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#spencer reid deserved a happy ending
luveline · 5 months
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gorgeous can we get bombshell reader and Spencer May be the first time he’s snappy with her bc he’s stressed and she’s just so taken aback and May be even tears up? And then just a fluffy ending with Spencer apologizing
thank you for requesting! fem, 2.2k
Spencer Reid is extra kissable when he's frowning. Button up and no suit jacket, sleeves pushed past his elbows and hair on the shorter side, he holds a certain confidence in his hands where they're tucked in his pockets. Sure of himself, and clearly agitated. 
You're always on his side; you don't think twice about easing into the conference room to see what's wrong. 
"Hey," you say with a slight lilt to your tone. You're always on his side, and always flirting. "What's wrong?" 
"Why does something have to be wrong?" he asks. 
Not mean. Not light. Somewhere in the solid middle, his gaze loyal to the laptop on the desk he stands behind. You step close enough to smell the subtle scent of his cologne, wondering if he can smell your perfume in turn, and if it's one he likes. You try to touch his hand and he takes the desk into his grip instead, leaning forward, out of reach. 
"That's not what I meant to convey," you say, still flirting. You're not stupid, you realise his mood, but you're hoping it's somebody else's fault. "But if you aren't happy to see me then I'd definitely suggest there was something wrong." 
"I'm just trying to figure something out." 
This close, to your own credit, Spencer usually trips up. He's been getting better as you've grown closer, your 'torturing' —as the team likes to call it— only prompting the occasional blush or stammer. You don't flirt with Spencer to torture him no matter what anyones says and you never have, you flirt with him because he deserves to be complimented. He's andsome, intelligent, and courageous. What others might miss you see in blaring neon lights: he's a catch. You intend on making your intentions known, and if that means playing the long game or the slow burn, that's okay. You like to dance. 
You put yourself between him and the laptop screen. He can still see it if he cranes his neck, and he does. "You look a little tired, handsome. Looking at a screen all day will hurt you in the end. Neck aches, shoulder cramps, eye strain. Though I can't help with the latter, the former…" His arm is solid under your hand, your fingertips running along the ridge of a stark vein. 
He doesn't quite flinch away, but he moves quickly enough to startle you, lamenting, "Could you give me some space, please?" 
That's all well and good, you rush to do as he's asked and step back because the very last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable and his voice is frankly acidic, but everything is moving too quickly, you're not as aware as you should be —you smash your hand backwards into a cold cup of coffee and knock it straight into the lap of Spencer's laptop. 
"No," you gasp, grabbing the cup before the entirety of it can empty. Coffee wells between the keys and you go to grab it to– well, to do something. 
"Stop it!" Spencer shouts, voice sharp as a knife. "You always do this," —quieter, venomous— "you can't help yourself." 
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I would answer you if I had the time. I'll be busy rescuing my hard drive before an entire month of work is wasted thanks to your dire need for attention." 
He slips around you and stalks out the door, coffee dripping from the corner of his laptop in a sorry trail that shines in the fluorescent lights. 
Your first rush of tears are driven by indignation; it was an accident, you didn't mean to do that, why would you ever do that? But the second, more encompassing rush is a hot mixture of shame and guilt. What have you done? 
You take a hesitant step toward the door but don't bother following him. I'll make things worse, you think, bringing a hand to your face. Makeup marrs your hand as you wipe your cheeks. You stare down at the stains for a long, long time. 
I'll apologise, you think eventually, rubbing at the mascara like soot on your palm. Just as soon as I look okay again. 
You don't want Spencer or anyone to see you upset. You wear your makeup and your confidence for yourself, not to hide any insecurity but to embolden yourself, to be yourself. But to get to your desk you'd have to leave the conference room bared as you are, and you'd have to face Spencer, and the second option brings more tears. 
This is all so messy, and it's your fault. 
I'm such an idiot. I'm exactly what he thinks of me. 
You sit in the chair furthest from the door with a pack of tissues from the cubby and rub your hot cheeks dry, streaks of mascara in the shapes of your fingertips like soot left behind. It's sitting that gets you —the shock of tears at being shouted at by someone you care about amplifies into a distress you can't explain. It's stupid, it's stupid. You press your face into your hands and curl in on yourself at the table, ears ringing. I'm so, so stupid. 
The inside of Spencer's lip is bleeding, metallic on his tongue. He's white hot annoyance all the way to Penelope's office, choked as he tells her he needs her help. 
"Spencer?" she said. "What happened? Are you okay?" 
He realises what he's done. "Please, Garcia, can you do something? I really need to go." 
He doesn't hear her response beyond her surprised but emphatic Sure, spinning on his heel to walk back the way he came. He rubs at his temple, moving between a slow trudge and a speed walk as he assesses the damage of what he's said. What did he say? your dire need for attention. 
Your sniffing is something out of his fucking nightmares. Who does he think he is? You're sitting exactly where he left you next to that half empty coffee cup, a tissue scrunched in your trembling hands, visible in the small glass window of the door. You must be thinking of what he's said to have missed the sound of his footsteps, or perhaps he's left you too upset to want to look up. 
He sees the moment a sob works through you, watches you hold your breath in a painful effort to keep it down, raising the tissue to your eyes and catching your tears before they fall. You're doing a lacklustre job despite your efforts, the oily shine of mascara iridescent on your cheeks. Or maybe that's tear tracks. It's hard to tell. 
Spencer fights with himself. He doesn't know if deserves to come running back or if it would be more fair to send JJ or Derek in to comfort you. 
"You made your bed," his mom would say, not without affection. "You have to lie in it." 
Spencer squeezes his eyes closed to push away the memory, surveying the damage he's done carefully as he crosses the threshold back into the conference room. Your head lifts at the sound of the door, your stammer visible before you speak, "Spence– Spencer. Is your laptop okay? Did I break it? I'm so sorry." 
Gideon would tell Spencer to be nicer. Hotch would say Reid in that stern shade of voice that's half disapproval and half fondness. They'd both tell him to be better, but neither of them have ever had to see you as you look now, tearstained and sorry, eyes wide with worry but shoulders tense. He has his role models, and yet none of them could possibly give him a way to apologise that could ever make up for they way he's made you feel. 
Little dramatic, Morgan would say. Start with a hug, loverboy. Can't go wrong with a hug. 
He should ask but he doesn't, a second transgression against you. Spencer pushes past chair and the sodden circle of carpet to your chair, pausing in case you're going to tell him to shove it. You lick your lips. "Did I break it?" you ask, as though resigned for a yes  
He can't temper that amount of self-hatred on you. It doesn't suit you. He much prefers you the way you like to be, confident in everything, flirty and funny and soft, in both touch and touches. He takes your face into a careful hand, tilting it toward the light and weary of your shallow exhale. "I…" He begins and ends, stroking your tacky cheek with his index finger, as though brushing away an eyelash. If it were real he'd say make a wish, and you would wish for him or some similar sweetness, salacious smile to boot, or earnestness fit to fill a mountain. I wish you'd realise how pretty you are and stop denying me the pleasure of a beautiful boyfriend, you'd croon. 
His fingers collect at your jaw and slip behind your ear as he cleans your skin with the side of his thumb. You lean into the touch, slashing his hesitancy in two. 
"Sorry," he says, pulling your head toward his neck gently as he leans down to hold you. "I'm sorry. Don't be upset, please. Don't be upset " 
"I'm an idiot–" 
"No," he says, with the facts to back his denial. "I'm an idiot, I should never have upset you like this–"
"I broke your computer, it's just like you said–" 
"I shouldn't have–" 
"–I'm so needy I could've ruined all your hard work," you say, wriggling with guilt like you attempt to pull away. 
Spencer really doesn't want to let you go now he has you, not until he's sure you'll stay in one piece. "If it's ruined, it's my fault for failing to back it up." 
He should tell you that he's sorry for what he said. He knew it wasn't right he moment it escaped him, to speak to you like that, and accuse you of what he did. He basically called you selfish, uncaring. He implied it and worse, and for what? An accident? A mis-step that he practically forced you into? 
"I never should've said that to you," he says, breaking his hug to crouch in front front you, searching blindly for your hand as he holds eye contact, looking up. You deign to frown down. "And I walked away. And you're crying," —his voice fries with sympathy— "because of me." 
Your hand is limp in his. "I'm sorry," he says. 
"It's okay." You sniffle and nod, lips struggling into a smile. 
"It's not okay." 
"Well, I hit your coffee over, so we're even." 
"You accidentally spilled my drink, you didn't deserve to be mocked." 
"Spence…" Your eyes half-lidded, you wince down at the cradle of his hand where it holds yours. "Did I break it?" 
"I don't know. I got to Garcia's office and I knew I did the wrong thing, so I came back." 
You swallow audibly. "I just wanted to make you feel better." 
"I know, angel." He stands again as your eyes well with tears to hug you, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry. That was all me, okay? I shouldn't have snapped at you." 
What follows is agony. Spencer patting your back through a panicked bubble of tears, wretched in knowing he caused it, and worse is the look you give him as he wipes your messed up make up away in want of a mirror, like you're grateful. 
"Does it look really bad?" 
"N–no. You look really pretty," he says. 
"Are my eyes puffy?"
A little. "No. You look great." He can't apologise anymore– it won't help you feel better now, it'll just assuage his own worry. What you need is a different reassurance. "It's hard not looking at you, sometimes, you look that nice. But you know that already." 
"I don't mean to do that. I didn't mean to." 
Spencer puts his hand above your heart. "I know you didn't. I really, really shouldn't have said it. I was being cranky and I struck out like a kid." 
"...You're not just saying I look nice to get back in the good books, are you?" you ask. 
Spencer leans in, nearly nose to nose with you. "Of course not." 
You tilt your head as though you might kiss him. He knows you won't and he's delighted anyways. It means you're feeling okay. He's nearly forgiven, or, at the very least, you're not actively upset. "I thought I liked seeing you pissed off, but now I'm not so sure." 
"It's not a good look on me," he murmurs. "But it looks great on you, if you want to get angry with me."
"Well now I can't. I know it's what you want." 
"Can I give you a hug?" he asks. 
You drop all your acts and slide your arms around his neck. He wraps you up slowly, one arm at a time, careful to put all the pressure exactly where you like it. 
"That feels nice," you mumble. 
He bends into you and rubs your back. "Yeah?" 
"Don't," you warn. 
He draws a shape into your back with his fingers, slow, tiny things that make you squirm. "Don't what?" 
"You're tickling me." You don't sound unhappy about it. 
"What?" he asks. "I can't hear you over the sound of me being a huge jackass. Sorry, angel." 
Your giggle is honey into his shoulder, sticky and sluggish as his circles turn to stars.
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munsonsbtch · 7 months
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fuck u betta - s.r.
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spencer reid x plus size fem bau reader
she can fuck you good, but i can fuck you better
warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI jealousy, friends w/benefits, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), daddy kink, dom!spencer, sub!reader, degradation/praise kinks, spanking, breeding kink, mentions of cheating (does not occur)
based on f**k u betta by neon hitch
dividers credit: @saradika-graphics
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You knew it was wrong, despicable and completely selfish. You should be happy for him, knowing this girls sunshine personality was something he needed in his life. Especially after getting out of prison.
But that was how you got yourself into this predicament in the first place. Prison had changed the once sweet natured Dr. Reid, hardened him more than anything else in his life. He was desperately searching for some sort of control over his life, as he was grasping at what little he had left. After being touch starved for months, an accidental mix up with hotel rooms on a case stuck you both in a full sized bed together. There was always an undeniable chemistry between you, something neither of you wanted to act on due to your close friendship and work relationship. That little mix up was how you ended up tangled in the sheets, Spencer fucking you deeply into the mattress.
After that night you both were eager for more, agreeing to keep it casual between the two of you. As to not put a strain on your work relationship, no one could know. Both of you using the other as a way to give yourselves a reprieve from the horrors of your daily life. But you both agreed on one rule, that feelings couldn’t get involved. It would complicate things too much, a line neither of you were ready to cross. However that was easier said than done, as you had been infatuated with Spencer since joining the team two years prior.
The brunette was completely enamored with you as well, but he never voiced his feelings. So you both settled for fucking each other whenever possible, despite those lingering feelings. Spencer hadn’t ever been so dominant and aggressive in bed before. He blames his prison sentence for his desire to be in control, but it was always something that had lingered beneath the surface. It excited you, allowing yourself to give him complete and utter control over your body. Both of you exploring parts of yourselves that had been hidden away for too long.
But feelings had definitely started to get in the way. It wasn’t just sex for either of you anymore, it was a desire to be closer to the other person. That line of casual blurring more and more as time passed. Spencer was becoming incredibly more jealous of other men, a primal urge within him wanting to show everyone that you was his and only his. He had never felt this way before and it scared him beyond belief. So he had to end things, despite how much he cared for you. Spencer would rather be alone and miserable than continue to lie to both of you.
But all his years of profiling didn’t tip him off to the fact that you had felt the same way. So when he ended things you felt completely heartbroken, like he had take a piece of you with him. But that feeling only increased tenfold when Derek had decided to set Spencer up on a blind date. Which turned into multiple dates, quickly forming a relationship. The sunshine girl coming by the BAU almost daily, bringing with her homemade treats and a bright smile. You tried not to be upset with him for it, he deserved to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with you.
But you were beyond devastated, this being confirmation that Spencer didn’t want you back in the same way. Jealousy was inevitable, that little monster taking hold whenever you saw them together. The girl was gorgeous, petite figure with a heart of gold. The complete opposite of you. This line of work had hardened you, seeing too many terrible things to have such an upbeat perspective on life. You had curves and cellulite galore, something Spencer absolutely loved about you.
The insecure part of yourself convinced you that this was the reason he ended things. That ugly self deprecating monster creeping back in, after years of being told you weren’t good enough. But that feeling didn't last long. Especially when you still noticed the way he lustfully looked after you when he thought no one was paying attention. Which only seemed to confuse you more, the only other logical explanation being that he let his feelings get in the way. The notion giving you enough hope to pursue this stupid plan in the first place.
After observing the couple for a while you could tell something was missing from their relationship. That red hot flame of desire, the need to have the other no matter the time or place. No one could care for him the way that you did, no one was willing to explore that darkness that lay beneath the surface of Dr. Reid’s sweet exterior. Which was why you had decided you couldn’t stand by and watch them together anymore. As selfish as it was, you needed him and you were determined to have him.
It was becoming increasingly clear that you loved him, craving more than just his body. But his beautiful mind, his kindness. However you knew you had to use sex to get your way. Knowing him and his body well enough at this point to tell he wasn’t getting the satisfaction and control that he craved. It wouldn't have been obvious to anyone else, as Spencer was very good at hiding that part of himself away. But it started showing itself in little ways, the behavior increasing the longer the relationship developed. Spencer would become more aggressive with an unsub out in the field, or was quicker to snap at someone on the team.
It only solidified that your feelings were correct, wanting so desperately to have him lose himself within you again. But while little miss sunshine was still in the picture, that wouldn’t be able happen. So you knew you had to push him, drive him crazy enough that he would end things with her. It was a terrible, selfish plan— but you were past the point of caring. Having gotten to know each other so intimately, you had discovered that he had always secretly enjoyed when you misbehaved or were bratty in the bedroom. But he loved and craved your obedience that much more.
So you started slowly, doing little things that you knew would push his buttons. Exclusively wearing skirts, lower cut blouses and heels. Seeing so much of you on display in front of him, was something that would drive Spencer mad. It previously ended with him fucking you in a storage closet at work. The need to take you becoming so overwhelming he couldn't help himself, so that’s where you began. Your little plan was working, seeing the effect you had on him. The way his pupils dilated when he looked at you, jaw clenching as he avoided staring for too long. His hands twitching at his sides, as if he wanted nothing more than to take you over his knee in the middle of the bullpen.
But that wasn’t enough, you needed to push him even further. Something that would make him angry enough to snap, which for someone like Spencer wasn’t an easy thing to do. So it started with disagreeing with him on aspects of a profile you were working on. Which quickly escalated to insulting his intelligence whenever you could. It wasn’t something you enjoyed doing, you hated hurting him.
But you were desperate for any attention he would give you, even if it was the bad kind. You would bicker like children and it got to the point where Emily had to separate the two of you while working on cases. The team didn’t understand what was happening, how two best friends so easily devolved into enemies. Due to your mounting frustration, you couldn’t help but expand that bitterness and hostility toward Spencer’s girlfriend in the process. Little miss sunshine stopped coming around the BAU due to it, which made you more relieved. Seeing her latched onto Spencer continued to break you more and more.
Unbeknownst to you, she had ended things with Spencer, a week prior. Claiming it wasn’t working out, and Spencer felt terrible knowing he felt more relieved instead of hurt. However you knew it wouldn’t be long before Spencer’s composure finally snapped. The tense energy between the two of you grew more and more each day. You just didn’t expect it happen in this way. Emily had pulled you into her office that morning, demanding to know what was going on between you and the doctor. As much as you wanted to be truthful to your friend, she was first and foremost your boss. You wouldn’t betray him like that, as you were hurt by his previous actions. Fraternization between agents on the same team wasn't allowed. So you held back, explaining you two had a falling out but not the reason for it.
Prentiss was clearly frustrated with your answer, and didn’t fully believe it. But she wouldn’t press you any further on it, not now anyway. Due to your recent childish behavior, she gave you both an assignment to complete rather than suspending either of you. It was more so a punishment, the two of you having to work late that night filing away old cases. She hoped it would force the two of you to talk to each other, work out whatever differences you had.
So that was how you ended up in the basement of the bureau with him, an awkward silence filling the room as you put away files. This really was your fault, the dangerous game you were playing could possibly end your relationship for good. But now being in his presence like this for the first time in months… you felt incredibly nervous. You didn’t want to be the one to break the silence first, but the longer this went on the more you felt it was necessary. A sigh escaping your lips, the file room becoming stuffy. Pushing your hair out of your face, grabbing another file to find its rightful place. Your back was to Spencer, bending down to tuck the file into one of the many file cabinets. That was when his patience finally seemed to run out.
"What is your problem?”
Your body froze in place, taking a moment to compose yourself before sliding the file cabinet door shut with a click. You turn to face him now, a look of frustration on his beautiful features. His hazel eyes ablaze as they meet yours.
"I don't know what you mean Reid."
He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stalked toward you. You quickly darted out from in front of him, trying to keep some distance between the two of you. As much as you had been begging for this exact scenario, part of you wasn't ready to give in just yet.
"You know exactly what I mean. You're utterly and completely hostile to me, not to mention Evie. Does seeing me happy really piss you off that much?"
You winced at the use of her name, not to mention his tone. Biting your lip, you turn away from him again, picking up another file in hopes to put more distance between you. You didn’t hate seeing him happy, you just hated seeing him happy with someone else.
"I wouldn't call your current situation happy."
Glancing over your shoulder at him, he straightens up immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. The brunette quickly composing his features, Spencer always had a good poker face.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? You don't know anything about my relationship."
Spencer's fists tightened, tone biting as he stared you down. The male was far too irritated to even bother to continue filing like you were.
"I know you got yourself a real beauty queen, Reid. Much prettier than I'll ever be... a lot kinder. I guess I couldn't blame you..."
You slammed another drawer closed, picking up another file as he watched your every move. Spencer didn't say anything, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of correcting you. You were by far the most beautiful woman he had ever had the chance to be with, it frustrated him knowing you saw herself that way. But he was more frustrated with your behavior over the last month, doing everything in your power to piss him off.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
You laugh humorously, slamming another drawer shut due to your own mounting frustration. But you couldn't stop the pull inside of you any longer, now backing the tall male up against the wall. He seemed surprised by the sudden change in your demeanor, knowing you were never confrontational like this. You grip his tie in your fist, tugging him down so you are able to whisper in his ear.
"All of that doesn't really matter Reid... I know she can't please you like I can."
Your fingers trail up his chest, feeling his heart racing under your touch. It sends thrills through your body, spurring you on. A smirk graces your features in that moment, fingers knotting themselves in his unruly curls.
"I know she can fuck you good... but I can fuck you better."
You should've been prepared for his reaction, but it still surprised you. Spencer quickly flipped you around, pinning you against the wall and smashing your lips together. You melt under his rough touch, tugging desperately on his curls earning you a delicious groan. His hands were ruthless against your hips, untucking the shirt from your skirt. Spencer didn't have the patience to be slow, he needed you and he needed you now.
The male grips your blouse ripping it open, buttons scattering themselves across the room. A gasp leaves your kiss swollen lips, his own now sucking harsh marks onto your neck. Your skin tingles either each touch of his lips, chest heaving beneath him. His newfound desperation making you clench your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the growing pressure between them. But he wasn't having that, forcing one of his legs between your own as he unclasped your bra, tugging the cups down to expose your breasts to him.
"Not so fast, you've been misbehaving for far too long baby. I need to teach you a lesson."
You nearly shiver in pleasure, trying your hardest not to grind yourself against his thigh. It would just get you into more trouble. Spencer slipping your blouse off your shoulders, the bra following it. His hands palming your breasts roughly before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. Your head falls back as his lips and teeth tug on the sensitive flesh, biting your lip to hold back the lewd noises that wanted to escape.
You unwillingly let out a whimper when he stops suddenly, pulling away before heading over to the door and clicking the lock into place. Your breathing was erratic, attempting to keep yourself upright against the wall. Spencer now leans his back against the door, hunger swirling in his hazel eyes. He watches you carefully, licking his lips as he takes in your now disheveled appearance. A knowing smirk crossing his features as he motions towards the empty desk on the opposite side of the room.
"Bend over the desk."
His voice had dropped an octave, the looming threat in those words making heat pool in your lower belly. You hesitate though, suddenly distracted as he starts ripping the tie off of himself. All you wanted was to feel those hands on you again, watching as he began unbuttoning his own shirt.
"Don't make me repeat myself angel."
Your heart flutters at the use of the pet name, quickly scurrying over to the desk that sat against the opposite wall. Laying your front across the wood, hissing slightly as the coolness touches your overheated skin. You purposely keep your ass perked up, already guessing what Spencer had in store for you. Knowing you deserved whatever punishment he was going to dish out, the thought making your panties more drenched than they already were.
The male leaves you there for a moment, letting the tension build even more as your impatience grows. You nearly breathe out a sigh of relief when you hear him approach, his large hands gripping your hips once he was within reaching distance. He slides the skirt up your hips until he had a full view of your lace covered ass. Spencer kneads the skin there, before pulling his hand back and landing a harsh smack onto your ass. The motion surprises you, another gasp leaving you as your body jolts forward on the hard surface. Spencer easily pulls your body back into place, hands splayed over your plush skin.
"You’ll count for every spanking I give you. Show me you can be a good girl for once."
You quickly nod your head, gripping onto the edge of the desk to prepare yourself for another smack. It doesn’t come though, feeling Spencer's fingers knot themselves into your hair and pulling your back flush against his chest.
"Use. Your. Words.”
Spencer growls in your ear, continuing to hold you against him. His other hand grazing over the skin of your stomach as he awaits your answer.
"Y-Yes, sir."
He hums in approval, letting you settle back down onto the wooden surface. His next slap was harder than the first, the noise echoing around the room. In that moment you were relieved that everyone had gone home for the day. Knowing you would be mortified if anyone caught you both in this position.
"T-Two."
Another slap to the opposite cheek, the stinging sensation making you whimper. God he had missed your sounds, your soft skin… everything about you. Spencer felt slightly irritated knowing you were right, no one could make him feel the way you did.
"Three."
It continued that way until you had counted to fifteen, a sufficient punishment in his eyes. The brunette becoming more aroused as he watched how your flesh rippled and bounced with each strike of his hand. He missed the supple skin of your ass, hips and thighs... your curvy figure was something he'd never get tired of. Spencer grips the waistband of your panties, eagerly slipping the soaked material down your legs. Spencer then kneels behind you, spreading your thighs apart as he admires how worked up he had made you.
The sight of your arousal coating the skin of your thighs makes him groan, leaning forward to collect some on his tongue. You always tasted divine, and it took everything in him not to take you right then and there. But Spencer wanted to play with you a little longer, make you beg for him. He needed to hear you say it.
"Look at that… did my little slut enjoy getting spanked? You like when daddy punishes you?"
Your head was swimming, the title surprising you. It wasn’t something that Spencer had ever called himself previously. But you couldn't deny the effect it had on you, a quiet confirmation spilling past your lips as his own continued to roam the expanse of your skin. Before you had much of chance to think his tongue was now licking up your soaked core, barely brushing over your bundle of nerves.
You cry out, gripping the edge of the desk harder as he slowly devours you. His tongue dipping inside your entrance before encircling your clit agonizingly slow. Spencer was doing it on purpose of course, getting you closer to the edge before taking it away again. Tears of frustration were pooling in the corners of your eyes, desperately wanting to finish.
"D-Daddy please!"
You whimper as he slips a finger inside you, finding absolutely no resistance he adds another. Spencer pumps them inside you slowly, making sure to caress each and every inch of you as your walls grip his digits tightly.
"What is it angel? What do you need?"
You are having a hard time processing any thoughts, the need for him overpowering all of your rational thinking.
"Cum, I need to c-cum."
Spencer removes his fingers, ignoring your whines of protest before standing. He flips you over, pushing your hips back to rest on the end of the desk. He spreads you open before kneeling again, lips attaching themselves around your clit. His fingers bury themselves inside you once more, curling to brush against your g-spot with each stroke. Spencer was rushing now, despite how upset he was with you he needed to make you cum first.
That was always an unspoken rule of his, your pleasure always mattered way more than his own. The male knew it wouldn't take long now, knowing how desperate you were for him. Your fingers find their way into his hair again, pulling him closer into your soaked cunt. He adds a third digit, in an attempt to prepare you for his cock. Your cries were getting louder, feeling your walls clenching around his fingers as he sucked harshly on your clit.
Not being able to hold back anymore your body shakes, back arching up off the desk with a cry of his name. Letting your orgasm wash over you, the male continuing to lap up all your juices until you can’t take it anymore. Your thighs tightened around his head, signaling him to stop. He ceases his movements, gently slipping his fingers from inside you.
Pulling back Spencer admires the sticky essence you had left behind, bringing them to his mouth with a groan. You lift yourself up to glance down at him, his eyes hidden from you as he sucks on his fingers. Your arousal coating his chin, the erotic sight making you clench around nothing. You couldn't wait anymore, you needed him inside you now.
"S-Spence I need you to fuck me. Please- I can't wait anymore."
Your tone was laced with neediness, making Spencer chuckle as he rises from his position on the floor. He begins unbuckling his belt, tugging his pants low enough to free his cock. You eye it eagerly, glancing up at him as he spoke again.
"I don't have a condom angel."
With a shake of your head, you sit up on the desk. Hands reaching out to pull him closer, the tip of his cock rubbing against your thigh.
"Don’t care, I want you to fill me up daddy. I want everyone to know I'm yours... and only yours."
Spencer nearly growled at the use of the title, and the implication of what you had just said. The logical side of him knew you were on birth control, so there wasn't a huge probability of pregnancy. But the thought of you swollen with his child made him nearly lose it. Glancing down at you his gaze softens at your expression, seeing love reflecting in your eyes. The male tilts your head up so he can lock your lips together in a heated kiss, groaning into your mouth.
"You want to be mine angel? Need me to fuck a baby into you huh?"
His words make you moan again, nodding frantically as you lift your hips up against his. That was all the answer he needed, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds before thrusting inside. A strangled whine leaves you as he bottoms out, the fullness was something you had missed terribly. Spencer doesn’t give you much time to adjust, not that you wanted him to in the moment. Your hands are gripping onto his biceps, desperately holding onto him as he fucks into you hard and deep. You couldn’t hold back your noises at this point, making the male fuck into you even harder.
“God you feel so good, taking me so well.”
He groans, looking down to watch as his cock disappears inside you with every thrust. It was a sight he had missed, but one he could never forget. One he had kept replaying in his mind whenever he fucked his fist and imagined it was you. But this was so much better than any memory his mind could recall at will. Spencer felt your nails digging into his arms, your cunt like a vice around him. Sucking him in deeper, like you were made to take it. He knew you were getting close, slipping a hand between your bodies to rub your swollen clit.
“That’s it… being such a good girl for me.”
You were always willing to please him, desperate for his praise. And now that you were getting it, you didn’t want it to stop.
“Keep talking Spence… fuck.”
He keeps hitting that spot deep inside you, nearly making your eyes roll back from the force of his thrusts. Spencer’s darkened gaze doesn’t leave you for a moment, his own release getting closer as he watches you fall apart in his grasp.
“You like it when daddy talks to you pretty girl? Tells you how good you’re being for me?”
You can only whimper in response, pressing your lips together in an attempt to convey just how much he means to you. But he already knows, he always had— it just took him until now to admit it to himself.
“Let go baby, I’ve got you.”
You can’t help but follow his instructions, the pressure that had been building up inside you finally bursting. Feeling your walls clench tightly around him, mixed with your breathy cries brings him to the edge. The warmth spreading inside you was a new sensation, but it felt right. He felt right. Both of your breathing was erratic, as you started coming down from your highs. He slowly slips out of you, stroking your trembling thighs gently. A stark difference from his previous actions.
Spencer nearly moans watching his cum dripping out of you and onto the desk. His fingers dip lower to catch some of it, only to gently fuck it back into you. You squirm a little, as he chuckles before grabbing your discarded panties. Helping guide them back up your hips, a content smile tugging at his lips. You gaze at him adoringly, unable to stop the words from escaping you, praying you wouldn’t regret them.
”I love you Spencer…”
Your eyes drop into your lap as you hear the sharp intake of his breath, actively avoiding his in fear of his reaction. His hand gently grasps your chin, tilting it up to look at him. You weren’t prepared for the look that crosses his features, complete and utter adoration. If you weren’t already sitting, your knees might have buckled as he presses your lips together again. However this time they weren’t aggressive, his way of trying to show you he felt the same way. He only pulls away from you when you’re both breathless, cupping your face in his hands.
"I love you too you know."
As much as you were overjoyed to hear those words coming from him, you couldn't help but feel guilty. The emotion started to creep up on you, clawing at your chest. Knowing that Spencer had cheated on his girlfriend with you. You didn't think it would affect you this strongly, tears begging to well up in your eyes. A look of confusion crosses his face as you push him away, attempting to put some distance between you.
"I-I'm a terrible person, we shouldn't have done this. Fuck… I have to go."
You hop down from the desk on shaky legs, quickly fumbling to put your clothes back on. Your blouse was ruined, but you put it on anyway attempting to keep it closed. Pulling your skirt back down your legs. In your haste to leave the situation you don’t hear Spencer approaching you, gently tugging on your wrist. Looking up at him as tears continue to stream down your face.
"Please don't go, you didn't do anything wrong."
Spencer pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you to keep close. The brunette pressing a kiss to your temple, attempting to calm you down.
"Evie broke up with me over a week ago. I knew it wasn't going to last... not when I was in love with someone else."
You gently push yourself back from his chest, the male wiping the tears from your cheeks. His words gave you some relief knowing they were broken up, but that still didn't fix all the hurt you’d caused him over the past month.
"It still doesn't make it okay how I've been treating you... and her. I was jealous, and angry that you ended things without even talking to me. So quick to move onto the next thing... I just.. I want you to know I'm so sorry."
Spencer just shook his head, pressing his lips to yours once more. He held you tightly, protectively, any anger he had been harboring towards you had dissipated the moment you told him you loved him.
"I understand your reasoning, and I can't say I wouldn't have done something similar if the roles were reversed. Now, we'd better finish this filing before Prentiss really has our asses."
You can’t stop the giggle from escaping you, wiping away the last of your tears before kissing him again. Spencer Reid was all yours, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
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thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💞
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rynwritesreid · 3 months
Text
Kiss it away| Spencer Reid
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A/N:This is my first time writing a sub Spencer, so it may not be as good as my other smut pieces. But I still hope you enjoy. This is also partially requested as someone wanted a sub!Spencer. Please tell me if you want more sub! Spencer. I’ve also started writing the first chapter of Mind Games, and honestly I’m really looking forward to posting it on here.
Summary: Spencer is suffering with a migraine, you find a natural way to help relieve his pain, with some natural analgesics.
Content: Smut and fluff. Fem!reader. Dom!reader. Sub!Spencer. established relationship/dynamic Praise kink. Handjob (M!receiving). Oral(M!receiving). Vaginal penetration (P in V). Cream-pie. No mentions of contraception. Pet names (Good boy. Sweet boy). Migraines/pain. A tiny mention of Spencers addiction(literally in passing/referencing why he wouldn’t want medication). Vulnerability. Caring reader. Use of Y/N. Suggestive ending. 18*
Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation
Spencer, the man known for talking people’s heads off and giving everyone unwanted statistics, was being unusually quiet. In fact he didn’t really seem to be all there. He kept rubbing his head and couldn’t seem to be in bright rooms for prolonged periods of time.
 
