,” Derek mutters.

Kim shifts through the photos. “There’s a whole bunch of them,” he says, pulling out at least five or six print outs. “Is he a target now?”

Derek scoffs, throwing the photos on the table and pulling out his phone, making a beeline for the exit. “Not if I can help it.”

You and Detective Kim follow him out, making your way to the SUV.

“Reid? Hey, it’s Morgan. Listen, you gotta watch your back over there, we just found a bunch of close-up photos of you at this guy Joseph Martinez’s studio. It looks like he could be the UnSub.”

As he speaks you feel your heart pound in your ears. Your head is dizzy with fear and you’re following after Morgan who’s walking unbelievably quickly.

“He has a ton of photos of Lila and Nathalie plus a call sheet for Lila’s show,” Derek continues, the speed of his walk not wavering. “(Y/N) and I are on our way right now but I need you to be real careful until we get there, all right?”

You look down to shove your notes back into your bag when you hear it. The distinct vrooming of a motorcycle engine. You don’t think too much of it, only turning your head to look over your shoulder, your hand finding the handle of the car door. That’s all it takes for the motorcyclist to drive straight toward you and the others, pointing an arm out.

“Gun!” You manage to scream, just before the UnSub open fires, hitting Detective Kim.

You dive behind the car, grimacing when your knee collided roughly against the pavement. By the time you manage to recover and grab your gun out of its holster, the UnSub is long gone. You stare as Morgan fires a couple shots before watching the motorcyclist ride off into the LA traffic, and you turn to Detective Kim.

“You got hit. Where?” You ask, shoving your gun back into its holster.

He grunts in pain, his entire weight on the car as he groans out, “yeah, it’s fine. Just my shoulder.”

“Derek, call for help,” you order, pressing firmly at the wound with your hand to lessen the bleeding. He lets out a cry of pain and you wince. “Sorry, it’s bleeding a lot. Gunshot wound to the shoulder, no exit wound. Seeing as you’re not already dead, I don’t think it hit any major arteries, but it might have busted your collarbone. You’re lucky if that’s the extent of the damage. The shoulder contains a bunch of important and major bloodlines, as well as nerve endings.”

Derek turns to you with a wry smile. “You’re starting to sound like Reid.”

“You spend four years with him, you’ll start to learn a few things,” you respond with a humourless laugh. You continue to press against Detective Kim’s wound, murmuring an apology.

“You should talk to him,” Derek prompts.

You scoff, “we have a detective bleeding in front of us and the thing you’re worried about is my love life?”

“Isn’t the first rule of relieving pain through distraction?” He asks. You shoot him an unimpressed look and he quickly nods his head. “Okay, sorry.”

Ten minutes later, Detective Kim is hoisted into the ambulance. You cringe as you wash his blood off your hands, once, twice, then a third time to make sure everything is gone. Your shirt has a couple of blood spots and you can’t help but frown; you liked that shirt. At least the stain isn’t too big– just a few splotches here and there.

“It’s a good thing you held the wound,” an EMT praises, working quickly to secure Kim’s shoulder. “He shattered his collarbone, but you seemed to have managed to control the bleeding.”

If it weren’t for the circumstances, you would have shouted a clear ‘I told you so’ to both Derek and Detective Kim, but you keep your mouth shut.

Hotch, Gideon, and Elle arrive moments later, speaking to Derek about the detective’s injuries.

“You okay?” Elle asks gently, squeezing your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you murmur, wringing your hands together. “Just a little jumpy. I’ll be fine.”

“We need to get to her house,” Gideon mutters, glancing at the group.

Without another moment to lose, you’re clambering into an SUV, gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white. Elle climbs into the passenger seat beside you, her brows knitted together in concern. She opens her mouth to say something but shuts it, watching as you start the car and speed off into the direction of Lila’s house.

After slamming the door shut and gripping the gun firmly in the palm of your hand, you follow Derek through the back entry of the house. You weren’t even sure if it could even be counted as a ‘house’; the place looked like it had at least five bedrooms on both floors. Derek glances at you, signalling to be quiet, then another to keep your eyes on him. A quiet splashing in the pool alerts your attention, and despite his attempts of getting you to not look, you do. And as soon as you do, you really wish you hadn’t.

You are met with the sight of Lila Archer in her bikini-clad glory, in the pool with Doctor Spencer Walter Reid. Doctor ‘pools are incredibly unhygienic, harbouring more than 50 million different types of bacteria’ Reid. And as if it couldn’t get any worse, you watch as their lips touch again and again, his hands cupping her face and her hands arms around his neck.

Spencer pulls away from the kiss, his breath heavy and his head spinning. This is wrong. He’s not supposed to being do this. His brain is short circuiting and it’s even worse when he considers all the germs that could be in this pool. His head spins with the names of viruses and bacteria that could be festering in the waters he was currently in, and then he remembers he has more pressing matters to attend to. Namely the girl who was literally pressing her lips to his.

He pulls away, stammering over responses. “We can’t– we shouldn’t. I’m a federal agent and you’re–”

Lila stares at him, amused, with her hands cupping his neck. “There’s no one here.”

“I’m supposed to be protecting you,” Spencer tries again, anxiety gnawing at his stomach. This is wrong. Unprofessional. Then his mind wanders to you and the nagging voice in the back of his mind urges him to do something.

“There are police out front,” Lila says, kissing him again before continuing, “there are coyotes out back.”

“This is completely inappropriate,” Spencer stutters out, his hands reaching for her shoulders. Her skin is cold from the summer night’s breeze, even more so considering how they’re submerged in disgusting chlorine-filled pool water.

“This?” She presses her lips to his once more. “What’s this?”

“This isn’t–” he swallows thickly, his cheeks flared. “No, there’s this thing called transference–”

Lila pulls away, her stare drifting from his eyes to his lips as she asks, “you don’t like me?”

Spencer blanches at the question. “What?”

“You don’t like me,” Lila repeats, more sure of herself now. “It’s because of her, right?”

He frowns at the insinuation. “‘Her’? Who’s ‘her’?”

“The other person on your team,” Lila says, her words bitter. “You like her don’t you?”

His mouth goes dry and he opens and closes it like a fish out of water. “What?”

“Let me change your mind,” she whispers, bringing her lips to his for the nth time.

Spencer barely has time to react, his hands moving to the side of her face and he imagines that she’s you. But she’s not you and you would never kiss him in the middle of the pool. You would never pull him in by his tie and cut him off when he’s speaking. He pulls away.

“Stop. Stop, Lila, I’m sorry, I have to– I have to tell you something.” His mind is blanking. Why is it that when he needs it, his brain shuts off?

“What?” Lila asks, her lips moving to his cheek and then to his jaw.

“I didn’t want to tell you this before because I was a bit worried.” He’s screaming at himself in his head, kicking himself because ‘why the hell did he just say that?!’ Regardless of the way he wishes he could shut his mouth and run out of the pool, he continues, “I don’t know how to say it but I can’t not tell you.”

“What is it?” She finally pulls away and Spencer lets out a breath of relief.

The relief is short lived because he starts to blab, “Your manager, Michael–”

“What?”

“Gideon went to check on him but he got there too late.” Spencer thinks he’s going to hurl, his mind running a million times an hour and screaming, ‘No you idiot! No, no, no! Out of all the things you could say–’

Lila scrambles out of the pool, clearly distraught, and he reaches out to touch her arm… only to be swatted away with her sobbing and telling him not to touch her. He figures he deserves that and follows out of the pool after her.

“How could you– how could you not tell me?” Lila demands, her tears mixing with the pool water already on her face.

“I was afraid you’d be upset,” Spencer says lamely, water dripping from his trousers and he just wants a towel.

“You– you knew what you knew and… how could you not…?” She’s on the verge of hyperventilating and she looks at him before looking away.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says quietly, not knowing what else to say.

Lila retreats into her house, shutting the glass sliding door behind her and Spencer can only watch as she throws a pillow at the wall before going up the stairs to her room. He stands there, in the cold, dripping wet from the pool water and he wipes his face with his hand. His gun sits on the table, damp, and he has the urge to scream. Before he could do something exceedingly stupid, the sound of footsteps alert him and he spins around.

“Elle?”

“We found him in the bushes,” she says to Spencer, nodding to the guy being cuffed by Derek.

“I told her she should cut those.” He says dismissively, wiping his gun with a towel. He looks at her and then at you. He swallows thickly, noticing the way your eyes look him up and down, the disapproval oozing in your stare. “I– uh– I fell in.”

“Yeah,” you respond, holding the camera up and a sarcastic smile blossoms on your face. “I’m sure there are plenty of photos of it.”

He sighs, “(Y/N)–”

“Hey, stop shoving me, man!” Joe snaps as Derek pushes him to walk forward.

“You’re a suspect in the murder of Wally Melman, Natalie Ryan, and Jeremy Collins.”

You watch as Joe’s face comically contorts from annoyance to confusion as he jumps to defend himself. “Murder? What? Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

“Just shut up with the ‘whoa’. We know for a fact that you have hundreds of photographs of Lila Archer and Natalie Ryan on the walls of your studio. You have Miss Archer’s daily schedule on your desk. You’ve been stalking her.”

“Look, guy, hold up. Every paparazzi’s a celebrity stalker,” Joe says and the rest of the group turn to look at him incredulously. He continues to speak undeterred. “If you don’t stalk them, you don’t get the shot, and if you don’t get the shot, you don’t sell no pictures.”

“Yeah, well this one’s gonna cost you,” you hum, holding the camera in your hands and ripping the film out despite his yells of defiance.

Derek steps forward, pushing Joe to keep him walking. “Tell it to your lawyer.”

“Wh– I’m still being locked up?”

“That’s right, at the very least you’re trespassing.”

Elle and Derek walk Joe out of the premises, and you push the pulverised film against Spencer’s chest. He grips it in his hands, a soft ‘oof’ leaving his lips at the contact.

“You’re welcome,” you mutter, albeit a little bitterly, as you turn to follow the rest of your team out.

“(Y/N), listen, it didn’t mean anything,” he says softly, squeezing the film in his fist tightly while the other hand reaches out to you.

You roll your eyes, opening up the sliding door. “I told you, Reid, I don’t care who you sleep with.”

He splutters a little, pushing his hair away from his face. “We didn’t– I didn’t– we didn’t sleep together, you know that.”

“Even more reason why I shouldn’t care.”

His hand grips onto your shoulder, turning you around so that you’re facing him. “But you do. ‘Shouldn’t’? You care. You clearly obviously care, (Y/N).”

“I don’t,” you deny, pushing his hand away. “Reid–”

“Stop calling me that.”

“–it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I’m leaving.”

He grabs onto your arm, stopping your retreat. “Why are you being like this?”

“I am not ‘being like’ anything!”

“(Y/N).”

“Doctor, this is highly unprofessional.”

He has to stop the frustrated groan that was moments away from leaving his lips as he stares at you. His eyes ghost over your frame, stopping directly at the dark red splotches on your shirt.

“What happened?” He demands, taking a step closer. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Who’s blood is that?”

“Detective Kim’s.”

“What– were you shot at?”

His hands fly to your face, trembling and cold, and you would have thought it was romantic if he didn’t do the exact same thing less than twenty minutes ago with another girl.

“It doesn’t matter,” you dismiss quietly.

“Don’t say that.”

“God, you act as if we’re dating or something!” You snap, pulling away from him.

He stops short, his cheeks and ears reddening at your words. His mind goes blank and suddenly he feels very warm at the idea. Dating you? Every moment he had with Lila in that pool is nothing compared to the idea of dating you.

