#spencer reid fanfiction
A/n: Based on this request. Requests are still open
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
CW: sexual allusion
It was no secret to any local police team or other branches of the FBI that the BAU team was incredibly close. They were a family. No matter who came or went, they were able to keep it together.
Part of being a family meant teasing the youngest siblings, or Y/n Y/l/n and Spencer Reid.
"They're both not here. That's got to be enough proof." Penelope declared from her spot at the head of the round table, in front of the screen. She gestured at the two empty seats where the missing agents usually sat to convey her point.
Hotch had called them at 8 at night on a Saturday. Apparently, serial killers didn't care about their dinner plans. And, as they were waiting on two of their team members, what else were they meant to do but theorize about whether or not the couple actually were a couple.
Blake shot her an unconvinced look. "Maybe they just both happen to not be here." She offered as an explanation in defense of her colleagues. No one could guarantee they were together just because they were the last ones to get there.
"Baby girl, can't you just track their phones?" Morgan questioned, swinging slightly on his chair. "You know, in your infinite wisdom as the Queen of Tech." He joked, winking at her.
Penelope guiltily shook her head, looking over at the unit chief. "I'm not allowed to track any of your phones unless Hotch puts in his passcode." She admitted, Hotch almost smiling about it.
"Why's that?" Rossi pressed, now interested in what caused Penelope to be so guilty.
"One time I saw Hotch's phone at-"
"Garcia." Hotch interrupted Penelope before she could reveal whatever secret about Hotch she was keeping.
Penelope shut up after that as Hotch shifted in his seat.
"Okay, but I'm sure Spence would have told me if they were dating." JJ broke the awkward silence with her opinion.
Rossi had a sudden bright idea. "Let's bet on it." He announced.
Everyone else was quick to agree, even Hotch, who had a recently discovered fun side.
"We'll have a team dinner, and the winner gets to choose where," Hotch announced the prize. "The winner needs direct evidence or a confession."
They all nodded in agreement. Penelope opened up a document to write down their bets.
Starting with Blake. "I don't think they're dating." She declared. "I think they like each other, but I don't think they're officially together."
Penelope wrote down her hypothesis, turning to JJ, who sat next to her. "I think they've been on one or two dates." She theorized.
Rossi was next, thinking it over before playing his cards. "I think they're officially together, and I'll be able to catch them together in the next two weeks." Penelope dutifully wrote it down.
Then Hotch. "I think they're together, and I'll be able to gather evidence the proves it beyond a reasonable doubt in a week." He spoke like the lawyer he once was.
Morgan was able to one-up him. "A week, and I'll get the confession from Y/n."
Penelope was the last one to bet. "A week, and I'll get the confession from Spencer." She declared.
Just as she'd finished, Y/n walked in. "Nice to see you all again so soon." She joked as she took her seat. Everyone's guilty looks alluded her to the fact she'd walk in on a private conversation. "What are we doing?" She questioned, her eyes fixating on Penelope, who was typing.
Each one of them looked like they were caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Morgan cleared his throat before answering. "Just playing a game."
Y/n had never seen them all sharing the same look, so she pushed it. "Can I play?"
Penelope quickly shook her head before realizing she didn't have an explanation as to why. "Uh, we should get started on the case." She declared nervously, pressing buttons on her laptop.
"Aren't we missing someone?" Y/n prompted with a giggle, nodding towards Spencer's chair.
Penelope nodded, drumming her fingers against the desk. Somehow, Y/n's presence was making them all nervous, and she found it entertaining.
"What plans did you have to bail from, Y/n?" Morgan asked her, inconspicuously trying to gain some information.
Y/n's heart rate picked up, hoping they wouldn't be able to see through the lie she was about to tell. "Uh, I was just out for dinner." She told them all.
"Anywhere good?" Hotch asked oddly. He knew with the right answer from her, he'd be able to catch the couple out in a lie.
Y/n hummed as she thought about it. "Just Thai near my apartment." She vaguely answered. Being in a secret relationship had made her secretive.
"Anyone special?" Morgan pressed, hoping he'd be able to get the confession right there.
Ironically, just as he'd said that Spencer walked through the door, a grin plastered on his face. "Sorry for being the last one here." He apologized, looking at Hotch, who nodded towards the empty seat. Spencer sat down while placing a box on the table. "I brought cupcakes." He announced, opening the box up.
Sneakily, Penelope made a note of the bakery label on the box. Her plan was to use Google Maps once the rest of the team were on the jet to see if it was close to Y/n's place.
While they were taking cupcakes, Spencer handed one to Y/n, not even asking what flavor she wanted. Every member of the team picked up on it.
They didn't have time to think too much about it as Penelope started to brief them on the case, and then they were on the jet to Georgia.
"So, Girlie, you didn't finish explaining how your date went." Morgan reminded her once they were on the jet. He sat next to Spencer, across from Y/n, who was next to JJ.
Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, aware he was trying to trick her. "What date?" She feigned innocence.
"Tonight." Morgan prompted.
Y/n shrugged, pretending like she was wrapped up in her case file. "I didn't say I was on a date." She recalled, smirking. The longer she was able to keep her relationship a secret, the cockier she got about not getting caught.
Morgan rolled his eyes. "Mmhm, I'll find out eventually." He promised her confidently. Y/n just rolled her eyes in response.
JJ saw her opportunity to collect her evidence. "Is there anyone you're interested in?" She asked, turning to look at Y/n with a sly smile.
Y/n just shrugged. "Maybe." She figured. "Maybe not." She counted, keeping them in the dark.
She was feeling so confident about it all she snuck a look at Spencer, who was smirking. JJ and Morgan saw it, but a look couldn't prove anything.
When Penelope's name popped up on Morgan's phone, he hurried to the bathroom to answer it.
"Baby girl, I didn't know you'd miss me so much after I'd been gone an hour," Morgan spoke with a smirk, starting their usual flirty banter.
"As much as I do miss you, Chocolate Thunder, I'm calling to team up." She announced to him. Morgan frowned as he tried to figure how that would work. "You're trying to get Y/n's confession, and I'm trying to get Spencer's. I think if we work together, we'll be able to play them against each other." She figured.
Morgan didn't have to think it over. "And then we agree on a place to have dinner together?" He wondered.
"Well, we're going to pick the same place anyway." Penelope reminded him matter-of-factly.
Morgan nodded despite the fact she couldn't see it. "Alright. Let's do it." He declared. They had always worked better together anyway.
"Good, so, the place Reid got those oh-so-delicious cupcakes is right by the closet Thai place to Y/n's place." Penelope quickly rambled, filling Morgan in on the information she'd learned.
Morgan sighed, resting his head against the mirror. "Still, that's circumstantial at best." He reminded her.
"I know, but we can use it as leverage," Penelope informed him before giving him instructions on what to do to ensure they win.
Y/n managed to find a second to talk to Spencer during the 3rd day of their case. For some reason, everyone had made sure they weren't alone. She even swore she heard Hotch's footsteps outside her hotel room at night.
"Okay, is everyone being weird or what?" Y/n asked, making sure she was standing far enough away from Spencer that they would appear to be casually working if anyone walked into the copy room.
"Yes, what is going on?" Spencer questioned in reply.
Apparently, neither of them had a clue what was happening. But they both agreed there was something brewing.
"It's like they're competing in a challenge or something," Y/n commented offhandedly, trying to figure it out in her head.
Spencer nodded slightly, still deep in thought. His face quickly changed, the same way it did when he thought he cracked a case.
"What is it, baby?" Y/n pressed.
"They are literally competing." Spencer realized. "I'm only guessing, but I think they've placed a bet on who can get us to admit we're together." He theorized confidently.
Suddenly, it all made sense. The pointed questions were to catch them out, and they were so different because they'd all bet different things.
Something about Spencer solving cases was so attractive. Y/n stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "So, what are we going to do?" She spoke slowly, licking her lips.
Spencer's eyes widened, concerned about how quickly he was being turned on. And at work, no less. "Make out?" He squeaked out his suggestions, hands moving to her waist.
Y/n leaned up, placing a quick kiss on his lips. Spencer moved to deepen it, desperate. How could he not be? Hotch had seriously interrupted their Saturday plans.
Still, Y/n pulled away just as quickly. "About them." She mentioned, trying to get his focus back on the team plotting against them.
"Oh, uh, r-right." Spencer nervously spoke. Y/n was relishing the effect she still had over him. "Well, I bet none of them thought we would just straight up tell them." He figured, keeping his eyes of Y/n.
She pushed her lips back onto his, savoring the kisses she had been starved of. "You're so hot when you talk theories," Y/n stated bluntly.
"Thanks," Spencer spoke like it was a question, raising his voice at the end of the word. "We should get back out there, though." He reminded her of the team that had hopefully not noticed they were missing.
"We don't have time for a quickie in here?" Y/n reluctantly asked, only because she already knew the answer.
As much as Spencer wanted to nod, he shook his head. "Only when we beat them at their own game," Spencer vowed, bending down to place a kiss on her forehead.
"Alright, fine." Y/n hesitantly agreed, pulling away from him before leaning up to his ear. "Just so you know, I'm thinking about it." She hotly whispered before slipping past him and out the door.
Spencer let out a groan once she'd left, taking a long minute to collect himself before he headed back out to help solve a murder. That's what he was meant to be doing. He had to focus on that.
The case wrapped on the 4th day, the BAU team quickly getting on the jet back to Quantico. They arrived just past 5, perfectly timed to go for a drink.
Dives bars were their bars of choice. Casual, small, neon lights, cheap alcohol, a pool table, and dimly lit. Always a sticky booth at the very back.
"Pretty girl, come help me get another round of shots," Morgan instructed, noticing the nod Penelope had given him.
They had determined Y/n was going to be the easier one to get a confession out of. The way to do that was Morgan's irresistible charm.
Y/n, already assuming Morgan's request had something to do with getting a confession, followed him. She took a seat at the bar, Morgan sitting next to her, turning his seat to face hers instead of ordering drinks.
"You're single, right?" Morgan asked another pointed question. Y/n wanted to laugh out loud at his attempt to catch her out, assuming he thought it would be easier if she was drunk.
Y/n nodded, noticing how Morgan's knee had come to conveniently rested against hers. "Very single."
A smirk graced Morgan's face. "So, what's it going to take for me to get out of the friendzone?" He flirtatiously asked, maintaining eye contact.
"Derek Morgan, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were flirting with me," Y/n suggested, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.
Still smirking, Morgan responded. "I'm hoping you don't know any better because I definitely am."
"I'm flattered," Y/n replied, finding the whole situation hilarious but playing into it nonetheless. "Although, I think your flirting should be conserved for your 'baby girl.'" She suggested, dropping her voice deeper to imitate his.
Morgan shook his head. "What she and I have is superficial. We've got serious chemistry, babe." He continued his desperate attempt at flirting.
Y/n shook her head as she giggled. "You really are trying here, aren't you?"
"With my whole heart." He said, winking at her. "Why don't we get out of here?"
Y/n giggled at him, which he clearly took as a good sign from his growing smirk. She leaned in closer. "You know, if any other guy in this bar said that to me, I wouldn't hesitate to pull out my Glock and shoot them." She told him slowly. To anyone who couldn't hear the conversation, it would look like they were flirting.
Morgan gulped as Y/n got off her bar stool. "I can do kinky." He proposed, really working for his confession.
Y/n turned back to look at him, shaking her head. "I'm not sorry about it, but you're not my type." Still, it wasn't evidence. She leaned in to whisper. "Why don't you try your moves on some of those girls?" She suggested, nodding towards the group of girls across the bar who were eyeing him up as they giggled.
Morgan groaned, tilting his head back as Y/n walked away and made a point to sit right next to Spencer. He noticed Penelope disapprovingly shaking her head at him.
Spencer leaned over to whisper in Y/n's ear while Rossi was telling a story. "What was that about?" He quizzed.
"Just Morgan trying to get with me." She whispered back, smirking into her drink about how she'd left Morgan to the group of girls that were now throwing themselves at him.
"Oh, and did you accept?" Spencer questioned, a joking tone in his voice.
Y/n was thankful it wasn't making him jealous. In truth, he was enjoying knowing Y/n was turning down guys like Morgan because of him.
She shook her head. "No, I was hoping to take someone else home tonight." She suggestively replied.
"And who might that be?" Penelope asked, turning the couple's attention from each other and to the silent group of agents who were looking at them. They were completely unaware that Rossi's story ended.
Everyone's eyes flicked between Y/n and Spencer, waiting for an explanation, all wearing the same smirks. The couple had never felt more under the spotlight, both blushing.
The look they gave each other meant they were thinking the same thing. "We're dating." They both announced at the same time, Spencer's hand coming to subtly rest on her thigh.
The positive reaction they had anticipated was clear. Everyone's faces lit up, even Hotch, who was almost smiling.
"So, who won?" Y/n asked after they had all settled down with their cheering.
"Wait, you knew?" Penelope stuttered out in shock.
Spencer scoffed at her. "It wasn't that hard to figure out." He claimed. "None of you are discrete with your pointed questions." Y/n nodded in agreement with him. "What was the prize?" He urged.
The rest of the team looked at each other with confused looks, mainly because they couldn't decide who won. "None of us won." JJ figured, knowing her and Blake were furthest away from winning, having bet they weren't dating.
"Wait, wait, wait," Morgan said, suddenly appearing. "I said I'd be able to get a confession from Y/n, and she just confessed."
Penelope joined in as well. "Yeah, Spencer confessed also, so I guess me and handsome over there both won." She decided, nodding at Morgan.
"Hold on," Hotch spoke, drawing everyone's attention to him. "Neither of you actually got a confession. They confessed under their own free will." He determined, remembering the bet they'd actually made.
Rossi, Blake, JJ, Spencer, and Y/n all nodded in agreement.
"So, we won." Y/n figured, shrugging as she smiled up at her now public boyfriend.
Spencer nodded, turning to the rest of the group to flash a winning smile. "What exactly did we win?"
"To pick where we go for the next team dinner," Blake informed them, acknowledging she'd lost but hoping they'd pick somewhere nice.
Morgan and Garcia both started to protest, in a desperate attempt, to prove their points, while Spencer and Y/n smugly watched. It seemed like every case they made was immediately rebutted by the rest of the group.
"Do we have to make it a team dinner?" Spencer asked them with a cheeky smile.
Morgan and Garcia realized that if they weren't going to win, they might as well fight to get a free dinner.
"No way, we said team dinner." Penelope declared, the rest of the group verbally agreeing.
Knowing the majority had won, Y/n looked at Spencer. "Thai?" She suggested to him.
"Thai and then cupcakes." Spencer prepositioned Hotch, who nodded in recognition of his answer.
Penelope squealed, and Morgan clapped, catching on to what she was thinking. "So you were together!" She declared as she pointed her finger at them accusatorily.
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Under the Boss’s Nose
Summary: Spencer is head over heels in love...with Section Chief Erin Strauss’ daughter.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Word Count: 788
Warning: Little kissing and lead up to smuttiness but no smut.
A/N: This fulfills my boss’s kid square for @cmbingo. This is an AU of sorts in which Strauss has an adult child around the 7-8 season of the show (no Maeve). I think you see where this is going ;)
If someone had told Spencer a year ago that he was going to be head over heels in love, he would’ve thought they were insane. But here he was, heart racing, sweaty and laughing with his girlfriend in his arms. “That was, um, wow. Yea.”
She giggled into his chest and nipped playfully at his arm, pulling the covers over them both. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
Smiling, Spencer kissed her on the forehead and took a deep breath. “Do you think we can come clean to your mom soon? I’d like for her not to kill me.”
She replied with a snickering laugh. “We’ll tell her soon, I promise. I’m just...mom’s always been a pain in the ass with me dating in general.” Her voice was muffled into Spencer’s chest. “So having to tell her that I’m sleeping with one of her agents is probably going to knock the wind out of her.”
The thought of telling Strauss that he was dating, i.e. sleeping with, her daughter made his stomach churn. Despite the macabre work, he loved his job. He was good at it and he wanted to keep it. “You think she’ll fire me?”
“No way,” Y/N laughed. “She gives you guys grief sometimes, but she constantly talks about the BAU. She calls you the BAU’s walking, talking computer.”
Spencer laughed under his breath. “An eidetic memory has its perks. But you promise we’ll say something soon?”
Nearly two weeks later, they still hadn’t said anything and the relationship was heating up fast. On her way out of work, Y/N texted Spencer.
Y/N: Do you want to tell mom now? I could stop by the bureau and we can get it over with.
S: Please? I think she stepped out for dinner but she told Hotch she’ll be back in a little bit.
Y/N: Okay. Here goes nothing! lol. On my way.
Thankfully, Y/N only worked a few minutes away as a chemical engineer, so she walked off the elevator into the bullpen just 10 minutes later.
She strode across the floor toward Spencer and gave him a quick kiss. “Mom back?”
“Not yet,” Spencer grimaced. The closer they got to telling Strauss about their relationship the more he wanted to hurl his guts up. “How was your day?”
As she regaled him with the findings of her latest research, Spencer relaxed into his chair with dopey, lovestruck smile.
“What?” Y/N asked with a laugh.
Spencer leaned forward and grabbed her hands. “Oh, you know, just marveling at your brilliance and falling more and more in love.”
Laughing, she blushed. “Flattery will get you anywhere you want to go, Spencer Reid.” When she leaned into him, she brushed her hand against his inner thigh. “There somewhere around here we can be alone?”
Immediately, the recently vacated office of Dr. Blaine Ledbetter came to mind. Grabbing her hand, he led her to the office and shut the door behind them. Her hands ghosted over his neck, teasing at possibilities before her lips meet his. As she slipped her tongue passed his lips, he groaned and pulled her close by the small of her back, his fingers sliding underneath the hem of her shirt. “God, I love you.”
Chuckling softly, Y/N replied. “I think I love you more.” She slipped her hand under his belt, grabbing his ass as he pinned her up against the wall. In an instant, heat dissolved when they heard a voice on the other side of the door. “Hello? Who’s in there?”
Spencer went wide-eyed. Chief Strauss. His boss and his girlfriend’s mother. It couldn’t get worse.
“Y/N? What are you-?”
When she opened the door, she shielded Spencer from the death glare. “Um, Mom. I believe you know Spencer?”
“SSA Reid, what’s happening here?”
Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he summoned every bit of courage he had. He’d talked down dozens of unsubs; he could do this. “Chief Strauss, I know this looks bad and obviously being in this office is pretty inappropriate, but this isn’t random. I’m-I’m i-in love with your daughter.”
Her eyes softened. “Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you freaking out. You’ve always been judgmental of the guys I’ve dated and you’ve told so many stories about the dangers of working at the Bureau that I didn’t want you to try and stop this before it started, you know? But it’s true. I’m in love with him, too.” She squeezed Spencer’s hand and leaned her head into her shoulder.
Sighing, Chief Strauss gave her blessing. “You’re a big girl, Y/N. I trust your judgment. And SSA Reid is a good agent. Agent Reid?”
“Hurt her and I’ll end you.”
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Description: the last thing you expected when you got on that train was to end up at the hospital with your ex by your bedside, but sometimes, not everything goes as planned.
Content warning - gunfire, injuries, hospitalization (but no deaths!), angst and fluff
You were on the subway when it happened. Just on the way to work, everything painfully regular, sipping your iced tea because, as usual, the air conditioner on your shitty train line was broken.
So, yeah. A day like any other, except it wasn’t. But you didn’t realize that yet. .
And then suddenly, everything went surreal, like one of those paintings that you were forced to curate, even though you much preferred the new ones with their smooth contours and diverse settings, or the old ones with their soft colors and careful brushstrokes.
And here you were, thinking of paintings when there was an active shooter in your subway car, firing wildly.
You dived down, taking cover under one of the benches, dragging a pair of little kids down with you who seemed too scared to move, eyes filled with tears.
“Shh, it’ll be okay,” you murmured. This could be a complete lie, for all you knew, but you didn’t know where the hell their parents were, and they were shaking.
You dialed 911, explaining the situation in a hushed tone, accompanied by frantic glances up at the man who was still shooting, mostly at the walls and windows now, and shoved your phone back into your purse.
And then the train was stopping. The train was stopping, and there was a clattering outside, and the man was reloading his gun, but he didn’t have enough time. He didn’t have enough time because the police were bursting into the car, guns trained on him.
He looked around wildly for a way out, but there was nothing. You could see it, and you saw him realize the same thing, something going hard in those wild eyes.
He still tried though, dropping his gun and attempting to push through the crowd of officers, almost animalistic in his attempt.
They restrained him in no time, thank god, and things began to melt back into what seemed like reality.
The two children pulled up against you were crying, and you rubbed their backs gently, smiling a little as their mother came rushing over. They barely noticed you, but that was just fine.