Even when you two were at home together, he wouldn’t talk much to you. Instead, he would shut himself in the spare room with the lights turned off and the curtains drawn. You didn’t know what to do, or how to help. You knew he wouldn’t want any medication, so all you could do was try and offer a helping hand.
 
Before going to work one morning, you decided to ask him if he was okay to go to work. You were sure that everyone would understand him wanting to stay home if was feeling this ill.
 
“Hey, Spencer. Are you okay? You’ve being acting off lately. Are you sure you want to go into work today? We’ve not been called out into the field or anything.”
 
Spencer looked up from his coffee, his eyes bloodshot and distant. He gave a weak smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.
 
"I appreciate your concern," he murmured, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "But I can't stay home. I need to keep my mind occupied, even if it feels like it's tearing me apart."
 
You watched him closely, the worry etching deeper lines upon your face. Spencer had always been a man of routine, finding solace in the structure and predictability of his work. But now, there was something far more sinister lurking beneath the surface.
 
"Spencer, please," you pleaded softly, taking a step closer to him. "You don't have to suffer alone. We can figure this out together. Maybe it's time to seek some help."
 
“I’ve already being to the doctors; they couldn’t see anything wrong. So, please let me go into work.” Though his voice barely crept above a whisper, you could sense the anger.
 
You sighed, feeling the weight of his frustration and desperation. You knew how much he valued his work, how it gave him purpose and stability. But seeing him like this, so lost and distant, it tore at your heart.
 
“I’m going to call in sick, handsome. Please join me in staying home today, let me take care of you.”
 
Spencer's eyes flickered with uncertainty, a mixture of gratitude and resistance fighting within him. He seemed torn between his desire to protect you from the darkness that plagued him and his fear of burdening you with his own struggles.
 
"I don't want to hold you back," he whispered, his voice trembling with vulnerability. "You deserve someone who can give you the happiness you deserve."
 
Your heart ached at his selfless words, for they only made you love him more. You reached out and gently cupped his face, your touch tender and full of reassurance.
 
"Spencer," you murmured, your voice laced with determination. "Happiness is not something I seek outside of us. It is in being with you, in trying to help shoulder your burden. Let me be here for you."
 
His eyes searched yours, tears shimmering in their depths. Slowly, he nodded, relinquishing the weight he had been carrying alone for far too long.
 
“Okay.” He whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of relief and vulnerability. "Okay, maybe staying home with you today wouldn't be such a bad idea."
You called Hotch, who was very understanding, and told him that you were both taking the day off work.
 
You closed all the curtains and kept only a little lamp on and told him to make himself as comfortable as possible. His sat down on the sofa, with his cup of coffee in hand. You decided to do some research, to see what possible ways you could help ease his pain.
 
Through your research, you saw that orgasms can help, as they act as a natural analgesic. You didn’t know if that was something Spencer would be willing to try, but you knew it was worth a shot.
 
You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nervousness and determination as you approached Spencer. Sitting down beside him on the sofa, you gently placed a hand on his thigh.
 
"Spencer," you began softly, trying to find the right words amidst the heaviness in the room. "I've been doing some research, and I came across something that might help... It's a bit unconventional, but... orgasms can actually act as a natural analgesic. They release endorphins that can alleviate pain and promote relaxation."
 
Spencer blinked, surprise flickering in his eyes as he processed your words. You could see the wariness and scepticism etched across his face, but there was also a glimmer of hope.
 
“Would you like to try it; you don’t need to do anything. I’m going to do all the work.” Spencer's gaze met yours, his apprehension slowly fading as a small spark of curiosity ignited within him. He knew the pain that haunted him was not physical, but if there was a chance that this unconventional method could provide even a momentary respite from the torment in his mind, he was willing to give it a try.
 
"I trust you," he whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability and gratitude. "If there's a chance it might help, then let's give it a shot."
 
“Now that’s my good boy. I’m going to make you feel better, okay?” Your voice was light, soft and caring.
 
You led him into the bedroom, making sure that he would be comfortable. You slowly took of his clothes, making sure to be delicate.  You could feel the tension and anticipation building between you as each article of clothing was removed. Spencer stood before you, his naked body exposed and vulnerable. You took a moment to appreciate the sight before you, the way his gaze met yours with a mix of trust and longing.
 
With gentle hands, you guided him to lie down on the bed, his body sinking into the soft sheets. The dim light cast a warm glow across the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that felt like a sanctuary from the outside world.
 
You positioned yourself beside him, your fingers trailing delicately along his skin. Every touch was deliberate, filled with tenderness and a desire to ease his pain. Slowly, you let your hand travel lower, caressing the sensitive skin just below his belly button.
 
Spencer's breath hitched, his chest rising and falling with measured anticipation. His eyes never left yours, as if seeking reassurance that this act of intimacy was meant to heal rather than exploit.
 
“I love you, my sweet boy. I would do anything to help you. Do you understand?”
 
Spencer nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "I love you too," he replied, his words filled with gratitude and vulnerability. He trusted you implicitly, knowing that your intentions were pure and genuine.
 
As you continued your gentle caresses, your fingers slowly descended further, tracing the outline of his growing arousal. The weight of his pain seemed to lift slightly as pleasure began to replace it, inch by inch. Your touch was delicate and purposeful, seeking to provide comfort and relief rather than raw desire.
 
Spencer's breath hitched again, a soft gasp escaping his lips as your fingertips brushed over the sensitive head of his penis. His eyes fluttered closed momentarily, his body relaxing into your touch as you continued to stroke him with soothing care.
 
With each stroke, the tension in his body seemed to dissipate further. His muscles softened beneath your touch, the knots of anguish gradually unravelling as pleasure washed over him in waves. In this moment of intimacy and vulnerability, he allowed himself to let go of the weight he had been carrying. The pain that had consumed him for so long began to fade into the background, replaced by a newfound sense of relief and release.
 
You watched the transformation unfold, your heart swelling with both love and pride. This was more than just physical pleasure; it was a catharsis, a moment of respite amidst the storm that raged within Spencer's mind.
 
As you continued to stroke him, your movements became more purposeful, more focused on unlocking the pleasure hidden beneath the layers of his pain. You could feel his body responding to your touch, his breath quickening and his muscles tensing with anticipation.
 
"Let go, Spencer," you whispered, your voice laced with both tenderness and command. "Surrender to the pleasure, let it wash over you and carry away the darkness."
 
His eyes snapped open, meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and trust. He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he allowed himself to fully surrender to the pleasure that enveloped him. The heaviness in his mind melted away, replaced by a blissful ecstasy that radiated through his body.
 
You continued to stroke him, your movements steady and sure, attuned to his every response. The room was filled with the sounds of his gasps and moans, mingling with the soft rhythm of your touch. With each stroke, the tension in his body unravelled further, making room for a profound sense of release and relief.
 
Spencer's muscles twitched beneath your fingertips, his body trembling on the precipice of something powerful. His breath hitched as he teetered on the edge of climax, teetered on the edge of being released from the chains of his pain. And then, with a shuddering groan, he let go.
 
His whole body convulsed as an intense wave of pleasure coursed through him, washing away the thoughts that tormented him.
 
“Oh, my sweet handsome boy, look at the mess you’ve made. I guess I better clean it up, huh? Would you like that?”
 
Spencer didn’t answer for a while, he was still coming down. As he caught his breath, he let out a “yes”. You lowered your head, making sure to give him a trail of kisses.
 
You lowered your head, pressing soft kisses along his abdomen as you made your way down to his spent cock. The taste of him was familiar and comforting, a reminder of the intimate connection you shared. With each gentle lick and suck, you cleaned him up, taking care to savour every drop.
 
Spencer's body relaxed further against the bed, his muscles loosening as a blissful satisfaction settled over him. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, the weight of his pain replaced by a gentle calmness that washed over him.
 
“You don’t we’ve finished yet though. Do you?”
 
Spencer's eyes fluttered open, his gaze meeting yours as a flicker of anticipation danced in his eyes. The words hung heavy in the air, a promise of continued pleasure and release. He shook his head slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.
 
"No, I don't think we're finished," he replied, his voice filled with a newfound sense of confidence and desire. "I want to keep going."
 
You smiled back at him, a mix of adoration and mischief dancing in your eyes. Your hand gently cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip.
 
"Good boy," you murmured, your voice dripping with satisfaction. "Let's see just how far we can take this."
With a mischievous glimmer in your eyes, you leaned down and captured Spencer's lips in a searing kiss. Your hands roamed over his bare skin, tracing every dip and curve, as desire coursed through your veins.
 
Spencer's body responded eagerly to your touch, his hands gripping the sheets as he arched into your caress. His kisses grew hungrier, more desperate, as if he sought solace not only from his pain but from the world itself. There was an unspoken understanding between you, an unquenchable hunger that demanded to be sated.
 
You slowly lowered yourself back to his cock. As you worked your mouth up and down his length, your hand stroked his thigh, adding to the sensations coursing through him. Spencer's moans grew louder and more desperate with each passing moment, his body arching off the bed as he surrendered to the ecstasy that washed over him.
 
You could feel the tension building in him once again, his breath quickening, his muscles tightening. With a final stroke of your tongue, you brought him to the edge once more, guiding him over it with expert precision.
 
His release was explosive, his body convulsing in waves of pleasure. You swallowed every drop, savouring the taste as if it were a decadent treat.
 
“Do you think you can give me another?” He slowly nodded your head, as he found himself unable to speak.
 
You moved off the bed so you could undress yourself. Spencer’s eyes scanning your body, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. With each piece of clothing that fell to the floor, Spencer's anticipation grew. He watched you undress, soaking in the sight of your bare skin, the contours of your body that held a promise of pleasure. The desire in his eyes mirrored your own, a hunger that demanded to be satisfied.
 
As you climbed back onto the bed, naked and eager, Spencer's hands reached out instinctively to touch you. Each caress was filled with longing and need, his fingertips tracing the lines of your body as if memorizing every curve.
 
Your skin tingled under his touch, and you couldn't help but gasp at the electricity that coursed through your veins. It was as if every nerve ending in your body had awakened, craving the pleasure that only Spencer could provide.
 
With a gentle push, you urged Spencer to lie back on the bed, his body surrendering to your desires. Your lips sought out his with an urgency born from months of pent-up longing and anticipation. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mixture of desire and need.
 
“You haven’t been able to cum yet. Please let me help you out?” His voice was cracking, his eyes pleading for you to let him do anything.
 
“My sweet boy, I told you I was going to be doing all the work. Just relax.”
 
Spencer nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and desire. He allowed himself to sink into the mattress, surrendering control over his pleasure to you completely. You straddled him, positioning yourself just above his aching need, teasing him with the anticipation of what was to come.
 