He watches as you roll your eyes before tugging your arm out of his grip. He wants to cry out again, to say something, but his head just seems to repeat the words ‘we’re dating’ over and over again.

“Just forget it, Reid.” You look to the house and your gaze grows steely once more. “Your girlfriend is calling.”

***

“I want to try and talk to some of Lila’s close friends,” you say to the others after getting off the phone with Garcia. “According to Penelope, there’s a girl named Maggie Lowe on the list that Lila gave us and they’ve known each other since college. Apparently, they spent a lot of time together and Lila helped her get a job.”

“I’ll go with you,” Elle says instantly, climbing into the car. “Why Maggie?”

You start the ignition, backing out of the driveway and onto the main road, following the GPS directions. “They spend almost all of their time together. I mean, she must have noticed something off, you know?”

Elle nods slowly in understanding. “She knows about the red anemones, right?”

“Yeah. And she was the one who found the note taped to the door.” You pause, thinking through the evidence again. “Her apartment is right in the middle of the comfort zone.”

“You think she could be the UnSub?”

“It all seems too convenient. But then again, we didn’t profile the stalker as a woman. There have got to be some inaccuracies or things we overlooked because of the gender,” you murmur, stopping at a red light. “Call Garcia for me.”

The phone rings once before Penelope’s unmistakable voice chimes through. “Speak my pretties, and you shall be heard!”

“Hey, Pen, can you check what vehicle is registered under Maggie Lowe’s name?” You ask into the speaker, parking in front of the apartment.

“Checking, checking… aha! It’s a Honda Motorcycle, she just got it serviced six and a half months ago.”

“That’s the vehicle that the UnSub was driving when they shot at us,” you mumble in realisation. “Call the others, the UnSub might be Maggie Lowe. We’re checking the apartment now.”

“Gideon and Derek are at the art gallery to talk to Parker Dunley,” Elle points out. “I’ll let them know we’re at her apartment.”

There’s a typing on the other side of the line and Penelope chimes in once more. “Bad news, my loves. The cameras report Lowe’s motorcycle leaving the apartment complex half an hour ago.”

“Garcia, call Reid and tell him what we know. Elle and I are going into the apartment. We might find evidence or clues on who the next victim might be.”

With that, you hang up, getting out of the car and running up the stairs with Elle hot on your heels.

“Maggie Lowe?” You call through the door, knocking once then twice.

You’re met with silence and you grimace, deciding to do Derek’s favourite move: kicking the door down. With a crash, the door slams open and you grip your gun a little tighter in your hand. Bathroom, clear. Kitchen and pantry, clear. Lounge, clear. Bedroom, clear– you stop short. Pictures– framed pictures– of Lila hung around the wall. A cork board with newspaper clipping and magazine cut outs were pinned meticulously to the cork backing, each one with Lila’s face and name circled with bold red marker.

“Holy shit…” Elle whispers, holstering her gun and staring at the wall. “This is… this is beyond obsession.”

“You’re telling me,” you respond, putting on a blue glove and flipping through the cork board. “Call the others, Maggie is definitely the UnSub. Someone this obsessed must have…” you pause, filing through the desk on the other side of the room, “… a diary. Each murder was described to detail in each entry, as well as her feelings towards Lila.”

Elle grimaces as she looks over your shoulder to read the diary entries. “Grim.”

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah.”

Above her desk are images of Lila. Every single show she’s been in since Julliard, every time she was mentioned in an article, posters, newspaper clippings of the murders… the entire ordeal makes you feel sick.

Elle sucks in a breath, staring at the desk. “She’s got Lila’s entire life documented.”

“And she’s probably already at Lila’s house,” you mutter, grabbing your phone. “We need to get over there, now.”

***

“The city of angels everything you thought it would be?” Derek asks amusedly, leaning against the wall of the jet as he watches you pour your third cup of coffee in the past three hours.

It’s a couple days after Maggie Lowe was apprehended and the team were on the jet home getting some much needed rest. The aircon was put on full blast and you couldn’t be more grateful for it, enjoying the coolness on your skin in contrast to the hot Los Angeles weather.

“I’m never coming back here,” you quip, your gaze shifting to where Spencer sits. He’s reading a book but he hasn’t turned a page for the past thirty seconds. “If I were to overthrow America, Los Angeles is the first place to go.”

Derek snorts, his eyebrows raising. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you huff, finally looking at him. “I’m serious!”

“Sure kid. Totally believe you.”

He’s teasing, a knowing smirk on his face as he watches you chug the coffee with a grimace. Your tongue burns and you fill the cup with water and chug that as well, ignoring the amused look Derek keeps sending you. From the corner of your eye you see Spencer reading his book. At least, it would appear that he was reading to someone who didn’t know him. But you know him. He’s been staring into the pages for the past minute now and that alone was enough to let you know that he was paying more attention to your and Derek’s conversation than to the words on the page.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you sit beside Elle who is already fast asleep. You envy her for a moment as she leans against the plane window, blissfully unaware to your mental torment. Stupid Spencer and his stupidly pretty face. From where you’re sitting you can see the back of his head and you glare at that the ridiculous mop of brown on his head.

The rest of the plane ride is uneventful and by the time you make it back to the office it’s already late. It’s nearing one in the morning and everyone begins to head home. Derek is yawning as he leaves the office and Elle has a look that screams ‘Don’t talk to me’. Gideon is long gone and Hotch was in his office, packing up the last of his papers and files.

Spencer is sitting at his desk, combing through the paperwork and stashing a couple pages into his satchel. He bids farewell to Derek and the others before shoving his train pass into his pocket.

“You’re taking the train?” You ask, finally speaking to him.

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he shifts on his feet, gripping the strap of his bag. “Um, yeah. I took the train here, so...”

“Oh.” You nod, glancing at the clock. “No you’re not.”

He huffs out a laugh. “What?”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you get onto a train at one in the morning,” you say, pointing with your chin to the elevator. “You might be a man and all, but it doesn’t change the statistics.”

You know his weakness. Statistics. Facts. Spencer hates the fact that you know him so well.

He relents, getting into the elevator with you. “I thought you were mad at me.”

He hears you scoff, pressing B1 on the elevator. “Just because I’m mad at you, doesn’t mean that I’m going to let you do something potentially dangerous.”

He hates the way your words makes his heart flutter and he continues speak. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you did,” you respond curtly, watching as the elevator doors open. “Come on, my car is that way.”

Spencer flinches at your tone. “I’m sorry.”

You laugh. “You don’t even know what you’re sorry for.”

“I–” the words die on his tongue as he wracks his brain. “I thought it was because you didn’t like Lila.”

“That’s true,” you murmur, unlocking the car. “Look, Reid–”

“Please,” he cuts you off, his voice cracking as he practically begs. “Please stop calling me that.”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes flicker to him as you tug the car door open. “You want me to stop calling you by your name?”

Spencer’s nostrils flare as he gets in the car. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

You laugh again as you start the engine, glancing at the mirrors. “Everyone calls you Reid. It shouldn’t be any different for me.”

He huffs. “But it is different. You’re… different.”

“How?” You challenge, backing out of the parking spot and getting onto the main road. You’ve memorised the route from Quantico to Spencer’s apartment in DC– an almost one hour drive and you understand why Spencer hates driving to and from work.

He falters before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just please don’t call me by my last name again.”

“Spencer,” You try again, missing the visible relief in his eyes, “I’m not mad at you because of something as miniscule as a girl. You’re entitled to your own relationships outside of work.”

“I don’t under– oh.” The realisation dawns on him when he recalls all the words you threw at him at the precinct. “I wasn’t a very good friend, was I?”

“No, Spencer, you weren’t.” You don’t hesitate to say it and Spencer winces at how quickly you agree with him. “You were unfair and let your emotions get in the way of the case. You criticised me and undermined my authority and then you had the absolute nerve to act as if nothing was wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” he croaks out, the lump in his throat getting bigger.

“It hurt, Spencer,” you say, and your voice cracks as well. “It hurt because you’re my best friend and I would have supported you through everything. You know that. And I get that friends fight, but I thought that we wouldn’t fight about something as stupid as who you hook up with.”

“I didn’t hook up with her,” Spencer says quietly, and he thinks he might cry. “I’m serious, (Y/N), I didn’t hook up with her. She kissed me–”

“It doesn’t matter.” Your gaze shifts to him for barely a second before it’s back on the road. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter who you’re attracted to. I just didn’t think it would effect our friendship.”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says again, holding onto his bag.

You’re quiet before continuing, “ I know you are. I know that. I’m sorry that you thought that you needed to justify your feelings to me.”

He swallows thickly, watching your face carefully. You didn’t do anything to make him feel like he had to justify himself. If anything, it was Spencer’s conscious that made him feel the need to explain himself. The guilt that he felt after kissing Lila was enough to get him to feel sick. The guilt that he felt after knowing how badly he hurt you was enough to make him want to grovel at your feet.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” He mumbles, wetting his bottom lip. “You had– have– every right to be upset.”

“I don’t want to be upset anymore,” You say as you continue to drive down the freeway.

He’s quiet before he finally says, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

He swallows the lump in his throat and he presses the pads of his fingers into the corner of his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

You finally park in front of his apartment, leaning against the chair. “I know. I know, I’m sorry too. I said… a lot of things.”

“I deserved it,” he says, a small laugh leaving his lips as he finally looks at you. “You’re right, I wasn’t being fair.”

You hum, leaning over the console to give him an awkward hug. He presses his nose into your shoulder, breathing in your vanilla perfume. His arms wrap around your middle and he realises how much he missed this. How he missed being close to you.

“I won’t do it again,” he promises.

“I know.”

“I really am sorry.”

“You need to stop apologising.” Your words come out like a laugh and he realises how much he misses that sound too.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says into your shoulder. “Coffees for a month. I’ll even get you those croissants you like, even though they’re really overpriced.”

You laugh again and he smiles.

“You apologising is already good enough,” You say, squeezing his arms. “Now go get some rest, Spence.”

His smile widens at the nickname and he finally pulls away. “Good night. Thank you for driving me home.”

You smile back. “Good night. Don’t mention it.”

The next morning, you find a steaming coffee on your desk and a freshly baked croissant in a brown paper bag. Spencer waves at you and you can’t help the goofy grin on your face as you take a bite into the croissant.

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mattew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x reader fluff #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg x reader fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #criminal minds angst #criminal minds x reader angst

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ipseitydelrey · 23 days

Text

your lips, my lips ☆ s. reid

ship sub!spencer reid x fem!reader

content/warnings smutty smut (mdni 18+), mutual masturbation, mommy kink, accidental voyeurism, he sounds like a slut you can’t blame yourself

word count 2.5k

summary after spencer returns home early from a case, you come back home after work to find him in an incredibly compromised position.

a/n ignore the accidental hiatus, but hi !! im probably not going to be able to post at all in may bc im going to be in europe for the entire month. i’m posting this before going in a cave so…enjoy this as a treat!

To put it briefly, Spencer was…awkward.

That’s not to discredit him, though. You can tell that he loves the team and you (especially you). Although he’s less awkward around people he trusts and has known for longer, he still can’t really speak up for what he wants.

And the poor boy is just so touch starved. It’s clear he’s practically clueless when it comes to other forms of intimacy aside from sympathetic hugs to friends or victims in a case. Hell, it even took a month since you started dating for Spencer to be comfortable huddling next to you on the couch; it took even longer for him to be fine with sharing the same bed.

You had barely done anything sexual yet. The closest you had probably gotten to something intimate like that with him was him involuntarily jutting his hips up into your ass when you were making out on the couch. You had hoped that he would continue to do that, especially with how you could feel his hardness pressing up against your core, but he got so flustered and started stammering out high-pitched apologies before moving away and retreating into the bathroom. You imagined that he probably took care of it, but knowing him, maybe he doesn’t jerk off.