It looked like one man had gotten hit, but only in his leg, which was good.
You stood up, and everything tilted just slightly to the side.
Was that blood on the floor? You looked over at the two kids, concerned. Surely one of them hadn’t gotten shot? You’d have known. There would have been even more screaming.
“Miss?” You heard a voice to your side, and looked over, vision a little fuzzy. You were shaking. Why were you shaking? “Miss, we’re going to have to get you off the train, you’ve been-“
Your adrenaline was fading away, and with it came a stab of pain. You looked down, and realized where all that blood had come from right before you passed out.
Everything was fuzzy. You couldn’t see much, but you could hear hushed voices, feel the layer of sanitary paper beneath you, slightly crinkly when you flexed your fingers, which was about all you could manage right now.
You could also feel a dull throbbing, an almost-numbness.
You wanted to ask what was going on, what had happened, if you were going to be okay, if everyone else was okay. But you couldn’t make a sound.
Then you smelled something odd and you were gone.
The time after that was hard to keep track of.
You were in and out, and you could only remember little flashes of things. A face here, the sound of wheels squeaking across the floor, the aching feel, the beep-beep-beep of a heart monitor, speeding up and then slowing back down as you slipped in and out of consciousness.
And then odd things, like yelling, and a commotion outside. A face that seemed like it was very far away, unreachable even.
And then there was a doctor, and you could see just a little better than before.
“Hello, Miss (y/l/n).” She smiled down at you, dark brown eyes crinkling a little at the corners. “Don’t try and sit up just yet, you’ve been pretty out of it for the last few days.”
“D....” you cleared your throat, voice rough. “Days?” It had felt like hours, minutes, even. Surely whole days couldn’t have passed.
Fuck, you had a meeting to attend!
You tried to sit up, but you wilted when you felt the pain in your side, letting out a strangled moan. The machines went wild, and suddenly that funny smell was assaulting your nose again, sending you back into the darkness.
The next thing you registered was a hand in yours. A large hand: smooth, soft skin with a couple rough spots from field work that you recognized immediately. Those long fingers laced through yours, the thumb tracing across the back of your hand delicately.
And the voice. He was talking, because of course he was. Your brain couldn’t exactly grasp the words, but you could hear all of the little idiosyncrasies, the awkward little pauses followed by rushed, hastily strung-together syllables. And underneath, that low, rough, comforting tone.
You couldn’t move, and you so desperately wanted to. The heart monitors sped up, and began beeping, a sound that you were starting to hate.
But you were able to tighten your grip on his hand a tiny bit just before the nurses and doctors swarmed in and his touch disappeared.
Talking, yelling, then black.
You blinked a little, turning away from the soft, early-morning sunlight and letting out a slow, measured breath.
When a nurse entered the room and saw your open eyes, she smiled softly, approaching with a slow, measured pace as she might an animal that would be easily startled.
“Miss (y/l/n), how do you feel?” She examined the monitors surrounding you with an expert’s eye before looking back at you with another smile.
“How am I supposed to feel?” You rasped, smiling weakly back. “What happened?”
“You were shot, my dear. Rushed here, you’ve been slipping in and out of consciousness for almost five days.”
You nodded slowly, hands resting loose and open on either side of you. You felt like you had lost your grasp on things.
“And the others?”
“The others made it out just fine.” The nurse chuckled, scribbling something down on the paper attached to her clipboard. “One other man was shot, but not nearly as badly as you. He’s at home already, on bed rest.”
You gave another slow nod, and she patted your hand gently.
“But your boyfriend has been coming every day to visit you. He made quite a nuisance of himself at first.” She smiled down at you. “That’s one thing to look forward to at least, he’ll be happy that you were able to wake up fully today.”
‘Boyfriend?’ You thought, your brain still a little muddled from the drugs and the pain. ‘Oh, she must mean Spencer...’
You didn’t know how you felt about this, you’d thought it had only been a sort of hallucination. Maybe a fever dream or something.
“Try and get some real rest, honey.”
You gave her one last nod, another little smile, before she departed. You spent a minute looking outside, watching the city revolve around you.
Clouds passing, and then black.
“Hey (y/n), I’m back.” A hand settled into yours, and you could hear the scrape of a chair being pulled up to your bedside. “They told me you’re doing a little better today, so that’s really good, you know,”
He spent a minute in silence, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. “And they kicked me out today, at work, because I’ve been too nervous and they said I was being ‘disruptive’.” He gave a strained little laugh.
You could imagine him with that little forced white boy smile that you were sure he was wearing right now.
“God, this collar is too tight.” He mumbled, undoing it carefully with only one hand, you supposed, as his other hand never left yours.
And then there was another little stretch of silence that seemed absolutely filled with something. You weren’t sure exactly what, but it was something.
“You know, this looks easier in the movies.” His voice was a little choked up. “In the movies, the one waiting would probably sing something, or read poetry, or, fuck, I don’t know.”
His elbows were on the bed, other hand going up to sandwich yours between his. He leaned forward and touched his forehead to your hand, and you could feel the warm skin, and the soft hair, and the puff of breath against your wrist as he exhaled. He continued after another minute of deep breaths.
“But I have a terrible singing voice, and I didn’t think to bring a poetry book, because apparently I lose all semblance of intelligence when it comes to you,” He sounded like he was trying not to cry.
You took a slow breath and opened your eyes. “Hey, it’s okay,” you cleared your throat, hating the way your voice sounded. “It’s alright, I don’t mind,”
And then he was staring at you over your hands, and then he was crying, and you were pulling him down to rest his head on your shoulder, cause most of your body was still unable to move without shooting pains.
“God, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing.” You could feel his jaw go a little taught against your collarbone as he swallowed hard. You combed your fingers through his hair. “Why am I still your emergency contact, (y/n)?”
“Because you’re still my favorite person.” Was your simple answer.
You would probably never have admitted this if you didn’t have meds coursing through your system, or if you weren’t recovering from a brush with death.
“But I...we, I mean, we broke up. I broke up with you.” He said, pulling away, staying detached for a moment before sliding his hand back into yours, unsure, like if he wasn’t in contact with you, you weren’t there.
“And yet, you’re here. You have been every day. I wonder why that is?” You stared up at him, still a little dazed.
“I just had to, I couldn’t not.” He looked down at your hands, his fingers twisted through yours. “Did you know that being in love can act as a natural painkiller? One study conducted by researchers at the Stanford University School of Medicine found that the, well, “warm and fuzzy” feeling creates the same response in your brain. Isn’t that interesti-”
“Spencer, why are you here?” You asked, tone a little more firm. “Talking about love, no less? The last thing I heard, you were with some blonde girl, ignoring me, and now you’re here.”
“I’m no genius, but I think that’s a little odd.” You cut him off, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.
“Look,” he fiddled with his hands in his lap, looking painfully unsure, an expression that didn’t seem right on his face now, after the pictures you’d seen of him looking dangerous.
“I’m....sorry. I didn’t want you to have to worry about me, all the time. And then I went to prison, and it was just like the world was trying to prove me right. I didn’t want you to have to care for me. I heard what you did, on the subway. You saved lives, I’m sure. You spend all your time caring for other people, strangers even, and I didn’t want to be a burden. I’m not fit for you.”
You snorted, almost a laugh. “Oh my god, so this is what this is all about?”
He looked at you, questioningly, golden-brown eyes flicking up to meet yours.
“Not being a burden?” Of course it was. “And what, ending up with me in your place, while you recover from a bullet wound? I’m sorry, but if you’re going to try and make up an excuse for breaking up with me, that’s a weak-ass attempt while I’m laying here on this hospital bed. We’ve been there, done that now.”
“I just don’t-”
You cut him off again, smiling a little. “Look, Spence,” you said, a little more gentle this time. “If you don’t love me, just say it. We’re not dating, you’ve got no reason to scramble like this for some viable excuse. Just say it, I won’t mind, I’ve gotten used to the idea, after all,” you gave him a line wince-shrug.
“(Y/n), that’s-that’s not, I mean to say-” he let out a breath, stared at you, and then leaned down, kissing you gently on your lips, resting his cheek against your collarbone. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“I'm sorry I ever made you doubt that I was anything other than madly in love with you. I’m sorry I left you in the dark, I’m sorry for leaving you behind. I’m honestly sorry for kissing you just now, and this, but I can hear your heartbeat and I’m just so fucking glad you’re alive.”
You laid there for a moment, a little bit stunned, before letting out a breath. “And I’m glad you’re here,” was your murmured answer.
You leaned over a little, wincing a little at the stab of pain, and the way the IVs stuck in your arm tugged uncomfortably.
“(Y/n), what are you-” you kissed him, tenderly, one arm going around his neck, gripping his collar loosely. “Your monitors are beeping again, and the IVs…”
“Trivial details,” you murmured, pressing one last kiss against his lips before settling back into your spot, everything going quiet again. “I like you Spencer Reid.” you said softly.
And everything felt too big, like you were back in elementary school, confessing to whoever in your class. And you felt like an idiot, until he smiled, a real smile, eyes still a little red from crying, and leaned down to kiss your forehead.
“I like you too, (y/n) (y/l/n).” he murmured, sliding your hand a little tentatively back into yours, squeezing a little.
You squeezed back, and fell asleep with a smile on your face.
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader
Summary: Flirting with then men at the bar gets you exactly what you want...
Category: SMUT (MINORS DNI)
Full request: "Head full of thoughts about mean!dom!reid being super rough with reader after she flirted with someone to make him mad- like spit, hair pulling, degrading, throwing her around a bit, all of the nice spicy works we love so much. But then giving so much aftercare and calling her his good, pretty, little girl and telling her how much he loves her whilst giving her a bath" - anon
Requests are open!
Content Warnings: flirting, jealous!Spencer, d/s dynamic, ownership, spanking (with belt), hair pulling, spitting, kissing, degradation, some praise, daddy kink, pet names, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare. [Let me know if I missed anything]
Word count: 3.1k
Going out was rare for Spencer and I.
Spencer wasn’t a huge fan of bars and clubs, complaining of all the germs they breed. Not to mention that planning said night out was made almost impossible by Spencer’s job. He was gone a lot, catching the bad guys and doing his best to keep this world safe.
But after a rough case, the team decided a night out was needed. So, that’s why I’m standing at the bar, Spencer’s credit card in hand, waiting for the bar tender to notice me. And while my mind should’ve been focused on getting said bar tender’s attention, I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering to the man I showed up with.
Around his friends, Spencer was the quiet kind. Sweet and reserved for the most part. But in bed or with me, he was a very different man. See, Spencer craved control as it was something he lacked in a large majority of his life. Before me, he found that control in his work, studying and putting away the people who did the unspeakable.
But now, he found the control in me.
To most, that sounds terrible; letting your fiancé control almost every aspect of your life. But to me, it was amazing. He made the choices for me within the barriers we’d set. He cared about how I felt, constantly asking me if I was still okay with his control. And I was. He was soft a large majority of the time. I made sure to keep him on his toes, though. Testing to see how far I could push the boundaries. And tonight, was no different.
Dr. Reid had been giving me a little attitude lately. I knew it was because he was stressed, they were running from state-to-state catching killer after killer. It was exhausting and I knew that. Normally, he would use me to relieve that stress. But my dom, has been slacking. Instead of using me like the slut I am, he settled for quickies.
Now, let’s not get things confused here. I didn’t expect him to fuck me senseless every day, three times a day. I wasn’t delusional. But I did miss it. So, I decided if I wanted him to fuck me till I cried, I needed to make him mad. Spencer wasn’t typically an easy person to piss off. I was a brat, but he was patient. Not soft by any means, just patient.
But one thing he really was? Jealous. Spencer was incredibly jealous and I knew why. He was always the one to be picked last and if he liked a girl, she was almost always stolen from him by another ‘more attractive’ guy. So, he was possessive.
“You are way to pretty to not be here alone.” The pick up like makes me subtly roll my eyes. When were men going to get more creative? But I look over to the source of the noise and put on my prettiest smile.
He’s cute, I’ll give him that. But he definitely wasn’t Spencer Reid. “Aw that’s so sweet of you!” I giggle a little. It’s then that I catch Spencer intently watching me, glass being squeezed tightly as he watches me. We lock eyes and he raises his brows, challenging me to continue.
“So, what are you drinking?” He scoots a little closer and I can smell that he’s doused himself in cologne. It practically chokes me but I smile and try to inch away from him. I wanted to make spencer mad but I didn’t want to actually touch this slimy man who looked like he could roofie me.
“A Cosmo.” As if on cue the drink appears in front of me. I smile and just as I’m about to pay, the man beside me interjects.
“Pretty ladies don’t pay for their own drinks” it makes me want to punch him in the face. But I thank him and let him spend the $6 on me. More money is Spencer’s pocket after all. “What’s your name?” Ah, the age-old question. But it was one I didn’t get to answer.
“Bunny,” his hand wraps around my waist and he pulls me in. I can feel the butterflies erupt in my stomach at his touch. His little pet name making my heart race. He barely ever called me by my real name anymore, but I love it that way.
I smile up at him, “hi, baby.” I can tell he’s pissed but I bat my lashes at him anyway, playing innocent.
“Thought you were here alone,” Mr. drink buyer asks all in a huff. He’s the alpha type and I know the idea of someone like me being obedient to someone like Spencer would make him laugh.
I shrug, “I never directly said anything except what I was drinking.” I sip my free drink with raised eyebrows. But I don’t get more than a sip in before it’s being placed back on the bar by my pissed off fiancé.
“And she also never directly asked you to talk to her.” He pauses “or buy her a drink. Or talk to her. So, thank you but we’re going.” He grabs my hand and starts walking.
But I plant my feet and put on my best whining voice, “aww but daddy! I’m having fun!” I know just about every person directly around me heard what I said. But I will never see these people again, nor do I care what they think.
His hand wraps tightly around my bicep, his fingers causing delicious pain. “I don’t give a fuck. Dig your grave, bunny. You’re already in enough trouble.” I try to hide the smirk on my face. But I’m excited. I want him to be rough. I want bruises in the shape of his hands that makeup won’t be able to cover, and stay for weeks.
“You’re a fucking pussy,” I say as I try and pull my arm from his grasp. I know that I have a smug look on my face, and I also know that he has caught on to the game I am playing.
His eyes darken but he says nothing. Instead, he throws me over his shoulder, slapping my ass before carrying me out of the bar. I wave at the team as we walk by them, Morgan’s jaw dropped in shock and Garcia cheering us on.
I was put back on my feet once we reached the car. Spencer’s body boxing me in. He was the hunter and I was his rabbit. Though, I wasn’t afraid of him. I was excited. I couldn’t wait for him to sink his teeth into my neck and claim me as his.
“Get in the fucking car,” he practically growled at me as he opened the door.
I giggled, “ooooh so scary, daddy! But what if I just…. Didn’t?” I blinked at him with as much innocence as I could muster. But he didn’t buy it.
“Bunny! Get in the fucking car or so help me God- “
I interrupted him, something he hated more than anything, to make a point “you don’t believe in God. So, you saying that makes your statement less scary.”
He shoves me in the car, buckling me and slamming the door before I have time to make another smart remark. The pit forms in my stomach as I watch him walk around the car. He’s angry, jealous and he wants to kill me. Metaphorically of course, but he wants to fuck me dead. I can’t stop the small feeling of guilt that I might have pushed him too far. But he had safe words and he knew he could use them the same as I.
The drive home was silent but the tension was anything but. His hand gripped my thigh, and I was soaking my panties the entire drive home. He was beautiful always, but even more so when he was mad. There was just something about the redness of his face, and the way his veins became more prominent. It only served to make me wetter.
“I like when you’re jealous. S’cute.” I say as he parks in his typical spot at our apartment.
“I don’t like when you play games. It’s not cute.” His tone is clipped and cold, his hand removing from my thigh.
I roll my eyes, digging my grave deeper and deeper, “are you saying I’m not cute? Hurtful.” I put on my best pout in the hopes he would feel bad for me. Spoiler? He didn’t feel bad.
“No. I’m not saying that and you know that. Go. Ready position and if you even think about bitching… I swear bunny.” Any smart ass remark I was going to make died on my tongue with the tone he gave me.
‘Ready position’ was something we’d agreed on. It wasn’t the most comfortable position on the planet but it let him see all of me as he entered the room. Well, the most intimate part of me. It consisted of me on my stomach, knees under me at a 90-degree angle, my knees spread and my hands under me and grabbing my ankles.
When he’d given me the position, I’d never felt more exposed. But in the absolute best way possible. It let him see how wet I was for the beating that was about to take place. But it prevented me from moving or speaking in un-mumbled sentences. I can’t exactly explain why, but it made me feel like he owned me. And he did… Spencer Reid owned every part of me, from my mind, to my heart, to my pinky toe.
I undressed as I walked through our apartment, leaving a little trail of my clothing like breadcrumbs to follow. I was unbelievably soaked and ready to take the punishment he was about to dish out.
Spencer trusted me with everything inside him. Six years of me pushing men off of me who clung on worse than static, proved that. But though he knew I wouldn’t ever pursue anyone else, his jealousy persisted. But I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing. Most of the time it led us to intense scenes and the roughest sex out there.
I grabbed my ankles just as I heard the front door close with a small creek. I was practically vibrating with excitement and dripping with need. I was also nervous at the pain that was to come, but I knew he wouldn’t ever hurt me beyond my limits.
I can’t see him from my position on the bed, but I know he’s there. His scent fills the room, old books and cinnamon. It’s one of my favorite scents. “Wow. Seems my whore knows how to listen.” I hadn’t been given permission to speak, so I nodded instead.
He gets closer to me, his delicious scent igniting my insides. I keep my eyes straight ahead, not daring to turn my head before permission is given. He runs his fingertips up the back of my thigh before a cupping my ass with a flat hand. Flames follow the path his fingers had taken, my skin turning into ash in their wake. And before I can even process his hand leaving me? It returns, snapping against my skin. The sound echoes through the room and a gasp leaves my lips. The sting is delicious and I can’t wait for him to do it again.
Except he doesn’t.
His fingers, instead, continue their assent up my spine. Again, it’s just the tip of them, the touch feather light. More skin turns to ash at his touch. I want more. I want it all. And I want it to hurt. Bad.
He stops when he gets to my neck, taking his hands away completely. I miss his touch but I know better than to beg. If I did, he would give me the opposite of what I want.
“So fucking perfect,” he mutters more to himself than to me. But it doesn’t stop the butterflies from erupting in my tummy. “Do you know why I’m going to be punishing you, little bunny?”
I keep my mouth shut. Sure, he asked me a question, but I didn’t have explicit orders to speak. I hear his belt clink. And then I hear it hit my ass, causing me to yelp in surprise. “Asked you a question.”
I gulp “I didn’t know if I had p-permission to speak.”
He hits me again on the other cheek and rips a soft moan from my chest, “answer me.”
The belt comes down harder, this time on my thighs, “ah! B-because I flirted with another guy.”
Smack “And?” he asks drawing out the vowel.
Smack smack “Fuck! A-and for accepting the drink. And f-for talking back! Ah!” This time the belt hits my engorged clit. It hurts, but in the sweetest way.
I can hear his breathing pick up as he hits me even harder “you’re mine. My whore. My slut. I own you.” He hits me with each statement to emphasize his words. I let out a choked sob by the end of it.
“I’m s-sorry daddy. I w-won’t do it again. I promise. Just… please” I want him to fuck me. I want it so bad it almost hurts. And I am surprised when I hear the rustling of clothes and feel the bed dip by my feet.
The tip of his hard cock run through my slick cunt, bumping my hard clit and making me moan, “please what bunny? What do you want?”
I’m panting with need, my mind slowly slipping with each slow movement through my core. “I want you to fuck me.” I manage to choke out.
The head of his cock presses against my hole and I try to push back, but his hand grips my ass and prevents me from moving. “Yeah? Do you deserve it?” He asks.
I sigh “N-no? but I want it so bad, daddy! Please! Can’t you feel how wet I am for you? S’all for you!”
He hums and I know I’ve convinced him. He slams into me, not giving me time to adjust before continuing his quick pace. His hips slam into my bruised ass and thighs. The pain only serving to make me wetter as he took claim over my body.
“It’s cute when you try to make me jealous by flirting with other men.” He reaches down to grab my hair, pulling me up enough that I’m forces to let go of my ankles. “I fucking own you, bunny. No one can make you feel the way I do.”
I whine at his words. He’s right. No one will ever make me feel like he does. Not a shot in hell. What Spencer and I had was something I’d never felt with anyone. He was my best friend, my master, my owner. And I was his bunny, his submissive. We fit together like pieces fit in a puzzle, made for each other.
“N-no one, daddy. M’yours…” I was getting close and I knew that he could hear it in my voice. He pulls out which swiftly causes a “wait!” to fall from my lips. I felt empty and full at the same time that’s to my arousal.