You began to slowly grind against him, the friction between your bodies sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. Each movement was deliberate, calculated to build the tension and desire that simmered just beneath the surface. Spencer's hands grasped at your hips, pulling you closer, desperate for more contact.
 
But you kept your pace torturously slow, denying him the release he yearned for. Each time he tried to thrust upwards, seeking more contact, you gently but firmly held him down, reminding him who was in control.
 
"You're doing so well," you whispered as you leaned down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. "Just a little longer. I promise it'll be worth the wait."
 
Spencer's body trembled beneath you, his fingers digging into your skin as he fought against the overwhelming need for release. His eyes were glazed with desire, his lips parted in a silent plea for more. The intensity of his desire mirrored your own, and you reveled in the power you held over him.
 
With each tantalizing movement of your hips, you could feel yourself growing wet and swollen, your own need begging to be satisfied. But this moment was about Spencer, about giving him the pleasure, he so desperately craved. You would have your turn soon enough.
 
His moans grew louder, more desperate, filling the room with their raw intensity. With each passing second, Spencer edged closer to the brink of ecstasy. But you were not ready to let him go just yet. Your movements quickened, but only slightly, teasing him with the promise of release while denying him its full realization.
 
"Please," he begged, his voice thick with desperation. "I need to cum, please."
 
You smiled down at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of affection and dominance. You knew he was on the edge, his body trembling with need. But you wanted to push him even further, to take him to a place of ecstasy he had never experienced before.
 
"Patience, my love," you whispered, your voice silkily smooth. "I want to make you feel so good."
 
With those words, you increased the tempo of your movements, grinding against him with a relentless rhythm. The pleasure intensified, threatening to break through the dam of control that Spencer had managed to maintain. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his body writhing beneath yours as he fought against the mounting pleasure.
 
You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a searing kiss that swallowed his moans and pleas for release. Your tongue danced with his, an erotic ballet that mirrored the movements of your bodies. The taste of him mingled with your own desire, intoxicating and addictive.
 
With a final thrust, you felt Spencer's body tense beneath you, his release imminent. The grip of his fingers on your hips grew tighter as he surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure that washed over him. His moans filled the room, a symphony of ecstasy that reverberated in your ears.
 
As he climaxed, you continued to move against him, prolonging his pleasure until he couldn't take any more. Wave after wave of intense sensation coursed through his body, leaving him gasping for breath, his limbs limp and sated.
 
You slowly eased yourself off him, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of your lips. The sight of Spencer lying there, spent, and thoroughly pleasured, made your heart swell with pride and delight. You had taken him to new heights of pleasure, pushed boundaries and explored desires you had only dared to whisper about.
 