You went with that assumption for a while since you — and especially him — hadn’t initiated anything potentially steamy. For him, makeout sessions were enough and although you wanted more, you were okay with indulging in him. You figured that with how touch starved he was, you should take it slow before moving on.

You got to leave work early, and you’re usually glad when that happens but today you’re especially happy because Spencer had just gotten back from a successful case a couple hours ago. When he landed, he immediately texted you, letting you know where he was. When you left your workplace, you had forgotten to text him that you’ll be home earlier than expected, but you’re sure that he wouldn’t mind.

After all, he’s probably just as excited to see you, if not more.

You don’t call out to him when you unlock and open the apartment door; he should hear that you’re home with the locking of the door and the tossing of the keys, as well as the rustle of your coat as you take it off and hang it up.

It’s quiet, but that isn’t really saying anything since it usually is. But you’d figured that he’d meet you at the doorway, which he didn’t.

Odd.

You’re just about to call out to him when you hear a peculiar and out-of-place sound: a moan.

Although it startles you a bit, you think that it was probably the neighbours; that doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense consdiering it’s coming from inside the apartment, but it’s more believable than…

Then you hear another one, and this time you can finally pinpoint its location. It sounds like it’s coming from the bedroom. Spencer? It’s not impossible, but you had just figured that he wouldn’t be the type to pleasure himself, especially with those sorts of reactions.

You slowly make your way towards the room in question, seeing that the door is slightly ajar, leaving a sliver for you to peer in.

What you find is a heavenly sight: Spencer, fully unclothed, splayed across the bed with his length in his fist. His pace is slow, but it’s still enough for him to whimper and moan quite audibly. His other hand is gripping tightly onto the sheets as his head pushes back against a pillow.

It’s perverted, but you feel as if you can’t tear yourself away from watching. At this point, you start to wonder if he knows you’re here or if he even heard you come into the apartment. You struggle to keep quiet as your panties grow damp, and you end up biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning at the sight.

The sound of his fist moving up and down his leaking cock is lewd, his precum dribbling down and even slightly coating his hand.

“o-oh m-mommy—” Him saying that is your breaking point, and you push the door open and enter the room.

He finally notices you and he pulls the sheets he was just grasping onto for dear life up to cover his throbbing dick. You were expecting him to do that; although what he was just doing was insanely hot, he’s still shy, even around you.

He looks away from you, clearly embarrassed he was caught. “Uh, I was— I— ah…” he attempts to explain himself but it leads nowhere. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispers, sounding defeated.

“Why are you sorry?” It’s not a needed question; you know exactly why he thinks so. You move to sit on the edge of the bed as he moves away, still having the sheets pulled up to cover himself. He stammers, but no words come out. He’s so flustered and red in his cheeks, you fear he’s about to pop.

He squirms in his position slightly while a tiny noise that you can barely hear escapes from his lips. A noise of discomfort, you recognize quickly, but you’re not sure if it’s because you just caught him in a private moment or if it’s because his cock is starting to get achy from the lack of stimulation.

“Baby,” you say in a more serious tone, leaning into the notion of his fantasy of you as his mommy, “why are you sorry?”

You stare at him, though you wish he could return your gaze. “Y-You probably feel…uncomfortable b-because—”

Softly, you shush him, holding a finger up against his lips, and you smile. “I’m not uncomfortable,” you assure him.

“You’re not?” he asks, his words vibrating against your index.

You shake your head as you pull your finger away from his lips, instead moving to grab his chin with a soft grip. His cheeks squish against your fingers softly, making his lips look even more plush and kissable. You push your lips against his gently, though it’s obvious that he’s eager from the way he pushes against your mouth to chase the kiss.

The way he whines when you pull away from him is so cute, you feel as if you want to give in to his need to have you closer to him. But he can tell that you want to do something else to satisfy him, so Spencer quiets down. Your hand, however, remains firmly yet softly gripping his jaw.

You look down at the sheets covering his lower half, his erection not-so-subtlety poking the thin fabric, and you glance back up at him. “Do you want me to…” you trail off before looking down at his boner again.

In all honesty, it takes Spencer a good second or two before he gets what you meant by that offer. “U-uh, well, ah…” he stutters. You’re not exactly sure what he wants and frankly neither is he. Based on his previous experiences with intimacy, you decide to not give him a blowjob, or even a handjob.

You both sit there in silence; you can practically cut the tension in the room with a knife. As you think of what to do — since you don’t just want to ignore it, nor do you want to leave him unsatisfied and awkward — Spencer squirms uncomfortably, shifting ever so slightly. His thighs accidentally clench together, squeezing his erection under the blanket, causing him to whimper softly. He silently hopes that you didn’t catch that noise he made, but you did…and it gave you an idea; one that will satisfy both of your urges.

“Do you wanna keep going?” You ask. He would probably much rather do this himself, although you don’t know how he would feel if he were to masturbate right in front of you.

He hesitates for a second, but he does nod shyly. You notice how he’s not meeting your gaze with his own, avoiding eye contact almost entirely. Instead, he’s looking in the direction of your waist.

Without informing him, you stand up and your hands quickly find their way to the buttons on your pants undoing them. Spencer watches with an air of anticipation and slight anxiety as you pull your pants down, a bit hastily and it definitely shows just how eager you are at this moment. Your underwear is certainly damp with how much this situation has you turned on and he can see it clearly too. You couldn’t pinpoint his expression as he sees the wetness, whether he’s nervous or intrigued, until you see him lick his lips — a motion that he only does when he’s excited.

At last, you peel off your soaked panties, but you keep your eyes on his face, wanting to see his reaction at seeing you half-naked. Sure, he’s seen you in your bra and panties before, but that was never sexual and only when you were changing clothes in front of him. He’s always looked away, the gentleman that he is, but he couldn’t resist taking a peek or two at your near-unclothed state. Just like how now, where he can see your bare pussy, glistening and wet, he just can’t resist staring.

He doesn’t mind it; no, not at all. In fact, it’s just making him even more excited, to the point where he slightly pulls down the sheets that are covering his dick — not enough to actually show his arousal, but enough to clearly see his happy trail, which has you salivating.

You get back on the bed, not bothering to take your shirt off as well. You just want to get started already, but you think it would be better if you know he’s comfortable with this whole situation first.

“Is this okay?” you ask, alluding to your nakedness as your thighs are slightly spread, giving him a nice view of your cunt.

He swallows and nods feverishly as his gaze continues to bore into your pussy; all of his attention seems to be focused there, which amuses you.

Deciding to take the initiative, your hand makes its way towards your core. You dip the tips of your fingers in your wet folds, collecting some of the slick and bringing it up to your clit, where you start to gently rub it in small and slow circles.

You hear Spencer’s breath hitch as you do this. It’s like you’re subtly encouraging him to do the same thing and start masturbating again, which is exactly what you’re going for.

He ends up pulling the covers off his pelvis completely, allowing you to see his cock-filled hand. You bite your lip at the sight of him starting to slowly stroke his length again, although timidly, as if he’s being judged. You’re not doing that, of course; you wouldn’t dare judge him for doing something so pleasing in front of you.

He keeps avoiding your gaze so you lean forward as you continue to massage your clit gently and you bring your other hand to tilt his head up by his chin to look at you. The eye contact you both have now is both awkward yet erotic. You’re not really doing anything with each other, you’re just two people touching themselves in front of the other.

A couple minutes into this shared experience, Spencer is starting to get more confident and less self-conscious. His strokes are getting longer and faster, making him produce more noises from his throat; mostly small whimpers with the occasional moan but by god, those small moans just get you going. You end up quickening your pace too and you let yourself make tiny whines too.

Eventually, your fingers move from your clit and back down to your folds, where you insert a finger into your cunt. The sound that falls from your lips after you do so is more motivation for Spencer to speed up again. You thrust your finger in and out at the same pace as his hand and you’re sure you both are imagining something more intimate at this point.

You add a second finger and then later on a third and now, a few minutes later, you’re both moving in sync and moaning up a storm. His moans are louder though, but you don’t mind at all. They just give you more reason to speed up and keep going.

Nearing the end, you’re wondering who’s going to cum first. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Spencer did so before you since he’s been jerking off for longer than you have but with the way the pleasure is building up in your stomach, you’re not entirely sure anymore; your mind is just focused on the intense pleasure and nothing else.

“O-oh god…” you hear him whine. Now you know who is going to finish first.

“You gonna cum, baby?” It takes you some effort to ask that question, especially since for the past ten or so minutes, you’ve just been touching yourselves without even talking.

“Mhm,” he hums in response as he nods. His hand is going at such a quick pace that you can clearly hear how his precum-coated palm is moving up and down his cock. “S’much, I…”

“It’s okay, honey,” you stammer out. Then, in your pleasure-fueled haze, an idea forms in your head. “You can cum. Cum for mommy~”

The use of that nickname for you really gets him going and he can no longer hold himself back. “M-mommy!” he cries out with a gasp for air as cum spurts out of the tip of his cock. He lets his head hang back and his eyelids flutter as his orgasm hits him and it’s beautiful for you to watch. It only motivates you to speed up even more, wanting to reach your peak as fast as possible. You probably shouldn’t rush it to savor the moment but in this case, rushing is fine to you.

After his intense orgasm, Spencer watches with bated breath as you cum. Your hips rock forward, practically riding your own fingers while your back arches and your murmurs grow incoherent. If he wasn’t tired, Spencer is pretty sure that he would be turned on again immediately just from watching you finger yourself. He is almost positive that you’re thinking of riding him instead of your fingers, and he would be correct in that assessment.

The pleasure slowly dissipates until you’re left with the incredibly awkward feeling of having just jerked off in front of your boyfriend. Both of you aren’t really sure what to say or what to do considering this was technically your first shared sexual experience since you had started dating.

“Um—” “So—” you both say at the same time. You don’t know how to move forward in a gracious manner, so you shyly get off the bed and put your underwear and pants back on. He still sits in the bedsheets, which are slightly damp from the sweat accumulated from the experience.

He moves towards the edge of the bed — towards you — and sits up straight, trying not to feel embarrassed that he’s still naked. And even though he felt uncomfortable about being touched while nude prior, he plants his lips on yours.

You weren’t expecting this but it’s a welcome surprise, as you chase his kiss with all the energy you have left; which isn’t a lot, but is enough. He breaks from the kiss, but leaves his forehead against yours as he looks at you like a dog.

“Thank you, mommy.”

hopefully it wasn’t that bad <3 join the taglist

#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ spencer ꒱ ୨🎧୧ #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid has a mommy kink #mgg #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler

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xervoxs · 2 months

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- darling

- guess who's back from jail

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #cm #mgg #matthew gray gubler

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vivwritesfics · 8 days

Text

"I Don't Know Anything About Dinosaurs"

Spencer was meant to be at the museum on a blind date, not walking around with a mother and son, listening to him as he spouted off dinosaur facts. But then the kid goes missing and it's Spencer's mission to save him.

Spencer x Single mother! Reader

Spencer Reid hated the thought of a blind date. He didn't know if said blind date being set up by Garcia made things better or worse. At least Garcia was a fellow need. She liked some of the things Spencer was into and hopefully knew people who were also into those things.