“Relax, bunny. You’ll get what you want. Lay on your back.” He slaps the side of my ass and I yelp as I roll over.
Spencer was always beautiful, but I found him most attractive when his eyes were blown with lust. His hair tussled in every which way and sweat on his brow. Those were the moments that I felt like I was staring at a work of art. Because that’s what he was, art. I swore he was handcrafted; beauty only an artist could create.
He kisses me for the first time and my body warms with delight. He tastes like whisky and Spencer. I’m infatuated with all that he is as he sinks back inside me. “God, you feel so fucking good bunny” he whines. His hand runs up the curves of my body before setting on my cheeks and squishing them together before he spits into my mouth. “Swallow it.” I do without a second thought.
His pace is rough and brutal. His cock slamming into my cunt like it was the last time. The pain ever delicious. “Such a dirty fucking slut, aren’t you?”
I nod, “yes, daddy. I-fuck- I’m a dirty fucking slut. Oh, god I’m so close!” I can feel the pressure building between my hips and I pray he doesn’t make me wait. I need the orgasm like I need air in my lungs.
“Cum for me… let me watch you come undone.” It sends me over with a loud moan, my hands gripping his biceps as I cum around his cock. That seems to be his undoing, filling me up as he chants my name over and over.
“Daddy!!” he slows, dragging out our orgasms as long as possible. I’m exhausted but utterly satisfied. The smile on my face seems to make him happy as a small chuckle leaves him.
“Do you want a bath, my bunny?” I nod, breathless and unable to speak for the moment. I feel him pull out of me, helping me to stand on shaky legs as he helps me to the bathroom and fills the tub.
He gets in first, leaning against the back of the tub and reaching out to for my hand. I take his and carefully step in, leaning my back to his chest and letting the warm water wrap envelope me. His arms do the same, snaking around my waist as his lips find my shoulder. I hum in contentment when he leaves little butterfly kisses over them.
“You’re my best girl you know that?” I love sex, don’t get me wrong. But there is nothing compared to the sweet nothings he whispers to me when were done. “Just the best little girl.”
I feel my face grow warm as he talks, ever the glutton for praise, “thank you, daddy.” My mind is fuzzy but I am on cloud nine.
“Did so good for me… following my orders. I love you so much.” He’s right by my ear and I feel the goosebumps form as his lips hit the shell of my ear.
I sigh happily, turning my face to kiss him softly “I love you most, Spencer Reid.”
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Morning sex with Spencer and then going to the farmers market
Slow kisses and closed eyes, hands roaming of each other as they grind together. Spencer’s hand snakes around to cup her ass and tug her on top of him. It’s simple and overly relaxing, they could fall back asleep in the post coital bliss in the ball of limbs they’re now entangled in. But he kisses her back once more and mumbles, “wanna go get breakfast at the market?”
He’s more cuddly after sex, he holds her hand and wraps his arms around her with his head resting on her shoulder as they wait in line for croissants and coffee. Stolen kisses and teasing jokes, she punches his butt when he’s bent over to look at something and they’re nothing but giggles with each other.
Every Saturday that he’s not working they stick to the tradition as well. Morning sex, breakfast and constant affection. Covering all the bases, happy horny and hungry... Which might just be the key to a happy marriage.
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Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Spencer beats you at your own game.
Tags: unprotected sex, teasing, domestic, underwear, nearly oral sex (?), fluff and smut, established relationship
Spencer watched you get ready from your bed, the sheets tangled around his feet as his eyes followed the panties you shimmied up your legs, the way you arse rounded as dipped to pick up your bra from where he’d throw it on the floor the night before. In awe, he watched you slide the straps up your arms and twist your arms behind your back to fasten it.
“I’ll never get how you can do that,” Spencer remarked, watching your fingers deftly loop the hooks through the eyes.
“I’ve had a lifetime of practise, and you’ve only had a few months,” you smirked over your shoulder at him. “It’s just one of my many talents.”
“Oh? And what are these other talents of yours?” he teased. He watched you twist your lips in thought as you returned to the bed, gathering your hair over one shoulder as you slowly crawled back up to him on your hands and knees, and straddled his waist.
“Sucking your brain out through your dick?” you offered casually, leaning over him, your grin growing as Spencer threw back his head against the pillows and chuckled.
“I walked into that one, didn’t I?” he sighed, his hands coming up to smooth over the outside of your thighs. “But, yeah, I do love that particular talent.”
He pushed himself on his elbows to press a soft kiss to your lips, your eyes fluttering shut with a pleased hum as he gently sucked at your bottom lip. “Actually…” he murmured, “I’d really like-“ he pressed a peck to your lips -“if you’d-“ another peck -“do that now.” A third peck.
When you opened your eyes, you could see Spencer staring back at you, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth in anticipation. His warm eyes were dark and glinting.
“I dunno, Spence…” you mused, leaning in to press a kiss to his chin, then another to his jaw, then his Adam’s Apple. You could feel the excitement radiating off him as you slowly moved down his body. “I dunno if you could handle it right now.” You felt his chest heave beneath your touch as you pressed a sucking kiss to his chest bone. “I mean, you’ve gotta lot of things to do today that need that big, beautiful brain of yours at one hundred percent…” you felt his muscles jump beneath your hands as you slowly slid them down his sides before they came to rest on his hipbones. “I wouldn’t wanna stop you from doing your best work.” You could feel his growing hard on press against your chest, and you moved gently over it, catching the tip with the underwire of your bra.
Spencer barely contained his whine as you pressed your lips to his happy trail. You snuck a peek up at him, and you found it hard to stick to your guns when he looked at you like that, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed, his mouth open. “Please,” he gasped, and his eyes grew darker as he watched your feral smile grow. “Wha-?” He watched in confusion as you sat back on your heels, a glint in your eye, his knees pressing deliciously into the underside of your thighs. “Sorry, babe, but I gotta go, don’t I?” Spencer just stared at you in aroused shock. “I’m doing brunch with Penelope and Emily, aren’t I?”
You gave his hips an apologetic squeeze, savouring his indignant splutters of protest, and slipped from the bed to grab your dress from the back of the chair and slip it over your head. You didn’t hear Spencer untangle himself from the sheets or come up behind you, and you squealed in surprise as he wrapped his arms around your bare waist, dragging you back to the bed and flinging you down.
You barely had time to pull down your dress or breathe between giggles as Spencer stretched out on top of you, cupping his face as he kissed you desperately. A shiver ran through you as you felt his dexterous fingers curl into the waistband of your exposed panties and yanked them down, and you kicked the offending fabric away.
“You aren’t leaving this bed again,” Spencer grinned into your neck, biting and sucking at the soft skin as your fingers scratched through his hair. “Not allowed.”
“Not allowed?” you repeated, your breath catching in your throat as he tugged your earlobe between his teeth, and Spencer crowded further into you as his fingers began a teasing trail up the soft insides of your thighs.
“Not fun being teased, is it?” he murmured against your lips, a wicked smirk on his face, and you whined into Spencer’s stubbled cheek when his fingers danced around exactly where you needed him. You tried bucking your hips into his touch, to see if that could get him closer, but he kept just out of reach.
“Spencer, you’re being mean,” you groaned.
“I’m being mean?!” he asked, incredulous, his hand shifting to curl around your hip. “You did this to me-“ he ground his hips into yours, his bulge just catch your clit and making you gasp “and you want to call me mean?”
“Okay okay! I’m the mean one and I’m very, very sorry I teased you!”
Spencer smirked against your lips before dotting them with distracting kisses, pulling the waistband of his boxers down and sliding into your slick and ready cunt with barely any effort. “No, you’re not.”
Your eyes rolled back into your head as he filled you up perfectly, brunch be damned.
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Warnings: Fluff, Swearing
Word Count: 5.9k
Summary: When the BAU girls hatch a plan one drunken night to investigate whether Dr. Spencer Reid is a robot, it leads to awkward moments, flirting and a bit of match making.
A/N: hi! this is my first official fic on my account. I’d love to see what you think but requests are open for whoever and whatever since this is a multi-muse! hope you enjoy it <3
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“Impossible” You couldn’t even believe you were having this conversation. With the chief of BAU nonetheless. “It doesn’t even make sense”
Emily’s eyes were wide “Doesn’t it? He has terrible fashion sense-“ you actually liked his vests and ties, come on, they were cute “-his awkward dance moves-” not everyone was a born dancer “-and lastly. When have we ever seen him.. in water?” .. you had no response to that one.
JJ piped in, who had been silent for most of the conversation, “But him being a robot? That’s a little far-fetched even for me.”
Finally someone with some common sense!
“And she believes that John F. Kennedy’s death had something to do with an umbrella,” Tara sighed.
You rushed to disapprove, leaning forward, your drink sloshing onto the table by the sudden movement you made, fuelled by the conviction you felt, “That’s because it did! There’s evidence!”
She rubbed her eyes, not being able to recall how many times they’ve had this same variant of conversation “Of what? From who? Conspiracists?”
“The internet!” JJ huffed.
“Oh sure, because that’s a reliable source” This always happened. This time they’ve decided to go on a well-deserved girls night out, their schedules were as clear as they could be, and it felt great to finally let loose. You liked to put up a front, but the case you had just been previously assigned that the team solved the other night, hit you hard.
They always did. So it was amazing to relax, relaxing ended up being six rounds of cocktails and throwing bar peanuts into each other’s mouths, but it was therapeutic.
You slammed your drink down (luckily now empty so no more unfortunate spillage) “Penelope hack the government! The people need to know the truth!”
JJ and Garcia cheered in support.
Tara placed her hand on yours, giving it a comforting pat, “Y/N, we are the government.”
“Wait, we’re the government? — w oah you have such soft hands.”
Emily clapped her hands “Enough nonsense, let’s get back onto the serious topic at hand. That Dr Spencer Reid is a robot.”
“Don’t ‘Em’ me. I know the law and that includes the freedom of speech.”
JJ groaned, “Okay. I’m way too tipsy to recite the laws-“
“- I’m not! You have the right to remain silent. You do not have to answer-“ You rambled.
“-Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should be lovely.”
“Anywayyy” Emily whined, “If you guys don’t believe me, we’re just going to have to prove it.”
“How is she the Head of the BAU again?” Tara smiled.
Penelope giggled, “It’s because she’s the most competent out of all the incompetent idiots she’s the chief of.”
“So how will we prove our Spencer is a robot?” You chimed in.
JJ smirked, “Our Spencer, or your Spencer?”
Your cheeks suddenly became warm. You blamed it on the alcohol. “Of course not.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little heads about how to prove it.” Garcia grinned. In books, you had always critiqued whenever they said a glint appeared in someone’s eye, but you take back every criticism. The shine you saw in her eyes was terrifying. And it was directed completely at you. “I have just the plan.”
“Have I ever told you that you have no understanding of privacy?” You sighed, throwing an arm over your eyes. You were currently lying on top of your own bed while Emily rooted through your own closet.
She laughed, “Yes. Multiple times”
“Yet, you let me anyway.”
“And yet I let you anyway” You repeated sadly.
You removed your arm and pushed yourself up to watch her scramble through your racks of clothes. You had some dimes in there, but most are comfortable clothes for travelling with the team or smart clothes for when handling cases.
“Aha!” Emily pulled out a hanger, adorning the worst sweater you had ever bought “This is perfect.”
You scrunched up your nose “That is ugly. Like, Ugly ugly.”
“That’s why it’s perfect.”
“Why are we doing this again?” You had a killer hangover from last night and the pounding in your head wasn’t getting any easier with Tornado Prentiss around.
“We’re picking out two outfits: one as attractive as me, aka. Woah, she’s so hot I just want to tear off that outfit right here and now.” She lifts one of your favourite tops, it’s a lilac purple flowy blouse, with a serious cleavage cut.
The colour did compliment your skin tone wonderfully if I did say so yourself.
“And the second outfit is attractive as a buck naked grandma that does not know what the hell a razor is.” It was a sweater you bought years ago for an ugly sweater day while you were still making your way up the ranks of the FBI. The sleeves were longer than they should have been, from you pulling at the material relentlessly.
In your defence, it had been your first official gathering with a group of people from the FBI outside the building, if you were sweating like a pig, and nervous to meet the infamous BAU team for the first time, no one could say a thing.
“Seriously?! Ew Emily, ew”
Emily placed the hangers on the bed and smoothed out any creases. “Step one in the ISRAR plan, complete. Step two, in action”
You’re almost scared to ask “ISRAR?”
“Is Spencer Reid A Robot Plan. Keep up Y/N”
You get up off the bed, if you can’t beat them (Emily), join Em. (Literally Em). “Sure, whatever”
Garcia had already sent you plans on a very intricate mind map which should not look as professional and as well thought out as it did. Especially when she had complained about being bed-bound with a hangover.
Click and Click
You took pictures of them both and prepared to send them to Spencer. “This is so stupid. How does this prove he’s a robot in any way?”
“One, it’s not stupid, your smile proves that. Two, robots have no sense of style. Everyone knows that”
The thing you hated most was that it kinda made sense “I regret everything about this, this is what I get for splitting two for one cocktail with you.”
Emily rolled her eyes “Fine, let me type it up then”
You held your phone to your chest “No way, I’m never letting you near my phone again”
“The Hotch thing was one time. Let it go”
You ignored her and instead focused on your text.
Dr Spencer Who
hi! um. this probably seems a little ￼weird but you’re my last option aha, the girls are probably still blacked out from last night!
i was just wondering if you’d offer me some advice on something. nw if not!
delivered 2 mins ago. read now. 2:59 pm
Hey Y/N. It’s no problem really. I’d be happy to lend you any advice. But if it’s to do with girls Morgan would probably be better to ask. - Spencer
delivered now. read now. 3:01pm
trust me I’d prefer to ask you this than him lol! thank you for the help. much appreciated x
[attached two images]
was just wondering what top you think would suit me better! I’m useless at this stuff hah
delivered now. read now. 3:02pm
Oh. Isn’t there anyone else to ask? This seems important to you and I don’t want to mess it up for you. Style? Not my best strong suit - Spencer
delivered now. read now. 3:06pm
in the sweetest way possible, ur my last option, please spence. I’ll be happy with whatever you choose. promise you :)
delivered now. read now. 3:08pm
Okay. No pressure? Haha
Is this for a potential meeting?
Of two people
Because that would be cool ha
But If you wanna keep that private! That’s okay too!
Not saying there was a right to share it with me anyway.
So, yeah - Spencer
delivered now. read now. 3:11pm
Dr. Reid are you asking me if I’m going on a date?
delivered now. read now. 3:14pm
I think so.
I mean yeah - Spencer
delivered now. read now. 3:15pm
it’s not for a date reid
delivered now. read now. 3:15pm
Not good as in. Good, good. Like, good for me.
Not good for me in that way. Like easier for me.
To pick an outfit for.
Less pressure for me. - Spencer
delivered now. read now. 3:17pm
i understand don’t worry haha!
so um, an answer yet..?
delivered now. read now. 3:17pm
The jumper is the best choice.
It’s supposed to be cold this week. - Spencer
delivered now. read now. 3:19pm
okay! thank you so much !! much appreciated! x
delivered now. read now. 3:25pm
No problem. Anytime. x
Emily brought the phone closer to her face in disbelief “I was mostly joking, but he could seriously be a robot. How could anyone think that sweater looked cute? How?”
You shrug “I just know to never ask him for fashion advice again”
“Can’t believe you got a kiss, though.” She smirked, winking at you. “Pretty special, hey.”
You flopped back down on the bed, groaning “Shut uppppp. He’s just being friendly”
Despite that. It made you smile fondly at it later on in bed.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Y/N, for the thousandth upon thousandth times, yes” Penelope laughed, tucking a piece of fallen hair out of your face.
“I can’t even stare at him too long without.. doesn’t matter. How am I meant to do this?” Your hand was fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt, a terrible habit. Your mum had told you plenty of times you needed to stop otherwise you’d ruin everything you owned.
Garcia gave you a reassuring smile “It’s easy. Plus he never takes his eyes off you anyway so it shouldn’t be too much of a challenge for him” she said.
“Enough joking. I think the computer radiation is getting to your head” You playfully nudge her shoulder. You were currently in her Batcave, as she liked to call it, and discussing phase two in her plan.
“Why is it me again?”
“Tara refuses to join in on this, even if she’s loving every minute and JJ is currently off, she’s taken a few days off with the boys. Apparently, a school virus has gone around and they asked for her to stay.”
You placed your hand on your hips “Emily?”
“She’s too competitive, and she’d cheat to win”
Couldn’t argue with that logic.
“I’d end up letting Spence win, I couldn’t dare to make my puppy boy sad!”
“Therefore it falls onto me. Fine, I get it. Just.. next time can it be someone else?”
“Yeah, yeah, now go win this!”
You leave the cave. Okay subconscious, that sounded really cool. Y/N, superhero, guardian of the Cave.
— Also an FBI agent who is currently testing if her co-worker is a robot. Maybe you should stop reading so much science-fiction, it’s getting to your head.
You find Spencer at his desk, fiddling with some toy while reading a case file. You couldn’t exactly see his face since it was so buried into the folder, but the curls you could recognise anywhere.
“Pretty boy!” You called with a grin.
Spencer popped his head up and blinked. Morgan mostly called him that when he wanted to rile him up or embarrass him so it was strange to hear it coming out of your mouth.
He furrowed his eyebrows “Y/N?”
You stopped in front of his desk, placing a hand on either side and leaning down “You, Me, let’s go right now.”
Spencer’s lips parted, he looked more confused than anything. You talked to him plenty, and even offered to play a chess game with him once or twice but you’d never broached a subject like this before.
“Y-You? With me? Y/N, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
You could see why Penelope didn’t want to do this now. He looked utterly puppy-like when he was clueless.
“Let’s have a staring contest”
The dip in his brow only deepened, and his lip turned upwards “A staring contest? Now?”
You squared your shoulders “Yes, now. Unless you’re afraid to lose?” You couldn’t help but think you sounded completely foolish, I mean.. FBI Agents here, like, hello. Yet you were still smiling brightly anyhow.
The next step in our plan.. you can’t believe you referred to it as our, was to see if he would win at a staring contest. Technically, If he wasn’t human, he didn’t need to blink. Not exactly sound logic, but the best Garcia had at the moment.
Here’s to hoping you aren’t shitty at staring contests.
“Do you have a fever?” He sounded so genuine you laughed. Spencer looked torn between touching your forehead for a temperature or keeping germs at bay.
“I’m tip-top health, don’t you worry Doctor” You found his concern sweet. “Now, are we going to duel or are you going to back down? Warning, I don’t think your ego would ever recover”
Spencer pushes himself up off the chair and leans forward so you were eye level. Goddamn did he have the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen. If you could capture the colour and surround yourself with it whenever you went forever you would.
Spencer can’t contain a smile “My ego is going to be just fine, don’t you fret Y/N. I have eyes of steel” You snort, “I’ll have you know, I have a streak that has not been broken since middle school. That’s all I have to say.”
You click your knuckles “All I have to say is that I’m happy to be the one to break it.”
“Ready?” Reid narrows his eyes
You nod “Ready. Three, two, one… go.”
His eyes zone completely onto yours. You know it’s just part of the challenge but you can’t help but feel flushed. His gaze is so intense you feel like you’re the only thing that matters in the room to him.
Obviously, that’s not the case, but in this excuse to simply stare at him shamelessly, you let yourself believe, even for a minute, that he looking for more than just a win.
Your eyes begin to burn but you resist the urge to blink. Emily is not the only one who has a competitive streak.
“Hey guys,” You recognise Luke’s voice but you don’t look away “Uh. Hello?” He walks to join you guys at the desk. He raises his hand to wave in front of your face but before he gets the chance Spencer’s arm snaps forward and stops Luke’s hand.
Okay. That was a little hot.
A lot hot.
“Dude what the hell?!” Luke pulls his hand back to his chest, torn between looking confused and impressed.
“Staring contest. Gotta win. Got a reputation to uphold.” Spencer mumbles, his gaze never once leaving yours. If you feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, no you don’t.
Luke just nods, “Uh-huh. Why am I not surprised?”
“What do you need Lukey?” You ask, hoping to distract yourself from the burning need to blink.
Spencer’s eyes narrow, “Lukey?”
“It’s a stupid little nickname she won’t drop even though I’ve begged her to stop. It doesn’t exactly strike fear into the hearts that hear it, y’know?”
You click your tongue, “You love it really,” —
A pot of pens tumbles to the ground, creating a clattering noise loud enough to startle you into blinking.
At first, you felt immense relief, and then a wave of displeasure at actually losing (even though that was the whole point) and then confusion.
You glance at the stationary scatted on the floor, then to a sheepish looking Spencer. “Sorry about that”
Your mouth slowly gapes open, “you cheated!”