“When you’re feeling better, I think you should reward me for taking such good care of you. Don’t you?”
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reiding-writing · 12 days
Note
REDDD ‼️ MAJOR CONGRATS FOR YOUR MILESTONE YOU DESERVE IT AHHHH
may i request 1 & 7 from the general dialogue prompts with spencer reid please 🥹🫶
SENDING YOU KISSES ☝️🤭😚 XOXO
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POOL ‘PARTY’ [CLIMACTERIC]
/pul ˈpɑːrti/
1. “Okay, maybe I have a crush on you! So what?”
7. “I don’t want anyone else.”
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WARNINGS: based on 01x18, minor lila slander, spencer thinking of someone else whilst making out with lila, arguing
spencer reid x gn!reader || flangst || 1.9k Il climacteric event!!
a/n: THANK YOU ML <3333 enjoy me dabbling back into my angst game again, with a happy ending ofc 🫶
main masterlist!! ⋆。°✩ event masterlist!!
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You approach Spencer with a raised eyebrow and a click of your tongue, eyes scanning over Spencer’s completely soaked appearance.
His eyes turn to you widened in surprise, but his expression quickly morphs into guilt as he meets your eyes. “I uh- fell in,”
“I’m sure there are plenty of photos of you ‘falling in’,” Your eyes narrow with a scoff, and you cross your arms over your chest in very clear disappointment at his recklessness.
“I- It really wasn’t meant to happen I swear-” You cut off Spencer’s attempt at an explanation by shoving a beach towel against his torso, and he lets out a small groan from the force.
“You have to be the stupidest person i’ve ever met.” Spencer flinches at your tone, hands wringing at the towel as he lowers his head.
He supposes he deserves the scolding, he’d broken so many rules of professionalism and put Lila’s life in danger.
The worst part was that he didn’t even enjoy it.
He’d ruined everything and didn’t even enjoy what he was risking everything for.
He truly was an idiot.
“I’m sorry-”
“I don’t want your apology.” You cut him off with a hand raised in his direction. “If you want to apologise to someone, apologise to Lila, because you won’t be seeing her for the rest of the case.”
Lila’s name is dripping with venom as it rolls off your tongue, and Spencer presses his lips into a tight line with a small nod in your direction.
It’s a proportional punishment, but it’s not like he wanted to see her again anyway. Even the thought of what he’d done made him want to punch himself.
“I really didn’t-” He stops himself this time, knowing that you don’t want to hear his excuses. “I’ll… go change now…”
“There’s clothes in the SUV.” He sighs dejectedly at the coyness in your tone, and he swears he’ll cry if you keep this up.
“Right…” He gives you a soft nod, and you have half the mind to feel bad about the way you’re treating him, but for some reason the image of the two of them in the pool together fills you with some unforeseen, insurmountable rage that you can’t seem to suppress.
After he’s changed and dry, he reapproaches the front of the house cautiously. He knows that he probably won’t be allowed back inside, but he also doesn’t want to hang around the SUV looking like an idiot, he’d made himself a big enough one already.
You’re the only one still outside, standing with your arms crossed with your eyes following his movements through your narrowed gaze.
You were still angry with him. Great.
He didn’t want you to be angry with him. That was the last thing he ever wanted.
“I…” Spencer exhales softly as he comes up short on something to say. You didn’t want him to apologise. You didn’t want him to explain himself. What was he supposed to say?
You answer his question for him with one of your own. “Was it worth it?”
He flickers his eyes towards yours, guilt and regret written all over his features. “No…”
“Didn’t think so.”
Spencer can feel the tears prick at his eyes as your tone continues to wash over him like an ice-cold shower, and he takes a shuddered breath in through his mouth, clearing his throat and blinking rapidly to keep his gaze clear.
“I didn’t want to… I didn’t even enjoy it…” He frowns through glassy eyes and you crumble almost immediately. How are you supposed to be angry at him when he looks like that?
“Why did you do it?” Your voice is considerably softer this time, and as much as Spencer is grateful for it, it doesn’t stop a single tear from trickling down his face.
“I don’t know-” He sighs heavily as he wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, running his other hand through the still damp mess of his hair.
He did know.
Kind of anyway.
He’d always prided himself on having a vivid imagination, one that he had been using during what happened with Lila.
And you could read his dishonesty immediately.
“Spencer.”
He knew he’d been caught. “I don’t want to talk about it,”
He crosses his arms over his chest defensively as he evades eye contact with you.
“Spencer.” You were going to get to the bottom of his reasoning behind breaking one of the cardinal rules of being an FBI agent.
“I was imagining that she was someone else okay?” He raises his voice slightly in his defensiveness, and you have to take a second to actually soak in his sentence and the implications of it.
“You- What?” You can do nothing but stare at him in a state of absolute shock at his confession.
“I was imagining that I was kissing somebody else…” He repeats his statement with much less vigour the second time around, biting the inside of his cheek.
“Does she know that?” You raise an eyebrow slightly as you ask your question. God knows you wouldn’t want to be kissing someone only to find out that they were thinking about somebody else the entire time.
“We had an argument about it before you guys turned up…”
So she did know. That made it a little better at least.
“So who was it then?”
Spencer turned his eyes back to yours again with a surprised expression. “What?-”
“Who were you thinking about?” You’re not sure exactly why you want to know who Spencer was thinking about during his little ‘pool party’, and you had a feeling you wouldn’t be satisfied with whatever answer you gave him, but some twisted part of your mind felt the need to know.
“I-” Spencer pressed his lips together tightly. “You don’t need to know that,”
“Why not?” You furrow your eyebrows as his defensiveness escalates again. “What’s there to hide?”
“Maybe I just don’t want my personal life being aired to the people I work with?” He mirrors your expression with his own as he rubs his hands up and down his arms.
“Fine, keep your secrets then,” you say, a hint of frustration in your voice. “But just know, you can't keep messing up like this. It's not just about you.”
"I know that," he returns your frustration with his own. “But who I’m interested in is nobody’s business except my own.”
“Why are you so defensive about this?”
“Why do you want to know who it is so badly?”
The tension crackles between you two, each word adding fuel to the fire of the argument.
“Because,” you retort sharply, “I need to know if I can trust you. If your mind is somewhere else when you're supposed to be focused on the mission, it puts everyone at risk,”
Was that the real reasoning behind why you wanted to know so badly? No. But you didn’t exactly know what was.
Spencer's jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and hurt. “You think I don't take this seriously? You think I don't care about the mission?”
“I don't know what to think anymore,” you admit, your voice softer now, but no less charged with emotion. “All I know is that you've been acting recklessly, and I can't afford to have that kind of distraction.”
“I'm not distracted,” Spencer protests, his voice tinged with desperation.
“You just verbally admitted to thinking about somebody else whilst making out with someone, that’s not distracted?” You gesture outwards exasperatedly. “We can’t be sure that you’ve got the right head in the game unless you say who you were thinking about.”
“It was you okay?” Spencer’s voice raises again as he throws out his arms in frustration. “Happy?”
You didn’t have the mental capacity to decide if you were happy.
You barely computed his answer in the first place. Were you happy that it was you? Was that the reason you pressed him so hard?
What on earth was happening?
“What-”
“Okay yeah, maybe I have a crush on you, so what?” Spencer continued to verbalise his defensiveness in exasperation. “It’s not like it was ever going to go anywhere.”
“You were thinking about me?” You still haven’t fully comprehended his confession yet, and Spencer mistakes your slowness for sarcasm.
“Yes. I was thinking about you. There’s no need to rub it in my face.” Spencer's frustration is palpable, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world rests upon them.
But beneath the frustration, there's a vulnerability, a rawness that tugs at your heartstrings.
You realise then that this argument, this tension between you, it's not just about the mission or the case—it's about something deeper, something you've both been trying to ignore or brush aside.
"I'm not trying to rub it in your face," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just... trying to understand."
“I mean-” You fumble over your sentences as you try to make sense of everything. “Why would you kiss somebody else? Why would you imagine it was me whilst you did it? I just- I don’t get it,”
“I don’t want anybody else. I never wanted anybody else. But what was I supposed to do?” Spencer sighs as he takes his fingers through his hair.
“Tell me?”
“And have you rip me to pieces? I’d rather spend my whole life as just your friend than risk something like that-” He doesn’t have the chance to finish his sentence.
Your lips press against his hard, your hand anchored at the side of his neck as you take what you deem a reasonable action to get him to just stop talking for a second.
In your defence, it does work, all of Spencer’s frustration dying on his tongue as he slowly starts to reciprocate, his hands half-hesitantly coming up to cup your face so that he wouldn’t lose the contact with you even if you tried to pull away, which of course, you weren’t going to do unless strictly necessary.
He finally didn’t have to imagine what your lips would taste like anymore, and he wasn’t going to let the moment end before he got his fill of you.
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reiderwriter · 8 days
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Okay, I just wanted to start off and say I love your stories. They're always so good. You've reblogged one of my stories a while, and I actually squealed and scared the crap out of my friend. But yeah, I live you and your stories 💖💖💖
So I read your one story of Spencer being a soon-to-be dad, and I really like the idea of seeing Spencer and reader as actual parents just feeling the emotions. I thought something based around their daughter (because Spencer's a girl dad) hitting a milestone like walking, talking, or something even bigger like the first day of school. I don't know if that makes sense, but either way, I hope you like it!
A/N: I love the idea of new-dad Spencer. He deserves a loving family and a baby so much 😭 I combined this request with one of the prompts for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic challenge which you can find the details for here! ❤️
Warnings: none, just fluff.
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You never thought leaving to go for a spa day would be one of the hardest things you'd have to do in your life, but here you were. 
In the ten months since you'd given birth to your daughter, you'd been stressed, lacking in sleep, leaking fluids from places that you forgot could have fluids leak from, and you'd been totally, irreversibly, head over heels in love. 
Both with the tiny little gremlin you'd given birth to, and with the man that you watched become a father. 
Spencer Reid was a great dad. 
He'd had a fair amount of anxiety leading up to the birth, worrying about every detail, talking to geneticists, driving you to and from each check up or attending via video call if he was on a case. After she was born, he helped out as best he could. 
For a man who had delivered a baby before and was absolutely great with his teammates' kids, he couldn't hold her for the first week without an intense look of panic crossing his features.
“Y/N, what happens if I drop her?” 
“Y/N, she sneezed. What if I got her sick?”
“Y/N, she fell asleep, I can't move.” 
A genius with an IQ of 187 slashed to 60 in front of a pretty girl. His tiny daughter had him thrown through a loop he got seriously stuck in. 
He was still helpful, and he got used to all his new duties and tasks within a week, but watching those cute clueless expressions pass over his face now and then endeared you to him that much more. 
He knew everything, but he had to learn this right there with you. 
So yes, leaving for a relaxing spa visit was hard. 
Spencer had been on a case for the last four days, his first since your daughter had arrived and the official end to his paternity leave. You'd been happy to see him get back to it, in all honesty. Spencer’s job, his research, and his work at the FBI were like muscles he needed to stretch. It wasn't that he couldn't live without them, but there would always be a part of him that felt stiff or unsure of himself without the possibilities of a case to unravel or some theorizing to do. 
You were slightly panicked at the thought of being alone with your daughter for four days, but you managed. With a phone call home every single night where he asked you about every single thing your little bundle of joy had done outside of his watchful gaze. 
Now, it was your turn. 
Spencer had insisted on it upon returning from his case. He got four nights of relative peace after 20 months of waking up with the baby, sleeping with the baby, napping when the baby napped, carrying the baby around when it became evident that she was desperately scared of not being the center of attention. 
He came back with a spring in his step, and the deep desire to see you get a solid night's rest the way he'd been able to. 
You'd tried shooting him down, multiple times, to no reward. 
“Spencer, you didn't exactly just up and go off gallivanting. You were working.”
“I was working, and I still got more rest than you. I really needed that sleep and time away, Y/N, and I think you do, too. Now, please, go away,” he'd pulled you into his arms when you'd put the baby down that night to reveal his brilliant plans. 
“Just for the night. Go away for a lovely overnight break. Not indefinitely. I love you.” His panicked confession at the end sent you into giggles, that with a few well times kisses had you reluctantly agreeing to the girls trip he'd planned you. 
The BAU girls had been roped into accompanying you on the trip, which honestly meant that he'd be getting status updates any time he asked for one. 
JJ, Penelope, Emily, and Tara were all going to strong arm you into the car if need be to carry you off to the nearest 5(ish) star Hotel and Spa. 
And that's exactly what happened. 
The man had even packed the bag for you to send you off, had made you breakfast in bed and had run to every sound your daughter had made from dusk until dawn so you didn't have to lift a finger. 
“Y/N, you're resting today.”
“But-” 
“No. No buts. Just rest.”
“At least let me hold her for a second to say goodbye.” He blinked at you for a few seconds before his stubbornly helpful face turned softer, and he quickly handed your daughter back for a small cuddle. 
With a lingering hug, you told your daughter - who absolutely did not care one bit that you would be wandering out of the house soon enough - that you'd be back in the morning, kissed your husband on the lips, and were swiftly kidnapped by JJ and Emily. 
To your credit, you lasted two whole hours before breaking down. 
The drive to the hotel was quick and peaceful, and it felt nice to breathe in the fresh air without having to also check for various baby smells. 
You checked in fast, and all gathered in the in-hotel restaurant for brunch and mimosas, and then it hit you. Another mother walked in with a stroller, and you were blubbering. 
Your bottom lip wobbled, and the rest of the world ceased to exist as you gave in to the emotions. 
You knew, of course, that you were going to have to leave your daughter at some point. It wasn't healthy for either of you to have attachment issues, and you didn't want to hinder your daughters development by sticking too close - but that didn't mean you didn't miss her. 
JJ noticed your watery eyes first. “Oh no, I know that look,” she smiled over her drink, taking a sip. 
“What? What look?” You said, but giving yourself massively away with a good sniff and watery blink. 
“You lasted longer than I did. I couldn't go half an hour without turning my car around and heading back to Henry, and I swear it was only worse with Michael.” 
You giggled a bit as you wiped your eyes. 
“Do you think… do you think we could go back? Just for a little bit. I just want to check on them.”
The women passed a look between them and then nodded back at you, obviously having expected this. 
“Actually, we didn't book any spa treatments until the afternoon. We had a feeling something like this would happen,” Tara smiled at you, and you snorted in surprise as you dabbed away your tears with a handkerchief. 
“We are laying some ground rules though,” Emily said, a stern tone fighting the playful smile on her face. 
“We can peak through a window, but we're not going in. And we're not going to call ahead and let Spencer know. The kid needs to know you feel confident in his parenting skills, and if he's just got the baby settled and you come back in, it won't be easy to calm her down again.”
“You drive a hard bargain,” you said, but you were already halfway to the car by the time you could finish the sentence. 
The girls pulled up a block away and let you walk calmly back to your front door. 
You'd since agreed to a time limit and not to unlock the door. Emily went ahead to scope out the house, communicating with JJ on the phone who was holding your hand to stop you from wringing them. 
You'd never been a part of the BAU, but somehow you felt like a team member on a case getting ready to stake out a target. 
When Emily gave you the signal, the rest of the girls gave you space, and you ducked down to peer into your ground floor window. 
Spencer was on his stomach with your daughter, and they were having what seemed like a riveting conversation. 
“And so then I obviously got tongue-tied. Like I said, Daddy isn't good at talking to people, let alone beautiful women like Mommy.” 
“Be be be da.”
“Exactly. I really embarrassed myself, actually. I went up to her and said ‘do you have a number?’ and she was so confused.”
“Ba!” 
“Yeah, she sounded like that, too. I kept talking more and more, and she couldn't understand what I meant. She thought I was asking about her age at one point. I was just getting redder and redder, and then she grabbed my hand and led me to a seat at the back of the bookshop because she thought I was sick.”
He smiled down at the infant again, still babbling to herself.
“I was sick, of course, but it was just love sickness. I still am.” 
The tears that you'd delicately wiped away earlier came back hot and heavy now as you resisted the urge to crawl through the window to your precious family. 
Spencer was telling your daughter the story of how he first asked you out, near disastrously, and from the sounds of it, he wasn't done telling stories. 
“I really love your Mommy, you know. She's wonderful.”
“Mmmm,”
“See, you think so too. Everyone thinks so.” 
“Mmmma” 
“Yes, your Mama. You’re just like her, everyone loves you, too.” 
“Mama.”
You heard Spencer's breath hitch as you closed a hand over your mouth to stop a shocked squeal from coming out. 
“T-That's right. Mama. One more time, say mama.”
“Mama,” the little baby squealed in delight, reacting to her fathers utter joy. 
“You're speaking. One more time, Mama.”
“Mama!” 
“Your mama is going to be so mad,” Spencer whispered, grabbing his daughter up in one more careful hug and kissing her face as she giggled delightfully. “We need to keep this a secret. Tomorrow, you'll have you say your first word in front of her, and we'll both act surprised, okay? Promise?”
The gargle he got in response was enough to have your shoulders shaking as the others extricated you from your own front lawn. 
Back in the car, you broke down into giggles and tears, shoulders rising and falling in sobs and laughter intermittently. 
“Is this a total psychotic break or just a symptom of seeing Spencer as a dad?” Penelope asked, nudging you with her elbow as you tried to regain your composure.
“It's… whew, it's okay. We can go back now.” 
“You sure?” JJ asked from the driver's seat, and you nodded once again.
“Yeah. I'm fine now. I'm really good.” 
The women all offered you similar smiles as you drove away, blissful and content. 
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nereidprinc3ss · 1 month
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hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸
uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗
hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!
warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending
You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind. 
“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup. 
“Please, stop apologizing.” 
You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses. 
“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...” 
You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy. 
“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.” 
“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.” 
“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.” 
“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.  
“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?” 
A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks. 
“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” 
You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.  
“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.” 
An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat. 
“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.” 
“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. 
“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.” 
When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically. 
“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box. 
You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap. 
Says Spencer Reid? 
“...sorry?” 
He flushes, stammering to clarify himself. 
“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”  
“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.” 
He swallows and nods. 
“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.  
“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.” 
More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere. 
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.” 
“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.” 
But you're not crying because he was nice.  
Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear. 
His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks. 
“I meant every word.” 
You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say. 
“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.” 
Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending. 
“Had?” 
The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart. 
“Yeah. You know what changed?” 
“What’s that?” 
Absolutely nothing. 
“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.” 
Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes. 
“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?” 
“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.” 
“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?” 
You sniff, looking to the ceiling. 
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.” 
More silence. 
“But you don’t believe it.” 
A bitter laugh poisons the air around you. 
“I don’t know.  I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.” 
A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head. 
“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?” 
“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.  
You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him. 
“What?” 
His voice shakes slightly as he speaks. 
“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.” 
“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.” 
“That’s... that’s not how I know.” 
Your heart drops as you study his face.  
No. 
Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying. 
Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be. 
You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation. 
“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” 
“What are you doing? Don’t--” 
You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks. 
“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—” 
A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks 
“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?” 
With nothing left to give, you turn to him. 
“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.” 
He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks. 
“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.” 
Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible. 
“You... you like me?” 
“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—” 
Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.
And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?
“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—” 
You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.
“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.” 
“You said you used to like me, past tense—” 
“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?” 
“No, but—” 
“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” 
“Of course I have.” 
“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?” 
Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.  
Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks. 
“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.” 
“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is. 
Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face. 
“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.” 
A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes. 
“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.” 
“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine. 
“I do.” 
“Will you kiss me?” 
“If that’s what you want.” 
You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway. 
When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.
To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 
“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to. 
“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?” 
A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing. 
“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.” 
“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again. 
------------------------------------------ 
epilogue
Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought. 
“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes. 
“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!” 
“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.” 
“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.” 
“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.” 
Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention. 
“Spencer?” 
He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought. 
“What does pulchritude mean?” 
It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair. 
“Don’t worry about it.” 
And so you let it float away. 
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Blown Away (S.R.)
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Summary: Virgin!Spencer gets an enthusiastic thank you from his partner. Request: giving Spencer his very first bj and he makes the most lovely noises Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)  Content Warning: Oral sex (male receiving), established relationship, no plot Word Count: 765
MASTERLIST
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Spencer doesn’t know how, but he didn’t expect this.
You hadn’t exactly been shy about your interest in exploring new forms of intimacy, but it isn’t until his pants are down and you’re on your knees that he realizes what you’d meant when you said you wanted to thank him.
He’s not going to complain, though. Especially not when your hands feel so soft as they smooth over his thighs. The ambient air in the room almost felt cold compared to your hot breath puffing through his boxers.
Spencer surprises himself with the sound of his voice, broken and pitchy as he gasps, “Please.”
He’s not even sure what he’s asking for, but you know.
And you’re more than happy to give it to him.
You take your time as you work at removing the last piece of clothing between you and your goal. Each inch of progression elicits a breathy sound from the boy wonder seated in front of you.
He’s got a white-knuckled grip on the couch that still seems tenuous—like he’s just waiting for permission to abandon the pleather to hold you, instead.
You don’t say anything, though. Your mouth is a little busy pressing not-so-innocent kisses along his inner thigh.
Spencer can’t wait for permission, it seems. As soon as you release a shaky exhale against heated skin, his hands shoot forward and tangle in your hair.
With a wicked simper, you come closer so that your lips brush against the sensitive tip when you speak.
“Does that feel good, baby?”
Spencer, with his eyes wound tightly shut, still manages to nod.
“Yes,” he whines, “yes, it feels so…”
His thought is interrupted by the feeling of your tongue running up the length of him.
“Fuck!” he squeaks, his voice crackling and falling while his hips begin bucking forward.
You still them with sharp nails dug into his hip. The sharp contrast of pleasure and pain makes his whole body shudder.
The twisted side of you wonders if you can manage to make him finish without ever even putting him in your mouth, but the merciful side urges you not to try.
After all, he had been a good boy, and he deserves a reward.
That’s why you don’t prolong his suffering any longer. Instead, you slide your mouth over his cock and revel in the response. The soft sound of muffled whimpers as he bites hard on his lip, the desperate gasps for air, the creaking of the couch as he squirms in place.
“Oh, God,” he cries when your tongue makes gentle motions along sculpted veins. “Fuck.”
The words, however vulgar, sound so sweet when he says them. They motivate you to continue. With each upward motion, you feel him try to follow you. His hands clumsily try to hold you down while what’s left of his brain knows it’s counterproductive.
He is just so lost; lost in you and the comfort you provide. He is drowning in the warm wetness of a devilish tongue that dips to gather the droplet that forms at the tip.
“I-I can’t,” he huffs as his stomach begins to tense in waves.
But oh, you know he can.
“I can’t—I’m so close,” he admits begrudgingly.
You can tell he doesn’t want it to end because as soon as he opens his eyes to see the way you’re managing to smile with your mouth full of him, he shuts them again.
“Fuck!” he shouts while he tugs at your hair, “I-I’m gonna…!”
He expects you to accept his invitation to pull away.
He definitely doesn’t expect you to take him in even further.
His eyes shoot open when your lips manage to touch the base of him. The most indulgent, sinful kind of kiss where he can feel your throat clutch at him like your own debauched beg.
Spencer manages to keep his eyes open, to watch as choke yourself for his pleasure.
The end comes, too quickly, so beautifully. Each wave of pleasure pulses against your tongue and warms your throat. For a moment, you accept his offering instead of air your lungs desperately crave.
With a similarly sudden action, he pulls you clean off him with a final whimper.
As you collect your bearings and your breath, Spencer continues to stare at you with his pants down and pure wonder in his eyes.
“Thank you,” he says while struggling to catch his breath.
“No,” you laugh, “Thank you!”
An exhausted laugh sputters from his lips while he wonders what he could have done to ever deserve you.
He’s not going to complain, though.
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unseededtoast · 2 months
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All I Know | Spencer Reid x F! Reader
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Summary: Five years after leaving Spencer Reid, it seems that fate might have given you a second chance. Inspired by "Everything Has Changed" by Taylor Swift/Ed Sheeran
Part two of Glimpse of Us, but can be read standalone!
Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted
wc: 6.5k
a/n: Hi everyone! It's good to be back and I hope this lives up to your expectations. This one felt different from my usual style but I think it's different in a good way. And thank you once again for being patient, I appreciate each and every one of you
You're not sure what you did to deserve this opportunity, to be reunited with the love of your life, but you choose not to question it. All you know is that you're his, and he is yours, until the end of your days. 
And that is more than you could have ever wished for.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 
Nerves wake Spencer up far before his alarm even sounds. Anxiety over the "what ifs" of the day eat away at his mind, he hopes the day goes well. He hasn't had a first day at work in a long time, he had become accustomed to his life at the BAU. But his FBI days are in the rear view mirror now, a career-ending injury forced him to forge a new path in life.
And this new path he chose was becoming a professor. Sure, he had guest lectured before but he had never been a full blown professor. In preparation he reviewed his curriculum at least a hundred times to make sure it was perfect and rehearsed his first lecture.
While he should be happy and excited for a new start, he can't help but feel that it's all too bittersweet for his taste.
It had been five years since you left him. You walked out because you became unable to deal with his bustling lifestyle, and he understood. But now, here he is, forced to slow down and without you by his side. Spencer had effectively lost the two most important things in his life.
His alarm finally sounds and knocks Spencer out of his thoughts, and quickly gets ready for his first day of teaching.
- - - - -
Your pen glides across the paper in front of you quickly as you glance at the clock to see how much time you have left. Five minutes. You can do this.
After you quickly scribble your name on the card, you slide it in the envelope and rush out of your office with the card and laptop in hand. Students and faculty alike scatter through the halls, eager for the first day of classes.
You find the office you're looking for and slide the envelope under the closed door. Hopefully the new professor hadn't been in yet, you hope the card will be a nice surprise for them.
Two weeks ago at the faculty meeting it was announced a new professor was hired in your department. They wouldn't divulge a name, but you didn't think it mattered much, everyone likes a greeting card. And you hope it'll make the new professor feel right at home.
After dropping the card off you make your way to the lecture hall, excited to meet the new faces of students for the semester. Though this is only your third semester of teaching, it feels like you've been doing this a lifetime and it doesn't even feel like a job most times. You think you finally found your calling in life, and it's the first time you felt real happiness in years.
Once your lecture is over, you make your way to the break room for a much needed cup of coffee. As you sit down at one of the tables your coworker-turned-friend Jamie walks in with a smile on her face. Her first day must be going well.
"It's good to see you." You stand to hug her.
"I have a feeling this is going to be the best semester yet." Her smile is wide and bright, her enthusiasm starts rubbing off on you.
"Why's that?" You ask, sipping on your coffee as you sit back down. Jamie takes the seat across from you and leans close.
"You know the new professor they hired?" Her voice lowers so that people can't eavesdrop.
"I know they hired one but I have no idea who." You tell her the truth.
"Well whoever does the hiring around here deserves a raise. He's hot. And I mean like, hot hot." Her words pique your interest, and suddenly you wish you had stuck around to meet the man in person.
"Hmm maybe we'll have to make a habit of walking by his office." Your own smile breaks out across your face.
"Perhaps we will." The two of you laugh together and you think Jamie might just be right, this might be the best semester yet.
- - - - -
The second day of the semester went well, as did the next, and the one after that. Your students all seem to be excited for the course content, except a few, and you're excited to see the projects they come up with. 
With a smile on your face from a successful lecture full of intellectual conversation, you retire to the break room for a little bit, before your next lecture. The air outside is getting quite cold and so you settle for a warm tea today.
However, your peace doesn't last long as Jamie walks in minutes later. She takes a seat across from you and sets her laptop down on the table.
"What do you have there?" She asks, gesturing to your cup. You look down at the tea that still has steam rising from it.
"Oh, just some tea." You answer and venture to take a sip that burns your tongue.
"It's a good day for it too." She says as she rises from her seat to grab a cup as well.
When she returns the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. Jamie works on her notes while you enjoy the peace. You don't even look to see who entered the room when the door opens.
But, Jamie's not-so-subtle kick under the table gives you a clue as to who it might be. She's been pestering you all week about finding the new professor, and you're willing to bet he just walked in.
Casually, you look over and see a tall, slim man pouring a cup of coffee. His hair is long, down to his shoulders, and you watch as he pours sugar into the cup; an ungodly amount of sugar. Your stomach twists nervously as the man's silhouette and coffee order seems all too familiar. 
Unable to tear your gaze away, you watch as the man finally turns around and meets your eyes. And it's like the world has stopped spinning, your heart has stopped pumping, and you can no longer remember how to breathe.
Spencer Reid is standing ten feet away from you.
His forest-colored eyes are just as beautiful as you remember. Gold tones still as soft as honey, green hues reminiscent of fresh spring grass. And it catapults you to the first moment you met him.
It was a nice, sunny day and you had decided to go to the park to finish your book. You had been inside for far too long and it would have been a waste to not enjoy such a lovely day. And to take full advantage of it you wore your favorite sundress.
You had picked a spot on a bench that was partially shaded from the sun and you enjoyed the sounds of nature as you turned each page. That was until someone stood in front of you and blocked your light. You closed the cover of your book and looked up to the handsome man in front of you.
"Hi, I'm Spencer and I um, I just thought I'd come and introduce myself." You hear the nerves in his voice and see them in the way he scratches as the back of his neck.
"Hi Spencer, it's nice to meet you." You smiled up at him.
You had always thought it was endearing how nervous he was to make a good impression and you've never been able to forget the fullness your heart felt that day. But then your mind plays a cruel joke, and suddenly your head is filled with the moment you left him.
No matter how hard you try to forget, you will always remember the tears running down his cheeks and the way his voice cracked as he begged you to stay. It took every ounce of strength you had to follow through with your plan.
Every now and then you think long and hard about if you had made the right decision. You still hold a deep love for Spencer, but with the lifestyle he was living and the future you wanted, eventually the two of you would have drove each other to madness one way or another. It was in the best interest of both of you to separate, or at least that's what you had convinced yourself of.
Jamie clears her throat and you're swiftly brought back to reality. She looks between them two of you, both frozen in place like statues. Now that you look at him, really look, you see how much he's changed and how much he's stayed the same.