Their meeting place being a museum had to be a good sign, he thought as he stared up at the recreation of the Parasaurolophus skeleton. But, so far, there had been no sign of her. He looked around with the knowledge that she'd be wearing a green scarf and carrying a museum tote bag, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, somebody was tugging at his sleeve. Spencer looked down to see a boy with wild, dark curls staring up at him. "Excuse me, Mister," the boy said as he looked up at Spencer. "You're blocking the sign." Spencer looked to his left and saw that he really was blocking the sign.

Not that this little boy would be able to read it from his height. "I'm sorry," Spencer said gently as he stepped to one side.

He couldn't help but watch as this little boy walked over to the sign full of dinosaur facts. Just as Spencer had thought, he'd been too short to read it, but he stood on his tiptoes and really tried.

When the boy gave up, he turned to Spencer. "Hey Mister," he said and put his hands on his hips. "Wanna help a fella out?"

Spencer couldn't help but wonder where this kid had learnt this phrase. He looked around before he crouched down, matching the kids height. "Is your mom anywhere around here?" Spencer asked. The kid shrugged her shoulders and, suddenly, Spencer was trying not to panic. "Do you want help finding her?"

Again, the boy shrugged. "She knows where to find me," he said and turned his attention back to the dinosaur.

Spencer stayed by the kid. He looked around, searching for any sign of his mother. But nobody around him seemed like they were panicked or looking for him.

Suddenly, shouts filled the room. "Jimmy!" Somebody shouted. Spencer looked around until he saw a young woman running towards him and the kid. "Jimmy!" When she got close enough, she grabbed the boy and pulled him into her embrace.

But then she stood up straight and looked at him, her expression stern. "James L/N, you know better than to run off like that!"

Jimmy pouted as he looked at his mother. "I'm sorry, momma," he said. "I just wanted to see the dinosaurs."

Her face dropped and she ruffled his dark curls. "It's okay, baby. We can look at them together," she said softly.

Jimmy took his mothers hand, but he turned towards Spencer. Spencer, who knew everything, but didn't know why he was still standing there, watching them. "This fella was gonna help me read the sign," he said.

His mother suddenly turned to Spencer. She tightened her grip on her sons hand and placed her other on her hip as she stared at him.

Spencer jumped into action. "He, uh, he said his mother knew where to find him. I didn't want to leave him here until someone came to claim him," he explained.

She dropped the hand from her hip. "Well, thank you," she said and lifted her son up. She placed him on her hip so that he could read the sign and turned her attention to Spencer. "Do you like Hadrosaurs?" She asked as she nodded her head to the not entirely real skeleton. (Well, maybe a few bones were real, but not the whole thing.)

Spencer shook his head. "No. I'm more of a science museum guy," he answered. He didn't add that he rarely got time to visit a museum with his job.

"Well, if you wanna know anything about any of the dinosaurs, I'm sure Jimmy would be happy to answer you," she said in reply. Her smile was polite, sweet, one Spencer found he really liked looking at.

Spencer took one last look around the museum, one last look for the blind date that Garcia had set up for him. He'd mentally prepared himself for a date, mentally prepared himself to be confident and out going. He wasn't about to let that go to waste.

"I don't know anything about dinosaurs." A lie. "Do you mind if I joined you?"

That was how Spencer spent his day. If his date eventually showed up to the museum, he didn't much care. He was much happier listening to Jimmy talk about dinosaurs. For the first time in his life, Spencer bit his tongue. Jimmy rarely got any of his facts wrong, and Spencer didn't add to his knowledge base, not when he'd said he didn't know anything about dinosaurs.

Once they got back to the museum entrance, Jimmy dragged his mother to the gift shop, and Spencer was only happy to follow. When Jimmy found two soft toys that he wanted (an Ankylosaurus and a Pachycephalosaurus), Spencer helped him to decide which one he wanted.

Jimmy told Spencer everything he knew about the Ankylosaurus as they walked out of the museum. But, once they were on the steps, his mother squeezed his hand. "We've gotta go, Jim," she said softly to him.

Jimmy pouted, but then he turned to Spencer. "It was nice to meet you, Spencer," he said. "You're a nice fella."

Spencer couldn't help but grin. "Thanks for teaching me all about Dinosaurs, Jimmy," he said as he crouched down to his height. "Take good care of, Anky."

He stood up straight and looked at Jimmy's mother. "He's right," she said. "It really was nice to meet you. Thanks for being so nice to him. I don't know many other people who would walk around and let a six year old talk at them for hours."

Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. "No, I learnt a lot," he replied. Neither of them had spoken about Jimmy having a father, or his mother having a partner. There had been no ring on her finger, and the profiler could pick up no indications that she had a partner.

So, Spencer took a leap of faith. "Maybe we could do this again sometime."

Her grin only grew. "I'm sure Jimmy will find some more facts for you," she said, her hand on his sons head. But then she went fishing through her bag and pulled out her phone. "Give me your number," she said and handed him her phone.

Spencer put his number into the phone and passed it back. She typed out a text and quickly sent it to him. "Until next time, Doctor Reid," she said and walked Jimmy down the museum steps, leading him to her car.

Spencer couldn't help but watch them go.

***

The case must have been local. JJ had told them not to back an overnight bag and they all rushed to the BAU as quickly as they could.

It had only been a few days since Spencer had met Jimmy and his mother. They'd texted here and there, but they were both pretty busy with their jobs. Still, he couldn't help but think of them as the elevator took him up. After this case was done, he'd make arrangements to see them again. To find out what new dinosaur facts Jimmy had for him.

He and the rest of the team sat around the round table. Within seconds JJ was walking into the room and turning on the monitor. "James L/N has been reported missing by his mother," she said as the rest of the team passed around folders.

Spencer felt his heart stop. James. Jimmy. Reported missing by his mother. Jimmy, the sweet boy who knew so much about dinosaurs, had been reported missing. He suddenly couldn't breathe.

"His mother said she put him to bed and went to clean up the kitchen. When she checked on him before taking herself to bed, he was gone," JJ continued.

"Jimmy." Spencer couldn't stop himself from saying it.

All eyes were suddenly on him. JJ took a step towards him. "What is it, Spence?" She asked softly. She always was soft with him, almost treating him like he was a child. It wasn't what he needed right now, but he was grateful.

"I-I know this boy," he said as he flipped through the folder that was passed to him. "He, uh, his mom calls him Jimmy, not James."

"You know his mother?" Hotch asked him.

Spencer nodded. "They were at the museum last weekend. I walked around the exhibits with them," he said.

Hotch sent them on their way. He, Rossi, Prentiss, and Garcia began looking through all the information they could find on James L/N and his mother, while JJ, Reid and Morgan went to James's house.

Before this, Spencer had been wondering if he could count their time at the museum as a date. It hadn't been, really. But he wanted to take her on one, or at least get to know her better.

He couldn't believe his first time inside of her house was going to be because of a case. Spencer couldn't help but feel a little sick as he, JJ and Morgan walked up the steps to the house. There was an array of flowers in the garden. Some in pots lining the steps, some on the windows, some hanging beside the door.

Spencer raised his fist. The stained glass window panes painted a scene. Water, a clock tower, a bird flying above the ocean. Spencer sucked in a breath and knocked between the window panes.

The door was open within seconds. Jimmy's mother stared at the three ages. Morgan said her name. "We're with the-"

But, before he could finish he sentence, she threw herself at Spencer, wrapping her arms around him. Spencer stood there for a moment, unable to move. But then he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. "He's gone," she cried against Spencer's chest.

"I know," Spencer whispered, his large hand against her back. "But we're gonna find him."

JJ and Morgan hung back as they watched the interaction. It felt intimate, something they couldn't interrupt. But she let go of Spencer and stepped to the side, letting all three agents into her house.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she shut the door behind them. "I... I didn't touch anything in his room," she said as she led them upstairs. At the very first room she pushed open the door.

Morgan and JJ pulled on gloves as they stepped into the room. But it was perfectly clean. The bed was made, the room had been cleaned up, but there was no sign of a break in. "Reid, take her downstairs," Morgan said as he and JJ began combing through the room.

Spencer did just that. He took her downstairs and sat her on the sofa, sitting himself beside her. She drew in a shaky breath. "He has Anky," she said quietly and wiped at her eyes. "If I had known you were FBI I would have called you before I called the police."

He swallowed. "I'm here now," he said, meeting her teary gaze. "And I need you to tell me everything that happened, starting with when you put Jimmy to bed."

She ran Spencer through her entire evening. Starting with dinner, and then bath time, story time and bed. She told him how she cleaned the kitchen after dinner and took some time, only ten minutes to read. By the time she went up to check on him, by the time she was ready to go to sleep herself, Jimmy was gone.

When she started crying Spencer rubbed her back. There was little else he could do to offer contact as he asked as she had noticed anything or anybody strange recently. He'd already worked out that the unsub must have known her usual schedule to be able to take Jimmy and then clean his room.

Before Spencer could piece together any information from her answers, the phone began ringing. She drew in a sharp gasp as she turned her head towards it.

When she looked at Spencer again, he nodded and she picked up the phone. "H-hello?" She said, voice shaking as she put the phone on speaker.

"Hi mommy!"

Immediately, tears sprang to her eyes. "Jimmy?" She cried. "Is that you, baby?"

"Yeah, mommy," he said. He sounded fine and she had to take comfort in that.

Her hand fell onto Spencer's and she squeezed. Squeezed him to the point of pain. But Spencer didn't say anything. He squeezed her back, trying to be encouraging. "Jimmy, baby, can you tell me where you are? I-It's almost time for lunch and I need to come get you."

"I'm with a friend, mommy," Jimmy answered. "Her name is mommy, too. She said she's gonna make me lunch."

Suddenly, Spencer's brows furrowed. She. The unsub was a woman.

"Mommy, she wants to speak to you," Jimmy said. Spencer watched as her eyes went wide and she began rapidly shaking her head.

But Spencer squeezed her hand and nodded his head. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Okay, Jimmy, But, can you tell me where you are first, baby?"

Jimmy didn't answer her.

There was an indistinguishable noise from the other end and then, "Leave my son and I alone!"

It was a woman's voice, an obviously upset woman's voice. As the rest of the team came down the stairs Spencer pressed his fingers to his lips.

"Please," she said desperately as she looked at Spencer. "Please, just bring Jimmy home. He's all I got."

"His name isn't Jimmy!" The other woman suddenly cried. "He's my son and his name is Robert!" She ended the call after that, cutting off the contact.

Her hands shook as she put the phone down.

"His name is Robert," Spencer repeated. He said it to himself a few times as the rest of the team crowded around her to ask her more questions. Desperately, she looked at Spencer, but he pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed it to his ear.

***

Spencer didn't sleep much on this case. He couldn't, not until he knew that Jimmy was safe at home with his mother.

He had Garcia look into mothers who had lost their children. More specifically, mothers that had lost children called Robert.

The whole team tried several different angles for the case. While Morgan and JJ interviewed mothers that had lost children, Spencer and Garcia desperately searched through records of institutions.

Their lucky break was when the unsub called once again. Spencer had been there, thank god. All she had to do was call and he was running.

Garcia had set things up to trace the call. When the phone began ringing, she held her hand against her chest. "It's okay," Spencer assured her.

He picked up the phone and placed it in her hands. "Hi Mommy!"

"Jimmy!" She sat up straighter. "Jimmy, baby, are you okay?" She asked desperately.

There was a beat of silence, one that had her heartbeat erratic. "I'm okay, Mommy. I've lost Anky, though."

She swallowed. "Well, when you're home, we can go to the museum again and get you another."

"Can Spencer come with us?"

Spencer nodded at her. Of course they could go back to the museum. The moment they got Jimmy home, Spencer would take the both of them.

"Yeah, Jimmy. We can take Spencer."