“Wha— no I didn’t!” he immediately goes on the defensive. “It was an accident!”
“Accident my arse,” you grumble, “now I know how you won that championship, with dirty tricks and cheap lies. I’ll remember this.”
“I—“ Luke throws a pointed thumb over his shoulder, “should I come back later?”
“No!” You both huff.
“I should get going anyway, Garcia needs me in the cave — her computer room. See you later Lukey” you say, still feeling a little flustered deep down from a certain doctors gaze.
You turn to Spencer and jab him lightly in the chest, “We’ll have a rematch one day. And I’ll win.”
Spencer just stands speechless for a moment before his lip curls into a little smile, “Can’t wait”
You nod and begin to strut away.
You make it a couple of metres before sighing and turn back around, Luke’s and Reid’s conversation slowly drifts off as you approach again.
“Pretend I’m not even here,” You mutter, crouching down and picking up the discarded stationery and putting it back into the pot, it would have bugged you if you left it. Even if it made you lose by default.
You stand back up, place the pot back on the desk before stalking back off, leaving the boys looking amused.
Garcia ponders, “What else do robots do?”
Tara hums, “.. Can robots do the robot?”
Y/N snickers, “Now we’re asking the right questions”
JJ offers, “They know things impossibly fast?”
Emily groans, “Isn’t that Reid’s whole personality?”
“Doesn’t that just further prove the point that Reid is a robot?” Tara shrugs, fiddling with a pen she found on the lunchroom table. It seems like this operation has garnered weekly meetings.
Garcia pouts, “I guess so but that doesn’t really help.” She’s currently picking apart her croissant￼￼, the last case had hit too close to him for her so they were all trying to indulge her in an attempt to distract her.
“That’s with information though, right? He can’t possibly know every equation heart by heart?”
She brightens, “that’s true.”
“So, all we have to do is find an equation that isn’t too possible but isn’t too easy.” Emily strokes her chin in thought, again you would like to add that sometimes even you’re confused about how she’s top boss.
“Eight times eight?” You throw out
They all turn and look at you. You smile awkwardly, “What too easy?”
JJ laughs, patting your hand, “Close but I was thinking more along the lines of one hundred and eighty-four times seven.”
Tara rolls her eyes, she knew Reid was a genius but even that has limits “Come on, no one can figure that out quickly.”
“Spence can” You fully believe he’s a human super computer. Perhaps that’s why thinking he’s a robot isn’t that difficult. A very very cute robot.
Emily clears her throat and shouts over to Spencer who’s at his desk, “Reid! What’s one hundred and eight-four times seven?” She calls out.
“One thousand, two hundred and eighty-eight.” He doesn’t even look up from his file.
Tara purses his lips, “Fair enough”
You half-absently hum along to the chatter in the background, the plan was fun but it was starting to get a little ridiculous. Currently, the only thing that was on your mind was what swimwear you were going to choose.
You were in Emily’s apartment, true to her, they all had their own glasses of wine scattered about and Sergio was planted right on the window-sill, hissing below at anyone wearing a funky hat.
Tip to yourself; never wear a hat around him. It was scary.
There was a one-piece in your right hand, it was light pastel pink, with little strawberries scattered about. It was cute, and appropriate, but also a little worn. You had gotten it a couple of years ago on your first holiday and you were a fan of it ever since.
But— on the other hand, you had a light two-piece. It was classic black, with straps that wrapped nicely around your waist, that tied into a little bow. It accentuates your figure and frankly, it does make you feel confident but it seems a little much for a pool party at Rossi’s.
It’s just sad you never seem to have another occasion to wear it. It's a reminder that you really need to go out more — and potentially book a holiday while you’re at it.
Again it’s just sad that most of your friends are people you work with. Who also don’t go out much.
As much as you’re humming and harring about what You were going to wear, You knew you were just going to play it safe anyway.
“What do you think Y/N?” JJ asks, lightly placing a hand on your arm to bring you back into the conversation.
You blink, how long had you been zoned out. Emily’s glass was now empty but that didn’t give her a great time scale, “I think..” you winced as you said it “yeah?”
The risk of agreeing to whatever crazy plan they had concocted up was worth it if it meant you didn’t have to hear it all over again. You already thought about Reid far more than what was considered professional and this was not helping.
You just couldn’t get his baby brown eyes out of your head.
Tara raised a brow in disbelief, “Really?”
Meanwhile, Garcia clapped her hands in delight.
“Sure, why not?” The question wasn’t as rhetorical as you wanted. Could someone please answer why they shouldn’t do whatever they wanna do? Then potentially fill her in on the rest of it while they were at it.
Seeing the expression on each of their faces gave you an inkling that maybe you should have listened.
Yep. Yeah. You should have 100% listened. You’re never going to forgive them — forgive yourself more likely. You couldn’t do this.
You breathe heavily, “Am I going to throw up? I think I’m going to throw up”
JJ shushes you as she ties your bikini up again, “You’re not going to throw up. You look jaw-dropping and you should own it. In fact.. if I wasn’t a married woman—“ she trails off and winks up at you in the bathroom mirror.
( Or one of them, really how does many bathroom’s does one man need. Though you shouldn’t and don’t expect anything less from the almighty Rossi. )
They managed to get you changed into option two, into the ( impossible one with straps.) black one. Apparently seeing a pretty lady, as they phrased it, in something sexy would cause Spencer to short circuit. It didn’t make sense but the girls never saw sense.
You really wanted to be at home right now — or in the cute pink swimwear you were used to
You laugh and feel your nerves ease a little, “Do I have to do this?” Your knuckles were turning white from how tightly you were gripping the sink.
“I mean of course not,” JJ says rubbing you back, clearly sensing how on edge you were — it didn’t take a genius or a BAU member to figure that out, “You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
You sigh, “But?”
“But, the girls will never let you live it down.”
You know she’d never judge you if you didn’t do it, and neither would the girls really — even if they’d tease a little, but you had to do it. You wanted to do it.
“Okay.” You nod, steeling yourself. You might be being a tad dramatic. Once a drama major, always a drama major.
She pats you on the back, “I’m going you give you some peace and check on the boys, but I brought a backup bikini in my bag that I’m going to leave right here if you need it..”
“Thank you, Jay” You smile at her through the reflection. She pushes up onto her tippy toes and kisses your cheek before winking again and leaving the room.
You turn on the tap and splash some cold water on your face. The water wakes you up a little and you straighten your shoulders. “I can do this” You mutter.
Your eyes wander to JJ’s bag, “or maybe I can’t.”
“I can do this” You repeat, the flip-flopping from your shoes on the marble stairs matching the beat of your heart. You make a left — you finally learnt the ways of the house, even though it took months — and brought yourself to the kitchen.
You hum softly as a whiff of food hits you, you immediately spot Rossi cooking away with his infamous pasta, “This smell’s delicious.”
Rossi jumps to attention at your voice and his eyes soften once they reach you, “Buttercup! How nice of you to finally join us,” he motions for you to join him at the cooker.
You awkwardly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and force a little chuckle, “Yeah, sorry about shooting off straight to the bathroom. Just needed a moment.” You do as he says and shuffle over, there’s pasta softening in the pots and a sauce bubbling away. If you knew anything about Rossi it’s that all this would be homemade and his own recipe.
“I’m only teasing darling. You look Bellissima,” He appraises, and all the nerves in you just melt away. There’s always been something about him that made you relax, whether it’s now or when you’re driving yourself nuts trying to piece together a clue.
“Thank you,” you say softly, before nodding to food, “is there anything I can help you with?”
“No, no this is my kingdom. Nothing better than cooking a homemade lunch for my family, especially with some beautiful weather and a bit of Tom Jones playing in the background.” He stirs the pot before pointing the spoon, “Now, stop fussing about in here and join the party outside. Try and get around at the ping pong table before Morgan and Pren break it.”
“You Sir” You laugh, before saluting him off, behind your back he rolls his eyes fondly.
As you step into the garden you forget what you had ever been nervous about. Suddenly Tara appears at your side, “Ready babe?”
Something flutters in your stomach but it’s excitement more than anything. “Always,” You grin, before spotting some very mopped curls and shooting off. Morgan was currently speaking to Spencer who had his back to you.
Morgan spots you first and produces his best wolf whistle yet, he places a hand on his heart and looks like a proud brother. You don’t know if you should find it sweet, or a little icky but you laugh anyway and flip him off.
Intrigued, Reid turns around just as you reach him. Whatever he was going to say died immediately as he took you in. His ears burn red and all you can do is giggle at his expression.
“I— you,” he stutters, suddenly forgetting how his tongue worked, or how his brain works or his mouth or anything, “pretty..” is what ends up tumbling out.
You feel your cheeks start to heat and somehow that was one of the cutest things he’s ever said to you, you look down to collect yourself, before your flick your eyes back up and smile sweetly, “Thank you, Spence.”
He was in yellow shorts with a white button-up, some would question it but you just smile wider, “You don’t look bad yourself”
Spencer only turned redder, “I- thanks. Um, you look more than pretty but uh, forgive me my brains kinda gone on holiday.”
“Christ Kid, this is like watching a bad car crash” Morgan cringes, looking between you two.
You chuckle while Spence shrinks further into himself. “Be nice,” You chastise.
Morgan puts his hand up in surrender. “Anyway I just came over to ask if either of you wanna drink, I’m gonna go fix myself a drink myself, so I thought I’d ask,” You huff.
“Yeah sure,” Morgan smirks, “That’s all you came over for isn’t it-“ You glare at him and put your hands on your hips. “- okay, or not, whatever” he laughs.
“I- drinks sound good.” Spencer finally pipes up.
You bite your lip, trying not to laugh — he looked so clueless. God he had no idea how to act around the opposite sex, “Okay.”
“I’ll get us the drinks, one minute I’ll just-“ He moves over to the left, his eyes trying not to stay on one part of you for too long, “I’ll just be over heRE- he trips over his own feet and stumbles into the pool.
You squeal away from the splash and stare wide-eyed at the pool. Everyone has suddenly gone quiet and you slap a hand over your mouth but everyone could hear your relentless giggles.
Emily pumps a fist into the air, “He isn’t a robot! He can go in the water!”
All the girls cheer while you cover your face in embarrassment.
You carry a fresh fluffy towel over to where Spencer has plopped himself down. He looks like a sad puppy all alone on the day bed. The now soaking button-up is stuck uncomfortably to his skin.
“I brought gifts,” You whooped, lifting the towels in a sign of peace. You had also found the cover-up you had brought along, it was basically a glorified long shirt.
Spencer looks up at you through his eyelash and you can’t help but admire how beautiful he looks, sopping curls or no sopping curls. “Thank you Y/N”
“No problem, I was uh,” You hated how this felt like a schoolyard crush all over again, “I was at fault a little, least’ I could do.”
He offered a small smile, “It wasn’t I was just a little.. distracted. My fault.”
“No,” You paused to run a hand through your hair, the feel of tendrils between your fingers calmed you, “I mean, everything. I’ve been a little weird recently. I’m sorry about that.. it was just.. something dumb with the girls.”
Spencer resists the urge to smile and shakes his head, “truly it’s fine.” — it only makes you feel all that worse, you’ve probably been making a show of yourself and him.
“I can’t believe I thought you were a robot.”
His nose scrunches up, “Wha?— how? why”
You suddenly feel embarrassed, you can’t believe the girls had managed to keep this gag going on for so long, and get away scot-free. Leave it to them to make you do all the dirty work.
“Well, um. Robot’s don’t have the best sense of fashion.” You start tugging on the bottom of your shirt, old habits die hard.
Spencer frown’s a little, “But I thought my vests were-“
“No no! I love your vests! And your ties! They’re cute.” You rush. You weren’t lying, he always looks so soft and comfortable and you’ve always imagined lounging about on the sofa in one of his cardigans snuggled down reading a book. It seemed perfect.
His spirits brighten, “You think they’re cute?”
“Um, yeah I do. I like your purple ties.” You mumble sheepishly. The number of times you wanted to fiddle with them during a case was unbelievable.
“They’re my favourite!”
“No way!” The sight of him smiling in the sun only swelled the longing you already felt. He looked so blissful, and completely himself. Spencer laughed and you followed soon after.
“Also the staring contest was part of it. But, the results were inconclusive because someone cheated,” You point a finger in his direction.
Reid dared to look insulted, “I didn’t cheat! You’re just a sore loser.”
You gasp, “You did not just say that.”
“Says the one who just told me you guys based an entire experiment on me!” His smile slowly slipped as he noticed the expression on your face. Trust him to screw this up.
“Spence.. -“ It started as a fun topic but you didn't want him to think you think that’s all he is; an object to pass the time. He was a real person, not some science experiment. Your feelings for him were also real. As much as you wished they weren't.
Reid wanted to reach out, comfort you. All he wanted to do was smooth the lines between your brows and make you smile at him in the way you only do for him. He wasn't aware of it until Hotch pointed it out one day, and ever since then his life goal was to get you to do it every day for the rest of his life.
“No, no.. Y/N I was only teasing. Don’t feel bad, please. God, I’m such an idiot.” It was all well and good saying how he felt in his head but he could never seem to form comprehensible sentences around you. He ended up always sounding like an idiot.
You chewed on your lip, “It’s not that it’s just..”
The words refused to leave your tongue.
Spencer motioned for you to sit beside him. You settled yourself down and released a breath, “I’m sorry.”
He scanned your face for a moment, it felt like the staring contest all over again but this time you were sat with only inches between you. He says the next words with such resolve it made your heart skip a beat, “I’m not.”
He was finally doing it, he was finally offering you into his mind. It was scary and brilliant.
You gulp, “You’re not?”
“No. I’m not. Whatever was going on — lead to you spending more time with me so I don’t think it’s something to be apologising about.” His eyes are heartfelt. But his tone — it’s soft and almost a whisper. As if he spoke any louder he’d spook you off. Gentle like a promise, something he doesn’t wanna break.
You accidentally brush your shoulder with his, the touch was light as a feather, but within seconds goosebumps had erupted and scattered all over your skin.
You were almost too scared to ask, “why?”
Your throat was dry, but your palms felt sweaty and your cheeks were hot but you felt cold to the touch all over. You couldn't give yourself hope.
Spencer inhales and closes his eyes, just for a moment. He wanted to see you when he finally admitted what had been clawing at his heart.
He opens his eyes to gaze into your own and you've never felt so vulnerable, he was looking at you like he could see every emotion you were feeling on your face. He probably could.
Spencer leans into you, “I like spending time with you." I, I like you.”
Finally, it was out there.
A beaming smile broke out from your lips, “I like you too Spencer. I do,” You nod frantically like you had to prove it, “I have done for a very long time.”
A laugh of disbelief trickled out of him.
There's that smile.. he thought.
You slowly lean forward and pressed your lips to his. In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment. His hand raised to press against your cheek and bring you impossibly closer.
It probably wasn’t the greatest kiss you had ever given, you couldn’t stop smiling. Your noses kept knocking into each other’s and giggles kept tumbling out. But you felt impossibly happy.
Suddenly shouts exploded around them, clapping, whistles- you name it. You pulled away and felt love in every inch of your heart. You turn to Spencer and smile, `'Definitely not a robot."
═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══
Emily watches them from afar, a proud look set on her face. She was warm inside and out; wine, music, and being surrounded by her loved ones? it was truly the perfect evening. Spencer and Y/N couldn't keep their hands off each other.
Aaron approaches her from behind, instinctively wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her into him. Emily hum's happily and leans her head against his chest.
Aaron smiles into her hair, "Emily Prentiss, I'll never doubt your matchmaking skills again."
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all this time, i
best friends to lovers. 7 parts. Y/N Y/L/N and Spencer are childhood best friends. Meeting as a pair of child prodigies at CalTech, they joined the BAU together until Y/N decided suddenly to move to London and join Emily at Interpol. The decision surprised everyone, especially Spencer; however, when Y/N returns to the BAU for one more case, she and Spencer are swept into a whirlwind of family drama and a fake engagement and are ultimately forced to realize the truth behind their past and their current feelings for one another.
an: first series! I once published this series under another blog and another name, but deleted that account due to mental health and needing to be unplugged reasons. Here is it again, edited and new for you all :) I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!
“All I’m saying is that we could really use your help. It’s a nasty one, Emily.” Rossi paced back and forth in the hallway outside the bullpen, his phone pressed to his ear. He had taken extra care to time this call, really hoping he wouldn’t catch the voicemail of his former teammate as he had so many times before. Besides that, Emily was always busy, so catching her in real time regardless of the time zone was a rare occurrence for anyone.
“I’ll see what I can do, Rossi. We just got off a case in Spain and we should have a few days off. Let me see if there’s a red eye back to the states.” Emily set her phone on speaker and started typing away on her computer, scrolling through airline information before replying, “Yeah, looks like I could get in tomorrow afternoon. Would that work?”
Emily knew she couldn’t work on both teams at once. If she could lead Interpol and stay with the BAU, she absolutely would have. Even though she knew she would have to endure at least two restless flights and fight off jet lag with vats of office coffee, she jumped at any opportunity to help her old team. Her old friends.
“You might bring the Girl Wonder with you,” Rossi added and Emily gazed up at her through the glass window walls of her office.
Y/N sat at her desk with the other agents of Emily’s team, diligently wrapping up the paperwork from their previous case. When Emily decided to make the jump to unit chief at Interpol, she had taken Y/N with her. Y/N was a talented agent- quick as a whip- and as guilty as Emily had felt taking her away from the BAU, she was grateful to have a familiar face. And a brilliant familiar face at that.
“Our Boy Wonder hasn’t been the same since you both left. I think he feels alone.”
Emily could understand why. Y/N and Spencer had been inseparable since they met in college. Emily laughed as she thought about the two twelve year olds, alone for the first time on a college campus. They had graduated together, both stacking on degree after degree before being recruited by Gideon for the FBI. Y/N’s PhDs had been in psychology, linguistics, and Classics and Gideon had thought, just as Emily did, that between her and Spencer, the FBI had received such a deep pool of knowledge. Their minds together were unstoppable, and Emily smiled fondly as she remembered all the times their minds seemed so interconnected as they worked away on a case.
“I think it’s been weird for her too. You spend nearly every day with someone for almost twenty years...,” Emily trailed off, gazing out at Y/N once again. “I’ll talk to her, but go ahead and count her in too.”
“Alright. I’ll let Hotch know. We’ll see you when you get in. Keep me updated.”
“Will do, Rossi. Thanks.”
Emily stood from her desk and walked to where Y/N was sat, working diligently on her case paperwork between long sips of coffee.
“So, I may have just got us another case,” Emily said, standing in front of her.
“So soon? Where to now?” Y/N replied, setting down her pen and picking up her mug between her hands as if to warm them. Emily could tell she was trying to be positive, but Y/N looked exhausted. Translating ransom notes and clues from obscure books before talking down a psychopath with a gun does that to you.
“Quantico, Virginia.” Emily grinned at Y/N’s relieved expression. “You ever been there before?” Emily joked, raising her eyebrow and turning her head to the side.
“Quantico...,” Y/N repeated, smiling while looking at the photo on her desk. Y/N always traveled light and was never a decorating type of person like Penelope was, but on her desk was a small frame in which a picture of the team at JJ’s wedding was placed. It was not the best picture- many of them had red eyes from the camera and the drinks and Y/N’s eyes were closed as she laughed at whatever Spencer had said. In the upper corner of the frame, she had tucked a polaroid she taken of just the two of them. Having faced the camera backwards, the photo was off center and most of their faces had been cropped out accidentally. It was, all things considered, a terrible photo, but it was their most recent one, taken hours before she boarded the plane to London.
Suddenly pulled from her kind reminiscence by the reality of their world and their jobs, her smile faded and her blood ran cold. “Nothing’s wrong right? Is everyone okay?”
Emily knew she cared about the whole team with her whole heart, but she knew who she was really asking about. Her eyes darted from the group photo, to Emily, and back to the smaller photo in the top corner. Emily was quick to assuage her anxieties.
“No, everyone’s just fine. Rossi called to ask if we wouldn’t mind coming into to consult on a case is all.” Emily watched as Y/N’s shoulders relaxed at her words.
She nodded. “Yeah of course. Wait, I mean no! I don’t mind at all. When are we flying out?”
“Can you meet at the airport in three hours? Pack for at least a week.”
Y/N pulled her suitcase through the airport behind Emily. Luckily, Emily had secured the Interpol jet which meant that didn’t have to be packed in like sardines on the red eye to New York that was boarding in the nearby gate. As they made their way to their gate, Emily paused and turned to Y/N, allowing her to catch up before they began walking again.
“Have you spoken to Spencer lately?”