His hair is longer, he's filled out just slightly more, his fashion sense is relatively the same and he still has kind eyes. He's still your Spencer, the one you left all those years ago.
"I can't, I have to, I have to go." You clumsily stand from your spot and rush out of the door.
Your chest begins feeling heavy and tight, your palms sweat and your heart races. Getting to your office is your only priority. Shaking fingertips grasp the edge of the solid wood desk, your eyes squeeze shut and all you can hear is your thumping heartbeat. 
"Hey, are you okay?" Jamie's voice sounds muffled to you, and you pay her no mind. Your only focus right now is to breathe again. 
Minutes could've passed by, or even hours, before you finally feel your senses coming back to you. Your muscles ache from the tension, and you open your eyes to find Jamie standing right next to you, her hand resting on your shoulder. Blinking a few times, you try to remain calm as the nerves tangle your inside. 
"Hey." Jamie speaks softly. Glancing at the clock on the wall behind her, only five minutes passed. 
"Sorry about that." You stand up straight and try to regain your normal composure. 
"What happened?" There isn't a trace of judgment to be found in her voice, just concern and curiosity. With a sigh, you sit on the edge of your desk and cross your arms, unable to meet her gaze. 
"That was Spencer." You plainly tell her, knowing she will understand. 
Over the course of the past year, you and Jamie had grown quite close. The two of you swapped stories of your pasts; you know about her exes and she knows of yours. At first, you had worried she might judge you for breaking off an engagement over a man you willingly left, but instead of judgment, she met you with understanding. And you were ever so grateful for that. 
"Oh." Her tone is heavy, and all you can do is nod your head.
How are you supposed to continue working here when he shares the same halls? And had he known that you were here? Surely he recognized your name on the card. He had to have known. And yet he never sought you out once. Your mind wrestles with why that may be. Perhaps he didn't want to see you after you broke his heart, maybe he had looked for you but you were out of office. A million different scenarios fill your mind at once.
- - - - -
A week passes without seeing Spencer again. Physically, of course, but you saw him plenty in your dreams. You had been free from dreaming of Spencer Reid for about seven months now, until a week ago and now he's all you can dream about. 
While you sleep you're met with different scenes, each of them about how your life might've looked like if you had stayed. Some scenes are sweet and tranquil, while others are full of fighting and misery. And you aren't sure which ones are worse. 
One night you had felt particularly curious and you found yourself looking at his Instagram again. You navigated to the pictures he's been tagged in and noticed all the ones you had seen previously are no longer posted. A quick trip to the woman's profile shows that she is with a new man now, and there's no trace of Spencer left on her account. From the looks of it, Spencer never got into another relationship after her. 
A part of you is relieved he hasn't moved on. For if he moved on a second time, it would have solidified to you that he truly has moved on. After all, you were never able to move on after you broke off the engagement with your last boyfriend. 
Getting back together with Spencer never seemed like a viable option until now. Now he no longer lives on the fly, there's no risk of him getting called away for weeks on end. No, his schedule is normal now, a solid, unchanging schedule, one that allows for personal time. This idea had been blossoming in your mind for a few days now, after you had been able to process that he works at the same university. 
Now, even while you're awake you daydream about being back together with him. In your mind, he's able to be home every evening now, he's able to be there for holidays and birthdays. There would be no more occasions spent alone. The thought of that warms your heart, but it's always quickly refuted by a tiny voice in the back of your mind. Why would he want you back after all? You had walked out on him and broke his heart, there's no reason why he would desire to have you back.
And so you live partially in sadness and partially in happiness, feelings changing on a whim depending on which thought intrudes into the forefront of your mind. You can tell others are noticing how you've withdrawn, but thankfully they haven't said anything yet. Even Jamie has been giving you more space than normal. You feel bad for distancing yourself, and promise yourself that you will try harder to get back to normal. 
Normalcy is what you're hoping for tonight. It's the university's annual holiday dinner, hosted at a local five star hotel and catered by a Michelin star restaurant, you wouldn't miss it for anything. Jamie had texted you earlier asking if you wanted to carpool and when you check your phone you see that you only have fifteen minutes left before she's going to be here. 
The dress code is black tie formal, and you enjoy getting dressed up, you don't get to do it often. For tonight you had decided on something simple, yet elegant. The floor length dress hugs your body just right, and the heels sparkle tastefully with every step you take. Finalizing your look, you put on a pair of earrings that catches the light beautifully. Before you go to wait for Jamie, you take a moment to look at yourself in the mirror. And for the first time in a long time, you feel content with how you look, excited for the night to come. 
"There are more people here than there were last year." You say to Jamie as you two wait to be seated. There's easily double the amount of people here, word must have got out about how good the food is. 
"Tell me about it." She looks around at the other faculty members who are also dressed to the nines. 
"Ladies, if you are willing, we have a group table that is ready to be sat." A posh waiter interrupts your conversation politely. Jamie and you look to each other and shrug. 
"That's fine with me." You confirm, and Jamie nods her head. The waiter smiles, 
"Right this way." He leads you through the hotel's reception room, lights dim with a string quartet playing in the background. As you pass by the musicians, you can't help but wonder how much money the university allocates to this night, and if it could perhaps be better spent. But that thought doesn't last long once the fresh bread basket is placed in front of you. 
"So good." Jamie says through mouthfuls of warm, toasted bread. All you can do is nod in agreement, enjoying how the butter and bread compliment each other well. 
Other faculty members begin being sat at the table with you, and you greet them all though you haven't a clue who they are. Everyone at the table gets swept away in their own conversations, so much so that you don't even realize who they had sat right next to Jamie, and you probably wouldn't have noticed for a while if Jamie's body language didn't give away that something was wrong. 
Your eyebrows crease at the sudden tension in her shoulders, the tightening of her jaw. Her eyes grow wider just slightly, as if she's trying to communicate something telepathically. Your eyes sweep to the right and find nothing out of the ordinary, but once they move to the left you realize that what was supposed to be a good night, might end up being a terrible one after all. Of course the universe would have fated that Spencer get sat at this table as well. 
You avert your gaze from him quickly, feeling your face flush red. If it wouldn't be considered rude, you would get up from this table right now and go back home. But you know Jamie has been looking forward to this dinner all year and you don't want to let her down because of your personal problems. If you just keep your focus on Jamie, maybe tonight will be more bearable. 
Keeping your eyes off of Spencer is easier said than done you come to find. As if it's a habit, you find yourself stealing glances at him. He's decided on a nicely tailored suit for tonight, and the warm lighting compliments the golden hues in his eyes. And it's because he looks so good that you can only half pay attention to the words coming out of Jamie's mouth for the rest of the night. 
The table's food arrives and your one glass of wine turns to two, which turns into three. Jamie has had more than you, and has used her newfound confidence to go mingle with the other faculty in the open part of the room. Typically, after the dinner, the floor opens for dancing and socialization, neither of which you feel like doing now. Slowly, but surely, the others at the table leave to go mingle as well, leaving only you and Spencer at the table together. With this realization, you finish off your third glass of the night and wonder where to get your fourth. 
Just as you're about to get up and track a waiter down, you hear Spencer clear his throat. Like a deer caught in headlights, you look at him with wide eyes. He's already looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. Something makes you sit back down though you know you should be running the other way. Seconds tick by like hours, you watch with intent eyes how he licks his lips, a nervous habit he's always had. And finally, he breaks the silence. 
"Hello."
- - - - - 
Spencer had never been one for fancy outings, especially outside of work hours, but tonight he is happy to make an exception. Ever since he saw you in the break room you're all that he can think about; more so than usual. 
Over the years he had kept light tabs on you, asking Penelope every few months how you were doing and if you were still in the area. All she ever said was that you're doing well and you're still around. And that was enough for Spencer, he could live with that vagueness. Until he set eyes on you again. Now, you consume his thoughts every second of every day. 
He had never stopped missing you, loving you. No, he still searched for things that reminded him of you. The blankets you had picked out all those years ago are still draped over his couch. And now there's a shred of hope blossoming within him that his apartment may be your shared space once more. 
The only issue is that he's not even sure you want him back. He doesn't know if you're seeing somebody else, or if you even want a relationship at all; especially with him. After all, you had left for good reason so why would you want to come back?
The pessimism and optimism wrestle in his mind as he finishes tying his tie in the mirror. Spencer hadn't been working at the university long enough to have any real acquaintances or friends, and usually that would stress him out. But tonight, all he's focused on is you. 
He wants to see who you show up with and get a gauge of your feelings towards him. Spencer is still fairly confident he can read your body language. And he promises to himself that if you show up with a man, or act disinterested, that he will leave you alone and look for another job. After all, you were there first and he doesn't want you to feel suffocated in your place of work. Plus, he knows he wouldn't be able to share the halls with you without speaking to you. The wound would never heal, but then again, he's had five years to heal it yet it remains open.
Spencer hands the valet his car keys as he walks inside the high-end dinner. The lights are moody and it feels like something straight out of a movie. He joins the line to be seated, and there he spots you for the first time, looking around and talking to Jamie. 
On his first day Jamie had found her way to his office to introduce herself. She taught in the humanities department and was friendly enough, Spencer liked her, he thought she may prove to be a helpful friend to have around. His nerves were still at an all time high as she explained who had offices in this hall as well, and his interest piqued when she mentioned your name. He contained his surprise and thanked Jamie for coming by. Once he opened the card that was left on the floor of his office, it was glaringly obvious you had no idea he was the new guy, for you had signed the card,
"We're so glad to have you here, can't wait to meet you! Welcome to the team!" Followed by your signature. He would recognize that signature anywhere. He remembers seeing it scrawled across sticky notes you used to leave in his bag, ones he would find while he was out working a case. He always looked forward to finding those notes, it was like having a piece of you there with him. And if he's honest, they still reside in an interior pocket of his bag, he could never find the resolve to get rid of them. 
He watches as you and Jamie get seated, and he feels nerves creep up his spine. What if this all ends badly? He doesn't want you to run out of the even like you did the break room, no, that was the last thing he wanted to happen. All he wants is to gauge your reaction when you notice him, that's all. That will be enough for him to make his decision.
After a few long minutes had passed, he was finally being seated. While he followed the host he scanned the room for you but failed to see you amongst the sea of people. Surely you were here somewhere. Thanking the host as he took his seat, he took a deep breath and became acquainted with his surroundings. This was a large group table, there are likely others to be seated around him, so maybe he will make some new friends after all. 
He's just about to open the menu when he catches the glimmer of jewelry out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, he sees that it's you sitting just across from him. He's been sat beside Jamie, and he can tell from their stiff posture that they've both noticed him. 
Averting his gaze quickly, he tries to think of how to handle the situation but comes up with no good answers. So he settles on just trying to make it through the dinner and to get a decent read of your body language without you noticing him looking at you. 
All of which is easier said than done. Every time he goes to sneak a glance at you, it seems that your eyes are already on him. He doesn't miss the way your drinking increases or how you fidget with the necklace resting on your chest. 
The night passes unbearably slowly until it seems like it's coming to an abrupt end. Jamie leaves the table to talk to other friends, leaving just you and Spencer alone at the table. Unable to keep his eyes off of you any longer, he glances over and sees you finish off your third glass of wine for the night. And judging by the way your eyes dance across the people in the room, you're on the hunt for another, likely because his presence has unnerved you. 
You go to stand from your seat when something inexplicable happens. Before Spencer can comprehend why he's doing this, the word just tumbles out of his mouth, just a simple, 
"Hello."
The word seems to have made you sit back down, and he quickly assess that as being receptive to what he has to say. You clear your throat, buying yourself some time before answering. 
"Hi." Your voice is airy and like music to Spencer's ears. How he's missed hearing your voice. 
The shred of hope within him grows, and he only hopes this conversation goes well.
- - - - - 
The two of you are unable to break each other's gaze. Your eyes stare into his with intensity and your heart pounds in your chest. For a second you're worried you might have a heart attack because of the quick pace.
"You look lovely tonight." Spencer tells you, a ghost of a smile teasing the edge of his lips. You glance down at your dress.
"Thank you, you clean up pretty well too." You tell him the truth.
You're not sure where this is going to go, you feel as if you're treading in dangerous waters and you're not sure if you're going to be rescued or swallowed up. Spencer glances down at the tablecloth and smiles softly. 
"Thank you." He says, looking back up into your eyes. 
The two of you fall into a silence and you're not quite sure what to do from here. There's so much that's left unsaid but you don't know if you have the nerve to say any of it. But after a few minutes pass without anything, you rise from the table, unable to be so close yet so far from him. 
"Goodnight, I hope you enjoy the rest of the dinner." You keep your exit friendly and turn to go stand on the curb and wait for an Uber. You don't want to end Jamie's fun, you'll just send her a text that you caught a ride home. 
The night air is chilly and it sends a shiver up your spine so you wrap your arms around yourself. You unlock your phone and are just about to request a ride when you hear footsteps coming from behind. Looking to your right you see Spencer, lips parted and eyes scanning your face. 
"I can take you home, if you want of course. I drove here and it wouldn't be a problem at all. I was probably going to head out soon anyways." His words are rushed and slightly jumbled, but send butterflies straight to your stomach. 
"That would be nice." You accept his offer, feeling the familiar tingle of nerves engulfing your body. He nods and smiles before offering you his arm to take. 
Hesitantly, you reach out and loop your arm with his. He's warm and oh so familiar. The two of you walk in stride together, and you take a shaky breath to keep your emotions in check. A gentle breeze carries the scent of his cologne into your nose and it transports you back to a time you reminisce about frequently. 
You look up at Spencer as you walk, noticing how much more grown up he looks now. Stubble lines his jaw more noticeably, his arms feel sturdier, the smile lines by his eyes more prominent, but still the most beautiful man you've ever laid eyes on. 
Feeling your gaze on him, he looks down at you and smiles kindly. Your eyes burn and you look forward, seeing his car only a few rows back. It almost doesn't feel real. 
Spencer opens the door for you and you sit in the passenger seat. Before he gets in, you pinch your leg harshly, reminding yourself that this is very much real and is actually happening. Suddenly your palms feel sweaty and your throat feels tighter. The sound of Spencer closing his door snaps you out of it. 
Without asking for directions, Spencer drives off into the night. The streetlights offer a warm glow as he passes street after street. You pick at the edges of your nails as he drives, not feeling confident enough to say anything, you honestly don't even know what to say. And you're so distracted you don't even realize where he's taken you until he turns the car off. Looking out the window, you see his apartment building.
"If you want, I'd like for you to come inside for a little bit. If not, just tell me where you want me to take you." His voice wavers with nerves. The car is dark, but you're close enough to see him. Nodding your head, you reach for the doorhandle. 
"I can come in." Your voice is like a whisper.
You follow Spencer up the stairs to his apartment, and you take it all in. You never thought you'd see this place again. Stepping inside, you see that not a lot has changed. There are some new pictures on the walls and there's an entirely new bookcase in the living room, but it's almost just as you left it. A moment frozen in time. 
Spencer drops his keys on the counter and hangs his coat on the rack beside the door. You take a deep breath as you realize the last time you two were here together, he was pleading with you not to leave. 
"Would you like any water?" He asks and you shake your head, 
"No, I'm okay, thank you though." You decline and watch as he loosens the tie around his neck. 
"I didn't know you pursued teaching." He ignites the conversation again and tries to make it all seem more casual by rearranging things that clutter the dining table. 
"Yeah, I started about a year ago." 
"Do you like it?" He asks, pausing his rearranging to give you his undivided attention. 
"I do. Well, so far at least. Each semester its like the courses become richer with content and I just love seeing the passion some of them have. It's inspiring. Why'd you start teaching?" You open up a little in an attempt to shake the tension that hangs in the air between you. Spencer chews on his lip before answering.
"We were working a case and I got shot in the knee, and it ruptured some tendons. And my choices were to either work strictly behind a desk or pursue something else." At the mention of him being shot, you eyes widen and your jaw falls slack. 
"You got shot?" An all too familiar feeling of anxiety shoots through you and you remember how many nights you stayed awake contemplating that very thing happening.
"I did, but as you can see it wasn't fatal." He cracks a small smile, but all you can think of is how easily he could've been taken from this world. 
"Well I'm glad it wasn't." You truthfully tell him. A life without Spencer in it is quite miserable, but living in a world without Spencer would be like swimming in a lake of fire; torturous and inconceivable. 
"Me too. But it forced me to put things into perspective, to slow down and enjoy what life has to offer." You're not sure if his choice of words is intentional, or what exactly he means by telling you this. But there's a small, optimistic part of you that can only imagine why he's saying these things. 
"I'm sure it's not an easy adjustment." You elect to skirt around the question you want to ask, not knowing if you're just being foolishly hopeful or not. Spencer nods and motions to the living room, 
"Would you like to sit down?" He asks, looking down at the heels you're wearing. 
"That would be nice." You say and sit down on the leather couch, where you always used to sit. It almost feels like the couch remembers you. And your eyes catch the blanket draped over the back, you remember it well as you have the other one still. 
Spencer sits next to you, the two of you close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. It takes everything within you to not just lean into him and act like nothing ever happened. You miss him so much, you miss his touch, you miss his kisses, you miss his love. 
"How have you been?" The question feels out of place, but you're not exactly sure of what would feel right. Meeting his eyes again, you tell him the truth. 
"There have been a lot of ups and downs. Long story short I pursued a new career, as you've found out, moved two different times, visited Europe, and then I was engaged but broke it off." Your voice dies at the end, still feeling guilty over breaking yet another heart with the failed engagement. 
"Engaged?" Spencer's voice is tight and filled with worry. 
"I was, but I couldn't follow through with it." You tell him. Though you're not sure why you're spilling everything, but it just feels like the right thing to do. 
"Why not?" He asks, his eyes dancing between your eyes, your hands, and your lips. You shrug, 
"He just wasn't the right one. But how have you been?" You ask, already knowing about one girlfriend he had. Spencer's eyebrows raise,
"Well, I stayed with the FBI up until just recently, I made some friends and lost some, and I had a girlfriend, but that didn't end well either." He says though you're sure he's summarizing dramatically, as you had also done.
"Oh. Well I'm sorry about the FBI and about your, your girlfriend." The word is almost impossible for you to say, but you force yourself to. 
"Don't be sorry. I guess she just wasn't the right one." He whispers as his eyes finally land on your again. 
Your lips fall slack and you can't help but look between his eyes and lips, remembering what they felt like over every square inch of your body. And it's as if Spencer has his own gravitational pull, but you find yourself leaning further and further towards him until his hand lands on top of yours. 
His larger hand completely engulfs yours, and you look down to see him holding your hand with such gentleness. The feeling of his skin on yours is almost enough to bring you to tears. Five years you had spent trying to remember what he felt like, yearning to have him in front of you, to be able to see him, hear him, smell him, have him again. 
By the time you look back up from your hands, his other had already come up to your face to cradle your jaw. Your lips meet his tenderly, softly, as if you were both afraid the other would jump away. 
But instead, it's like you melt into each other. With your free hand, you grip the front of his shirt and pull him closer. Your lips fall into a long forgotten rhythm as if no time had passed. His lips as soft against yours and you feel his hand let go of your own and wrap around your waist. Pressed against one another, you wish this moment would never end. 
Your lungs burn for oxygen, so you pull away from Spencer's kiss and rest your forehead against his. You keep hold of him, afraid that if you let go that you'll wake up from some kind of cruel dream. With closed eyes, you take it all in, it's so much more than you could've ever dreamed of. 
"I've missed you every day for the last five years. And I am so sorry that I drove you away." Spencer's voice wavers. Leaning away from him, you hold his head in your hands, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. There are tears in his waterline, and the tremble in his lower lip makes your own eyes water. 
"Spencer, oh Spencer." You say as tears fall from your eyes and down your cheeks. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to him. You rest your head against his shoulder and the two of you cling to each other as you cry. 
"I have spent every single day missing you and loving you. And I'm sorry I walked away." You say as another round of tears fall down your face, landing on his shirt. Instead of answering, he just holds you tighter, and whatever you don't express in words is made clear in the way you two meld together. 
"I love you so much." He eventually says, letting you adjust in his grasp. 
"I love you, Spencer Reid." You tell him, knowing that it's the full and honest truth. 
You're not sure what you did to deserve this opportunity, to be reunited with the love of your life, but you choose not to question it. Instead, you kiss him again and know that this time you're not going to let him go. All you know is that you're his, and he is yours, until the end of your days. 
And that is more than you could have ever wished for.
- - - - - 
Three months after being reunited, you and Spencer had fallen into a comfortable routine. You had moved back in after the two of you had a long discussion about what the future of your relationship means to the two of you. Both of you agreed that nothing on this planet was worth jeopardizing the relationship, not after the most agonizing five years without each other. 
You're beyond happy that you finally get to come home with him every day, that he's able to be here for holidays and everything in between. The two of you do your best to make up for lost time, you relish every moment you get with him, no matter how small or insignificant that time may be. 
Everything had changed in the five years that you spent apart, and you both had grown up in several ways. Not drastically, but enough that you needed to get to know one another again. Date nights are spent talking about newfound interests and what has remained the same. Nothing feels strained or forced anymore, it's all tranquil and full of love. 
One night, after you had gone to bed early, Spencer finds himself sitting at the dining table with a velvet box in his hands. He opens it and looks over the ring he had bought over five years ago. And now he knows that it will finally reside on the hand it was meant for. With a smile on his lips, he slides the box into his suit pocket for the date he planned for tomorrow. 
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Text
See How It Shines
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Summary: Spencer gets home from work to find Reader in tears over the new Hozier album.
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Fluff and comfort
Content warnings: The masterpiece of Hozier’s Unreal Unearth, me stopping halfway to listen to the entire album, me crying to every song I reference
Word count: 1.2k
A/N: shoutout to anyone who picks up on every song reference I make. I am instantly in love with you.
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Spencer had been etched with the weight of unsolved cases and the relentless march of time, and he was forced to call it a night around six. The team had already pulled an all-nighter earlier in the week, so Hotch decided they all deserved rest. Spencer, however, wasn’t tired (he was; it was the late cups of coffee). Nevertheless, he makes it to his apartment door, skipping every other step. As Spencer turned the key in the lock, a soft melody flowed from the other side, haunting him yet drawing him in.
When the door opens with a slight creak, the music only grows. The living room was a sanctuary, bathed in the golden hues of twilight and table lamps, together casting long, ethereal shadows across the aged wooden floor. Plants adorned the walls and shelves. Since you moved in, he has never shared a space with so many simple living things.  His record player, a testament to decades of shared music between him and his mother, spun its vinyl tale. This time it was for you, as it breathed life into the album as you sat on the couch in a nest of blankets.
Ah yes, it was Hozier day. The anticipated album release of Unreal Unearth. His girlfriend highly anticipated it. She had been vibrating as the week drew to a close with five days left, then three, then one. And it was well worth the wait, considering the tears continuing to streak her face as the Irish man begged for someone to not fall away from him.
Spencer set his bag down by the door and proceeded toward the couch with caution as if he were ready to pounce like a predator on prey. Except the end resulted in a tender hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him with a puffy face and snotty nose. It was Spencer’s next instinct to grab a tissue from the end table and offer it to you. Of course, you took it. And even though the answer was obvious, he still felt the need to ask, “Are you okay?”
It was a struggle for you to inhale, so you blew your nose again. "I didn’t expect this to be a breakup album.” The album sleeve was wrapped in your arms, proving to already be a prized possession. The tracklist was organized by the layers of Dante’s hell they fell under.
Spencer gave you a small smirk before placing a kiss on your head. “Well, I’ll go ahead and get started on dinner.” It was his turn to take the culinary reins for tonight. “Do you need anything?”
“I need to know who this woman is, Spencer.” You throw your head back as Hozier hits a high note that neither of you has heard from him before. You stay there as you ask, “Who made this man feel so much pain?”
“You want to fight Hozier’s ex-girlfriend?”
“Ew, no.” Your nose scrunched. “I just want to know how. The power to make a man feel this way.”
Spencer chuckled. He had answers. And he’s happy to not reply with any of them. “I’m making chicken parmesan. That okay?”
You nodded, soon returning to singing about holding a heart like a steering wheel. But you then grabbed his hand. Your eyes are red, and Spencer is sure you’ll need drops before the end of the night. “Did a part of you die the first time I called you ‘baby,’ Spencer?”
Spencer couldn’t help but smirk as he quirked a brow. “Do what?”
“They’re song lyrics.” You let go of him.
Spencer has never fully understood the uproar that comes with Hozier. Then again, no one really flocks to Beethoven and Chopin like they used to. Plus, Vivaldi wasn’t known for belting out in the middle of his pieces and Spencer can at least admit Hozier’s belts ( well, the ones he’s heard so far) tug at him by the chest. He came back to his senses quickly when his mismatched socks landed on the cold tile. He washed his hands and opened the fridge door with his good knee.
Songs of water and knives reminded him he had chicken to wash and cut. And the familiar feeling in his own kitchen gets the tasks in Spencer’s head in order. He could feel the weight of his week slowly lift, replaced by Spencer attempting to chop to the song. It was inefficient. Some songs play shockingly fast for a breakup album. He settled for a more percussion style of noise, making each slice more deliberate as a testament to his meticulousness.
The flour and breadcrumbs sizzled in the oil that mingled with the sight of you matching the pitch of the song and humming where Hozier shouted, caressing the album sleeve like it was alive and needed your warmth. The weight of the lyrics settling in your bones caused your head to fall in shock as a long, high note carried through the whole apartment.
The album played on, weaving tales of love and loss, each one successfully targeting your core and striking effectively. And when Spencer got into the groove of his own routine in the kitchen, he listened to the lyrics as they almost guided him to autopilot, reminding him of the joys that come with his leg around you in bed, ensuring you don’t move anywhere except closer to him. And how the idea of losing that is something he does not care to dwell on for long.
He could keep it together, he thought.
Until his voice soars about the glistening of an animal’s eyes. About the force of love for someone recklessly in the middle of the street. Spencer couldn’t help but feel a lump forming in his throat. It was a visceral reaction—Spencer's sniffle. But it wasn’t unheard.
You turned your gaze toward Spencer, your eyes soft with understanding. You could hear the emotion in his breath and the slight catch in his throat. “Spencer?” You asked.
“I’m fine.”
Your lower lip quivers with a puffy smile. “You’re crying.”
“No, I’m chopping. Chopping while completely fine.” His sniffles continued to give him away (sanitary stations over pride every time).
You couldn’t help but find the situation adorable. You lazily got up from the couch, letting one of the blankets slide off with you, dragging along behind you across the wood floor and then the tile. You carefully put your hands around his waist because safety comes first. You squeeze him, and he laughs a little. For a moment, he puts his left hand on your arm, keeping it there. You noticed how his fingertips were colder than expected as you looked at the cutting board from under his arm. “So basil makes you cry? Is that it?”
Spencer laughs again, diverting his gaze from the record player and clearing his eyes from unshed tears. “Today, it apparently does. There must be some emotional properties I didn’t consider.”
“Nothing to do with an Irish man singing his heart out?”
Spencer rubs his nose on his sleeve. Fuck sanitation right now; he’s about to go through it. The snot is evident. See how it shines, indeed. “Is he really singing about roadkill?”
“Yep.” You sniffle in return as you lay your head on his back.
“Fuck.”
“I know.”
“How does he do it?”
“That I don’t know.” You held Spencer as he let the music hit him. Taking moments to turn from the food to wipe his tears.
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ultr4vjolence · 4 months
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@ULTR4VJOLENCE MISC RECS .ᐟ
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𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ AARON HOTCHNER
ᥫ᭡ a joyful future
a criminal minds big family!au where aaron gets the love and security he deserves.
ᥫ᭡ agents and asphodel
you hand in your resignation to the BAU.
there is no fanfare, no warning. one minute you’re there, and three weeks later, you’re gone, ousted at the insistence of strauss. but an unknown past holds the key to your personal horror story, one that you thought ended years before and is back with a vengeance — one set on taking you far, far away from the people you call your family.
ᥫ᭡ of terrible coffee and late-night rides
he watches you. maybe the two beers are going to his head, despite his infamous reputation as a heavyweight — all he knows is that his eyes follow as you slip through the crowds, sending beaming grins to some people you know from the office, and... you don’t know, do you? you don’t know how you make people feel. how you make every person you lay eyes on feel like they’re the only one you see; like they’re one in a million. important. you capture their attention with just one look and you keep it, too. you never go away — you burrow yourself into his brain and make a place for yourself there and—
their brains. that’s what he meant.
or: moments throughout your relationship with one aaron hotchner.
ᥫ᭡ moments
agent aaron hotchner, your boss, absolutely hated you. he was suspicious of your true intentions. but you were determined to prove yourself to him, no matter how long it took. or— the long, painful, winding road it takes for you and aaron to get your happily ever after.
ᥫ᭡ intelligence & issues
you’ve been working for the BAU for almost a year now. you know how you feel about your supervisor, but you also know it’s a lost cause. when the next case the BAU is assigned takes the team to your hometown, will it bring the two of you closer, or rip you apart for good?
ᥫ᭡ a hard day’s night
after graduation from the FBI Academy, all new agents go through a year of new agent training before becoming official agents of the bureau. by some stroke of luck, you get assigned to complete your training with the department you’ve always wanted to join— the behavioral analysis unit. you signed up for a year of profiling, case work, and catching serial killers, but you’re in for more than you could ever dream of…
ᥫ᭡ wanna be yours
professor hotchner’s criminal law class has a reputation. professor hotchner has a reputation. on your first day, you manage to draw his anger. he seems to hate you. what happens behind closed doors... that’s a different story.
ᥫ᭡ accidents
as the newest member of the BAU, you had nothing but professional respect for your boss, ssa aaron hotchner. sure, he was an attractive man, but your mind had never strayed even close to considering him as anything more than a capable and accomplished unit chief. this changes drastically through a series of “accidents” and in the end, there is nothing professional about your relationship anymore.
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𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ SPENCER REID
ᥫ᭡ 3
is it okay to do wrong things for the right reasons? they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions (feat. unsub reader). this is not a love story. there will be no happy ending.
ᥫ᭡ phoenix
it’d been 10 weeks since spencer died in your arms. at least, that’s what you thought. (rewrite of the emily/doyle arc with spencer taking emily’s place)
ᥫ᭡ be a rebel, be bad, stay here and cuddle with me
“i love you, i love you,” he murmured between pecks. tangled in the sheets, his long arms still enveloped your form as he peeked up at the small clock on the bedside table behind you, a heavy sigh promptly escaping his lungs as he read the time, “but i really gotta get up and go to work…”
ᥫ᭡ here to misbehave
spencer spots you at a nightclub and quickly becomes smitten. only problem is he’s an FBI agent and you’re under 21.
ᥫ᭡ domesticity
reader gets worked up watching spencer with kids. he notices.
ᥫ᭡ santa’s gift
reader asks her husband what he wants for christmas.
ᥫ᭡ sunscreen & statistics
reader asks for spencer’s help putting on sunscreen (and washing it off after).
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𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ AEGON II TARGARYEN
ᥫ᭡ when the world is crashing down
your family is house celtigar, one of rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. in the aftermath of rook’s rest, aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. now you are in the lair of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…
ᥫ᭡ north to the future
the year is 1999. you are just beginning your veterinary practice in juneau, alaska. aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. you kind of hate him. you are also kind of obsessed with him. falling for him might legitimately ruin your life… but can you help it? oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the ‘ice fisher.’
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𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ AEMOND TARGARYEN
ᥫ᭡ the pawn in every lover’s game
when you’re ten, your father sends you to king’s landing to befriend a princess and woo a prince. a lioness growing up amongst dragons is a dangerous thing indeed.
ᥫ᭡ children of the empire