Suddenly the call was ended. "Jimmy?!" She cried, desperately. But he was gone.

"Garcia, have you got it?" Spencer called down his phone as he stood.

Garcia listed off the address. Immediately Spencer was using his long legs to stride to her front door. "Wait!" She cried, rushing after him. Spencer turned, his eyes soft as he looked at her. "Bring him home."

Hotch didn't want Spencer going with them. He was too close to the case, and they all knew it wouldn't end well. But Jimmy knew him, and he was more likely to actually go with Spencer.

The team entered the house, guns drawn. With noises from the living room and the upstairs, the team split up.

Spencer and JJ headed into the living room. Cartoons played on the television, and Spencer had to hope it was Jimmy.

And Jimmy it was. "Hi Spencer!" He called the moment the FBI agent came into view.

Immediately Spencer felt his heart stop. He put his gun away and crouched down in front of Jimmy. "Hey, Buddy," he said as Jimmy hugged him. "We're gonna get you home to your mom, okay?"

"Okay," Jimmy said as Spencer picked him up.

The rest of the team arrested the unsub, a woman who had lost her child years ago. She fought to get to Jimmy when she was walked towards the police car, cuffs around her wrists.

***

Spencer held Jimmy's hand in the police station. Jimmy told Spencer more dinosaur facts. "I wanna go back to the museum," he said. "And I want you to come."

"Your mom is gonna be happy to take you," Jimmy," he said and handed him a pen. Jimmy began drawing as he waited for his mom to show up.

When she did, she ran through the police station. She ran straight over to her son and pressed kisses all over his face. She pulled away to look at him, to check him over. "Oh baby," she said and hugged him tight. "I missed you."

"Missed you too, Momma," he said and showed her his dinosaur drawings. "Can we go to the museum with Spencer, momma?"

With Spencer standing behind Jimmy, he wore a matching pout. "Can I?" He asked.

"Please Momma!"

How could she say no?

(It wasn't meant to be a first date, but the treated it as such)

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler #mgg #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid smut

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cerisereids · 14 days

Text

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂- 𝘀.𝗿.

pairing- s1!spencer reid x bau!reader

w.c.- 3.9k (wtf omg)

summary- spencer reid is your best friend. you’re in love with him, he wants someone else.

warnings- the jeid narrative in s14 pissed me off so bad i wrote this, miscommunication trope, reader obsesses over his hair (same), idiots in love, wingwoman!penelope

a/n- to be clear i am not a jj hater, i love her. i just don’t like what the writers tried to make happen between her and spencer

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the soft glow of the morning sun floats through the window, coating the bullpen of the behavioral analysis unit in a peaceful golden light. you bask in the soft start of your morning, a rarity in your line of work, sipping your coffee as your fingers clack against the computer keys. the peace of your morning is ripped from you suddenly, though, when gideon and hotch barge from their offices in quick pursuit of the conference room. the team immediately follows suit, scurrying after one another to follow the two men.

hotch stands at the head of the room, sternly describing the case file he’s just received. there is a serial killer in the d.c. area, obsessed with leaving texts of ancient egyptian script at the crime scenes. as an analyst for the bau, you’re assigned to stay in the conference room with spencer in order to help decipher what the killer is trying to tell authorities. you share a smile with the boy next to you, both eager to tackle yet another assignment together.

you were hired to the bau as a young academic fresh out of graduate school, the same year as spencer. you two initially bonded over your shared love of reading, of analyzing text. it’s this skill that’s made you an asset to the team. you can decipher handwriting left by criminals in order to profile them; you can understand and analyze complex documents left for you at crime scenes, just like in today’s case. you found a partner in spencer very early on. you two were assigned those kinds of analytical tasks often, and proved to be very good at it, good at working together, at being together.

it wasn’t long before the mere sight of him started to give you butterflies, your chest constricting with affection. you cherish the late nights you’ve spent with him, in and outside of the office, inspecting documents and handwriting samples, the times where you’ve reached for the same file and your fingers brush together. movie nights at his place on the weekends, when you get so tired you allow yourself to curl into him, to let him wrap his arms around you, to pretend you’re something more. something in your stomach grows hot, and your palms start to sweat. you barely even notice that everyone else has gone off on their own assignments, leaving you and spencer alone in the conference room together. he sends you a million dollar smile and you get to work.

after a few hours of hard work, you suggest taking a lunch break. your lungs rejuvenate from the fresh air as you eat in the courtyard. you close your eyes and tilt your head up, feeling the glow of the sun warm your face, sighing as the vitamin d floats through your body. you can feel spencer’s eyes on you, and your heart kicks against your chest. how much longer you can take without confessing to him, you’re not sure. the limbo of being in love with your best friend is a torturous predicament to be in, especially when you work with him.

“hey, i need to ask you something,” spencer mumbles, and you see him pull out two tickets to a cowboys football game.

your heart now hammers against you, like a boulder spasming in your chest. your hands are sweating, shaking; is this it? could he be doing the hard part for you?

“gideon gave me these on my birthday. i don’t know if you knew this, but it’s j.j.’s favorite team. i was thinking of asking her on a date with them, but i haven’t watched a football game in over ten years,” he chuckles sheepishly, squinting his eyes down from the sun. “do you think it’s a good idea? i thought i should come to you since you’re my best friend, you wouldn’t steer me wrong.”

best friend. those words pierce through your gut like you’ve been shot with an arrow. you’re thankful his eyes are turned away from you, so he can’t see the infliction of those two fateful words.

“um-yeah,” you breathe out, barely audible, “i think it’s a great idea. it doesn’t matter if you don’t really watch football. if she likes you she’ll want to spend time with you, no matter what,” you fake a smile and pray to anyone that would listen to please convey the true message of your words, what you’re really saying. you know it falls on deaf ears, though, as you turn to throw your half eaten lunch in the trash, returning inside 30 minutes earlier than agreed upon.

“woah-where are you going?” spencer hastily cleans his things and jogs to catch up with you.

“i just think we need to get back to work. this case isn’t going to solve itself,” you shoot him a bitter smile, opening the door and not holding it open for him behind you, like you always do.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

j.j.? you think to yourself as you now delegate your portion of the work at your desk. the thought of being trapped in that conference room alone with him after your conversation at lunch unzips a shiver down your spine. your forehead is resting in your palm as your brain fights to focus on the case, and not drift back to spencer.

you were in complete and utter disbelief that the object of his affections has been j.j. this whole time.

j.j. is your friend, and you’re not mad at her. it’s not her fault that she’s the one spencer’s developed feelings for. you’re just completely caught off guard, utter shock clinging to every nerve in your body. you thought, after all of those shy smiles you’ve shared alone in conference rooms, the late night conversations on the jet, the nights you’ve spent at his place, that they meant something more. you’re just shocked none of it did, and that you’ve completely misread your entire relationship with him.

if gideon gave him the tickets, that means he sees what’s going on between them, too. you furrow your brows, squeezing your eyes closed at this revelation. god, you feel so stupid. how could you have let your own feelings blindside you from what your best friend actually wants? you have no future in profiling, that’s for certain.

you see a shadow looming over your desk from your peripheral vision, and you know who it is merely from the outline of his hair. you look up to find a sheepish spencer reid, seemingly nervous to even be approaching you. you hate that. you hate the idea of him on a date with j.j. even more, though.

“what’s up?” you try to sound interested, but you can both hear the restraint lacing your tone.

“i think i found something. we, uh-we need to gather the rest of the team,” he states.

his voice is quiet, small, his big brown eyes are boring into yours. you nod. the tension grows thicker the longer you stare at each other, eyes desperate to convey everything your mouths are too afraid to say. the file spencer was holding slips through his fingers, falling on your desk with a crisp clack. the noise cuts through the trance you find yourselves in, and you go red as a tomato, looking in your lap to avoid those lethal eyes.

“let’s go,” you mutter, walking past him without so much as a glance.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

over the course of the next week, you spend many work hours nursing your bruised ego in penelope’s batcave of an office. as the two analysts of the team, a lot of your work overlaps, so hotch didn’t raise a brow at the sudden change in your routine, not working with spencer so much. you’re able to tell her about everything going on with him during your brief moments of down time, when you’re filing paperwork or doing light research.

“oh. my. god.” she gasps, aware of your feelings of him from the start, “babe. no way,” she swivels her chair so she’s fully facing you, “i’m sorry! i thought he was into you, too,” she frowns, handing you a unicorn plushie from her desk drawer, “here, take mr. unicorn. he’s the best man on the planet.”

you chuckle sadly and squeeze the soft animal, utilizing its comfort as much as you can. “thanks, pen,” you settle your cheek on the squishy animal’s head and look at her sadly, eyes glassy and big, “i think it was too good to be true. he’s almost too perfect, maybe this is a sign.”

you see her deflate at your defeated tone, her hand reaching out to grab yours, running her thumb over your skin. you stay like that for a moment, allowing yourself to feel the complex emotions you’ve suppressed throughout the week. you’ve only spoken to spencer two or three times this week, about work things only, and it’s wednesday. each day that passes like this weighs heavy, like an anvil on your heart. the feeling is so overwhelming you have no choice but to suppress it until you get home, lest the floodgates are unleashed in the same vicinity as the perpetrator.

paperwork it is.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

that following monday, you sit, stewing at your desk, desperate to blend in to the background. you think back to one week ago, one week since you’ve had that fateful conversation with spencer. you nearly have whiplash from how fast things have changed in only a week. you yearn for the softness of that morning, of the blissful ignorance in thinking that you actually had a chance with spencer reid. your heart aches, the vulnerable throb in your chest paralyzing you. you rest your chin in your hands as your eyes mindlessly drift over emails you missed from the weekend, willing your brain to not work so hard unless absolutely necessary.

you’re snapped out of your pity party by the click of a door unlatching, the soft patter of converse on tile filling the bullpen. your eyes involuntarily follow spencer as he barges in. he’s impossible to ignore, clad in the most adorable button up/sweater vest combo you have ever seen in your life, walking full speed ahead with a scowl planted firmly on his face. the look on his face is so wholly unfamiliar, a look of hurt masking his usually soft features, the light in his eyes gone. the contrast is enough to shock you back to life once more, now registering a flustered penelope hot on his tail. the click of her heels echo through the bullpen in a desperate attempt to keep up with a man who is nearly a foot taller.

“spencer-wait! ugh!“ penelope grunts as spencer falls into his desk chair, immediately using work as a means to deflect. his back is to her as he sifts through the files littering his desk.

you study him from where you sit, his brows furrowed, his shoulders slumped, and lips in a tiny pout that pokes and prods at your heart. penelope gives up quick, turning away with a grunt and a look on her face that read ‘don’t ask’. on her way past your desk, though, she leans in and whispers, “meet me in my office after our meeting,” making your eyes go wide and your heart pick up in speed.

you use the new case to distract your mind from what could possibly be going on with spencer, and opt to stay back with penelope during this case. when you make your decision known in the conference room, spencer flinches. you just barely catch it out of your peripheral, you’re not sure you would have even registered it had garcia not smacked you in the thigh immediately after it happened. hotchner’s eyes flit from you, to penelope, then to reid. morgan coughs. the team is then dismissed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“she brought you to the date?!” you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“yes! i had no idea it was the date,” penelope gushes. you’re setting up materials for the case, waiting for the team to land for more information. in the meantime, she fills you in on the weekend, “i’d just assumed it was a separate event. it never occurred to me that she would invite another person to that. poor spencer’s never been so disappointed to see me,” her tone turns a bit guilty at that, and now it’s your turn to flinch at his name.

“that’s insane, why would she do that?” you ask, bewildered.