She thought about the scattered conversations she had with him over the last few months she had been in London. The time zone had made it hard to keep up much with anyone and adding their work schedules onto that... well. Y/N thought about how much time they spent together when she was back in Quantico with the BAU. After cases, they would go to movies or get Indian food, always going back to one of their apartments to watch Star Trek, Doctor Who, or some documentary she had found. It had been their tradition for years - since college actually.
One year after a particularly difficult round of exams and first drafts, Y/N made him watch every nature documentary she could find on DVD at their library. After that, it became a tradition for them. They sat on her tiny bed in her tiny dorm and watched some over-produced, dramatically narrated documentary about the Amazon. She remembers how Spencer laughed when the narrator talked about quicksand traps alongside the rivers.
“Did you know,” he said, turning towards her and pushing his glasses up his nose, “that humans would not actually be swallowed by quicksand.”
“Humans are less dense,” she filled in. “What would actually kill you would be exposure or exhaustion. Or some fatal snake bite.” She quietly moved her hand to the back of his neck and pinched down, scaring him and forcing him to let out a little shriek.
“I hate you,” he pouted, crossing his arms and turning away from her.
“You love me,” she bumped his arm with her elbow. “I’m your best friend.”
He smiled in return before turning his attention back to the movie. “Yeah, you are.”
She smiled at the memory. The night before she had left, they watched the same documentary again. Neither of them said anything, preferring to sit in silence. Spencer thought if he didn’t say anything and pretended like it was just another night, he wouldn’t have to face the fact that she was leaving. Leaving the BAU. Leaving the BAU. Leaving him.
“Um yeah. Sometimes. Not as much as a thought I would, and not nearly as much as I promised. It’s hard you know, to make time, get the right time. He’s so busy and we’re so busy. We write letters sometimes,” she responded, nodding. “It’s weird.”
Emily nodded back. “Well I am sure he’ll be excited to see you.”
Y/N smiled. She was excited to see him too. After all, he was her best friend.
“Any minute, kid, calm down.” Rossi had noticed Spencer bouncing his knee for the past ten minutes they sat at the air strip, waiting for the jet to arrive.
Spencer nodded. It had been months since he’d seen her. They’d never been apart for that long before. Not since before they were twelve. He thought about the summers between semesters that they had been apart. Later in their schooling, they both stayed in Pasadena to do research and keep writing over the summer, but there was that one summer where they were apart for three whole months.
That’s when they started writing letters. They exchanged books, left little sketches of inside jokes in the margins, and he sent her postcards from Las Vegas. When they finally got back in the fall, he was happy to see all of his postcards pinned up on her wall over her desk.
“You have to get a cell phone,” she said, pulling waters out of her mini-fridge for them. Y/N’s parents had gotten her one when she came back to college that year.
Spencer hated technology. It didn’t fit right in his brain. Although he inevitably got one later that year, he never used it, much to Y/N’s dismay.
Spencer had gone through a few phones since that first one and when Y/N went to London, it became his most prized possession. He learned how to send emails from his phone, how to text her pictures of things that reminded him of her, and he even learned how to Facetime!
Although he still preferred writing her letters. He loved the way her messy cursive became even more slanted when she wrote about a case or something she was passionate about. It had always been a way for them to be close, even when they were far. He kept them folded neatly in their envelopes in his messenger bag, and not just the ones from the past few months. He had kept every letter he ever received from her. He felt them burning a hole in his side as the time to their arrival drew closer and closer.
He hadn’t heard her voice in weeks, hadn’t seen her in person in months. They hadn’t spoken as much as they promised they would, but Spencer understood and he knew she did too. It didn’t mean it didn’t make him sad though. He wondered if they would pick right back up when she arrived. He had a knack for making things awkward, for never saying the right thing, but she never seemed to mind. She never even seemed to notice. After all, her mind was the closest to his he had ever met.
Spencer pressed his lips together and nodded, pressing his hand down on his leg, begging it to stop moving.
“Pretty boy, why are you nervous?” Derek chided from a seat across from Spencer.
“I’m not,” Spencer said, crossing his arms over his chest. He immediately uncrossed them and kicked himself mentally.
Defensive, he could see Derek profiling him in his head. Derek didn’t say anything else though. He didn’t have the time.
“Well if it isn’t the three stooges themselves!” Emily called from behind them.
Spencer jumped up so fast and his tight-lipped expression bloomed into a smile so big his cheeks hurt as he saw her walking up to them behind Emily.
Her hair had the familiar curl and crimp it always did when she used to wake up from a nap on the jet. He let his brain wander and thought about how beautiful she looked before he stopped himself. What did he just call her? She quickly moved around Emily when she saw him, dropping her suitcase handle onto the tile floor with the thud and running over to him. She threw her arms around him and he returned the gesture, squeezing his eyes shut as he took her in.
“Hi, nerd,” she whispered into his ear and he laughed. She had always called him that knowing full well that she was as smart as he was. He always thought she was smoother though; more likable, easier to be around, more fun.
It felt like he didn’t have words. “Hey. I missed you,” was all he could say.
“I missed you too.” She let him go before hugging Rossi and Morgan.
“Sweetheart, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Derek said before hugging her. “Pretty boy ain’t the only one who missed you.”
“I certainly hope not,” Y/N joked, lightly punching Derek’s shoulder.
“Who wouldn’t miss that bella faccia,” Rossi added, using his hand to pinch her face, which she quickly swatted away, rolling her eyes.
“Um yeah, it’s great to see you guys too,” Emily added. “Wasn’t I the one you called anyway, Dave?”
“Yes, I did, and speaking of, we need to get ourselves back to the BAU. The rest of them are waiting on us. Let’s walk.”
Spencer leaned down to pick up Y/N’s suitcase handle and she smiled at him as he handed it to her. His hand brushed against hers quickly and he felt heat rise up in his cheeks again. She didn’t seem to notice, continuing to walk towards the exit with the team.
It was just because he hasn’t seen her in so long, Spencer thought to himself. Calm down, calm down, calm down, he chanted in his mind, not realizing he wasn’t walking after her. After them.
“Spence, you coming?” She said. She raised her eyebrow, concerned as she waited for him.
“Oh yeah. Sorry. Not a lot of sleep last night,” he explained quickly. He knew she could tell he was lying, she always knew, but she didn’t press him.
“Come on, we’ll get some coffee back at the office. I’ve missed the way you make it.”
tag list -- @ssa-uglywhore27 @magnetas @honeyreid @samuel-de-champagne-problems
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temporarily, indefinitely, forever - chapter six
spencer reid x reader
cw: mention of alcohol, arguing
a/n: holy fucking shit this is the last real chapter before the epilogue. i really didn't think i was going to finish this fic (lol school has been kicking my ass) but with the help of my lovely mutuals (cough @candlesandsoftrain) tif has survived! i hope you enjoy this sort of holiday bittersweetness and i look forward to the epilogue :) i’ll shut up now and let you read
December hits you like a sack of bricks.
You aren’t a quitter, though. You know how to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and get the fuck over yourself, regardless of how difficult it can be. It’s not like anything is really different, is it? You see Spencer at work, and mourn at home. You’ll be damned if you let your shitty decisions and a man ruin December.
It is, objectively, your favorite month. Despite the melancholy of the holidays—they’re never really the same after you leave home, are they—you allow the incessant playing of Christmas music and picture-perfect snow to worm its way into your heart. Virginia’s a cool place to spend it; it feels very all-American, somehow. You see your first snowflake in years in the parking lot, after spending 48 hours straight at the office. You get to drive up to D.C with Penelope to shop at all the incredibly large malls, and on one occasion you realize she’s invited Spencer, too.
It’s hard to convey that your supposed boyfriend is avoiding you when you’re trying to preserve the integrity of the foundational lie, so you just roll with it. Penelope disappears into the perfume section of a Dillard’s, and you halfheartedly push her shopping cart, Spencer not far behind.
“You’re nervous.” He says, gruffly. He looks wholeheartedly annoyed with your entire predicament, even the aisles that you’re perusing through. Just to piss him off, you take an absurdly long time to smell a candle before you indulge him in a response.
“What is this, Jeopardy? I’ll take ‘what is psychoanalyzing your unsuspecting coworker for 500, Alex.”
“Coworker? Really?” It lands perfectly—delectable frustration writes itself across his features, the furrow in his brow deepening. You resist the urge to smack the expression off his face.
“Fine. Girlfriend. Paramour. Lover.” You add a little bite to each word, in hopes that they hurt.
He narrows his eyes, hands in the pockets of his peacoat. You’re slightly amused by the fact that he’s trailing behind you. As you trail past the baby section, you opt to pick up a onesie for Michael. After you spend an inordinate amount of time deliberating between a dinosaur print and a butterfly one, Spencer interrupts. He seems slightly pained by standing here, in the baby section of a department store, watching you hold onesies that are adorably small.
“You’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself. I’m sure they’ll love whatever you get.”
“No, I want it to be perfect. I love giving gifts, you know. It’s important to me that they’re thoughtful.” Michael is a baby; your logic is not sound, considering he will not care about dinosaurs or butterflies for at least two years. Spencer exhales through his nose, a little annoyed.
“The only common variable involved in the satisfaction around a gift is price, really.”
“That’s sad.” You put the dinosaur onesie back, and try not to look at Spencer.
Weeks later, this distance remains. A few days before Christmas, you’re trying to cajole Spencer into carpooling with you to Rossi’s woodside mansion.
Cajole. You have to do a lot of that, lately.
A Few Weeks Earlier, Quantico
Spencer is avoiding you. There’s no other way to put it, really, and it’s remarkable that he’s able to, given that you work together. His distance is achieved from up close; he hasn’t been to your apartment in weeks, and you’re wondering how long it’ll be until he returns the key. You’ve never had your hand held more disinterestedly, or had someone touch your lower back with such little gusto. It’s kind of notable how he manages this. He is so close to you, yet so far away.
“Do you want to call it off early?”
You manage to trap him in the elevator one morning, a difficult feat in itself. From the corner, your hands against the cool metal railing, he looks different. It strikes you that this is the Spencer you made the arrangement with; a little aloof, colder, and quick to walk away. He turns his head ever so slightly, and looks at you with something like incredulity.
“Why would I want to do that?” He says, a little venomous and too angry for nine in the morning. You groan, draping your blazer over your arm. He’s being annoying, for God’s sake, acting as if he hasn’t been shutting you out for the past two weeks. The elevator dings, and you thank your lucky stars that you’re only one floor away from your office. From anywhere but here.
“Spencer, if you can’t even look at me how are we supposed to—”
He turns again, but this time he’s all sharp edges and quick movements. With one tug on your arm, he’s pulling you to him, kissing you with something fierce and unfamiliar. Heat builds in your chest as you kiss him back, hands balling in the fabric of his collar, trying to convey the fact that he is not winning the argument just because you stopped talking. You’re not sure how he manages to hold onto his anger; you can already feel yours draining, into the familiar warmth of him. It’s not a pretty kiss, not one that would help your case. When the elevator dings again and you hear the doors open, he pulls away.
“That’s how we’re supposed to keep up the charade.”
He says, and he’s off, a rush of purple and long limbs. You’re left in his wake, one hand on the strap of your purse and the other fist clenched, wondering when you ruined everything.
You hope it isn’t you, that there is something else to be blamed. It’s times like these that you wish you could psychoanalyze the both of you, make sense of the pieces that strike you as odd. It’s by some strange grace of God that you’re not often alone together anymore, and he seems to relax in the presence of Morgan or Emily. The nature of your job, however, is to divide and conquer. This is how you approach your first case in Pasadena, which scares you endlessly. When the team learns that you’ll be working in your hometown, they regard you warily. There is something to be said about peeling back the curtain on the place you once felt safest. You’re on the second night of a child abduction case, slumped over at the police station, when you find yourself next to him again. It’s just nearly sunrise, and you’re running on pure adrenaline and maybe two hours of sleep, if you count the time you spent closing your eyes and wishing you weren’t conscious. Your view of the light-washed sky is disrupted by a bumbling police chief, who crosses the floor with a sickly sweet smile on his face. He pauses before he reaches you and Spencer, maybe sensing that he’s interrupted something.
“Could you make me a cup of coffee, sweetheart?” He asks, and something burns in your chest. You open your mouth, half out of your chair to just get it over with, when you hear him.
“That’s below her paygrade.”
The chief turns his head quickly, as if he wasn’t aware that Spencer was there. He lifts his nose from his book, stealing a glance at you before meeting the officer’s eye. The older man stalls, his fingers reaching for his badge as he stammers.
“You see, I thought—”
“She’s an FBI agent, not your secretary. The machine works fine, you’ll be okay.”
Your hand finds Spencer’s, not in search of comfort but in effort to convey that you need him to stop. He doesn’t squeeze back, and simply stares at the police officer. The chief eyes you for another moment before turning away, disappearing into the kitchen.
“You shouldn’t have done that. Hotch is going to kill you.”
“I’ve died once, I can do it again.”
You close your eyes, so sleep deprived every bone in your body hurts. You don’t know where you find the hilarity in his words, but after a beat you dissolve into laughter. It’s only when you feel the bounce of his shoulders against yours that you feel a flicker of hope that maybe things will go back to normal. Someday.
That day isn’t today, though.
You take your very first day off, to see your hometown and attempt to relax. It doesn’t work. Instead, you find yourself on Colorado boulevard, wandering around in search of a watch shop that doesn’t exist anymore. You do, however, find a pawn shop. It’s there that you find God, or something like it.
Not quite religion, but something fateful.
Inside, there’s a watch in the back of the jewelry case. It could use a few touch-ups, maybe some silver cleaner, but you’d recognize the design anywhere. The shopkeeper notices your interest and gently places it on the counter in front of you.
“These aren’t worth much,” He says regretfully, and you have to stop yourself from interjecting. “But they’re pretty. You a collector or something?”
You take the watch into your hand, turning it over to examine the engraving on the back. A small smile plays on your lips as you confirm your suspicions.
“Something like that. I’ll take it.”
The rest of the month slips through your fingers. Another year, gone. There’s something to be said about the mourning that happens just before Christmas. You have to let go of everything you held onto in order to pick something new up.
Christmas Eve, Eve
“Are you going to Rossi’s Christmas party?” You ask, when Spencer’s been quieter than usual. This is either a bad sign or a great one, though you’re beginning to lose hold of his mannerisms, the microexpressions that used to alert you to his mood. They escape you, these days. It takes you a few tries to pinpoint how he’s feeling, to think back and remember how he used to be. He looks up, a little annoyed, and shrugs.
“I don’t know. Are you?”
“Yes. Should we go together?”
“If you want to.” He slings his satchel over his shoulder, and you can tell he’s just a few strides away from leaving you at your desk. It takes every ounce of your self control to bite your tongue and smile.
“I do. Want to, I mean. I’ll pick you up at six.”
More Like Six-Thirty, Actually
He’s quiet the entire drive up the hillside, and it occurs to you that you haven’t had a genuine conversation in nearly a week. You’ve said goodbyes, and hellos, but beyond visual niceties he’s totally shut you out. You kind of deserve it—you’ve succumbed to passive aggression, little digs that land terribly and leave you sleepless with guilt. You spot the shining exterior of Rossi’s mansion and catch yourself looking over at him to watch his reaction, to see if he lights up like he used to. He’s focused on something else, though, something you don’t see. You redirect your gaze to the road, but the feeling in your chest remains. Oh.
It looks like everyone else has arrived early, making you and Spencer late. You rush out of the car, holding a bottle of riesling and arguing with Spencer about your shoes. It’s a little icy out, sure, but heels are as much of a fall risk as ever, rain or shine. Eventually you settle at the doorway. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are bright pink, and he’s looking at you in that strange way again. Like he can’t believe you’re there.
“The lovers! Come on in!”
This is far from the only party you’ve attended together, but it’s decidedly the saddest. The door swings open before you’re ready, words dying in your throat as Rossi pulls you in for a hug. The house smells like campfire smoke and boozy cinnamon, and it’s adorned head to toe with white, snowy decorations. You take it in for a moment, kicking the snow off of your shoes, and it occurs to you once you stand back up that everyone’s staring at you. Rossi looks elated. Garcia’s grinning, and elbows a smiling Derek.
Spencer clears his throat, and you can feel him take one of your hands.
“The mistletoe, honey.” Penelope’s decked out in an entirely silver Mrs. Santa Clause outfit, and she looks delighted to see you. Your eyes drift upward, and you’re horrified to spot a sprig of something green above your head.
I guess we’re doing this, then. Not quite the last kiss you imagined, but as good as any. As you look up into Spencer’s face, hands traveling to familiar places, you mourn. It won’t ever be quite like this, will it? You’re expecting this to be goodbye. After all, after Christmas and New Year’s, you’ll go back to before. It’s not like you’ll miss much.
As you lean in, rising to your tiptoes, you realize just how wrong you are.
He missed you. It is written all over the way you resume, like nothing ever happened; his hands cradling your face, yours in his hair. You can’t really breathe, but you’re entirely unsure whether that’s Spencer’s doing or yours. Maybe that’s enough; you kiss him hello as the team cheers and whistles, unaware that they’re watching a beginning and an ending all at once. This, you’re sure, is hello.
You pull away reluctantly after a few short seconds, blushing as Penelope whoops and Derek claps. The party dissolves into a few groups; the kids run outside, Derek stands by the tree, Hotch and Rossi man the open bar. Normally, you take a spot at the dinner table, nursing a glass of wine slowly. Spencer’s outside with the kids. But this time, he stays, his side pressed against yours in a perpetual embrace. Why does he need you?
“Are you excited for Christmas?”
Penelope asks, all silver shimmer and smiles. The question catches you off guard, and your grip on Spencer’s hand tightens. The attention of the group is on you, now, and it’s all you can do to smile softly and tell the truth. For once.
“I mean, yeah. It’s just different this year. I normally spend it with my mom,” You purse your lips, eyes flicking up to watch Spencer stiffen. A suffocating physical ache builds and releases, and after a beat of silence you know you need to keep talking. “But it’s different. I have family here now. It’s a nice feeling.”
They clearly didn’t expect this, the vulnerability of it all. It’s unlike you.
“We should toast to that.” Spencer says, almost inaudible. You have to look up, doe-eyed and attentive, to hear him. After the group registers his suggestion, they share a knowing grin. Like they’re in on something you aren’t.
“I agree with the kid.” Rossi laughs, swirling the wine in his glass. Hotch shrugs and indulges you in a small smile, eyes flicking up to yours before he turns to Dave.
“He’s hardly a kid anymore. Look.”
“To family. Here, there, and everywhere. To you.”
You’re not above begging, not anymore. As you speak, raising your flute of champagne and watching each bubble fizz, you’re begging Spencer not to look at you. This will get so much harder, you think, if you make me look at you and tell you that you are my favorite person.
You make it through the whole team, the rims of your glasses singing in praise as you laugh and toast to life. To another year. It’s only after, when everyone’s begun to sip and smile, that you feel someone tug your waist towards theirs.
It’s a little like looking into the sun, looking at him. Alive underneath the chandelier, holding a glass he won’t drink from, knowing what he does to you. How you’ll come undone under his touch, the feeling of his hand on your waist. His eyes flicker with anticipation and you laugh, a little dizzy.
“To you, Spencer.”
The group slowly dissolves, like sand through a screen. You trickle away from the foyer, into comfortable armchairs and wherever the food is. It’s nicer than you’re used to, the rough edges of your work. Maybe you get it. Why Rossi lives how he does. To forget.
Everyone settles into their own roles; JJ meets you in the kitchen, Emily and Derek are watching the game with Rossi, and Spencer, Will, and Hotch are in charge of the kids. It’s easy to keep your cool. There’s a record player in the corner, spinning something jazzy and nostalgic, maybe it’s Nat King Cole. The wine warms you up and blurs the edges of everything bothering you, dulls each pang of guilt you feel whenever anyone mentions Spencer. Is this how it’s going to hurt, in January? When it’s real? When you can’t wait for the next kiss, the next touch, to hold you over?
“What’s on your mind?”
Emily. She looks gorgeous in the yellow light. Her hair is perfectly curled, fur coat so soft you resist the urge to feel it between your fingers. Her face is pink from the gin and tonic in her hand and she’s smiling. You exhale heavily, and she seems to stiffen as she realizes that you’re not just moping.
“Oh, you know. The holidays.” The shrug of your shoulders is too exaggerated, too jerky. Whatever you do, it tips her off.
“Bullshit. He doesn’t know, does he?”
You nearly choke on your zinfandel. Emily rubs your back, laughing lightly, until you can get enough air in your lungs to object.
“Oh, no. He knows.”
It’s impossible to keep your eyes from drifting to the sliding glass door, to the vision of him on the grass. To keep from remembering that night in your kitchen, the scar by your thumb, the stupid wishbone. Emily nods sagely, and her hand closes over yours.