you are the eldest daughter of rhaenyra, princess of dragonstone, and twin to her heir, prince jacaerys. when your younger brother assails your uncle in a childhood squabble, your grandsire, the king viserys, offers your hand in marriage as payment for aemond’s lost eye. plighted in a match that is beheld by many and desired by none, you find yourself alone in a nest of vipers, forced to watch as your mother and the queen maneuver and vie for influence within the court and the realm. despite your youth, fears, and insecurity, you know you must apply your will and wits to one claim or another, but this choice becomes more and more difficult as you find yourself further entrenched within the family who would see your mother and siblings fed to the flames.
ᥫ᭡ studious
your marriage to the one-eyed prince is not as romantic as you hoped. the wedding night is beyond awkward and confusing, and afterward, your husband seems more than content to ignore you. but you keep finding yourself drawn to him, and the strange way he makes you feel.
ᥫ᭡ to make them love me (and make it seem effortless)
you clutch the collar of his shirt. “why do you want to marry me, aemond?”
he looks down at you, and his hands twitch by his sides, no doubt wanting to feel your warmth permeate through your clothes. he can feel your heart hammering underneath your ribs, and he’s sure that if you slide your hands lower, you could feel his racing similarly. your body melds so perfectly to his, and you breathe in sync, as if engaged in a dance of their own. every molecule of your body thrums to life underneath his fingers, every second that passes between you is charged with a tension that threatens to push the both of you over the precipice, and still you do not see.
he hates that, even with one eye, he does.
you await his answer with bated breath, but he sees the way your eyes briefly flicker down to his lips.
ᥫ᭡ take me to the lakes (where all the poets went to die)
you and prince aemond hadn’t seen each other for years since you left the red keep. now, you’re back.
ᥫ᭡ comet donati
sex, drugs, boy bands. you are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help comet donati through a recent crisis. things are casual with aegon, very not-casual with aemond. loosely inspired by one direction.
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𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ JOEL MILLER
ᥫ᭡ i know it when i see it
it’s the golden age of porn. sex and sin are the national pastime. you fled your suffocating small town to make dirty movies in the big city. you’re paired with joel miller for your first scene.
pornstar!joel miller AU
ᥫ᭡ allowed to be happy
while snowed in on a scouting mission, you tell dina the story of how you and joel met.
ᥫ᭡ mercy.
in a dog-eat-dog world of sliced throats and broken bones in exchange for primal survival, begging for mercy should have been the very last resort.
especially when a certain survivor was holding you at gunpoint.
ᥫ᭡ mr. rattlebone
settled in at jackson, joel and reader avoid their feelings for each other for their own safety.
ᥫ᭡ guard duty
guard duty was absolutely the worst, you thought to yourself with a bitter sense of resolution, but at least it meant some peace and quiet. the watchtower was set directly above the main entrance gate to jackson, a closed off wooden structure with stairs leading to the inside and an outer catwalk circulating it.
sometimes, the town could get on your nerves with how full of life and bustling it seemed to be; but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. that sort of thing was a hidden oasis in a world like this, almost too good to be true, and you knew you were lucky to be part of it, even if it meant never ending guard duties at the early hours of morning, when the sun still wouldn’t be out for quite some time.
you sighed again.
“if you sigh one more time,” joel muttered in a monotonous voice, “i swear, i’m gonna throw you outta this window.”
ᥫ᭡ too early, too cold
early mornings are always slow, specially during winter.
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𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ BELLAMY BLAKE
ᥫ᭡ sub rosa
it’s easy to think that you’re swimming in the sky. floating with the stars, weaving between them, part of the sky, the way you always dreamed you could be.
or, a clarke griffin!twin, bellamy blake x reader rewrite for the 100. complete.
ᥫ᭡ in this new light
slow, soft and sleepy morning sex.
ᥫ᭡ pretty fixation, wicked temptation
you and bellamy had spent a one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep. a century of not touching each other catches up to both of you but finding somewhere to satiate your urges undisturbed is quite difficult. maybe a new planet will be just the place. but first, what’s a little challenge to heighten the tension?
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██████████ 100%
A C C E S S G R A N T E D. . .
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ultr4vjolence © 2023 .ᐟ
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262 notes · View notes
jxmis · 1 year
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Second Choice
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Summary: You're tired of always being the second choice... even in your own relationship you were the backup.
Warning(s): Angst with no happy ending
Word Count: 1.5k
A/N: Inspired by the Little Women scene of Laurie and Amy but with my own twist <3
(gif not mine! credit to the owner!)
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You knew what everyone thought of you. Oh poor Y/N, always the second choice. Her being the second choice in her family, her brother always being the first and favorite. Always being the second best in her class in the Academy. And even her boyfriend’s second choice. How pathetic of you. You know that. 
Of course, he’d rather be with the beautiful blue eyed dirty blonde haired woman. She’s not only beautiful, she’s smart, amazing at her job, a great friend, and everyone loves her. You on the other hand, you’re just… you. You will never compare to Jennifer Jareau.
It shocks you how Spencer Reid even noticed you at all. Sure, you work with him, but you never would’ve guessed that he'd ever want a romantic relationship with you. You’re not blind or naive, everyone practically knows how Reid is in-love with JJ. You witnessed it from the very beginning when JJ had joined the team as the media liaison. But they never really happened, to your surprise. 
You knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to go on a date with Spencer. That one date turned into two… three and eventually, he had asked you to be his girlfriend. You thought that maybe… just maybe he could love you the way he loves JJ. That he’d look at you the way he looks at her. You thought that you could help him move on. However, that wasn’t the case.
It’s been almost a year since you two have been together. It never even feels like you really had all of him. That's because… you never did. Unlike JJ, who always had all of him, she has his full respect, trust, and most of all… love. 
You can’t help but see looks of sympathy from others. Even they notice the way Spencer would sneak glances at JJ, how he looks at her, hugs her, how his smile would grow brighter and bigger because of her. You’re tired. Tired of competing for Spencer’s love. You should've known this was a battle you’d lose. Of course, you have no resentment towards JJ. She’s with Will, you know how much she loves her husband and Henry. You know her love for Spencer will always be platonic. The only one to blame is yourself. Though, you can’t help this burning anger towards Spencer. For- For leading you on, making you let him in when he couldn’t even do the same. Mainly, for making you fall for him. 
You’re sick of being the second choice. Today will be the last day and you vow to yourself that you’ll never let anyone make you feel that way again. You deserve better. This ends today. 
 ———
You had told Spencer earlier how you wanted to talk after this case. Well, the case was over, it was a tough case and as much as you’d like to be comforted by Spencer’s arms you know alcohol will be what will comfort you tonight instead. However, you all had landed almost 20 minutes ago and most are preparing to leave. Instead of Reid doing the same thing, he’s rather smiling and laughing with JJ. 
“Spencer, let’s go,” you called out. To no one’s surprise, you were ignored. You see JJ motioning for Spencer to go but resulting in the opposite. 
“Give me a sec! I’ll meet you at the car!” Spencer responds back. The urge you had to yell, but instead, you took a deep breath to calm yourself down. You put on a fake smile and indeed go down to the parking garages. Tears started to run down your face as you head to the car. Instead of waiting for Spencer, you drove off. 
Right as you had arrived in your shared apartment with Spencer which was originally his until he had suggested you move in with him. You had honestly thought this act of his meant he’s finally moving on, but it was another misleading act of his. 
You began to pack all your stuff as fast as you could wanting to leave this place as soon as possible. When you open the door to leave, you’re surprised to see the person about to knock. 
“Derek? W- What are you doing here?” You ask very confuse. 
He raises his eyebrows, “You goin somewhere?” You look down, your eyes becoming filled with tears dying to fall. 
“You got a place to stay tonight?” Your head snaps at his question. Your mouth opens and closes but couldn’t get a word out. “C’mon, you can stay with me till you find a place.” 
———
You and Morgan arrive at the BAU the next morning together. You both were bickering about the movie you two had watched last night. Watching a movie and drowning both yourselves with ice cream was a way Morgan hoped to make you feel better. It honestly did help along with him listening to you. There was not a single moment did you see or even feel judgment coming from him. He’s a great friend. You’ll miss him. No, you’re going to miss everyone. 
Unfortunately, your bickering and thoughts were interrupted by the one person you wanted to avoid. “Y/N!” Spencer calls out as he speeds to you. “W- What happened last night?! You- you left me! A- And all your stuff… they’re gone!” Spencer’s reaction genuinely shocked you. It actually seems like he cares.
You snap out of it and scoff, “I’m surprised you even noticed.” You walk past him and head to your desk. Now, all eyes are on you both, but they don’t forget to eye Morgan. All he does is put both his hands up, not giving them anything. 
“What’s going on with you, Y/N!” That was the tipping point for you. You turn to the brunette and drag him to Hotch’s office, closing the doors. You were so angry, you didn’t even think to close the blinds. 
The rest of the team couldn’t help but watch you both obviously having an argument. They’ve never seen you so angry… so full of rage. They’d be lying if they didn’t think it was bound to happen at some point, they’re profilers for god sakes! JJ is standing there and can’t help but feel guilty as she watches the scene. Morgan sensing this, he puts his hand on her shoulder and whispers, “Don’t go blaming yourself now, JJ. It’s not your fault.” 
“I’m tired, Spencer! I’m tired of us, I can’t do this anymore. We- we’re… We’re done.” Spencer stands there in shock whilst you head to the door so close to heading out. 
“That’s it? You’re just going to give up on us?” You couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from you. 
“Give up on us? Are you serious right now, Spencer?” You turn facing the clueless brunette. “I had done nothing but hold on for dear life!”
“Well, you breaking up with me with no explanation really shows you holding on to us, huh?” At this point, you didn’t have it in you to yell and fight anymore. He wants a reason, you’ll give him one. 
“I’ve always been the second choice in everything in my life. My family, past relationships, even the academy! You knew that… I told you.. Trusted you with that information. God, you even promised that you wouldn’t make me feel like that.” You sigh, “The problem is that you did, Spencer… you did.” 
The tone of your voice… so broken… so fragile breaks Spencer’s heart. The door being open, the team could now hear the conversation and it kills them to see you in such a state. “Y/N…” but before Spencer could say anything, you raise your hand up not wanting him to interrupt.
“I will not be the person you settle for just because you cannot have her. I won’t. I won’t do it.” Tears now escape your eyes much to your dismay. You didn’t want Spencer or the others seeing you cry. You start to back away, “I won’t- not when I’ve spent my entire life loving you.” With that, you leave Hotch’s office, sadly, only to be met by looks of pity from the rest of the team. 
You wipe your tears. You head to your desk grabbing your belongings and walk past all of them, not once daring to look them in the eye knowing what their facial reactions already look like. Even though you hear your name being called out by some of them, you continue your way not once ever looking back.
You thought you could stay at least the rest of the week to say your proper goodbyes to the team. You’ve been with most of them since the beginning. They were basically your family, it was only fair to have a proper farewell. But now, it’s too late for that, you can’t bring yourself to step foot in there anymore. Maybe someday, but for now, you’re okay with how things were left. You’re left with only sending them a letter as your goodbye. Your only hope is that they’d understand. You grabbed your stuff at Morgan’s and got everything in your car. You email Hotch your transfer request. You don’t know what’s next for you, but you couldn’t wait. This time, it’ll be different, it’ll be better.
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luveline · 5 months
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Hey jade!! i love your writing so much<3
Also what do you think of prison!spencer × Stripper!reader?👀
im not sure if this is what you meant but I hope you like it ♡ fem, 1.2k
"Too much," you murmur to yourself, tilting your head one way and then the other. The bags under your eyes have been dark lately from a severe lack of sleep, but all this makeup won't help make tips. "Way too much." 
You lean back to ask one of the girls for a wet wipe but the dressing room is empty. Swearing to yourself, you duck down for your bag. You have tissues, and they'll have to do it. 
Things have been hard since Spencer's… event. You don't sleep well without him, worse wondering what it is he's going through right now. His friends don't really know that you're seeing one another, and so being kept in the loop has felt akin to begging for scraps. You miss Agent Hotchner in times like this. He always had a soft spot for you. 
You hum a song under your breath as you rub the cakey makeup under your eyes. Washing your face would be nice. Going home would be better. You've been trying to make some extra money in case Spencer never comes home; you won't have his security to fall back on if things fall apart here. 
You don't want his security. You just want him to come home. Sighing, you pick up your phone and open the gallery app. It's a second hand thing you got at a pawn shop but it has enough storage to keep as many blurry photos of your boyfriend as you'd like. Pictures of him everywhere and doing everything, his big smile like a beacon. 
You stop scrolling when you find the one you want. It's favourited with a red heart at the bottom of the screen. Spencer took it, you remember —you were too busy kissing his cheek to navigate the settings. He looks happy. You could never understand how happy he is to be with you, how through everything, a long time of knowing one another and a hundred thousand acts of a kindness you didn't deserve, he's stayed by your side. He doesn't care that you're a dancer. He's proud of your choices. He loves you for you, even if he does get a little jealous every now and then. 
You lay your phone down on the dressing table, cheek flat beside it. "Time to come home, Dr. Reid," you whisper. 
Your phone pings and you ignore it. It pings again and you turn off your notifications. It's probably Spencer's nice friend Penelope, or one of the girls wanting to borrow something. 
You shed your robe to look yourself over in the mirror. The lingerie you're in tonight's not to your taste but a fan favourite, the bra and underwear both plum in colour with lace and black garters to be clipped. You turn to one side and narrow your gaze at a ladder running up your leg. 
You save a bottle of clear nail polish in your bag for this occasion. 
You're sitting on the floor with your leg out in front of you when someone knocks on the door. The girls don't knock. 
If it's a patron you have a taser, and besides, they don't usually knock either. A bouncer, then. 
"Come in, please!" you call lightly. 
You don't bother looking up, a creature of habit. It'll be the same thing as usual, insert man wants to buy insert dance from you for insert amount of time. Are you interested? 
You hum as you paint the rip in your garter. The nail polish will stop it from ripping any further, but you're going to need new ones. 
"You're prettier than when I left. How did you do that?" 
You tip the bottle over as you flinch, you don't care, you look up at the compliment and the familiar voice, and find Spencer standing in the doorway. 
You've pictured this moment multiple times a day since the day he was arrested, hundreds of reactions. In pretty much all of them you throw yourself into his arms and beg him not to leave again, but all those hours of missing him coalesce on top of you. You want desperately to touch him and you end up crying into your hands instead. Tears quicker than you knew they could arrive, hot and thick as your sob. 
"Hey," Spencer says, kneeling down in front of you. He takes your wrists into his hands. "Hey… don't cry." 
You can't help it. 
He wraps his arms around you and lets you sob. "I thought you'd be happy to see me," he murmurs. 
"I missed you," you say, the words dragged from you like agony on a hook. 
"I missed you too." He rubs your back. If he cares that you're in your underwear he doesn't have much to say about it. He eventually started making jokes about all of this stuff when he realised you wouldn't be offended, but he's never cruel about anything. He's far from it now, pulling your shoulder into his chest as he pats your arms. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm really sorry. It got out of control. But, on the bright side…" 
You sniffle and pull your gaze up to his face. When you see the hollows of his cheeks you almost start crying again. "What?" you ask. 
"Well, now I'm cool enough to be your boyfriend." 
You push him backwards and crawl into his lap, knees on either side of him, weight against his abdomen. Your arms weave behind his head and you push your cheek into his likely too hard to be painless. He just sighs in relief. 
"Do you have something in your pocket?" you whisper, your voice stuffy. "Or was prison very hard?" 
He laughs and digs in between you to pull the little box that had been digging into you out of his pocket. "It's for you." 
"Don't want it." 
"I don't care if you want it. I missed our anniversary." 
"I missed you," you say, clinging to him for dear life.
You can't stop hugging him long enough to look. 
Eventually, he peels you off of the floor and you get dressed to go home with him. It takes a long time —you keep stopping to hug him between items of clothing, checking that he's real, that's he's him, even if he looks different now. He has to take the reins or you'll never make it home, pulling your coat over your shoulders and zipping it closed. 
When he's done, he takes your face into both hands. "You've been safe while I was gone? No trouble?" he asks. 
"Nobody messes with me. My boyfriend's in the FBI." 
"Well, we're taking a vacation." He blows out a big breath. "Jesus, I'm sorry, but I really need to kiss you right now." 
"Even though I look junky?" 
"You look perfect." He kisses you before he's finished, his praise smothered by your lips. He kisses you so hard you can't breathe by the end of it. "I'm sorry," he says, pressing a softer one under your eye. "Prison was actually pretty hard." You lean in, lingering nose to nose with him. "I couldn't sleep without you near me." 
"You're only saying that 'cos you saw me in my underwear." 
"Yeah, that's exactly why." He practically giggles. "No, I just love you."
You couldn't sleep without him either. You get home and sleep for days, tangled with each other in bedraggled sheets. 
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radiant-reid · 1 year
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him in cult episodes >>>>
Summary: Reader recalls something Spencer told her months ago when he’s taken hostage by a cult (based on 14x01)
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (angst/fluff)
Content Warning: mentions of most of spencer’s trauma
Word Count: 3.4k
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Everything’s a mess.
Y/n’s used to the BAU lifestyle, and today is not the first day a team member has been abducted. It’s not even the first time that it’s been Spencer’s life in danger. Last time it was a three-month-long nightmare that seemed never ending during his time in prison.
It was different now. After what he said, everything between them changed.
She’s not expecting anyone when Spencer slides open the door to the balcony, and she whips her head around to see him.
It’s late in the evening, and she’s escaped the ground floor of Rossi’s mansion, where everyone’s partying, to a quieter balcony upstairs. Cicadas chirp in the spring night air, and there’s a faint beat of the bass of the music from downstairs. Rossi lives far enough outside of DC that the stars are bright, shimmering in the dark sky.
The balcony has a comfortable outdoor couch and armchair, perfect for sitting there and tuning out the world. She needs to do that. Spencer, her fellow BAU team member and friend, has been out of prison for a month, but the stress hasn’t dissipated completely. If she thinks about it hard enough, she’s back sitting at the round table while Penelope reads over an arrest report from Mexico, feeling completely helpless.
“There she is.” He greets her with a kind smile.
His smiling is something she seriously missed when he was away. “Hey.” She replies.
He holds out her jacket that she’d left downstairs, helping put it on her shoulders. “I thought you might be cold up here.” He explains the thoughtful gesture. “Am I interrupting?”
“No, not at all.” She shakes her head, nodding to the armchair she’s not occupying. “Sit, please.”
He accepts her offer eagerly. Then he follows her eyes out over Rossi’s perfectly maintained yard to the sky. “Wow.” He comments.
She hums at his tone. “I know.” She agrees. “Has everyone else gone home?”
Spencer shakes his head. “No, but they’re onto karaoke.” He informs her, laughing before his following statement. “Very alarming sounds.”
She chuckles slightly. He wouldn’t believe it, but he’s funny. She appreciates their time together more now, having gone without it for three long months.
“They’re missing out on your singing.” She jokes, smirking at him.
It’s mostly in reference to karaoke at The Benjamin all those years ago, where they sang all night long. It seems like a long time ago, and so much has changed, but despite what he’s been through, Spencer’s glow never diminished. He’s still the guy who somehow knew how to deliver a baby when he needed to.
“They don’t need to hear that.” He assures her, chuckling. “Again.”
“I thought it was great.” She admits or teases: she’s not sure which. “A highlight was Bohemian Rapsody.”
He cringes, shaking his head at the foggy memory. “I was hoping by then you’d had enough to drink.”
“Oh, I had.” She assures him, earning a confused look from the genius before she reminds him of something he had happily forgotten. “Hotch videoed that whole night.”
Spencer does something he rarely does then, sharing the feelings in his big brain. “I miss him.”
Y/n does too. She’d never missed someone more than she missed Hotch when Spencer was in prison, knowing that his skills as a prosecutor would have been insanely helpful.
“Me too. I’m happy he’s spending time with Jack, though.” She reminds them why it had been his time to go. “The kid deserves it.”
Spencer agrees, but he doesn’t feel the need to say anything, so they sit there in silence. It’s the most peace he’s felt in a long time.
“Y/n?” He asks, briefly getting her attention when she turns to look at him.
“Mm?” She replies, prompting him to continue.
It’s now or never. He draws in a deep breath, preparing for what he needs to say. There’s been so much weight on his shoulders for the last month, and this confession will lift some of it off. One thing he’s learned since prison is that he needs to say what he feels before it’s too late.
“I think I’m in love with you.” He admits, voice wavering slightly. “I think I was always meant to be in love with you.
There’s a beat of silence. And then another. One more.
She’s taking the information in at a slow processing speed, and the words don’t reach her mouth.
He takes it as his answer. He didn’t tell her expecting anything, like her to love him back, just to feel lighter, which works. “I just- I need you to know that.”
She should kiss him. It’s the right thing to do. Not right as in socially acceptable, but right for herself. In her heart, she’s meant to be with him and now is the perfect opportunity. A literal confession spoken to her. There’s no room to worry about him not returning her feelings and their friendship souring. He’s in love with her, and she can’t reply.
More silence, and he decides that it’s getting awkward. He spirals about making her uncomfortable, so he stands up, walking back to the door. “Good night, Y/n.”
She wills her legs to work, to run after him and catch him on the stairs, eagerly jump into his arms and kiss him like she’s wanted to do since she met him in front of Rossi’s expensive artwork. 
She doesn’t.
It’s what she’s thinking about on the jet. Maybe it’s selfish when everyone else goes over where the cult could have taken him, but she’s replaying that evening. How his hand felt when he grazed her bare shoulder, the sound of his shoes as he shuffled away, and how sweet the air tasted that night compared to the bitter resentment she tasted after she didn’t follow him.
“He told you the truth, huh?” JJ asks, sliding into the seat across from her before she even notices someone’s focus on her.
“You know?” Y/n asks in reply, slightly shocked. Sure, they’re best friends, but she didn’t expect Spencer to be spilling his romantic feelings about a colleague to JJ.
“I’m surprised you didn’t know for so long.” She remarks, met with a confused look from her friend. In her mind, Y/n had assumed Spencer had been in love with her for a few months, maximum. “He’s been in love with you for years.”
Her heart sinks in her chest. Is it wrong for her to feel warm? Knowing Spencer’s out there alone- hurt, from what Penelope said- it seems inappropriate. “He has?” She repeats. 
“Since he met you.” She answers before amending her speech. “Maybe a week or two after.”
So about as long as she had loved him. And she might never get to tell him. 
She can’t help but think about how she might stand over his casket and cry next week, wishing she had told him that night, back when everything was perfect.
JJ sees the panic, how her face goes pale, and she reaches out to touch her friend’s arm. “He’ll be okay.” She promises. She has to have that faith, too, if she’s going to be able to function.
Y/n nods, willing herself to keep it together. “I know. Let’s get him back.”
She must have spent most of the flight before JJ came to sit with her in shock because soon the plane’s landing, and they’re in SUVs driving to the cult’s compound.
Her heart races in her chest, pulse thumping once they arrive, and Emily initiates the infiltration plan. They’ve got to be quick and quiet, knowing the cult will claim Spencer as their 300th victim without being talked down. To them, his being there is a decade in the making. It’s spiritual, and there’s no way they’ll let him go. 
He’s completely tied up onto a structure, standing upright, when she gets a peek at him, his hands strapped by his side, legs tied, and a band wrapped around his head to keep his head in place. It’s very sacrificial with The Messiah and Agent Meadows standing around him. 
He’s bruising, too, red marks around his face that will develop into a deep purple. She can’t see into his mind, but she wonders if he’s formulating an escape plan because he looks like he’s accepted it, conceded defeat, and come to terms with dying. Even from far away, his eyes are watery and his breathing steady, like he’s finally admitted to himself that they’re not coming to save him. 
It’s easily the most terrifying expression she’s seen on anyone’s face. It’s bone-chilling.
They move in quickly, knowing he has seconds, not minutes. Y/n dashes to Spencer with JJ, the cult members around her getting shot or arrested being blocked out of her mind. 
His face softens when he sees her, fingers flexing as she and JJ untie his restraints. When his hands are free, he falls forward onto her, clutching her tightly, one arm over her shoulder, one under. 
It’s the tightest she’s ever been hugged, his grip making her feel like she’s his lifeline and he’s coming back to life. He pants out a breath like he hasn’t breathed since he was tied up. His hands spread out on her back, he buries his chin in her neck, and they rock side to side. 
“Y/n.” Spencer whispers, closing his eyes and focusing on holding her. “You came.”
“Of course.” She replies. “Always. You good?”
“Can I have another minute?” He asks, practically begs. Even if she’s not his, he needs to hold her for a bit longer before he can’t ever again.
She squeezes him tighter, assuring him it’s okay. “Always.” She repeats. 
It feels like it’s just the two of them, despite the chaos behind her. She takes in his cologne and how right it feels to be comforting him. Her feelings for him are much more straightforward in her head than they were that night at Rossi’s. 
His breathing calms down, so it’s not erratic hyperventilating, and he loosens his grip around her, more than ready to get out of there now that he feels alive and whole again. 
She loses him after that, keeping some distance while he hugs everyone else and thanks them in true Spencer fashion. There isn’t an opportunity to talk to him when they’re on the jet home since Emily is. She just sits and watches him, reminding herself that he’s okay.
She can’t stop thinking about his expression from the cult compound when she saw him, how unafraid he looked despite knowing he was about to get sacrificed. Maybe he knew they were there, like something deep inside him told him he’d be okay, but he looked prepared to die.
There are more hugs when they get back to Quantico, Penelope practically unwilling to let him go or out of her sight. The case has to end, and exhaustion falls over them when the adrenaline wears off, despite a new day dawning. 
That night, she runs after him like she should have done at Rossi’s, barely making it to the elevator before the doors shut. 
He looks surprised to see her. “I thought you went home.” He says.
She couldn’t. She’s not sure she’ll be able to leave him in the BAU ever again. “I didn’t.” She reports then immediately feeling like an idiot because that much was obvious.
“Why?” He asks caringly. 
“You were still here.” She admits honestly, looking up at his gentle brown eyes. They’re always more golden in the morning.
“I just had to do a psychological counseling thing.” He explains.
Her eyebrows furrow, confused about why someone would make him do that only hours after he was saved. “This soon?” 
He nods. “Damaged goods.” He says, like it’s his label. And he fully believes it. 
“You’re not.” She firmly tells him, mostly angry the FBI would subject him to something invasive so early.
“Y/n.” He says in a tone that sounds like he’s begging her not to sympathize with him falsely. 
Y/n shakes her head, eyeing him with fiery irises as she dares him to continue speaking negatively of himself. “You saved yourself, Spencer.” She informs him sincerely. “Are you hungry?” She asks.
The change of topic disorients him, but it seems a better conversation than arguing over how much of a mess he is. “Starving.” He answers. He didn’t have much time to think about it, with being abducted by a cult, but he hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, if you can call a packet of chips lunch.
“Do you want to get breakfast?” She offers before quickly retracting any implications her suggestion could have. “Unless you just need some time alone or don’t want to hang out with him. I won’t be offended.” She wants to tell him, needs to confess what she should have before, but he’s in such an emotional state that she would hate to take advantage of that.
She couldn’t get further from the truth. Spending time with her, specifically, has always made things easier. “I’d really like that.” He admits, sending her a soft smile. 
They barely speak on the drive into DC. There’s a lot of tension in the air, words left unspoken, but Spencer needs time to look at her. He’s at a point where he knows nothing will happen between them, but there’s still a life he imagines when he needs a quick spike of dopamine. She, and an imagined future between them, is his drug of choice now.
He orders pancakes, copying her, rather than getting his usual meal of eggs, bacon, and toast. He ditches coffee in favor of juice, knowing he’s going home to sleep after breakfast when the rest of the adrenaline wears off. 
No deep conversation gets brought up at breakfast, either. Instead, there’s laughter, and every time she looks up at him, Spencer smiles. 
He’s used to going home alone after any trauma in his life. Even after prison and Mr. Scratch, he returned to an empty apartment. After he was abducted by Tobias Hankel, when he got out of the hospital after getting poisoned by anthrax, and even after he got shot in the neck in Texas after Alex dropped him at home, he was by himself.
It’s better with someone else -he decides while they’re sitting there- because he can not think about it in favor of thinking about her.
He eats like he’s been without food for a week, even getting a refill of juice, although everything he’s been through would make anyone hungry.
And he pays, despite her telling him she would, so she drives him home through the traffic-less streets, thanks to everyone being at work.
He hesitates before he gets out of the car once they arrive at his apartment. “Do you want to come up?” 
She accepts, following him up the stairs. It’s a good time to do it, now that they’re alone and in private. 
His apartment is lighter than when she saw it when she went with Penelope once to water his plants while he was in prison. It’s neater with the curtains open, and he might have added even more books to the impressive collection she previously noticed.
Unsure of how long she’s staying, Y/n takes off her shoes on instinct. Spencer’s not sure why he invited her up other than wanting to spend more time with her, so he’s not sure what to do now that she’s there. 
She speaks before he can offer her water. “Were you scared?” She asks before realizing the insensitivity of her question. She doesn’t want to sound like a shitty Bureau psychologist, just his friend, haunted by a snapshot in her mind of his expression. “I just mean... we were, and Penelope was when she came. JJ was because you’re her best friend. You weren’t even shaking. Sorry I didn’t-”
Spencer cuts her off before she can spiral. “I wasn’t. Not when Penelope was safe.” 
“Why not?” She asks. It makes sense, his wanting to protect Penelope, but she can’t understand why he wasn’t scared when he was moments away from death. She’s thought about it enough without coming up with an answer for it to be necessary to ask. 
“Because, Y/n, what I told you that night at Rossi’s.” Her breathing hitches at the mention of the best, or maybe one of the worst, nights of her life. “If that’s the last proper, non-case-related discussion we have, I’m okay with that. I couldn’t die without you knowing I love you.”
She shakes her head, eyes tearing up at the confirmation of his acceptance of dying. “There’s more for you than that.” She says, hoping he knows it. 
He does. 
He’s got three perfect godsons, he’d love to go back to Paris, he’s always wanted a family, a wife and a big house, there are still books he hasn’t read, there are still sequels being written, there are classes yet to teach and profilers yet to train, there are chess games to win and to lose, and old friends left to see. 
They both know his life isn’t close to be finished. 
“You knowing is what mattered.” He repeats. “Right from when I realized I wasn’t going to get out by myself, I knew it would be okay since you knew.”
“It wouldn’t be okay!” She says a little too loudly, close to crying. “You can’t be okay with that.”
There’s more in her head, and he’s reluctant to push her to find out, but he does. “Why?”
She sighs, feeling small standing there in front of him. “Because if you died, I couldn’t have told you I love you.” She reveals one of her deepest fears that she hadn’t realized until recently. 
“Oh,” Spencer says, jaw going slack. He’s rarely speechless. “Recently or...” It’s the only thing he can think to do: establish a timeline.
“For a long time.” She admits. “I just- I froze that night. I couldn’t say it, but I felt it.” 
He senses the apology that’s about to spill and shakes his head. “It’s okay.” He believes it when he says it and walks closer to hold her hands in front of her. She’s surprised by the contact, but it’s nice, even if his hands are slightly cold.
For a moment, they just stand there, and she admires his gorgeous cheekbones and those honey-colored eyes that make her weak when he looks at her so intensely.
He doesn’t rush his next move. Slowly, he drops her hands and cups her cheeks, smiling softly. Then he leans forward, giving her what she’s been waiting for for a long time. His lips are soft on hers like he’s testing the waters, giving her a chance to pull away before pouring passion into it. She matches his pressure while basking in the glow of kissing Spencer Reid. Spencer Reid, who loves her. 
They share a matching fond look when they pull back. 
Then he’s laughing, and it’s the cutest thing in the world, along with being confusing. The slight, amused frown on her face causes him to explain. “You love me, and I love you.” He says like he can’t believe it. “Wow.”
She knows that reaction from when she had it at Rossi’s, and he looks adorable experiencing it, grinning so hard his face might split. For a long time, he’s wanted to be loved by someone romantically, and now he is. After everything he’s been through, Spencer thought it wouldn’t happen, and for the first time in his life, he’s glad to be wrong.
“What are you doing today?” He asks when he’s collected himself.
“Well, I was going to go home and sleep.” She answers, wondering what he’s going to suggest they do while knowing she could be persuaded into almost anything by him.  
“Sleep here.” He says quickly. “Not like that.” A blush fills his cheeks. “If you want. Then we could go to dinner, lunch, a movie theatre, or the park, wherever you want.” 
She’s nodding before he finishes. He could ask her out on a date to watch paint drying in his spare bedroom, and she would eagerly accept. “Yes.”
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rynwritesreid · 3 months
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You belong to me| Spencer Reid
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A/N: The rest of my uploads this week will be ones that have being requested, as I have a few waiting to be posted and I feel bad for the people waiting for their requests:) Jag älskar dig 🫶🏼
Summary: You and Spencer had called it quits on your “relationship” when Spencer refused to commit himself to you fully. However, Spencer didn’t realise how much he would hate seeing you flirt with somebody else. Happy ending(I promise).
Content: Smut and angst. Fem!reader. Dom!Spencer and Sub! reader. Possessive and to an extent asshole Spencer. Oral (F! receiving). Vaginal penetration. No mentions of contraception. Creampie. owning/claiming kink. overstimulation. 18+
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You stood in Spencer’s hotel room, filled with anger. Spencer had made it clear he didn’t want to be in a relationship with you, you had also seen him happily flirting with other women. So, why did he have a problem with you flirting with a man who was very clearly into you.
 