“to be honest with you, i have a few ideas…” penelope teases, setting up her computer for the day.

your eyes narrow into slits as she files her nail, feet up and resting on the desk as the rest of her equipment loads.

“what?” you breathe out, even though you both knew.

“come on,” she kicks her feet off the desk and swivels to face you, frozen in front of a box of files, stricken by what you both know is coming next, “it’s you. he has feelings for you, for sure. j.j. knows it too, everyone does. we all see it.”

“really?” you once again can’t believe your ears. relief floods your veins, the rush too sweet to pay attention to your conscious, desperate to sprinkle some guilt in there. you don’t care, though, not after the pure and utter agony of the past week.

“yes, of course! he likes you, i have no doubt about it,” penelope states matter of factly.

you round the corner of the desk and come to sit on a chair opposite her, “what makes you say that?” you’re unintentionally severe, palms resting flat on your thighs, leaning into her as to not miss a word. luckily for you, though, penelope is just as intense.

“it became clear to me when i saw them interact at the game. yes his ego was bruised a little, but he was light, airy. almost relieved. nothing like how he came in today,” she remarks, and your brows knit together in confusion.

“so you’re saying he was at ease with her, but nervous and grumpy when he had to be around me. that doesn’t make any sense,” penelope rolls her eyes at your denial, but you’re quick at the defense with a new argument, “and he told me gideon gave him those tickets to ask her out on a date. it’s her favorite team.”

you cross your arms across your chest and lean back, “i appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, penelope, but if the best profiler on the team could tell he likes her, then he likes her. not me.”

just saying it causes the crack in your chest to reappear, callusing your heart once more.

“ugh, no!” she exclaims, “you two are the most stubborn people i’ve ever met in my life, i swear!” she rolls her eyes and turns back to her now fully loaded equipment as your jaw hangs open in shock.

“what is that supposed to mean?” you lightly scoff.

“all i’m saying is that he was relieved that j.j. brought me, that he was being rejected. after the initial disappointment passed, that is. you’re going to have to get the rest of the information from spencer himself,” she decides, just as her phone starts to ring. saved by the bell, damn her. “talk to each other. you miss each other. everybody can tell and it’s getting sad, like watching two lost puppies roam aimlessly without each other.”

before you can give an answer to her crazy analogy, she turns away from you and flips open her cell phone, “talk to me!” she chirps, and hotch’s stern voice brings you back to the task at hand. you’ll simply have to talk to spencer later. great.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the team was able to land back at home that same night, luckily closing a quick case. after penelope says goodbye to you and spencer, you’re both the last ones in the bullpen. you two anxiously glance around, desperate for anybody else to be there, to break the suffocating tension between you two, thick and heavy with unanswered questions, words unsaid.

as you walk past spencer’s desk, he goes to walk with you, next to you. you haven’t been this close in proximity to him in a week, and the smell of his cologne, his aftershave, makes you heady. you both stop at the elevator, unsure who should go first. you decide on impulse that it has to be you, you can’t take this any longer. you turn to face him, and say the first thing that comes to your mind,

“she brought penelope?”

had it been anybody else, you may have kicked yourself for shoving your foot squarely into your mouth, but it’s spencer, so he laughs. it’s an eye creasing, cheeks bunched up, teeth showing kind of laugh, and you have no choice but to laugh, too. there’s a pang in your heart as this familiarity dawns upon the two of you once again. you’re desperate to keep it, so much so that you don’t move when the elevator dings and the doors open. neither of you do. you stand there, taking each other in, cheeks warm and breathing heavy, as the doors slide close once again.

“yeah. yeah, she brought penelope,” he remarks, red ears hiding behind his slickened hair. your eyes focus on one particular lock that’s fallen over his forehead, nearly in his eye. a sense of longing pierces your heart like cupid’s arrow, you fall in love with him all over again.

“you should wear your hair curly more,” you croak. spencer is unphased at your sudden change of topic, and sends you a small smile.

you’re the only one on the team that’s seen him with his hair curly. you revel in it any time you’re lucky enough to get a glimpse, when you’re sharing a hotel room or his couch on movie night. a strange nostalgia seizes you as you take in his hair, not realizing how much you’ve missed it, missed him until you’re standing there, taking all of him in.

“maybe i’ll start,” he says back gently, another silence falling between the two of you.

“l-listen, i have something i need you to know,” he says, turning to face you, tone growing more confident as he speaks, “gideon told me to ask out j.j. because i’ve been heartbroken over you for weeks.”

time stops.

“heartbroken?” you’re incredulous. “why? what did i do?” you’re nearly panicking, racking your brain for what you could have done to your best friend.

“n-nothing really. i think i heard you talking to penelope about me one day, about how you don’t see me in that way,” he stutters a bit, his head turned down to hide his flushed cheeks, “i thought there was something between us, but after hearing that-i-i just assumed you didn’t feel the same. it made sense, girls like you don't typically go for guys like me.”

your heart cracks in your chest, “spencer,” you whisper out, “don’t say that,” it’s all you can muster. he’s the most beautiful man on the planet. you’ve never been so sure of anything.

he rolls his eyes and you want to shake him until he believes it, “well, he gave me the tickets to try and put myself out there with someone else. j.j. is great, don’t get me wrong, but she’s not you. no one is,” he says, eyes boring into yours.

you take in every word falling from his lips, your brows marrying together. your brain is flying at a mile a minute trying to remember the conversation he’s talking about. suddenly, you stop. your gaze turns to him, eyes wide as the memory comes to you. it had to have been two months since then, but you knew that wasn’t a problem for spencer. if he overheard, he remembers every word out of your mouth.

you were chatting with penelope in the empty conference room. it was a monday, and you had gone out on a date the weekend before. he was the topic of conversation right before spencer came in, how he was ‘so cute’ with his ‘brown eyes and curly brown hair’, how he was ‘the perfect height- like 6’1-6’2’. and yet, you only liked him as a friend. the reality was, you were searching for spencer in every man you pursued, and none of them ever measured up to him. how could they?

“spencer,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands, “i went on a date that weekend. that’s who i was talking about. not you,” the last part comes out in a whisper as realization dawns on spencer’s face, uncertainty dancing through his big brown eyes.

“why didn’t you tell me you had a date?” he asks, puzzled, “is that why you couldn’t come over for movie night that weekend?”

your heart breaks even more, if that’s possible at this point, you wanted to be there. you wanted to be there so badly.

“i had convinced myself that it would never happen. you and me,” you start, and his eyes grow even wider than before, “i was looking for you every time. in every date. that’s why i never told you. it would never work out anyway, because they weren’t you. i wasn’t brave enough to admit that to myself until just now, i guess,” you grow a bit sheepish as you finish your explanation, your eyes glossy. your gaze finds the floor to avoid his piercing gaze. those eyes will kill you one day.

“what does that mean?” he says, so gentle, so spencer.

“it means i’m in love with you. i have been for years, since we started together,” you gush, tears finally falling over your lash line at your confession.

his eyes shut too, a gentle flutter of lashes against his cheek. you see a tear escape down his cheek, too.

“i love you, too. god, i love you too,” he whispers, moving immediately to scoop you up in his arms. he presses the elevator button again, finally getting you two out of there. he keeps you in his arms, carrying you into the elevator, refusing to let go as he squeezes you tight, legs wrapped around his waist as the doors close shut behind you.

as you descend, you reluctantly put your shaky legs on the floor, pulling away slightly to find his gaze.

“hi,” you whisper, biting your lip to try and suppress the cheesy smile taking over. you fail, grinning so wide and so bright, you’re afraid you might blind him.

“hi, beautiful,” he whispers back, brushing your hair back softly with his hand. he then cradles your jaw in his palm, pressing his soft lips against yours.

it’s a gentle kiss, but a passionate one. you both wish desperately to convey every single time you wanted each other, how long you’ve loved each other.

spencer pulls away from you for a brief moment to ask, “do you want to be my girlfriend? i think maybe we should try dating each other,” his sarcasm has you grinning from ear to ear.

“i think that’s the most genius idea you’ve had yet, doctor,” you lean in to kiss him again. he groans at the title, lips surrendering back into yours.

the ding of the elevator breaks your kiss, and you can’t hide your cheesy grins as you walk into the parking garage, your pinkies linked together.

“do you wanna come back to my apartment tonight? we can watch a movie?” spencer suggests nervously, like you’d say no. god, you love him.

“that sounds perfect,” you smile, pulling him in for another kiss. you can tell he’s expecting a light peck, but you deepen it, your hand finding the nape of his neck. your lips softly click together as you move against each other, your tongue just barely slipping into his mouth.

“see you at home,” you wink and get into your own car, leaving a flustered spencer reid in your wake.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #matthew gray gubler #mgg

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reiderwriter · 5 months

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Can I request a Spencer babying the reader BAU and everyone on the team is so done with it but reader is confused and oblivious...?

A/N: Thank you for your request! I've been very much feeling post-Prison/ later seasons Spencer recently, so I hope you enjoy this fic!

Warnings: mostly fluff, implied age-gap, slight mentor/mentee dynamic.

Your first year in the BAU would've been tough had it not been for Doctor Spencer Reid.

It was tough still, but without him, you don't think you'd have been able to handle much of it. He'd been your mentor through each case, taking you under his wing when he wasn't on academic leave, teaching his criminology courses at the FBI Academy.

Those weeks were the hardest, and you found yourself moping about in the office, texting him once or twice a trip for advice.

On one particularly hard case, he'd come back into the office after you'd text. Not to consult on the case, but just to drop you off a chamomile tea and a pastry to brighten your day that little bit.

When he was back, your days were great. He knew so much, and you learnt so much from him so quickly, eagerly consuming his every word. You were so eager to please him that you often forgot others around the two of you.

“Spencer, if you're done fawning after Y/N we have a case to work on,” Emily gently chastised the man as he pulled out your chair for you, ready to sit down to hear the details of your next crime.

“Oh, Emily, thank you, but it's okay. Doctor Reid was just being considerate, I'm sure he'd have done it for anyone.” The shared glances around the room were filled with glib secrecy, but no-one commented further, leaving you slightly baffled.

Those shared looks between the other members of your team had become more common as of late, with each one more worrisome than the next. There was something unsettling about being the only one out of the loop, and as the newest member of the team, and the youngest, it often felt disheartening.

“Y/N, don't worry. Being the youngest member of any team is tough, but you're smart and you're holding your own.” With a pat to your head he walked away, lifting the weight off your shoulders slightly but not fully. You needed to get to the bottom of the BAU's non-verbal communications, and you needed answers.

Your first technique was interrogation. Surely one of them would break and tell you if you laid out your thoughts and feelings clearly.

Surely not, you found, as each member casually and softly blew you off.

“Y/N, you just need to think carefully about how certain members of the team act towards you. How familiar they are. How overly familiar they are.” Tara had at least told you that much, bit it had left you just as confused as the radio silence from the others.

“Everyone has behaved very professionally with me. You've all been very welcoming up to this point, which I appreciate greatly.”

“I wouldn't count gifting you flowers for your first successful case as the most professional act, Y/N,” she said as she sipped her coffee. “But I suppose that is just up to interpretation.

Doctor Reid had sent you flowers after you finished your first case. But there had been extenuating circumstances in that case. You'd both worked on the geographical profile on that case, and together had figured out the species of flower the unsub was using was only cultivated on one local flower orchard. It had cracked the case open and you'd found your unsub hours later.

So the flowers were an extension of that small joint success. That was all.

Your second attempt at figuring out what was going on was observation.

Partially taking Tara’s advice, you tried your best to track the moments when each of the weary looks would come your way.