“That’s worse, isn’t it?”
“Tell me about it.”
She laughs, too loudly this time, and Derek pokes his head in from the other room. With one look, he gets the memo that this conversation doesn’t include him. You can almost smile at this, the way he slips away, knowing.
“Look.” Emily says, leaning across the counter, her hand in yours. “Even the smartest men are men, above all else. They need reminding. God knows they’ll never put the pieces together themselves.”
You can’t respond—you’re dangerously close to crying if you try to speak. Instead, you clink your glass against hers, and it’s clear that she’s satisfied.
Before you know it, the group is huddled around the tree. You haven’t played Secret Santa in years, but it’s a better time than you remember. Rossi gifts you a bottle of whiskey, which you might be able to use as a medical antiseptic, if nothing else. Hotch gets a hilarious custom t-shirt from JJ, and gives Reid a signed copy of A Tale of Two Cities. It’s unique, knowing people well enough to give them something they’d like. You don’t take it for granted, not for a moment. The music gets a little louder, the later the evening goes on, after JJ and Will depart, and Hotch disappears into the kitchen. Half emboldened by the wine and half because you have nothing to lose, you take to swaying on the hardwood floors. Your team is kind enough to pretend to ignore you.
“You look ridiculous.” His voice is familiar, even in its rare sarcastic tone, and it goes straight to your gut.
“Fuck you. At least I’m having fun.”
There’s no room in your heart for sympathy, not anymore. Spencer’s cleared all the space you have. He takes the punch well, though, hands in his pockets as he attempts to step in time. It’s infuriatingly adorable.
“Are you?” You tug at his sleeve, and then you’re dancing. It’s awkward, vaguely reminiscent of a school prom, though with little room for the Holy Spirit.
“More than you are.” He says, returning a little of your venom. His hands are cold, his face pale. Something is paining him, and it might be you.
“You’re mean.” He says quietly, burying his face in your neck, breathing you in.
“And so are you. Makes two of us.” You are still watching, hoping that he smiles, that he finds you funny. He laughs a little, probably at the sadness of it. And then you’re just holding each other again, like it’ll fix things.
The song switches to something a little more fast-paced, a clear move on Rossi’s part to break the two of you up. Neither of you move, though, besides your heads.
“I got you something.” You say, when you begin to feel like you have nothing to lose. The smile on his face is the closest thing to autumn you have left, and it is far too hopeful for this cold foyer. His grip tightens on your hand, and this urges you forward.
The spark is back, the heat of the flame. He’s been thinking of you, too. You catch the feeling of eyes on you, whispers. With a single motion, Spencer seems to notice, and he tugs you towards the back door. The glass door clinks closed and you’re finally alone. Snow is biting and wet against your skin, little stings on the back of your hand.
“Why are we outside?” It’s freezing, really. The tip of Spencer’s nose is flushed red, and he looks more panicked than he did in the comforting warmth. You notice the tiny gift bag in his hand, your favorite color. It’s then that you lose your nerve.
“Because,” he says, out of breath. Clinging to you like a lifeline. “It’s for you. Not for them.”
This is when you know. That’s not the whole story, though. You’ve known the whole time that chess is a dangerous game, that you’ve been far too easily sent down a rabbit hole of things to love, that this was how it would end. But this is when you know that it’s just beginning.
“It’s probably not the right size,” you stammer, pulling the box from your purse. Your hands shake as he takes it, turning it over before peeling the red wrapping paper off. “We can order more chains, even though they don’t make the right parts anymore, I’m sure somebody on Ebay will have some, and even if not I can probably figure it out, you don’t have to wear it, but I saw it, and I thought about—”
“That night at the bar.”
The watch glints in the moonlight, and he feels the band between his fingers. He remembers —with each passing moment you gain a little confidence, a little hope.
“Yeah. On my day off. I remembered that you knew where my watch was made,” you laugh, your breath visible in a silver puff before you. You lift your wrist to his, fastening the clip on his watch. His hands are shaking, but he’s not alone. The watch face is terribly off, hours away, but you have no doubt that he’ll figure it out, twist the hands to meet yours. After you clip it into place, you both watch it tick, breathless.
“They don't match, but it’s close. You can tell that they go together.”
He catches your eye, and silence blankets you like snow. There is one question, on your lips and threatening to ruin everything. You’d rather ask now, having held his hand and given him the watch, than later.
“Why did you agree? When I asked? If you knew, even just a little, that it might end up like this?”
He considers for a moment, deep in thought. You try to keep from shivering as you watch his brow knit in the middle, his eyes half-lidded. After a beat, he meets your gaze.
“How could I say no to you?”
You want to tell him to stop, that he can’t say things like that, that he doesn’t know how it feels. But he does. And you’re tired.
“Is that all I get?”
He doesn’t respond, only grimaces and shoves his hands into his pockets. Another piece of him, fractured off but lost to this disconnect.
“What are we doing? You know how I feel,” you start, but he’s quick to cut you off.
“That’s not fair.”
“What about this is fair? I’ve told you. I’ve loved you for months, it’s in everything I do, I’ve done everything but say it, Spencer. Everything.”
“You don’t really love me. You love a version of me, sure, but I can’t promise that I can be that for you all the time.”
He’s breaking your heart, and in the slow motion of it he shows no intent of stopping. He believes what he says.
“I..” You purse your lips, eyes drifting up to the sky. You don’t know how to make it clear to him that you would love any version of him he’d be so kind as to give you.
“I don’t think that’s what love is, Spencer. Is that how you feel about me?”
He’s quick to shake his head, and this spurs you forward.
“It was a moment of passivity that led me to you. I didn’t want to tell Penelope to stop setting me up, because I was scared of being alone forever,” You laugh a little, but the sound is humorless and it fades into little more than a puff of visible breath in the cold.
“I think in a way, I knew what I wanted, but I was too scared to ask you outright. I over complicated everything to mask the simple truth. And you can push me away, you can tell me that I’ll never truly know you and I won’t, because we never really know the people we love, do we? We show new fractions of ourselves to the people we care about and I think that should be enough. You know me in a way I’ve never been known my whole life, and that has to count for something.”
He takes a deep breath, and you cannot read him.
“It never made sense to me.” He inhales sharply, illuminated by the garden lamps, and in that moment you find him ridiculous. Only he could understand the intricacies and pitfalls of quantum physics yet fail to realize that he is loved, and loved, and loved.
“Why you asked me,” he adds, once he watches your face fall. “Of all people. It made zero sense, really—you could have just lied, if you were willing to do that anyway—or hired someone off Craigslist. I couldn’t understand why you would ask me to help you with that. I’ve been content for a long time, and I would have hoped that that would have been clear.”
“Is content the same thing as happiness?” You know it is not. He doesn’t look at you.
“I mean, I trusted your judgement. I never thought something like this,” He gestures wildly and vaguely in your direction, and you almost smile, “was made for me. I had a lot of love to give. And I knew that I probably didn’t have a shot with you in normal circumstances, so why not?”
“A shot with me? You sound like Derek.”
“Do you realize how long he tried to play wingman? How many people told me we were meant to be? How many times I tried to talk to you at that stupid bar, how many terrible jokes I told? I can’t forget.” He says your name, indelicately, like it will sober him up just to say it. “I think you have. But I can’t.”
“Let’s end it, then. Start new,” You ask, but he shakes his head, and panic threatens to
reach up and suffocate whatever hope you’ve gained.
“Spencer, I want you there on my birthday. You are the only thing I will possibly be able to wish for if you aren’t there,” You say, and by now your hands are gripping his arms, pleading, your eyes never leaving his face. “Can’t you just let us have that? It’s simpler than we’re making it out to be.”
It seems to hit him, then, when you mention your birthday. March feels a million years away and it feels like tomorrow. You’re reminded of a stupid hat and a book that’s currently tucked into your bedside table, a too-sweet candy bar and the irrevocable fact that he is your favorite person.
“Okay.” He says, his voice quiet. It is the first time you see him smile today, and you want to bottle it to save it for later. You flush at the idea that maybe you won’t have to ration pieces of him anymore, that maybe he might just be yours.
“Alright.” You say, and you both take a step forward at the same time, closing the gap between you in a bump of coats and arms.
“You said it earlier,” He smirks, his eyes a little lighter. Less burdened. Nothing about tonight has scared you, until now. But as you fold yourselves back into place, his hands cupping your face, each of you trembling, your resolve begins to crumble.
“You love me?” He asks, and for the first time, you feel you can truly answer.
“How couldn’t I?”
“You don’t mean that.” He blushes almost instantly, the pink flooding his cheeks with warmth. He isn’t embarrassed for long, though, no. He starts to move. Your grin almost hurts, the force of it, as he takes you into his arms. A kiss to your temple, the tip of your nose.
“I mean it.” The apex of your jaw, urging you on, I mean it. The edge of your mouth, I mean it. You have nobody to impress, nothing to worry about, and it’s for this reason that you just take his face into your hands and kiss him, unhurried. You’ll be able to do it again.
taglist <3 (i adore you all for bearing with me through the infrequent updates and sometimes shitty proofreading on my part lol)
@everyonesfavoritepipecleaner @idonotexiste-deactivated2021091 @spencersjello @raybutcool @just_arandomwriter @averyhotchner @happymangospot @sadsonglistener @rebeccasoutlook @reidmyspencer @i-love-spencer @obsessivelysearching @stardustspence @jenny885108-blog @deakyjoe @lovesdarkness @theteapotmoth @wifeyprentiss @kuolonsyoja @multi-worlds @me-a-hopeless-romantic @drayshadow @measure-in-pain @allybatch @reidonfilm @luredwithpretzels @rexorangecouny @thatonezesty13 @rare-breed-of-human @ceridwen-02 @the-chaotic-cow @thedancingnerdmermaid @just-another-persona123 @forever-not-gonna-sink @hi-there-x @infinite-tides @uptowngotmedown @bakugouswh0r3 @onyourfingertips @coldlilheart
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Geniuses at work
A/n: Based on this request. I love writing from requests I get so please send more !!
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
CW: mild sexual allusion
Penelope Garcia was on a mission. Her tendency to play Cupid manifested itself into a mission she believed was hers. A mission to find two of her best friend's soulmates. Even the romantic and caring friend, all she wanted was for the two youngest FBI agents to be happy.
And so, she enlisted the help of her best friend, Derek Morgan. In truth, she would have been opened to anyone helping, but JJ was consulting on a case with Hotch, Rossi just chuckled, and Prentiss was still filling out reports. Plus, historically, Morgan was her partner in crime.
"Why are we in here, P?" Y/n asked cheerfully as she walked into the break room, taking a bit of her granola bar before sitting down next to Spencer.
Penelope and Derek were sat at the other side, files spread out all over the table, facing them.
Spencer looked over at her for just a second, long enough for her to notice his concerned look.
"My two favorite geniuses, you're gathered here today in the name of love." Penelope dramatically announced.
Y/n giggled at her. "Sounds like you're here to get us married." She quipped, looking over at a now blushing Spencer.
Morgan laughed at her while Penelope frowned. "No, you know, that would be a good idea." She thought aloud, looking to Morgan, who shrugged.
"We could, but we've already planned this out." Morgan reminded her, trying to get her back on track.
"Right. In front of me, I've got 10 dates, one for each of you each day of this week." She unfolded her plans, strumming her fingers over the files.
Spencer almost spat out his coffee as he laughed. "Oh, wait, you're serious?" He realized, seeing the serious look in Penelope's eyes.
"Gravely serious, Reid." She said a stern look on her face. It didn't look like it fit at all.
Y/n frowned at her. "Why do we need this?" She questioned Garcia.
"Obviously, you don't need a man to be happy," Penelope declared, looking at both Spencer and Morgan. "But, you're the only two single ones left in this office. We just always feel bad when we leave with our partners." She confessed, reaching out to hold one of Spencer's hands and one of Y/n's. "And you two go home alone, to your empty apartments."
It took everything in Y/n and Spencer to not burst out laughing. Somehow, they managed to keep it in.
Y/n decided she might as well get some practice at lying. It would be helpful when talking to unsubs. "Yeah, it's been really hard lately." She lied, even going as far as to draw out some tears for maximum dramatic effect. "I just feel everyone my age is in serious relationships besides me." She announced. By that point, Penelope had dropped Spencer's hands and was enveloping Y/n's as she looked sympathetically at her. "I have this one friend, and she's just so crazy about her boyfriend. It's all she talks about." She mentioned, shooting Spencer a quick look to ensure he understood the underlying meaning. "I just wish I could have something like that." She sobbed out.
"Oh, honey." Penelope sympathized. Y/n felt half bad for tricking her, but it was seriously amusing. Morgan shared her sympathetic look while Spencer was trying not to giggle. "It's alright." She comforted her. She patted Y/n's hands. "We're here to help you, sweetness."
Morgan nodded, a little surprised by Y/n's emotional reaction. "We do have the best week planned." He assured her.
Penelope nodded, getting back on track and looking at her files. "We have made a list of the best single men and women we know, and - drumroll, please." She requested. Spencer obliged, drumming his fingers on the side of the table. "- Set you up on 5 blind dates each."
Spencer and Y/n had assumed Penelope was going to give them numbers. But, like usual, she went the whole way.
"Oh, wow, thanks." Spencer spluttered out. Y/n could tell his shock was genuine. When he looked at her with a smirk, she knew the next lines would be false. "I really appreciate it, Penelope. I really think I'm ready to settle down with someone." He lied, trying not to smile.
Y/n could feel her heart flutter at his words.
Penelope smiled at both of them lovingly. "It's not a problem, Reid. I'm just happy to be a part of both of your enchanting romances." She declared. They could all tell it was a lie: she just wanted to play Cupid and have bragging rights.
Spencer looked at Y/n with quietly pleading eyes like he was afraid he'd offend her by accepting. But, there wasn't much else they could do.
"It looks like this is pretty much decided then?" Y/n asked, hoping there was some chance she could wiggle out of it. It would be far too convenient if both her and Spencer were sick for the whole week.
Penelope nodded with a smile. "I'm glad you understand." She spoke firmly.
"Plus, if it doesn't work out, you'll both get some." Morgan convinced them, holding out a hand so they could hi-five him.
Y/n shrugged, leaning across the table to hi-five him. Spencer looked horrified at her, but she offered him a shrug. Next to Morgan, Penelope was shaking her head.
"No, they have to find their soulmates." Penelope declared adamantly, hitting Morgan's arm.
Y/n decided it would be fun to play with them. "What if... I've already met my soulmate?" She wondered aloud.
"Mathematical estimates suggest that your chances of finding your soul mate are only 1 in 10,000." Spencer chimed in, unhelpful to Penelope's case. He shot Y/n a playful look, letting her know he was joining in on her fun.
Penelope looked shocked. "Really?" She asked.
Spencer nodded. "If it's any consult, 70-80% of people have met their spouse before the time they're 16." He retorted.
"See, I probably know him." Y/n figured, feeling Spencer's eyes on her while she smiled.
Spencer nodded. "You know, she's probably right Garica, on average, women find their life partner at the age of 25." He mentioned.
Y/n was going to have to google that. It seemed far too convenient that she joining the BAU at 25. But then again, Spencer never made facts up.
"What about men?" Garcia questioned, knowing there was more to Spencer's statistics.
Spencer winced. "28." He mumbled out.
"Ah, so you're still a year away." Morgan realized, turning to look at Garcia. "So this isn't going to help any of them." He told her.
Penelope adamantly shook her head. "No, no, no, you two are going to play this game because it's fun. You're both young and single, and I think it's time for you to have fun." Both Spencer and Y/n avoided telling her they had lots of fun. Together. "Hotch, JJ, Prentiss, Chocolate thunder here, and I have all submitted a candidate for each of you." She explained. "Here are tonight's dates." She handed a file to each of them.
Spencer sped read his file while Y/n went through her's at a normal pace. "Garcia, this is incredibly detailed," Spencer mentioned with a concerned look.
"Yeah... how did you find out their blood types?" Y/n queried with a frown and concerned look at Garcia.
The file was far thicker than it should be. Going into intensive detail Y/n didn't know was legal for her to know. She figured it probably wasn't. Perks of being in the FBI.
Penelope scoffed. "I'm the best in the business, sugar." She reminded her. "That is everything there is to know about your potential soul mate."
"Yeah but having their elementary school class photos is stalkerish," Spencer informed her, not sure if she actually knew it was too much.
"Knowledge is power." Penelope reminded both of them.
Y/n giggled at her. "Alright, stalker. Can I please see the rest of my dates?" She requested, holding out her hands for the files.
Penelope obliged, hesitantly. "I should go and do some work." She mentioned, standing up. "The date times and locations are on the front. Have fun, geniuses." She waved as she left the room.
Morgan also got up, preparing to leave Y/n and Spencer there with their files. "Girlie, don't have too much fun." He commanded her suggestively. "And, pretty boy, have fun." He said with a wink.
"I'm sure Spencer can be just as much of a slut." Y/n joked, watching Spencer's cheeks flush red.
Morgan laughed at both of them. "Good luck. Have fun finding your soulmates." He farewelled, waving before leaving the room.
"I think I already found mine," Spencer muttered out.
Y/n smiled gently at how cute he was, still she was going to tease him. "You're a year too early, Reid."
"On the contrary, we met when we were 25." Spencer reminded her.
"So, you're calling me average?" Y/n quipped, recalling his prior fact.
Spencer immediately shook his head, reaching out to hold her hand. "You're anything but average." He assured her.
"I'm going to take that as a compliment." Y/n decided aloud.
"It was one, beautiful," Spencer replied with his ridiculously cute grin, making her heart flutter. He turned back to the papers with a look of dread.
Y/n drew her eyes off him to look at her own files, running her finger lightly over the post-it notes with date times and locations. "What are we going to do, lover boy?" She asked, concerned.
One thing she really didn't want to do was go out on 5 dates when she could be at home with Spencer. She hoped that maybe they'd get called away on a case so they could sneak into each other's hotel rooms.
"I have an idea. It's a crazy idea, but I think it could work." Spencer announced with a proud smile.
It was Spencer's date with Morgan's pick, one of Savannah's friends, and Y/n's with JJ's, one of Will's friends.
When Spencer got to his apartment, he changed into a nicer suit, not bothering with a tie. It was casual.
Y/n, in her apartment, got changed into a breezy summer dress that had only just made it to her closet as the weather warmed.
Then, they, separately, made their way to the Italian restaurant where their 7pm dates were scheduled.
Of course, the plan meant turning up 15 minutes early. Kissing despite having spent less than an hour apart. Being together was intoxicating, and they were both surprised they were able to keep their hands off each other at work. They definitely made up for it as soon as they were out of the office.
"Alright, you ready to do this?" Spencer asked, pulling out the files he kept for their dates. In all honestly, he'd spent his time on the train back home going through Y/n's dates.
Spencer was inherently insecure, and while he knew Y/n wasn't actually going to go on her dates, he was still self-conscious.
Still, she nodded excitedly. "We've got this." She reminded them, more for Spencer's sake.
He gulped before nodding, letting go of her so they could both walk to their tables.
Even though their dates were friends of friends, Garcia wanted to make sure Y/n and Spencer had someone they knew at the restaurant in case anything went south. It was smart, and it made the couple's devious plan a whole lot easier.
Spencer's date arrived first, and she was pretty. But she didn't look much like Y/n at all. Spencer was the least shallow person she knew, but she decided it was a good thing if his momentary date didn't look like her.
Y/n could watch Spencer filling his date, Riley, in on their lie, just as Y/n's date arrived.
"Hi there, you must be JJ's friend Y/n. I'm Wyatt." The tall, muscular blond announced. Clearly, JJ wasn't aware of her unknown type.
Y/n smiled at him. "I am Y/n. It's really nice to meet you." She replied politely. "And I'm really sorry, but unfortunately, I'm not your date tonight." She informed him.
His eyebrows furrowed. "I'm sorry, I just thought JJ said we would be good together." He politely responded.
Y/n was thankful he was taking it well. The plan would have been confusing to someone who didn't know it. "There's actually someone else I'd like you to meet." She told him. "I'm just not really looking to date right now, but JJ told me how nice you were." Somewhat of a lie. His file did make him look like a good guy, but JJ hadn't said anything.
It was the same lie she was watching Spencer tell.
Wyatt nodded, still looking a bit confused. "Uh, okay, I guess that's okay."
"Perfect, would you like to go and meet her?" Y/n asked him. He nodded slightly just as Spencer brought his date over.
"Wyatt, this is Riley," Y/n introduced the pair, getting out of her chair so Riley could sit down. "We'll let you two get to know each other." She told them as Riley sat down.
Spencer grinned at Y/n, happy they'd pulled off the plan successfully.
"Uh, thank you," Wyatt said like it was a question. His eyes were on the girl now sat across the table from him. Clearly, he seemed interested.