“Spencer, last time I checked you didn’t want to be in a relationship with me. So, you do not get to tell other men to back off when they are flirting with me.” You stated through gritted teeth.
 
Spencer's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he absorbed your words. His silence was heavy, thick with the tension that hung between you. The room seemed to shrink, suffocating you both in a cloud of unresolved emotions.
 
Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and possessiveness. "It's different, okay? I mean... I didn't think you'd actually go out and find someone else so quickly," he muttered, his gaze avoiding yours.
 
Anger surged within you at his audacity. "Oh, so it's all about your ego then? You want me to pine away for you while you have your fun? Newsflash, Spencer, I have needs too. I deserve to be happy."
 
His eyes flickered with regret before hardening again. "I never said you didn't deserve to be happy," he rebutted defensively.
 
Your voice dripped with sarcasm. "Right. So, when I find happiness elsewhere, you suddenly have a problem with it? Sounds like double standards to me, Spencer."
 
Spencer's face flushed with frustration, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "It's not about double standards," he argued, his voice growing louder. "I just... I didn't expect to feel this way. Seeing you with someone else, it hurts."
 
“Oh, but you didn’t think how I would feel seeing you flirting with other people. God why is everything always about you?” you sighed; frustration etched into every line on your face. Spencer's words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the tumultuous nature of your relationship.
 
Spencer walked over to you, his steps measured and deliberate. He reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. The touch sent shivers down your spine, a reminder of the undeniable chemistry that had drawn you together in the first place.
 
“Not everything is about me. But I can’t let what’s mine flirt with somebody else.” Spencer's words hung in the air. Your breath caught in your throat as his words hung in the air, an intoxicating mixture of possessiveness and longing. The intensity of his gaze locked you in place, his touch branding your skin, igniting a flicker of desire deep within you.
 
“Spencer, you don’t get to say that anymore.” You tried to pull away from his grasp, but his grip tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh. The pain shot through you, mingling with the remnants of anger and desire that swirled in your veins.
 
"I do get to say it," he growled, his voice thick with a mix of dominance and desperation. "Because no matter what we've said or done, I can't shake this feeling that you're mine."
 
Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between the conflicting emotions swirling within you. Spencer's possessiveness was suffocating, but a part of you couldn't deny the thrill it ignited deep in your core. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, melting your resolve with every passing second.
 
But you refused to let him dictate your happiness any longer. With a surge of strength, you wrenched yourself free from his grip, stepping back and putting some distance between you. The pain lingered on your skin where his fingers had dug into you, a stark reminder of the toxicity that had seeped into your relationship.
 
"No, Spencer," you said firmly, your voice trembling but resolute. "I am not yours to claim. I deserve freedom, happiness, and someone who respects me enough to let me make my own choices."
 
His face contorted with a mix of anger and hurt; his breathing ragged as he struggled to regain control. "You don't understand," he spat out, his voice dripping with venom. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. You're all I think about, all I want. And you're just throwing it away for some cheap fling."
 
"No, Spencer," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "This is not a cheap fling. This is me reclaiming my worth and refusing to settle for less than I deserve."
 
"You're mine," he repeated, his voice filled with a mixture of desperation and frustration. “You’ll always be mine. You’ve just got to accept it.”
 
Spencer’s lips than found themselves on yours. You wanted to protest, to pull away from the kiss. But you couldn’t, this is all you ever wanted. You just wanted Spencer, and you knew you were just flirting with that officer to see if Spencer would get jealous.
 
The kiss was electric, a collision of passion and longing that left you breathless. Spencer's lips moved against yours with a fervour that mirrored the tumultuous emotions swirling inside both of you. As his hands roamed your body, igniting a fire that had never fully extinguished, you couldn't help but succumb to the seductive pull of his touch.
 
Spencer's lips curled into a predatory smile, sensing your surrender. His grip tightened even further, bordering on painful, but you found yourself oddly drawn to the discomfort, craving the mix of pleasure and pain that only he seemed capable of providing.
 
You melted into his touch, your body responding eagerly to his every command. The familiar dance of dominance and submission played out between you, the lines blurring as pleasure mingled with the lingering pain from his earlier grip.
 
Spencer pulled away from the kiss, his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered darkly, "You may think you're your own person, but deep down, you know it's different between us."
 
Your heart raced in your chest, conflicted, and torn between the intoxicating desire that Spencer ignited within you and the boundaries you were determined to set. His words sank deep into your subconscious, stirring a primal need to surrender to him completely.
 
“I’m yours Spencer, I’ll forever be yours.” The words slipped out before you could fully comprehend them, a whisper of submission that hung heavily in the air. Spencer's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and triumph, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. His hold on you tightened possessively, his fingers digging into your flesh as if marking you as his territory.
 
Spencer's triumphant smile sent chills down your spine, a mix of excitement and trepidation coursing through your veins. The possessiveness in his touch both thrilled and frightened you, but the undeniable connection between you made it difficult to resist.
 
Spencer’s hand found their way to your shirt, his fingers undoing the buttons slowly, revealing the vulnerable flesh beneath. His touch was both deliberate and tender, his gaze never leaving yours as he explored every inch of your exposed skin.
 
As the fabric fell away, exposing your bare chest to the cool air, Spencer's eyes darkened with desire. His fingers traced a path of fire along your collarbone, down your abdomen, until they reached the waistband of your pants. With a quick flick of his wrist, he unbuttoned them, his touch igniting a trail of need that burned through you.
 
You could feel the hunger radiating from him, a primal urge that matched your own. There was no denying the raw connection between you, no matter how toxic it may have become. It was a dance, an intoxicating game of power and surrender that neither of you could resist.
 
Spencer's lips found yours once again, claiming you with a ferocity that left you breathless. The kiss was a maelstrom of passion and possessiveness, fuelling the fire that raged within both of you. His hands explored every inch of your exposed skin, igniting a trail of desire that consumed you both.
 
As his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a fiery path in their wake, your mind struggled to reconcile the conflicting emotions raging within. Sensation mingled with uncertainty; pleasure intertwined with doubt. But in that moment, none of it mattered. All that existed was the intoxicating connection between you and Spencer.
 
You hadn’t realised but Spencer was pushing you towards the bed, his touch guiding you with an intensity that made your heart race. The sheets beckoned, a sanctuary where the turmoil of your relationship could be momentarily forgotten. As you sank into the softness, surrendering to the desires that consumed you both, the world outside ceased to exist.
 
Spencer's eyes held yours, filled with a mixture of hunger and adoration. Each movement, each touch, was a delicate balance between dominance and tenderness, awakening a whirlwind of emotions within you. His hands roamed your body with a possessiveness that both thrilled and terrified you, igniting a fire that threatened to consume everything in its path.
 
The air brimmed with anticipation as Spencer lowered himself beside you on the bed, his body radiating heat. Your souls seemed intertwined, bound by an unspoken understanding that surpassed words. His lips found your neck once again, leaving a trail of kisses that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your veins.
 
With a gentle touch, he traced a path down your body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. His lips worshipped at every inch of your skin, leaving no part untouched by his fervent desire.
 
As Spencer's lips trailed lower, his hands followed suit, caressing your thighs with a tender touch that made every nerve ending tingle. The anticipation built with each passing second, the air heavy with desire and the promise of unbridled pleasure.
 
Spencer's eyes met yours, you knew he was asking for consent, but you could sense he was asking for redemption. You hesitated for a moment, caught between the allure of surrender and the boundaries you were determined to set. The toxic history of your relationship with Spencer tugged at the edges of your mind, warning you of the potential consequences of giving in to his desires once more.
 
But as you looked into his eyes, you saw a glimmer of vulnerability beneath the seductive gaze. It was a plea for redemption, an unspoken promise that this time would be different. And so, with a mix of trepidation and newfound hope, you nodded, granting him the consent he sought.
 
Without hesitation, he lowered his head, his hot breath grazing against your sensitive flesh. His tongue delved between your folds, exploring, and tasting every inch as if committing it to memory. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, each lick and suck sending shockwaves through your body.
 
The intensity built with every passing second, reaching a crescendo that threatened to consume you entirely. Your fingers threaded through Spencer's hair, urging him closer, deeper. He responded with a primal growl against your skin, intensifying the sensations coursing through you. His mouth became a vortex of pleasure, his tongue expertly tracing patterns that drove you to the edge and back again.
 
You were lost in a symphony of ecstasy, the boundaries of pleasure and pain blurring as Spencer pushed you further towards the edge. His touch was both tender and possessive, his tongue exploring every inch of your intimate depths with a voracious hunger that left no doubt of his intentions.
 
The room filled with your gasps and moans; the air heavy with the scent of desire. Spencer's fingers joined in the dance, tracing maddening circles on your swollen bud, coaxing you closer to the precipice. The tension built within you, coiling tightly like a spring ready to snap.
 
And just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he plunged two fingers inside you, filling you completely. The sensation sent shockwaves through your body, pleasure spiraling outwards from the depths of your core. Your back arched off the bed involuntarily as he expertly curled his fingers, hitting that sweet spot that had always driven you wild.
 
The world faded away as pleasure engulfed you, every touch from Spencer a symphony of ecstasy that echoed through your body. The boundaries you had set were shattered in the wake of the pleasure he provided, replaced by an insatiable hunger for more. Your mind became clouded with desire as he continued his relentless assault on your senses, pushing you closer to the edge of oblivion.
 
Spencer's movements grew more intense, his fingers plunging deeper inside you, as if he was determined to claim every inch of your being. The room filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths, mingled with his low growls of satisfaction. The intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure heightened your arousal, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy.
 
As the waves of pleasure crashed over you, each crest stronger than the last, you surrendered completely to the intoxicating abyss. Your body writhed beneath Spencer's touch, aching for release as he skilfully brought you to the precipice of ecstasy.
 
The tension built within you, coiling tightly like a spring ready to snap. The room filled with your gasps and moans; the air heavy with the scent of desire. Spencer's fingers joined in the dance, tracing maddening circles on your swollen bud, coaxing you closer to the precipice. The intensity grew with every passing moment, until you were teetering on the edge of an explosive climax.
 
Just as you were about to tip over into blissful release, Spencer withdrew his fingers, leaving you panting, throbbing, and desperate for more. A whimper of frustration escaped your lips as he grinned wickedly above you. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of satisfaction and mischief.
 
"Patience," he whispered huskily, his voice dripping with promises of pleasure yet to come.
 
You watched as Spencer slowly shed his clothes, revealing every inch of his sculpted body. Your breath hitched at the sight, desire coursing through your veins like a wildfire. The hunger in his eyes mirrored your own, igniting a primal need that threatened to consume you both.
 
With a predatory grace, he prowled towards you, his gaze never leaving yours. The weight of his presence filled the room, intoxicating and overwhelming. As he reached the edge of the bed, his hands moved to grip your hips possessively, his touch searing into your skin.
 
"I want to taste every inch of you," Spencer growled, his voice dripping with raw desire. His words sent shivers down your spine, anticipation coiling tightly in the pit of your stomach.
 