Overwhelmingly, they seemed to be directed towards Doctor Reid whenever the two of you interacted.

You had to gently inform him of this, before it interrupted both of your abilities to work.

“Doctor Reid, do you know why Emily and Rossi are both currently watching us from between the blinds in their offices?” You whispered to the man, leaning in close to his ear. You were quite sure he didn't know, but a question seemed as good a way as any to broach the topic.

“I do, yes. It's best if you ignore them.”

His nonchalance in the matter shocked you, so sure you were that this would be news to him. You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

“Why are they staring at us?” You finally managed to force the words out in a small squeak, forcing his eyes back to yours.

“Don't worry about it for now, I'll handle it.” He smiled down as you, and the bright gesture washed away more of the tension you'd been feeling in the office. You smiled back at him as he rose from his desk chair and carried himself to the stairs. You giggled when he winked down at you, just as you noticed Emily frantically hurrying away from her office window as Spencer knocked on her door.

As much as he told you to not worry about it all though, you really couldn't help yourself. You found yourself growing more clumsy under the watchful eyes of your entire team, galling more times than you'd care to admit into Doctor Reid's arms. He always caught you, though, and you were thankful you never did yourself serious injury.

You finally got the answers you'd craved out on a case about a month into your struggles.

There was something slightly unsettling about the way the female Sheriff was paying attention to Doctor Reid, and it made you uncomfortable. Your mouth ran dry when she touched his arm, but a small part of you warmed up again when he shrugged her off. Until, at least, you heard him explain why.

“I'm sorry, I'm a germophobe, so I'd really prefer you not touch me.” His voice was calm and steady; it really didn't seem like he was lying.

“You're not pulling my leg? I'm sorry if I came on too strong, but-”

“Why would I pull your leg, I said I don't like physical touch?”

“Well, there was that young girl earlier, Y/N was it? You had your hand on her back as you walked in, so I didn't think…”

The woman had made a good point, and you crept closer to the edge of the door to hear Doctor Reid - Spencer's response.

“Sheriff, if we're done here, do you think I could get back to my job?” You were almost disappointed in the change of topic, but you weren't all that sad to see the Sheriff remove herself from the room. Slipping in behind her you decided to test the new theory that had slipped into your mind in the last minutes.

You called out to him to grab his attention as you walked into the room but before he had the chance to turn and greet you, you threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your body down against his, enveloping him in a back hug.

It was quite possibly the most familiar position you'd been in with him, but really it wasn't all that different from your usual proximity.

Unlike when the Sheriff casually brushed against him, he didn't stiffen, didn't pull away, but instead melted into your touch, looking up at you with a large grin.

You stood shocked for a minute before grinning back.

“Spencer, I think I know why everyone has been watching us for the last few weeks.” You said, causing his eyes to panic slightly as he acknowledged your words.

“The, uh, the Sheriff was just in here talking about a development either some of the DNA test results-” He desperately tried to change the subject, but you were locked in now, spinning his chair around to face you more as you came eye-to-eye with him.

“I know why the Sheriff was in here, Spencer, I heard it all.”

“It's not what you think,” you paused for a moment as your brow furrowed, trying to figure out if you'd somehow caught the wrong end of the stick.

“So our coworkers haven't been waiting for you to ask me out, having noticed large changes in your body language and attitude around me?”

“It's….exactly as you think.” His face was flushed with pink and your heart skipped a beat at the man in front of you. But you still had some questions.

“And you knew, but you didn't say anything to me despite the fact that I bought it up multiple times?”

“I'm…I'm not good with words," he frowned

“Are you good with dates?”

“Excuse me?”

“You're going to take me on a date when we get back to Quantico. After giving it some thought, Doctor Reid, it seems I've become quite enamoured of you.” You dropped into his lap then, sitting there like a cat pleased to take up residence on its owners legs. He stuttered for a few seconds but then found his voice again, face lighting up.

“Spencer. Please, Y/N, call me Spencer.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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ralvezfanatic · 3 months

Text

my girlfriend btw

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid icons

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spencer-reids-fbivest · 16 days

Text

THE 5 SLUTTIEST THINGS A MAN CAN DO:

1. Ofc wear a FBI vest😉

2. When he turns to look at you like this☺️

3. Whatever this is😫 (That jawline tho🔪)

4. When he wears a short sleeved shirt AND he sticks his hands in his pocket🫡

5. When he does this tongue thing🐱

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg pics #mgg imagine #mgg edit #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader

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rebeccccccaaa · 19 days

Text

Too Sweet

______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: Practically at his beck and call, Spencer knows you’re too sweet for him. He knows he shouldn’t use you but he can’t stop himself when you’re also all too enthusiastic to fuck him ::

warnings :: smutttt, casual sex (kinda lol), oral (fem receiving), over stimulation, insomnia!spencer, spencer spitting facts (literally), reader is described to have hair length long enough to stick to your cheeks, obviously reader is described as afab, not sure what else i should tag so let me know what i miss :)

author’s notes :: hello, hello! honestly i saw this tik tok edit of spencer with this song (Too Sweet - Hozier) and felt a bit inspired by it and also loosely by lyrics too. please be kind as it’s been a couple years since i last wrote a fic and it’s my first one about dr reid too, so let me know if you guys like it, comment, reblog, all that jazz and critiques are more than welcome! Enjoy!

WC :: ~4k

_______________

It was pretty late into the night, it was the first weekend in weeks that the team was able to really enjoy. Spencer sat in a corner of his apartment, a glass of whiskey sat on the table as he flipped the pages of a book he’s read a thousand times before, albeit it was one of favorites.

He was hesitant to call, he didn’t want to pull you away from enjoying your weekend but when it came to his pleasure, he put himself first. You were always too nice to say no to him and he knew that. It made him feel sleazy sometimes, but this was who he was now. Rugged, damaged, fucked up. He’d been through a lot. But in those moments where you squirmed and whined beneath him, he felt satiated. You were his drug now.

“Hello?” he mumbled when the call picked up.

“Spencer,” your voice was a whisper as you practically sang his name.

“You’re awake,” he said.

“Yes,” you responded.

“It’s a little late don’t you think?” he poked.

“Then why are you calling?”

You knew why he was calling. He only ever wanted one thing from you when the sky was dark. You didn’t mind it though. You basked in it. You kind of liked it. The feeling of having sex without commitment. Your job didn’t give you enough time for a commitment. You didn’t feel humiliated or belittled by Spencer’s desires. In fact, his lust for you turned you on in most cases. Most.

Spencer was still a good friend to you. Regardless of sleeping with him, he was your closest friend. And recently, you noticed changes in him. Maybe you’ve kept a closer eye on him more than before but you were a little concerned. You had the right after everything he’s been through. He seemed more tired than usual, even though he was still punctual with work. Although you didn’t sleep in his bed after every time you slept together, when you did, you pretended not to notice his exits and long absences in between the long hours of the night. You could barely hear his ever so quiet footsteps roaming the living room. The clanking of coffee mugs in the kitchen and his quiet ‘Shit’ when he thought he was being too loud.

Three subtle knocks rapped his door, so quiet Spencer would’ve missed if he had breathed just a bit louder. A grin spread across his face subconsciously, glancing at the clock before taking long strides to the door. It was almost midnight. You stood in the doorway with heavy eyes, not the drunk kind, but the tired kind. He moved aside to let you in. Just like last time; and all the other times you showed up at his door for him.

“I thought you went out tonight,” he questioned, rhetorically.

“I did. For a bit,” you told him, “I just had one drink, then went home.”

“What are you doing up so late?” you asked, you already know the answer. And Spencer knows you know too, though he tried at first to be more subtle in his nightly fixtures. He simply sighed with amusement. You set your things down on his couch, eyes adjusting to the dim lights that hardly lit the room. The glass sitting on the table in the corner caught your eyes though.

“What are you drinking?” you asked.

“Uh, whiskey. Neat.”

“Ew, why?” you joked.

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugged. A whiskey wouldn’t exactly be Spencer’s first choice of drink but then again his first choice of drink wouldn’t even be alcohol. If it was, he would probably be content with a beer, or something of the sort. He was sort of going through a phase during nights. He was sleeping a lot less too.

“I just didn’t take you for a whiskey kind of guy,” you teased.

“What kind of guy did you take me for?” he poked; he wasn’t really talking about drinks anymore though.

“Water,” you joked, making him laugh.

Spencer stood before you now. His hands were slightly hesitant this time to rest on your hips.

“Is everything ok, Spencer?” you asked him.

“Yes,” his voice was a whisper.

You didn’t believe him, but you knew better than to press him. He was a stubborn guy and whether you did or didn’t you weren’t going to get an answer. You slid your hands up his chest before cupping the back of his neck with your hands. The kiss was chaste. You didn’t want to sleep with him if he was having second thoughts.

“Are you sure? If you’ve changed your mind I can head hom-,” you were telling him.

“No, don’t,” he rushed out.

“I’m fine; I just haven’t been sleeping well,” he confessed. This surprised you, not because you didn’t know, but because you didn’t think he would tell you.

“Well, then maybe I should go. That way you can finally get to bed before the sun comes up for once,” you joked with him, “Besides, you’re the one who's always telling people how important sleep is to the human body.”

Your words shocked Spencer this time. Admittedly, in the back of mind he suspected that you could sense him leaving his bed, or your bed sometimes, and that one or more times he’d been a little loud dwindling in the next room. But he didn’t realize you were fully aware of his nightly escapades. You knew him too well. You were too sweet to him. Spencer knew after all the fucked up things he’s been through he didn’t deserve your friendship; or anything more despite the fact.

“Did you know that elephants sleep the least of any other animal?” he told you, he doesn’t know why. Maybe to distract you, or seduce you. Both outcomes came often enough for him to make it a guessing game.

“You’re not an elephant.”

And then there were the ultra rare times when neither outcome happened; just now being one of them.

“Sleep deprivation has been associated with reduced sexual desire and arousal,” he tried again.

“Well, I can help with that,” you teased. There we go.

He leaned down to kiss your lips but you pulled back in tease, smile on your face; you knew how pussywhipped you had this man. He didn’t want to fight it, he was growing desperate for you with every passing second. Rolling his eyes, he dipped his head in the crook of your neck. His hands left your hips, pulling you closer to him from your waist and lower back. Your hands began to unbutton his shirt, he was still wearing the clothes you saw him working in earlier that day.

You stopped him, never been one to have sex anywhere other than the bedroom, taking his hand already knowing where to go after doing so many times before already. Although, it wasn’t like his apartment was a confusing labyrinth. He followed you like always.

You reached the edge of the bed, sitting instinctively. Your hand went straight to his belt, undoing it with ease. Spencer pulled your hands away from his hips before sinking to his knees to the ground. He pulled your hips to the very edge, scratching the skin as he desperately pulled at your pants bringing them down your legs. Of course you let him.

He pushed you back and you fell on your elbows, still able to see him so clearly. See him dip his head and kiss the skin on the inside of your knee, his eyes lingering on yours. You let your head go for a second, basking in the feeling of his lips. They always made you feel so warm and tingly. One thing about Spencer, he loved foreplay. All the little things that lead up to sex. Most of the time, he craved the foreplay more than the sex itself.

He moved your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your thighs, his hands holding your hips. His nose ran along your inner thighs. Your skin erupted in goosebumps at the feeling of his warm breath coming from his nose. His fingers fiddled against your hip bones and you wiggled a bit becoming desperate by the minute for something more than just this teasing.

“Spence,” you whined, looking back at him.

“It doesn’t matter how many times we do this, you’ll never learn patience will you?” Spencer bartered.