Spencer and Y/n made a quick exit, leaving the newly introduced couple to get to know each other.
They made their way to Spencer's table, sitting down across from each other with sly smiles.
"We did it." Y/n declared proudly, looking behind her at Riley and Wyatt. "You're so smart, baby." She reminded him, grateful he'd come up with a plan to stop them having to go out on dates.
Spencer grinned at her, placing a kiss on her knuckles. "Just didn't want to see my girl out on some date with a muscular police detective." He joked.
Y/n shook her head. "My type is SSAs, not detectives." She playfully told him.
Spencer chuckled at her, instantly feeling relief. "You look so gorgeous, baby." Every compliment made her heart soar like ever before.
"I could say the same about you," Y/n replied. Spencer never looked bad, but he looked extra attractive when he was trying to impress her.
Spencer blushed before looking at the menu. "So, what are we having?" He questioned.
"Ooo, can we get ravioli or gnocchi?" Y/n asked, excitedly looking at the wonderful looking food.
Spencer smiled at her, grateful every time he looked at her that she picked him. He was sure no one would ever compare. "Whatever you'd want, my girl." He replied. "As long as we can get garlic bread. Oh, and dessert."
Y/n giggled at him. "Good thing P forced us into going to the same restaurant. Otherwise, us turning up with the same leftovers would be suspicious." She mentioned.
Spencer nodded in agreement. "I'm just glad she organized 5 dates for us."
"Unintentionally." Y/n reminded him.
When their wine came, Spencer made a toast. "To deception, for the purpose of love." He declared.
Y/n repeated it, dinging her glass against his with a smile. More than happy that she was the one on a date with Spencer. Hers, hopefully for forever.
It was the date with Hotch's pick for Spencer and Prentiss' for Y/n. At a Mexican place that they'd never heard of. Penelope did know all the best restaurants, so they knew it would be good.
At work, Penelope was insistent on knowing all about the date. Y/n told her it was alright while slyly smiling at Spencer. Spencer, however, told her he didn't see a second one.
Spencer watched as Y/n greeted her date with a cheery smile as she explained the situation. No doubt telling him she'd recently been through a bad breakup but didn't want to let Prentiss down and that she'd come up with a solution.
"Hi, are you Doctor Reid?" A woman asked. Spencer looked up to see she looked like the photo he had on file, Sarah, who had O+ blood.
Spencer nodded, standing up to greet her. "Yeah, that's me. You can call me Spencer, though." He told her, not that it mattered.
"Oh, Aaron wanted to make sure I knew you were a Doctor." She informed him.
Spencer nodded. "I'm actually not going to be your date tonight." He announced the news, hoping she'd take it as well as Riley had the previous night.
"I'm sorry, what?" She gently asked, looking as confused as expected.
"I'm really not looking to date right now." He admitted, trying to sound sincere. "But Hotch told me how incredible you were, and he'd already asked you to meet me. I knew I would feel terrible if I had to let you down, so I brought a friend to be your date." He briefly explained, hoping she wouldn't ask too many questions. Her face changed from confusion to surprise, but she didn't look unhappy with his proposition.
Slowly she nodded. "Okay, I guess that would be alright." She figured.
Spencer smiled gratefully. "I'll introduce you." He informed her, standing up just as Y/n was walking over with Ben.
Once he'd made the introduction, he and Y/n quickly left to her table, happy they'd pulled it off once again.
"So, can we do Margaritas and Tacos?" Y/n requested as they sat down across from each other.
"Taco Tuesday." Spencer enthusiastically nodded. "We're so intelligent." He claimed again.
"What if they tell Hotch or Prentiss they didn't go on a date with us?" Y/n wondered aloud, unsure of if Spencer had thought it over.
Spencer thought about it for a second. "I guess we just hope." He figured.
At work, they hadn't figured it out. Apparently, Prentiss had a call that the date had gone well, just like Hotch had. Penelope and Morgan were thrilled, completely unaware they'd switched partners.
Y/n was dreading Wednesday. It was JJ's pick for Spencer and Hotch's pick for her. She figured that JJ, Spencer's best friend, would have the best idea of what he wanted.
She didn't expect Spencer to fall in love with Madison at all, but there was a better chance he'd find her attractive.
So, it was incredibly ironic when Spencer's date looked so much like Y/n.
Once they'd made the switch, Y/n and Spencer went to their own table.
"I think JJ knows your type, Spence," Y/n mentioned with a giggle.
Spencer frowned a little. "She's not a fraction as beautiful as you are." He informed her, hoping she wasn't insecure.
"Keep that up, Reid and Morgan's comment about you 'getting some' might happen." Y/n flirted with a smirk.
Spencer's eyes widened before he settled on a look of pleasure. "I guess I'll be having dessert at home then." He replied, smirking just as much as she was.
Y/n made sure to tell Penelope how amazing her night was while Spencer was within earshot, flicking her eyes to him to see him trying to hide a smirk.
It was burger night with dates from Prentiss for Spencer and Morgan for Y/n.
Y/n and Spencer snuck away once they'd introduced their partners, having an amazing dinner by themselves.
"Sorry to interrupt." Y/n's date, Tom, spoke, drawing the couple's attention to him standing at the side of their table. Holding his hand was Sophia, Spencer's date.
Spencer's eyes went wide, just as Y/n's did. Both of them were concerned they had been caught, their secret revealed to Penelope. Neither knew what they would say to her. They were sure they'd be in trouble with her.
"We just wanted to say thank you so much for introducing us. We really hit it off." Tom informed them, looking at Sophia with a smile.
Instant relief was what the other couple felt.
"It was no problem at all," Y/n assured them. "We just knew you two would be perfect together." On paper, they seemed like they would be, so it wasn't a complete lie.
"Well, thank you anyway," Sophia told both of them, smiling.
Spencer nodded at her. "Have a great night." He farewelled them as they left the restaurant hand in hand.
Y/n hi-fived him quickly. "Go us." She announced.
"Do you want to go home and celebrate?" Spencer offered with a cheeky smile.
Y/n nodded, flagging the waitress down. "Could we have our check?" She asked.
The waitress shook her head. "The couple that was just here took care of it." She informed them.
"Oh, uh, thank you," Spencer replied, turning to see if he could thank Sophia and Tom, but they had already left. The waitress nodded at him before leaving.
Y/n quickly stood up, taking his hand. "Let's go then." She decided, the two of them racing to get back to Spencer's apartment.
They heard from Penelope that Morgan's friend had an 'indescribable time' and Prentiss' had an 'amazing date and night.'
Of course, that meant Y/n and Spencer got teased all day because of it. Penelope was thrilled for both of them, but she secretly hoped her choices would be Y/n and Spencer's soulmates. Which was why she insisted they go on the last date.
So, Y/n and Spencer dressed up, lied to Penelope's friends, who thankfully didn't know each other, and sat down at their own table to have their last date of the week.
"I'm going to miss this," Spencer mentioned as they waited on their food.
Y/n laughed a little. "You know we can still go out, right, Spence?" She asked with a laugh.
Spencer nodded. "We won't be making doing our own match-making anymore." He sadly reminded her.
Y/n shrugged. "I think we've done enough." She mentioned, thinking of the 5 couples they'd set up.
Spencer held up his glass. "To getting away with our devious plan." He toasted.
"Go us," Y/n replied, touching her glass to his.
After dinner, once they'd noticed the couple they set up had left, they made their way out of the restaurant. Spencer had her hands around her waist, stopping just outside the restaurant to place a slow kiss on her lips. It was sweet and loving like usual.
However, it was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. They pulled back, jumping when they noticed Penelope standing there, Morgan, JJ, Prentiss, Hotch, and Rossi next to her. All of them looked completely shocked, apart from Rossi, who was trying to hold in his giggles.
Spencer held onto Y/n's waist as his cheeks filled with color. Y/n could feel her own heating up.
"What is going on?" Penelope asked, bewildered. She looked at the other members of the team for answers.
Spencer cleared his throat. "We, uh, w-we're dating." He informed the group, voice higher than usual.
Somehow, they managed to look more shocked, eyes switching between the couple. Spencer and Y/n felt like they were under the spotlight, everyone in the world's attention on them.
Rossi couldn't contain his laugh, everyone's attention turning to him. "What?" He held up his hands in defense. "There was a reason I didn't want to partake." He reminded Penelope, who was looking accusingly at him.
"How... what... when?" Penelope stuttered out, confused.
"Did you know, Rossi?" JJ asked.
"I thought the dates all went well." Morgan realized.
"Were you even going on your dates?" Prentiss asked.
"Could one of you explain what is going on?" Hotch pushed.
Spencer looked at Y/n, who shrugged. There wasn't any way they could explain this.
"We've been dating for like 8 months," Y/n revealed, smiling at Spencer.
"Wait, so the dates?" Penelope realized.
Spencer explained their deceitful plan. The team looked surprised but amazed, admiring how intelligent their plan was.
"And Rossi?" Penelope pressed.
Rossi chuckled. "I'm worried for the sake of this team's profiling skills because these two can't keep their eyes off each other." He informed the team, causing Hotch to raise an eyebrow at him. "I'm kidding. It was only obvious once I caught them making out." He explained, making Y/n and Spencer blush again.
"I have a thousand more questions," Penelope informed them. "You're both coming with us for drinks." She decided.
Y/n and Spencer spent the rest of the night with the team, filling them in on the numerous things they didn't know about their relationship.
While none of them would admit it, they were incredibly impressed with the couple's ability to almost pull the whole thing off. Y/n and Spencer could agree it was about time they knew, plus their egos were through the roof.
@doctorspenceryeet @gooblur @alfonsais @camreid @canadailluminate @lethpartridge @ssagube @spencerreid-mgg @nightlockcornucopia @loveeee2134 @karinareid @allexthakatt @alfonsais @silverhetdanes @aperrywilliams @g-l-pierce @lizziebeeokay @reidswhoree @beepbooptoop @silverhetdanes @kyanyakya @katiejozeisler @matthewwhore @megnotfound @80strashbag @mrsobrien888 @fanntasynerd09 @morganwilliams @j-cat @440mxs-wife @hueycat2004 @gspenc @icurasthefallenangel @iheartspence @ssavanessa22 @bisexual-virgin @lhhluvr @thecraziestcrayon @theycallmepapasmurf @katesreading @cance1medaddy @kuolonsyoja @alexlovescriminalminds @kahootlobbymusic @nomajdetective @idonotexiste @xxgilmoregirl @drayshadow @justalittleweirdoo @wildflowersvibes @a-little-bit-of-everything19 @spencesscarf @lhhluvr @holding-on-to-my-youth @averyhotchner @mikewizkalifa @actingchica @almost-a-ladybug @foodsarcasmandyou @illegallygingerr @darkacademicwhore @nervouscreatorpicklepasta @uhuhuh @karinareid @alexxavicry @probablycryingg @awkwardnesshabitat @black-veil-baby @uwu-queen-420 @Holding-onto-my-youth @one-sweet-gubler @whovianayesha @buckys-doll17 @gubedawnreid @parahmur @whovianayesha @kierstiniscrying @usuck @bunny-script @pauline5525mgg @anonymous-reading @bingereid @measure-in-pain @archer561 @la-vie-en-amour1 @cynbx @spencers-dria @hardpartybasketballshepherd @ilovespencerreidmarryme @mrsobrien888 @parahmur @averyhotchner @honkroselyn @randomwriter1021 @bunnyweasley23 @rebeccasoutlook @teenwaywardasgardian @spencersnotdeadgirlfriend @bubb1eana1ee @icequeen6666 @are-y0u-sirius @psychomanias @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @jswessie187 @k-gallacher @fantasynerd09 @morganwilliams @vaella1821 @ndubes04 @talalok @juneballoon999@tiaras-amongst-trash @onceinadifferentdimension @criminal-reid @yikesyikesyikes95 @80strashbag @ilovespencerreidmarryme @citylights31 @ssavanessa22 @thedancingnerdmermaid @Beatriz-barnes@happymangospot @reidsbookclub @sydneekomspacekru @gublerstwilight @k-k0129 @spookyspence @eevee0722 @iamreallytryingiswear @dontcallmekittens @gublur @countingthestarsinfinitely @xhopingthis-worksx @claryandjacelover @spencersjello
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how it’s been but i’m working on it i promise. anyways i want y’all to tell me which you were prefer
1.) part three in the ways of a man in love?
2.) post prison spencer where he and reader have been dating for a while and they’re about to introduce her to the team amd he’s nervous because he doesn’t want them to end up being used against him
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They've Seen It All
Couple - Spencer x Fem!reader
Warnings - Language, sexual allusions, anxiety, typical case violence, insecurities, self-hatred
Summary - Self-loathing had been an obstacle for Spencer in the many years that he had worked at the BAU, his signature converse seeing him through it all. Reader helps bring back his sense of self-worth, reminding him of the shiny boy he used to be by surprising him with a new pair… or several.
Category - hurt/comfort
Word Count - 3.5k
A/N - this is not good at all but i haven’t written anything in forever so plz sit back, relax, and enjoy the shitty fic. :)
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You wiped the little drops of sweat from your forehead, sitting down on the floor with your mess of a closet splayed out before you. As you were cleaning it out, you found an interesting little box hidden in the corner.
You probably weren’t supposed to find it if he had buried it that deep in his closet, but you were cleaning it out to make space for your clothes-- might as well check that he wasn’t hiding something weird.
You opened the dusty shoebox, met with a worn pair of converse and fun, colorful socks rolled up in their respective pairs that were stuffed around the shoes.
Spencer was always a complicated man, you knew what you were getting yourself into when you asked him out on the date after you noticed him watching you from across the coffee shop every single day.
He was hurt and broken and troubled with the cruelties life had thrown at him from every which way.
But he was also kind and caring and afraid.
He saw himself as a burden that no one wanted to deal with, a burden that would give his friends and family the dark feelings he went through alone. He walked into the BAU for the first time as a shiny, beaming boy and walked out as a tired, destroyed man— torn up from the inside out.
On his feet were a pair of brand new converse coupled with mismatched socks, a superstition that his mother had instilled in him since his childhood. It was his good luck charm.
After the traumatic events that had happened in his first few years at the FBI, the pure and innocent angel was tarnished and stained with tar from the scum of the earth— and so were his shoes.
The rims and laces were no longer white, dirtied and corrupted with mud and everything bad that he had managed to wade through in the river of every horrifying case that he and his team faced.
He replaced them with dress shoes. They were simple and barren and hid away his personality that he refused to let through.
His self-image wasn’t safe either, crumbling soon after his struggle with the many unsubs he pitied— especially Tobias Hankel. It was almost as if Hankel had dragged the minimal love he had for himself with him to the depths of hell, never to be seen again.
There was a slow and steady decline of his self-perception, only increasing in speed after every case that struck his heart in a particular way.
It wasn’t uncommon for him to avert his gaze whenever there was a mirror, casting his eyes down to his feet to avoid looking at the very broken man in front of him. His reflection only served as another device to torment him with the failures and shortcomings of who he used to be.
They say there are 6 signs of self-loathing, and all 6 were nothing new to Spencer.
Inability to Say ‘No’
Spencer always had a habit of putting others before him, refusing to decline any call for help even when it affected him negatively. He was a giving man in the worst ways.
“Boy Genius!” Penelope’s kitten heels clicked on the ground as she tried her best to catch up with him.
“You know the party I’m having this Saturday?”
He nodded. “Good. Can you help me set up my apartment?”
“Of course, I’ll be there.”
“Fantastic!” She gave him a loving peck on the cheek before rushing away to set up a list of all the things that she needed to purchase before the big day.
He walked away, a hole burning through his chest as a dizzying feeling set in. He was supposed to visit his mom on Saturday, he hadn’t seen her in a while and her lucidity was deteriorating like his self-image. He had a finite amount of time with her but he couldn’t let Penelope down, it was his job to make everyone happy— at least that’s what he thought.
“Come in! Come in!”
She ushered him in, handing him a drink and spitting out a list of things that the both of them had to do. He was in a solemn mood, missing his mother and time to himself, but he knew he had to help to make her happy.
Once they finished, she immediately began filling him up with food.
“So,” she munched her taquito and took a sip of her water, “Did you have any plans this weekend besides being here?”
He scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly pressing his lips together. “Oh. I um, I was going to visit my mom today since Saturday is the only day on the weekend that the facility allows visitors.”
“M- my mom, you know. She’s in a mental facility and I-”
“You skipped visiting your mom to help me?”
“W- well you said you needed help so I-”
She dropped her food on the plate, wiping her hand and walked up to the man across from her. Penelope placed her hands on his cheeks and squished them together to grab his attention.
“My sweet Spencer, why did you waste something as precious as time with your mother for something as trivial as this?”
“You said you needed help?”
“You could have said no.”
He looked away, a warming feeling in his heart. “I- I didn’t want to let you down, Penelope. You’ve been there for me and I wanted to be there for you.”
She took him in her arms and rubbed his back comfortingly, hearing small hiccups coming from someone she considered to be family, her little brother.
“You could never let me down, Spencer. I would have understood why you couldn’t help, saying no is okay to do. You’re not disappointing me at all, that could never happen. Understand?”
His mop of curls entangled in her blonde hair as he nodded, tears dripping down from his face. She let go of him, packing up her purse and grabbing her keys.
“W- wait, where are you going?” He wiped the tears from his eyes.
“The facility closes at 7:30, correct?” He nodded.
“I’m taking you to see your mom.”
“B- but what about the party?”
“Screw the party. You are much more important than some silly event that I can always reschedule. Now, come on.”
Emily looked around, a smile wide on her face as she looked around for Spencer. The team had just solved a case at record time and they were about to celebrate before their genius had completely disappeared.
She opened the doors to different offices while on her search for him. She was stopped by sounds of hyperventilation coming from an empty office down the hall.
Emily walked towards the source of the and poked her head in, finding the one and only Spencer Reid breathing into a paper bag underneath the table.
His legs were curled up in an uncomfortable position as his tears stained the brown paper.
“Spencer?” She kept her voice quiet, afraid that she’d overload his senses.
He looked up at her with glassy eyes, completely terrified that his colleague had to see him in such an unprofessional state.
“C- can I sit with you?”
He waited a moment before nodding slowly. She crawled under the table and sat with him as he continued to cry and try to steady his breathing.
He leaned onto her shoulder as she opened her arms out for him. He snuggled into her shoulder and cried away the pent-up emotion.
“I- I don’t want to go out today.”
“That’s alright, Spence. You don’t have to.”
“Th- they reminded me of Tobias, and I know I should be mad at them but I- I can’t. I can’t help but feel anything but pity, I- I pity a serial killer.”
“They remind me of myself, Emily. I could’ve been them if I didn’t have my mom and sh- she’s slowly forgetting me. Sh- she won’t be able to remember me in the next few years, what will I do without her?”
She looked over at the sniffling man beside her. “What’s going on with your mom if you don’t mind me asking?”
“The doctors told me that she’s becoming less and less lucid. At some point, her memory is going to deteriorate and she won’t even be able to recall her own name, let alone me.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone, Spencer? I- we could’ve helped.”
He fiddled with the paper bag, the tightness in his chest dissipating as soon as he confided in his friend. “I didn’t want to burden you.”
“You are never a burden,” she lifted his face so he could look at her eyes and realize that she meant it genuinely, “Do you hear me?”
He nodded. “Good.”
He laid back down on her shoulder, her arms wrapping around the person who no longer felt worthy of support.
Luke looked up from his paperwork. “For what?”
Spencer met his eyes, biting his lip. “I- I must be boring you.”
“Rambling. People don’t like it when I ramble.”
Luke could see the small boy inside him excited to share everything he learned with the people around him, only to be shut down by every single person.
“I don’t know who the people you’re talking about are, but if I did I’d smack ‘em senseless.”
“N- no. I understand what they mean. I know it’s not very fun to have someone constantly talking, I’m sure if I was normal I’d feel the same way.”
Luke got up from his chair, startling the man sitting across from his desk. He plopped onto the corner of his desk and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“No one is normal. Normal is a social construct. You have nothing to feel sorry for.”
“B- but I know that me talking all the time is a hassle and I do other weird things like reading fast and-”
“That’s not weird, that’s you being you. Don’t apologize for being yourself… ever.”
He nodded, giving Luke a smile as he ruffled Spencer’s hair.
Stuck in the Past
“What’re you thinking about, Reid?”
“Hm? Oh, nothing important really.” Tara handed him a coffee, he thanked her and took a sip.
“Would this have something to do with the unsub?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“It’s not your fault that he killed them.” She leaned back, assessing his body language. He was doing his usual tics, lip biting and pulling at his fingers— nervous.
“It’s no one’s fault, except for the unsub. There’s nothing you could have done.”