His lips crashed against yours again, a fierce kiss that left no doubt of his intentions. His tongue tangled with yours in a dance as old as time, exploring and staking claim to every corner of your mouth. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady combination of desire and something deeper, something that spoke of a connection that went beyond the physical.
 
Spencer's hands roamed your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He traced the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts, as if he were memorizing every inch of you. His touch was possessive, but tender, an embodiment of the conflicting emotions that filled both your hearts.
 
With a deft motion, Spencer pushed himself up so that he hovered above you. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. There was a hunger there, but also a vulnerability - a vulnerability that mirrored your own.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, "I want to show you how much I love you." His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and the weight of past mistakes.
 
In that moment, you saw the truth in his eyes. His words weren't just empty promises, but a genuine declaration of love and desire. The toxic history between you and Spencer had been a tumultuous journey, filled with heartache and pain. But now, in this moment, there was a glimmer of hope, a chance for redemption.
 
You took a deep breath, allowing yourself to let go of the past and embrace the present. With a surge of courage, you reached up and cupped his face in your hands, pulling him closer to you. The taste of his lips ignited a fire within you, fuelling your hunger for him.
 
Spencer's hands roamed your body with a renewed passion, his touch setting your skin ablaze. Every caress was filled with purpose, a testament to the depths of his desire for you. You surrendered yourself completely to him, allowing him to explore every inch of your being.
 
As the world around you faded away, it was just the two of you locked in an intimate dance of love and lust. The room seemed to disappear as you and Spencer became lost in each other. Every touch, every kiss, was a testament to the fire that burned between you.
 
His hands moved over your body with a reverence that spoke of the love he had for you. With each caress, he worshipped every curve and every inch of your skin. It was as though he wanted to memorize every detail, etching it into his memory forever.
 
You felt adored under his touch, cherished in a way you had never experienced before. It was intoxicating, the way he made you feel desired, beautiful, and wanted. In his embrace, you found solace and passion intertwining, creating a powerful connection that surpassed mere physicality.
 
The heat between you grew with each passing moment, igniting a hunger that consumed every fibber of your being. Spencer's lips trailed along your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in their wake. His breath was warm against your skin as he whispered words of love and longing, his voice husky with desire. You shivered under his touch, the anticipation building to a fever pitch.
 
With a fluid motion, Spencer eased himself inside you, filling you completely. The connection between you was electric, a fusion of bodies and souls coming together in a moment of exquisite pleasure. His movements were deliberate and measured, each thrust taking you closer to the edge of ecstasy.
 
Your hands clung to his back, nails digging into his skin as waves of pleasure coursed through your body. Every stroke, every collision of flesh against flesh sent shockwaves of delight rippling through your veins. The symphony of your moans and sighs mingled with his own grunts of pleasure, creating a harmony that echoed through the room.
 
The rhythm between you intensified, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony. You lost yourself in the dance, surrendering to the primal urge that consumed you both. The world around you ceased to exist as pleasure became your only reality.
 
Spencer's thrusts grew faster and more urgent, each one driving you closer to the edge of rapture. The room echoed with the sounds of your bodies colliding, a symphony of raw desire and ecstasy. The air crackled with tension as you both chased that elusive release, the anticipation building to a crescendo.
 
Your senses were heightened, every touch from Spencer igniting fireworks within you. His hands roamed your body with a possessiveness that left no doubt of his devotion. You could feel the intensity in his movements, his need to bring you to the pinnacle of pleasure.
 
As his lips claimed yours once more, you felt that familiar coil of desire tighten within you. It was as if the whole universe had condensed into this moment, this connection between two souls hungry for each other. Spencer's name escaped your lips like a prayer, mingling with gasps and moans.
 
With each thrust, you soared higher, teetering on the edge of an explosive release. The intensity of Spencer's touch, combined with the overwhelming love and longing between you, sent your body into a frenzy of pleasure. The world around you blurred into a haze as your senses heightened, every nerve ending electrified.
 
Spencer's movements became more desperate, his thrusts reaching a fevered pace. He was so close, as were you. With each collision of your bodies, it felt like an eruption of pure bliss was just within reach.
 
Your eyes locked, the connection between you unbreakable. There was an unspoken understanding in that moment, a shared desire to push each other past the limits of ecstasy. You wanted to give him everything, to show him how much you loved him.
 
As if sensing your thoughts, Spencer's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh. His breath mingled with yours in ragged gasps as he whispered words of love and devotion against your skin.
 
Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the symphony of your moans and the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room. The tension that had built between you was unraveled in that moment, as you both gave yourselves completely to the pleasure that surged through your bodies.
 
Time seemed to stand still as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. You clung to each other, lost in the intense pleasure that consumed every inch of your being. The room filled with the sounds of your cries and moans, a symphony of passion and desire.
 
As your climax approached, you felt a surge of warmth intertwine with the pleasure coursing through you. It wasn't just physical release anymore; it was something deeper, something that transcended the boundaries of mere pleasure. It was a connection forged in love and vulnerability, a sacred bond between two souls.
 
In that final moment, bliss washed over you like a tidal wave. Your bodies trembled and convulsed together, locked in an embrace that defied explanation. It was an explosion of sensation and emotion that left you breathless and sated. The world seemed to fade away as you clung to each other, riding out the aftershocks of pleasure.
 
As your breathing slowed and your heart rates steadied, you remained tangled in each other's arms, basking in the aftermath of your passion. This moment, this connection, felt so different from anything you had experienced before. It was more than just the physical act; it was an affirmation of your love for one another.
 
Spencer pressed gentle kisses against your forehead, his touch filled with tenderness and adoration. You could feel his chest rise and fall against yours, the rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in perfect harmony with your own. The room was filled with a blissful silence, a peaceful sanctuary created by your union.
 
In the tranquil aftermath, you and Spencer lay entwined, bodies still humming with the echoes of pleasure. Your fingers traced lazy patterns along his bare chest, revelling in the warmth that radiated between you. The weight of his arm draped across your waist provided a comforting reassurance, grounding you in the reality of your newfound connection.
 
As the room filled with hushed whispers and soft sighs, you marvelled at the journey that had led you both to this moment. The toxic history that had once plagued your relationship now seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the raw love and desire that now bound you together.
 
Spencer shifted slightly, his lips brushing against your temple in a tender kiss. His breath danced against your skin as he whispered words of affection, promising to cherish and protect what you had created. With each gentle word, he washed away any lingering doubts or fears, replacing them with a deep sense of security and belonging.
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emilvr · 4 months
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┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ ° boyfriend spencer !
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oh lord have mercy this man is sooooo ( ∩ˇωˇ∩)♡all my boyfie spencer thoughts in one place.. <3 this man deserves a happy ending and if cm won’t give it to him i certainly will!! click the link 4 a surprise … & also send me ur spencer reid thoughts before i collapse!!
warnings: just swearing/slight suggestive tones (like smooches..) and gender neutral reader i think !!
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spencer, at least— according to derek, is a tough nut to crack. he doesn’t trust easily at all, and the fruits of your labour may not actually show until years down the line. but if there’s one thing about him you could never doubt, is his loyalty to not just you, but his entire team. especially when he tells you, “i’ll do anything you need me to. always.” and the earnest tone he whispers it in, his brown eyes flickering up to meet your [e/c] ones. the soft, glowing warmth of the love of a thousand lifetimes burns bright in his irises and you will find that you simply don’t care how long you have to wait for him to allow you to hold his heart in your hands.
he may not say i love you in the traditional sense; but it is as clear as the turning shades of the leaves in autumn. it’s clear in how he wants to know everything about you: the things you deem mundane and unimportant, the things that make you embarrassed and the things that make you avoid his eyes as you grin childishly. it’s clear in the way he remembers everything, which isn’t all that surprising given:
“did you know i actually have an eidetic memory and an iq of—“
“187. yes i know, spence. what a smart cookie!”
(in response, he flushes always when you coo the words ‘smart cookie’, although in the same breath he will stare at your face and whisper ‘angel’ in your ear like you’ve been sent down from the heavens just for him.)
he treats you like you’re made of delicate rose petals, and a touch that is too forceful will cause you to wither away. his lips graze your cheek gently in a kiss, his fingertips softly pet the top of your head and slowly follow the curve of your cheeks to the slope of your nose. and when you giggle and go “that tickles,” he’ll only grin in response and nestle his nose into the crown of your head and hum knowingly.
although, most infuriatingly, he will not make the first move. now, doesn’t mean he won’t drive you absolutely insane with soft smiles and eyes full of love and want. he puts all of shakespeare’s sonnets to shame, truly. he keeps it up until you break and march over to his apartment with wobbling lips and twinkling irises (and emily’s encouraging “go get ur mans!!!! GET HIM!!!!” text on your phone. her, jj and penelope are the worst enablers ever.) and even then, he stands still (like the whole world has come to a standstill, really) and waits for you to utter the words. he waits, quietly and patiently. his attention is on you.
“it’s okay. you can say it.”
“you’re torturing me here.”
“am i?”
“‘am i?’ i will pretend you never said that, smarty pants. you infuriate me.”
“ooh, big words.”
“hey! i can talk fancy too!”
“mhm, i’m sure you can angel.”
“not fair. i love you, by the way. more like adore you. or any other word you can think of.”
“i can think of a few.”
in the before, he may tease you when you put a hand on his shoulder or trace the outline of his knuckles; but don’t let the teasing trick you. spencer is atrocious. a mess, even— without you. when you get pulled into a case three days before him, he spends the three days with absolutely zero sleep. and when jj and emily (knowingly, grand masterminds!) ask him if he’s doing okay, he just barely grumbles out a: “i can’t sleep without them anymore. feels cold. not right.” jj awe’s at him and clutches her hands close to her chest, whilst emily barks out a laugh and goes “oooh he wants them baaaaad!”
the grumpiest thirty-something year old man you know, by the way. smug as shit, too. lays with you in bed, head on your stomach as you call him pretty.
“but am i the prettiest?”
“oh, absolutely, my love. there is not a man in the land prettier than thou!”
“ … -__- can you ever give me a normal reply.”
“hehe.. absolutely not.”
henry knows all about you. against his will. someone save this boy he knows your birth date and time of birth down to the hour. knows your big three against his will. (despite the fact that spencer says astrology “isn’t scientifically accurate” … my when i’m in a big ass loser contest and my opponent is in-love spencer walter reid….) spencer puts henry to bed and starts rambling:
“the other day, [y/n] and i were in the kitchen and it suddenly hits me how effortlessly beautiful they are, i mean seriously, i feel sick th—“
“uncle spence. please. i want to go to sleep. i’m gonna call mama.”
“not your mom. please.”
(he tells jj and will when they get back from their date. you wake up to 23 text messages from jj saying “marry this nerd please henry can’t do this anymore!!!”)
also may i propose: classical music lover spencer, rock music lover emily, pop music lover jj and [y/n]. spencer absolutely gives you shit for your music taste and jj threatens him by saying she’ll marry you before he does. he goes pale at the thought. goes even paler when jj starts calling you “her darling baby” … your whole relationship is tug of war between jj, emily and spencer. spencer won’t try tug of war with derek like ok whatever you say handsome!!!
also, there have been many times spencer has woken up in the morning and reached his hand out to stroke your cheek and give you a kiss, when halfway he opens one eye and sees either jj or emily sleeping behind you. he’s the third wheel. in his own relationship.
and it’s all great until you give emily or jj too much attention and he starts sulking at home like… bitch you are in your thirties. and then you have to kiss all over his face and jokingly (or not???) call him your ‘pookie’… he sticks his tongue out and goes ‘bleurgh!!!!!” but we all know he loves it. silly scorpio man is fooling no one.
also read: candid photos of him where he always looks good ??? and when you mutter “you make me sick.” he takes it seriously and you spend the next week buying him his favourite donuts and kissing him until his cheeks go pink. most dramatic man ever!!! now does he pretend to be upset so you kiss him all the time… who knows.
he also places his forehead on yours when he gets overwhelmed and can’t calm down. and starts giggling when you go “helllooooooo!!” but in like, the way where your voice hits several octaves. a very, very giggly boy around you. and he also always has cold hands, and goes “oh no sweetie looks like i have to hold your hands!” (emily makes a gagging sound)
but truly, he is the softest man /ever/. when you two lay in bed at night and he leans down to kiss you, he goes so slowly that his eyelashes brush against yours and your chest starts to throb with how fast your heart is beating. he leans forward slowly and the kiss he presses to your lips is so soft that you squeeze your eyes closed because looking at him sends you into cardiac arrest. doesn’t kiss you much in public, but the way he looks at you makes up for it. eyes crinkled in the corner, brown irises reflecting your beauty as if you’ve been blessed by aphrodite herself. his chest lifts and trembles slightly, index finger twitching with the need to hold yours <3 (emily catches him in the act and she grins, then goes ‘booooo’ and cackles how he’s ‘whipped’ — which makes derek’s head snap up.)
also he absolutely calls you bunny and pretty like no one say a word to me… bunny is the cutest term of endearment ever im gonna throw up and throw myself down the damn stairs!!!
&&— marriage is absolutely in the cards for you two. he looks down at you, chin tilted, and he can’t imagine a future where he doesn’t watch you style your hair every morning or watch you grumble over a stain that won’t come out of one of his cardigans. (“spence, baby, you got anymore sweaters that need washed? i’m putting a woollens wash on!” and he blushed a soft fuchsia and has to resist the urge to cradle your face in his palms.)
although he has faced many tragedies and painful memories in his life, you’re his solace. the pain of his father leaving, his mother’s illness, prison, his drug addiction— you provide him with the normalcy and soft, angelic happiness that makes him smile until his cheeks hurt.
spencer (look at the absolute beauty i pulled by being an autistic nerd) walter reid <3
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pastanest · 10 months
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Spencer Reid x gender neutral!reader
A/N: the end of this one is loosely inspired by Bridget Jones bc Im ovulating x
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Gentleman
Since the day you joined the team, you have made it your mission to consistently go out of your way to show Spencer Reid just how much he means to you. The more you’ve come to know him, the more personal your gestures have become, the more sentiment you are capable of hand delivering. By nature, you are a thoughtful person, but the second you were introduced to Spencer, you could see how little regard he had for himself, for treating himself kindly, for any amount of mistreatment that continued to beat him down - and you decided that it was your job, above all else, to show him how wonderful he truly was, the kindness he deserved to receive. 
Whether it be memorizing and delivering his preferred coffee order every morning, surprising him with chocolate and sprinkle-covered donuts, always backing him up in every circumstance - no matter how unserious, always jumping to his defense, always checking in with him, consistently inviting him out for small events that you know he’d enjoy; the list only goes on. And in the wake of your endless list of sentimental gestures, to Doctor Spencer Reid, you are nothing short of an angel. His own, personal, blessing. 
For some time, Spencer has been debating asking you whether you would consider developing your relationship beyond the wonderful friendship you have established, whether you had ever pondered the idea of, perhaps, going on a date with him, sometime, wherever and whenever you wanted. The fear of rejection and the fear of ruining the bliss that is his bond with you, has forced Spencer to continually back out of confessing to you, but with every passing day, you show him just how good life can be and he has no choice but to fall for you even further.
Today is his mother’s birthday, so naturally he has booked it as a holiday from work to spend with her. Upon entering her room, he finds her cooing over a huge bouquet of orange tulips. Pausing in her doorway, Spencer takes a moment to ingrain the image in his mind, to treasure a few precious seconds of his mother smiling in a daze over her favorite flowers, before he steps inside. 
“Hey Mom, happy birthday.” He greets her quietly, hoping not to disturb her. 
She doesn’t say anything, just looks over her shoulder with the same smile on her face. 
Strolling over to stand beside her, he examines the bouquet. “Who gave you these, hmm? They’re beautiful.” He says softly, gently pulling apart a few of the stems to retrieve a small note that only has ‘Happy Birthday Diana x’ written on it.
There is no name signed on the note, but Spencer feels his heart skipping a beat as his eyes scan the little piece of paper, because he recognises the handwriting quicker than he would his own. Though the realization very nearly kills him where he stands, he has no choice but to push it to the back of his mind and prioritize spending the day with his mother, but he finds her glancing over at the bouquet almost as often as he does, sharing a fond smile; hers for the flowers themselves, him for their sender.
That evening, as the sun sets, he finds himself waiting on an all too familiar doorstep with a bouquet of someone else’s favorite flowers in his hands. He wonders if he has arrived a little too early, understanding better than most how late you could arrive home from work, but thanks to a text from Penelope, he knows the team haven’t left on a case today. 
Much to Spencer’s relief, he is only fidgeting idly and tapping his shoes against your doorstep for an hour before your car pulls into your driveway. From beyond the windscreen, he sees you light up at the sight of him, switching your engine off and gathering your things as quickly as possible to scramble out of the car. 
“Spencer! How are you? How is your mom? I hope you both had the most wonderful day!” You chime, speeding over to the door and instinctively opening your arms to pull him into a hug, but faltering when you see the flowers. “What’s this?”
Spencer takes a deep breath. “It’s a thank you, or the start of one.”
You frown, your arms falling to your sides. “Spencer, you never need to thank me, not for-”
He shakes his head, stopping you in your tracks. “Believe me, just one bouquet is not enough to thank you for everything you’ve done for me, for the person that you are, but I hope these are a start.” He holds the flowers out to you and with a soft smile, you take them from him.
“Thank you.” 
“Thank you!” Spencer corrects you. “For everything, every moment you’ve spent with me, every word you’ve ever said to me, every smile you’ve ever given me- Thank you for the flowers you sent my mom, I have never known anyone who would think to do something so incredibly kind. Most of all, I want to thank you for taking such good care of my heart ever since the day we met, when you stole it right out of my chest.” 
Tears sting your eyes at his words, his gratitude and the feelings that pour so freely from his lips after so long, the sentiments you have been desperate to hear from the moment you first saw him. 
“Spencer, you really, really don’t need to thank me for anything, but for the sake of agreeing to disagree, you are welcome. And, for the record, it is an honor to take care of your heart. Thank you for letting me borrow it.” You say, voice gentle, somewhat afraid of the potential desire he may have to create some distance between you, having realized how close the two of you actually are.
“Oh, I don’t want it back. Not ever, in fact. Not having a heart does have its drawbacks, though, so, if you are happy to keep ahold of mine, would you do me the honor of letting me take care of yours in return?” Spencer asks, a playful smile on his face that you are more than happy to return.
“My, my, I never thought the day would come when I would know something that the smartest man in the world doesn’t!” You grin at him, his own smile widening with yours, urging you to continue. “Spencer, my heart ran from me and straight to you the second I laid eyes on you.”
As your words sink in, his jaw drops slightly, as though genuinely in disbelief at how obvious your feelings for each other have been since the start. 
A blissful eternity of comfortable silence passes before the genius can find the words he wants to say. 
“Well, if I have had your heart all this time, in the same way you’ve had mine, I can’t really take care of your heart as thanks, as I’ve apparently been doing that already.” His voice is hoarse, still coming to terms with the fact that you really do reciprocate his feelings for you.
“So, where does that leave us?” You ask, a teasing tone lacing your words.
“I believe it leaves us here, on your porch, with me afraid to ask you a question.” He answers matter-of-factly.
You chuckle up at him. “Spencer, you don’t ever have to be afraid of asking me anything.” 
He swallows nervously, nodding at you before avoiding your eyes and clearing his throat. In his heart, Spencer knows you are right, you usually are, especially when it comes to him, but unfortunately that does little to build his confidence in asking you such a question. Still, he has come this far, he knows he will never be able to sleep again if he backs out this time. Taking a second to compose himself, he lifts his head to meet your patient smile again. 
“May I kiss you?” 
His question hangs in the air, asked so quietly he wonders if you even heard him, but in truth he knows that regardless of the volume, you would have read his lips and understood him immediately. He was, is and continues to be your favorite book to study.
You are smiling so hard your face hurts, but you don’t care at all. Quite frankly, nothing matters in this moment except for the question Spencer just asked you. And after the confidence he conjured to put that request to you, who are you to deny him?
“Of course you can, whenever and wherever you like.” You answer, just as quietly as he had posed his question. 
Spencer’s stomach somersaults as he takes the one step required to close the space between you, relishing every microsecond that it takes to lift his hands and cup your face, stare into your very soul closer than he ever has before. Closing his eyes, the image of you remains as clear as day, so ingrained in his mind that on the rare occasion something else is at the forefront of his thoughts, you are always in the background, like his favorite song that plays continually, serving as the soundtrack to his life. He leans in and is surprised when he meets your lips half a second earlier than anticipated. When Spencer concludes another half a second later that you have stood on your tiptoes to meet him in his descent to your lips, his heart flutters in his chest. He feels your hands holding his against your face, then lifting to run through his curls, tugging gently at them as his own hands lower to your waist, effortlessly guiding you back until you are against your front door. Butterflies and fireworks of every color swirl in and around the two of you, encapsulating you in your own isolated universe, safe and tucked away from anything and everything else, save for thoughts of each other and every unsaid word that can now be told in a language the two of you have never known before. As the kiss deepens, your passion for each other raises the stakes of the situation substantially and the tension makes it difficult for either of you to breathe. 
Pulling away from Spencer just enough to see his face, you make a breathless observation. “Hold on a minute, gentlemen don’t kiss like that.”
Chuckling darkly, he rests his forehead against yours. “Speaking as a profiler as well as a gentleman, I can assure you that I am very much capable of reading your body language and kissing you in accordance with whatever your body asks of me.”
Managing to regain control of your breathing, you nod your head against his. “Speaking as a profiler and as someone that knows you incredibly well, I don’t doubt that for a single second, Doctor Reid.”
Smirking, Spencer lowers his head to brush his lips against yours, breath fanning your face and raising goosebumps in his wake. 
“Good.”
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