“Spencer, I don’t come to you to learn patience,” you spat, not with any malice however.

“You won’t come at all with that attitude,” he snapped back, hiding a grin between your legs.

“Spencer!” you gasped.

He chuckled lowly, bringing his hand between your thighs, pulling your underwear to the side to expose you to him. You were glistening, slick beginning to leak from you already. Spencer could feel himself getting hard. He precariously tried to not buck his hips into the bed like horny teenager.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

He stepped up quickly letting your legs drop harshly. His fingers curled over the hem of your underwear pulling them down and tossing behind his shoulder before returning to his previous position. He felt like he was possessed. Acting and moving like it was primal, instinctive. He wanted nothing more in this moment than to satisfy you.

He kissed all the places except the place you needed the most. You curled your toes anticipating his next move, longing for his lips, tongue, fingers, anything to bring you pleasure. Just when you were about to sit up, ready to nag at him, his lips wrapped around your bud.

Your shoulders gave out at the feeling. Your body electrifying instantaneously. Your eyes trained on the ceiling, focusing on everything about Spencer in this moment, the sounds, his touch, his tongue. His tongue dipping in you every now and then, making you moan feverishly. His hands spread out, pinning your hips down to the bed to try and get you to stop wiggling your hips, but he wasn’t too successful in that.

“Knock it off,” he groaned, removing a hand wrapped around your leg to bring his fingers to your entrance.

“It’s not enough; I need more,” you whined.

“No, you want more,” he debuted, “You’re being greedy.”

“And you’re being mean,” you quipped, you always had something to retort.

“Ok, fine,” he stood up.

“Stop!” you whined, “Please, come back. Do whatever you want.”

“I will,” he sat on his knees again, instantly bringing his fingers up to rub slow circles that made your toes curl.

He purposefully let them every now and then prod at your entrance make your hips jerk in surprise. He could see how wet you were, all of the slick telling him how needy you were. He looked up to look at your face. His eyes catching your nipples peeking through the fabric of your shirt from the pleasure already, smiling to himself.

“Sexual arousal can cause an increase in blood flow to not just female genitalia, but also the breasts,” he told you, feeling your thighs squeeze ever so slightly.

“Is that your way of telling me my nipples are hard because of you?” you teased.

“Yes,” he stated before diving straight back between your thighs.

His tongue did circles like his fingers, the wetness and warmth much more stimulating than before. His fingers slid inside you, curling when he couldn’t push them any further. You moaned out, reaching your hand down to comb your fingers through Spencer’s shaggy hair. The noises of everything bounced off the walls of Spencer’s shallow bedroom. It sounded vulgar but so sexy. Your heavy breathing practically syncing together.

Your thighs squeezed more and more as you got closer to your climax; you didn’t care if you were suffocating Spencer. If he died, he died pleasuring you and neither of you minded it in this moment. Your hips grinding against his tongue chasing you release frantically. Spencer pumped his fingers in and out of you rapidly, leading you to ecstasy.

Your breaths became shaking, as did your moans. You were overcome with pleasure as your orgasm hit you so suddenly. You could feel Spencer’s smile growing against you, you knew that he wasn’t going to withdraw despite reaching your climax.

“Oh god, too much, Spence.”

“First it was not enough, now it’s too much?” he taunted you, fingers still pumping in and out you strenuously.

“Spence!” you wailed, your voice trembling embarrassingly.

When he wouldn’t give out, you pulled at his hair as you sat up and pulled his mouth away from between your thighs.

“Oh ow, ow, ow!” he whined.

“Jesus, you were gonna give me a heartache,” you whined.

“Actually the possibility of having a heart attack during sexual activity is exceedingly low. So you wouldn’t have had anything to worry about; if anything you would get a small headache,” he explained.

“You’re giving me a headache,” you whined, making him laugh.

You pulled him from the back of his neck, crashing his lips against yours. You loved to kiss Spencer. You always felt the closest to him physically when you kissed. Which is ironic since he was quite literally inside you most nights. Kissing, the art of kissing, was practically your love language. You always gave small pecks when you were together, privately of course.

Spencer was worried at first, that kissing was too intimate that things would complicate fast and feelings would get hurt. But as time went on and things continued to stay normal between you, he just began to relish in it rather than worry about nothing. At least that’s what he’s convinced himself of.

He suddenly remembered the first time you slept together. You were in his apartment one night going over some details of the case. Nothing so major, or frightening, but something wasn’t adding up. You decided to take a break, cracking open some beers and just talk. One beer became two, then three, then four and then suddenly bottles littered the pitiful coffee table in front of you. You were very clear with him, “I don’t just sleep with anybody.” But you were a woman with needs just as much as Spencer was a man, “Neither do I.”

“Things have to stay the way they are if we do this,” he told you that night.

“They will,” you assured him.

You rested your forehead against his seeing his eyes seem different. Spencer always did this. Everytime, just for a minute or even a second, he would disappear behind his eyes, like he was reminiscing on a memory you couldn’t describe.

“You did that thing again,” you said with a small grin on your face.

“I know,” he blushed, “Sorry.”

“You ever gonna tell me what you’re thinking about when you do that?” you questioned.

“Nope,” he smirked, making you giggle.

Spencer stood straight up shagging his shirt off before scrambling out of his pants. He crawled back over you settling his hips between your thighs as he dipped his head down to attach his lips to your neck. Your hand curled around his neck, sliding your fingers through his hair as his breath and lips tickled your skin. Your hips fit together snuggly, grinding against desperate to chase each other’s highs.

Spencer reached into the drawer beside your head to pull out a condom. You snatched it from his hands with a devilish smirk on your face tearing it with your teeth. You spat the foil corner from your mouth, pulling the condom from its package before tossing it aside. You reached between your bodies stroking Spencer. His face blushing red, contorting with pleasure as it’s the first of the night to feel some sort of friction he needed from the beginning. The reason he called you in the first place.

Spencer let his hands trace your skin. Though you wouldn’t react, your skin erupted in goosebumps. Feeling him prodding against your entrance, your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat. You always anticipated this part. No matter how many times you and Spencer spent the night together, you couldn’t ever get used to the flips your stomach made at this time.

Spencer pushed his hips into you, his length stroking your walls making your hum in delight. Spencer’s breath became heavy as he pulled out just enough before rutting back in you with skill. Your face began to feel hot as Spencer began to find a good rhythm. You could feel the sweat building on your forehead, the air cold against your scalp.

You looked at Spencer’s face; the veins bulging from his forehead and his neck. You cupped his cheek with your hand, catching his rhythm with your hips. Your breath became heavy, your hums became moans. Spencer wasn’t exactly the most vocal lover you laid with. Not that Spencer was your lover of course. That‘s not what you meant.

“What’s going on in that pretty little brain?” Spencer’s voice took you from your sudden trance; his pace beginning to slow. He brought his hand to your face, pulling the stray hairs that stuck to your cheeks from your sweat away.

“Nothing, just don’t stop,” you sighed, pulling his lips down to yours again.

Spencer picked up his pace again, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room. You felt overcome with an ambitious heat throughout your body. You pushed Spencer’s shoulders up trying your best to cool down without stopping your chase to your high. Spencer sat on his knees gripping your hips, practically ramming his hips into yours. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets beneath you.

“Oh god, fuck,” you cried out. Your thighs squeezing Spencer’s torso as you began to get closer to your climax.

“Shit, it’s like I can’t get enough no matter how many times I have you squirming beneath me,” he gloated.

You could see Spencer's chest begin to get red, his knuckles however turning white. Your hands reached down gripping his wrists. Prying them away, before sitting up to straddle his legs, as they stretched forward, adjusting comfortably. You held on to his shoulders sturdily, finding an entirely new rhythm to chase your high.

Spencer’s hands ran up your back, sliding under your shirt that you had yet to take off. No wonder you were overwhelmed with heat. He peeled the tight fabric from your skin, tossing it to the ground like he has so many times before. He unhooked your bra with ease, his eyes instantly trained to your chest. He couldn’t help his hands following, massaging the soft skin. Spencer looked up to you as you bounced up and down. Sweat dripping seductively down the valley of your breasts.

“You’re so pretty,” Spencer whispered, staring up at you.

“I know,” you joked breathlessly, giving him a playful wink.

Spencer let out a breathy laugh at that. The both of you were itching for a release now. Your bodies squirming against one another, aching to give the other the release. You leaned back placing your hands on his thighs, moving your hips faster and harder than before.

“Spencer, I’m getting close, I feel it,” you whimpered, “Please tell me you’re close too.”

“I’m close,” he breathed out.

“Fuck,” you cried.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let go,” Spencer mused, he reached between you two, fingers circling quickly between your thighs to bring you to climax even faster.

You gasped out, chest heaving as you felt the waves of pleasures wash over you suddenly. You couldn’t help the loud moans escaping from you as you threw your head back; arched back and thighs tensed. Spencer’s hand held your body close to himself, and you curled forward wrapping your arms around his head as you climaxed indefinitely. Spencer grunted below you, his legs stiffening and jerking upward. Curses whispered from his lips.

“Oh, shit,” you gasped, relaxing and slumping your body over Spencer.

“Treat me good, like always,” he whispered, his hand coming briefly to stroke your hair gently.

He rolled you over, laying you lazily on his bed before climbing out of the bed swiftly. He stumbled his way to dispose of the rubber. He grabbed a small towel from a drawer along with something to cover himself. He sat silently on the edge of the bed, gently cleaning you as your eyes slowly blinked, telling him you were exhausted.

“You want to stay the night? I can see how tired you are.”

“I’ll be gone first thing in the morning,” you quipped with a small grin on your face.

Spencer laid beside you, covering your body with the blankets. You curled by his side, your leg falling over his hips. He turned the lights out, but the soft golden glow from the lights in the room next door streamed in. His arm wrapped around you, fingers softly stretching your back. Steady breaths against his chest gave him a sense of comfort. He was always a bit jealous how easily sleep came to you; how peaceful you looked when you did. Spencer tried to close his eyes. He tried to let rest wash over him like a blanket. What felt like seconds was an hour. And another hour. He peeked at his watch laying on the nightstand beside him, three o’clock the time read.

Sighing, he sneaked out of bed, careful to not wake you. He skulked towards the kitchen, eyeing the small glass of whiskey still on the table. He couldn’t help smirk to himself over it. He opened the cabinet grabbing a mug, pouring a bitter liquid into it. He took a big swig of his favorite beverage, basking in all the flavors, when suddenly a beautiful figure stood before him.

“Hey,” his voice was quiet.

“I’m guessing you haven’t slept,” you tiptoed your way to him, you could hear him sighing.

“Is there anything at all I can do to help you?” you whispered, carefully placing your hand on Spencer’s warm back.

“No, but having you here is enough.”

You were beginning to blur the lines between your arrangement and your friendship. But neither you nor Spencer could muster up the courage to stop what you’ve started. Spencer indulged in your sweetness, the way you were always there to satiate his desires, the way you opened yourself to him like heaven’s gate. And you, well you would never admit it. Being in love with Spencer that is. You’ve known him for years; seen the best parts of him and helped him through the worst. You knew him the best of anyone you’ve known before. And he could say the same too. He’s never opened up to anyone as much as he has to you.

You were perfect for each other. And yet, Spencer wouldn’t allow himself to bask in it. He truly believed he didn’t deserve you. That all the demons that haunted him in these dark hours were undeserving of your kindness, compassion, gentleness. Simply thinking about you was often enough to calm him in tense situations. But he would never tell you this. So here he was, standing in the kitchen with his coffee black at three in the morning wondering why you couldn’t see that he would never be enough for you.

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