“I could’ve persuaded him more, been more convincing when talking him down. There are a million possibilities of the things I could have done to save her. I’ve just left a mother and father childless.”
She reached her hand over to calm his shakiness. “You’re right, there are a plethora of possibilities but neither of us will ever know. What’s done is done, at the end of the day— you did your best.”
“I don’t think so. This has happened before, Tara. You haven’t been here as long as I have so you don’t know how many times I failed to save them. All their names, I remember them. I wasn’t even convincing enough to save my girlfr-... friend.”
“Were you intentionally slacking, were you trying to get them killed?”
“Then there was nothing you could’ve done for this case and all the other ones.”
“I could have tried harder, I could have taken off my kevlar to show them I wasn’t a threat, I could’ve dropped my gun, I could have-”
“Stop, Spencer. Don’t get caught up in the little things. You can’t change your past or your mistakes, just learn from them.”
“Damn, man. We couldn’t have done it without you.” Luke wrapped an arm around Spencer’s shoulder as JJ walked up to him and patted his arm.
“We really wouldn’t have been able to solve that if it weren’t for you, Spence.”
“Really, we all helped. I- it’s not a big deal.”
“You figured the whole thing out by yourself, take the win.”
He nodded, but he couldn’t help but feel that he was given too much credit for what he considered a minimal contribution on his part. He said his goodbyes and walked away, rubbing his arms and slinking down into the leather seat of his car.
He shook his head, telling himself that he didn’t deserve the words of pride from his colleagues. A menial insight wasn’t worth anything but a small pat on the back, especially since he had the help of the entire team.
It was unfair to attribute their whole ‘win’ to him.
The denial was nothing new, it had started to manifest himself as his deteriorating self-image began. He’d brush off the comments that congratulated him on new achievements or anything notable he had done.
Spencer never thought the praise was justifiable for a man like him, a darkened image of the person he used to be in his youth. The shiny, naive demeanor was long gone as time passed, a cynical view of the world settling over him as he aged.
He wasn’t worthy of praise, he never thought he’d be.
Assuming the Worst
You first noticed him watching you from afar the fourth time you entered the shop. He sat in the corner, sipping his coffee and nonchalantly watching you with his eyes distracted from the book he opened in front of him.
You smiled in his direction once or twice but they were never returned which discouraged you. He continued looking at you and you continued catching him in the act.
His glances didn’t go unnoticed every time you stopped in front of the register right next to his usual table. You intentionally bit your lip or looked his way quickly to elicit a reaction from him, but it never worked.
Your frustration got the better of you as you discontinued your frequent trips to your favorite place to get coffee. You were craving their drinks and couldn’t help but return after a two and a half month break from visiting.
You swung the door open, the bell on the door ringing as a familiar pair of eyes flicked up to look at you. He was still there, still as handsome and stunning as he was before, and still frustratingly silent.
He had never been to the little café before he saw you and made it a habit to visit every day in the morning to catch a glimpse of you before heading to work. You eventually stopped coming but he always made a stop at the same place just in case you did. He held out hope for you.
He smiled to himself, wondering why you left and debating if he should approach you. He decided against it, he couldn’t rope you into his messy life.
A waitress came over and handed him a blueberry muffin, his favorite.
“I- I’m sorry. Excuse me? I um, I didn’t order this.”
She smiled and handed him a piece of paper. “That woman from earlier did.”
He thanked her and unfolded it revealing a note that he had never experienced in real life, a note that he only imagined in the cheesy teen rom coms he and his mother watched to pass the time.
Do you like me?
☐ yes ☐ no
If you checked yes, see you tomorrow! ;)
He did see you the next day, gathering enough courage that he found scattered in little niches inside him. He began talking to you, testing the waters before handing you the piece of paper you had sent him yesterday with the first box checked.
You giggled and asked him out on a date, knowing full well the obstacles ahead of you.
Every single day for Spencer was a struggle, contradicting himself and questioning everything he did when it came to you. He would always second-guess himself, spending well over an hour picking the ‘perfect’ flowers or dinner or movie or gift or book.
You eased his worries and slowly healed the wounds that he was left to deal with alone.
He’d fall apart over the littlest things, repeating a negative mantra that replayed on an endless loop in his mind: ‘she’s going to leave me’.
It took time for you to work past all the trauma he had, discovering new scars and old fractures in his heart. You loved him, but he never thought he was worthy of something so special as your affection.
His self-loathing was mended with your help, the two of you taping and gluing him back together into one piece to the best of your abilities. Spencer still had times of struggle but he knew you’d always be there for him.
Over the years, his love for the simple things diminished. His pair of converse metaphorically symbolized his life before the trauma was buried beneath the self-hatred.
His childish ways and youthful innocence were swept away by the bubbling anxiety inside him. He deserved to know that he had the right to be that bright and shiny boy again, the boy that knew he was going to conquer whatever life threw at him… with a pair of converse and mismatched socks on his feet.
Plain old brown dress shoes were his go-to, his feet wrapped in plain black socks. He thought they were mundane but fitting for the sanitized life he lived.
Spencer opened the door and sighed, placing his bag on the ground.
“Y/N? What’s this?”
You waved him over and patted the seat right next to you. He settled on the couch and leaned his head onto yours, yawning. You opened your arms to him and kissed his cheek gently as he scrunched his nose at the affection.
“I thought I’d get you some gifts to kinda celebrate our milestone of moving in together.”
“Mmm. I can think of something much better than opening gifts to celebrate,” he whispered into your ear.
“Hint: it happens in the bedroom.” You pushed him off as his breath tickled your ear.
“Spencer,” you giggled.
“No, no, scratch that. We could christen every room here, that is a much better idea.”
You smiled as he bombarded you with little kisses to your face. “Alright, alright. We can do that after you open these.”
You shove the wrapped boxes into his hands and waited eagerly for him to open it anxiously. He smiled and unwrapped each one, revealing a plethora of converse boxes each with a different colored pair of high-tops inside.
He opened the bag and pulled out his mismatched socks that were stuffed away in his closet along with a few new pairs.
“I found this,” you opened the dusty shoebox, “And I thought that you needed a new pair… or a couple.”
“I kind of went overboard and just bought one of every color and these really cool dinosaur ones too. Your socks had holes in them so I thought I’d sew them back up and make them all brand new for you. I picked these out for you, some new ones that you could add to your collection with the old ones you had.”
You fidgeted with your fingers. “D- do you like them?”
“I-” he looked up at you as tears stung his eyes, “I love them.”
He flung himself onto you and wrapped his arms around you tightly. “I love you.”
A content smile settled onto your face. “I love you too.” A comfortable silence loomed over the both of you as you relished in each other’s warm embrace.
You teased him, ruffling his hair with your hands, “Still wanna christen every room in our apartment?”
“I think all the crying and snotty stuff I left on your shirt ruined the mood.”
“You never ruin the mood, love.”
“Well, now I have some new lucky mismatched socks to make sure I never do.”
“Mhm,” you rubbed his back soothingly.
“Are you really going to wear these to work? I didn’t know if you’d like them since all you wear are dress shoes now.”
“I will wear them every second of every minute of every hour of every day.”
You giggled, “Not every second, Spence. You’re not bringing those to bed.”
He wiggled his eyebrows at you, lifting you up and grabbing a pair of shoes with him. “I absolutely will.”
“They’ve seen it all, might as well see this too.” He threw you on the bed and attacked you with kisses as the two of your laughs reverberated through the rooms of your home, marking another occasion where Spencer found himself again.
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a preview of The Very Essence of Love:
So, this was (by far) the most voted on, but due to my laptop giving out yesterday, I’m unable to finish editing in time to publish tomorrow (which was my plan). Because of this, I’ve decided to publish a preview! This section is one of my favorites and is from the latter half of the story, right near the end (there’s a little more drama before it’s all over).
I’m so sorry for the timing issues (again) and I hope you like it! xx
Being in love with someone so utterly kindhearted is a wonderful, yet painful thing. Haley’s death rocked the BAU to its core and none were more devastated for Hotch and Jack than Y/N.
Y/N and Spencer have fallen into an odd sort of friendship after his accident. She’d stayed behind on a case or two afterwards to help him and Penelope out and they’d just...become friends. And Spencer believes he’s truly never been happier. But he knows he could be even happier if he could just tell Y/N how he feels. But their friendship is still so new, so delicate that he doesn’t want to mess it up. However, faking it is getting harder and harder to maintain. He felt stupid and weird for admiring Y/N as she took care of Jack when Strauss insisted on post-case interviews for some jacked up bureau behavior policies. It seemed hardly necessary, made Y/N, JJ, and Penelope cry, and required Hotch to relive the worst days of his life. However, all Spencer could focus on was how well Y/N distracted and entertained and comforted Jack while everything was going on. She even managed to make him laugh and smile, a Herculean achievement, really. Hotch knew it was Y/N, too, for who else, truly, could’ve accomplished such a thing? He’s mouthed her a ‘thank you’ and Y/N had replied with a small smile, and Spencer’s heart had grown four sizes too big in his chest.
Spencer held her hand the entire funeral, which elated his soul and broke his heart all at the same time. He longed - longed - to be able to provide comfort, or something beyond comfort, really. He really longed to tell her how he feels about her, but after the first confession had gone so poorly, he’s terrified it’ll destroy the trust he’s worked so hard to gain.
“Are you okay?” she whispers into him. He held her all through the post- funeral reception, arms around her, her head in his shoulder. The two of them are the only ones left at the BAU table. The rest of the team has scattered off, Hotch and Rossi went off to talk, Emily was talking to some of Haley’s old school friends with Derek, and Penelope, Will, Kevin, and JJ were talking with some of Jack’s cousins parents while the kids ate some dinner.
“Of course I am,” he replies quietly, arms tightening around her. “Are you?”
“Yeah,” she chuckles wetly, tears falling down her cheeks. “Hard to not be when you’ve let me use you as my personal shoulder to cry on for the past hour and a half.”
“I have absolutely no problem being your personal anything, Y/N,” he rasps, trying desperately not reveal too much. She pulls away slightly and looks at him, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Spencer smiles down at her, “There it is.”
“There is what?” she asks almost shyly.
“There’s that smile,” he replies honestly. “I’ve missed it all day long.”
She beams up at him and he allows himself to be a little proud of the fact that he’s flustered her a bit. She meets his eyes again and pecks a small kiss onto the apple of his cheek.
“Sorry I made you wait for it,” she teases.
Spencer’s face is on fire, and he can only thank the adrenaline when he responds with, “I’d wait a lifetime for you, Y/N.”
Her eyes grow wide at that, “Spencer, I-“
“We have a case,” JJ interrupts suddenly, nearly breathless and clearly pissed that they were being called into the field now - of all the worst times to be called.
That’s it for now! I’ll have it out as soon as I can sort out my laptop situation! Love you all and hope you like it! xx
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“It made me think of you…”
"Hey Spence, I got you something," Y/N waves as she walks over, carrying a box, "it made me think of you..."
"me?" Spencer repeated, staring at her with wide eyes while pointing at his own chest. "why me?"
"you'll see," she places it on his desk. "open it up."
"Okay," he smiles, standing up and carefully peeling the tape off the seal, "you didn't have to get me anything?"
"I saw it and I couldn't help myself," her voice is soft and genuine, something she did when she was really happy.
inside the box is a homemade chess set, set in resin is purple flowers on one side and opposing the set of pieces with yellow flowers and other greenery. as well as a beautiful wooden board, it's absolutely gorgeous and so perfect for him.
"Y/N?" he looks up at her, shocked, "this is amazing, thank you?"
she smiles up at him, scrunching her nose the way she does when she's embarrassed or feeling awkward, she shrugs, "it's nothing."
"no," he puts everything down and wraps his arms around her. "this is everything, thank you."
she holds him in return, running her hands over his back softly. she relaxes in his embrace, smiling against his chest. "you're welcome Spence."
he pulls back leaving a hand on her arm as he smiles down at her, "would you like to come over and play with me later? I'll make dinner?"
she nods, "that pasta you make is delicious, I can stop by the store on my way over and bring some fresh bread?"
"Is this a date?" he asks just to cover his bases, wanting to go all out for her if that was the case.
she nods, scrunching her nose again, "I'd really like it to be?"
"I really like you," he admits. "that's why this means so much more to me."
she pulls him back into another hug, "I really like you, too, Spence."
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Pomegranate Honey| Chapter Seven
water falls upon his reflection
Word count: 3.5k
Relationship: Sugar daddy! Spencer Reid x GN!AFAB! Reader
Warnings: Oral Sex, Daddy Kink, d/s undertones, Spit, Squirting, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mention/References of Maeve, References to past sexual abuse
A/N: this chapter is the last of the longer chapters until 10. i wasn’t doing so hot and a lot of personal issues made it hard for me to write. however, if you can see it in your heart to push through, it gets so much better!!
[previous chapter] [next chapter]
Spencer’s arm carefully wrapped around Y/N’s waist as he walked them to their room. Y/N was whining about how they didn’t need to be babied, but Spencer ignored them in favor of enlisting Milo to open Y/N’s door for the two.
Despite their whining as Spencer practically carried them, he could tell that Y/N was happy to be home. They seemed to be very happy, if the way they collapsed immediately onto their bed said anything.
“Oh, my blankets! I missed you so much,” they groaned out while diving face first into their plethora of blankets, pillows and stuffed animals. If Penelope were to see them all, she would be green with envy.
Spencer sat next to them, “Just think, you just survived a major abdominal surgery!”
Y/N groaned, but then shot up with excitement. “I wonder if I lost any weight!”
Spencer laughed, loudly and freely, “You’re such a dork! Imagine wondering how much weight you lost after a surgery? Oh wait, you don’t need to!”
They rolled their eyes at him. Y/N starfished the bed, arms and legs taking up the entirety of the queen-sized mattress. “Ha ha ha, very funny! Now, come cuddle with me!”
He tossed down the two bags in his arm, kicked off his shoes and slid under the covers next to Y/N.
“You’re so bossy.”
Y/N hummed, settling into Spencer’s arms, “Damn right I am!”
“I think that secretly you like it when I’m the bossy one, though.” Spencer’s voice dropped a quarter of an octave, dipping into the voice that only ever seemed to appear around Y/N. Y/N shivered and shifted, grinding slightly onto Spencer’s thigh which had found its way between theirs.
Y/N didn’t bother answering a yes or no, it would not matter anyway; Spencer knew that they enjoyed it when he was demanding and dominating. It wasn’t a secret. Neither was the fact that Spencer enjoyed it, too. “I thought the doctor said no sex for two weeks.”
“Hhm. I don’t think what I plan counts as sex.”
Y/N bit their lip, eyes darting to Spencer’s lips. “What do you have planned?”
Spencer smirked. He moved them both gently so that Y/N was on their back. Quickly, he pressed a kiss to their lips. A chuckle bubbled from his throat as Y/N eagerly chased his lips. “You’ll see.”
He shifted as he slowly crawled down the bed. He pulled down Y/N’s sweat pants and underwear, doing his best to not jostle Y/N and open their sutures. His hands rested on the side of Y/N’s thighs, quickly grabbing them and tugging so that they were on the edge of the bed.
The floor was hurting his knees, but Spencer ignored it as he moved their legs so that they were on his shoulders. Y/N’s eyes widened with realization. “Oh.”
Spencer looked up at them through his lashes, “Is this okay?”
“Will be once you touch me.” Spencer rolled his eyes at them. His lips barely trailed over the inside of their thighs. As he switched legs, he nudged his nose quickly against Y/N’s clit, a smile breaking through his lips at their whine.
His teeth pressed against their skin, not as a warning, but a promise. “Spencer,” they lamented and dug their hands into Spencer’s messy curls. He let out a soft growl in response.
“Is that what you call me, pretty?” Y/N shook their head no, having already learned that bratiness did them no good. “Well use your words. What do you want.”
“I... uhm… I want you to eat me out, Daddy.”
Spencer smiled, “Anything for you.” He licked a long and slow stripe up to Y/N’s clit, laving at it gently. His tongue circled around their entrance which caused Y/N’s hands to dig into his hair. Spencer let out a low groan which made Y/N’s hips buck. He proceeded to suck on their clit and they clamped their legs around Spencer’s head; he didn’t mind, he could still move easily. Still, his other hand gently held down Y/N’s hips, so that they wouldn’t make a wrong move and hurt themself.
Spencer slipped in a finger, pressing it against their G-spot, while he kept sucking on their swollen clit, working to coax out Y/N’s first orgasm of the night. Soon enough, Y/N’s legs shaked as they came.
However, after their first orgasm, he didn’t stop to slow down, despite knowing that Y/N’s pleasure would soon become borderline painful.
Spencer grinned sadistically up at Y/N. “I wonder how many times I can make you cum just like this.”
A moan broke from between their clenched teeth. “Please,” Y/N asked. Spencer could tell they didn’t know what they wanted, only that they wanted it.
Spencer smiled sweetly at them and got back to work. Y/N was so wet at this point that he was able to slide in another finger with no problem. He slowly restarted to suck on Y/N’s clit as his index and middle finger rubbed at Y/N’s walls. Y/N couldn’t help but moan at the feeling; they wouldn’t admit it, yet Spencer was the only one who could make them feel as good.
Spencer switched from sucking on their clit to swiping his tongue back and forth on their slit. At the same time, he decided to begin thrusting his fingers in and out, making sure to hit their sweet spot.
Y/N grabbed Spencer’s curls tighter, preventing him from moving his head up, as if he actually ever would.
Y/N’s hips bucked into his hands and mouth, but Spencer only held them sturdily and kept going. Rapidly, they came for a second time, yet Spencer didn’t stop there. Y/N was starting to get overstimulated which made them orgasm way quicker. In no time, they had orgasmed thrice that night.
By Y/N’s fourth orgasm, they were practically falling apart. Slick slightly coated the bottom half of Spencer’s face and Y/N was on the verge of crying. They hadn’t asked Spencer to stop though, which made Spencer curious as to what would make them tell him to do so.
Spencer pulled away for a moment. He sucked on his tongue, relishing in the taste of Y/N that was ever present. Spencer looked deep into Y/N’s half-lidded teary eyes and spit. Y/N let out a soft whine, partly because Spencer had stopped touching - well, licking - them, but also because the sight of him spitting on them while looking directly at them was way too hot.
There was no need for the extra lubricant, but he wanted a certain type of claim on them and it was the only thing his lust filled brain had come up with. Then, he went back down, at this point, having three fingers easily sliding along Y/N.
His tongue dipped into their folds and brought back his fingers to slowly draw circles on their clit. Y/N whimpered as Spencer continued his movements. He looked up to see Y/N’s face filled with pleasure.
Y/N came with a shout, legs clamping even tighter around Spencer’s head and their back arched strongly. Spencer couldn’t stop the way their body bent at an almost inhuman angle. He could only hope it didn’t hurt them in any way.
Spencer realized that something was very different, but didn’t connect the dots until he licked his lips, “Did you just- ” Spencer huffed, cutting himself off “Wow.”
“What?” Y/N asked softly, coming off their high. Their voice was hoarse from overuse.
“Have you ever squirted before?” Spencer questioned in awe.
Y/N shook their head, “I thought that was just in porn.”
Spencer hummed, “Well the proof that it actually happens is currently sitting on my face.”
Y/N giggled slightly, “I can see... Can we get a bath and cuddle, I‘m tired, now.”
He nodded, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it tightly around Y/N before scooping them into his arms. Something told him that Y/N’s legs would be too jelly to walk.
“Ah,” Y/N sighed while wrapping their arms loosely around Spencer’s neck. “I might have to make you carry me like this for the next week!”
Spencer rolled his eyes and sat Y/N on the lid of the toilet. He grabbed the blanket from them and tossed it to the side, it, along with the sheets, would need to be washed.
“Hey!” Y/N called out when Spencer grabbed a rag and dampened it, “That doesn’t look like a bath to me!!”
Spencer laughed, “You can’t have a bath for two weeks, we already broke one rule. I’m not looking to break any others.”
Y/N sighed, visibly deflating and pouted. “Fine, I can deal with a sponge bath. Especially since I got the cutest nurse.”
“If you say so. Oh, I figured out how Cash App works!”
Y/N fake gasped. “Does this mean I’ll finally get some sugar instead of just daddy?”
Spencer carefully took the rag to their skin, avoiding the place where they were cut into, he wrinkled his nose at them, “You’re such a brat!”
“Oh, you love it!”
Stop saying that!, Spencer wanted to scream, If you keep on reminding me then I will fall in love with you. You don’t deserve that, Y/N. You don’t want that, so stop being so great.
Spencer nodded, “Maybe.”
A smile slid onto Y/N’s lips and pulled their cheeks up. The smile didn’t reach their eyes, though and instead made the sparkle dim, “Yeah… Maybe.”
Before Spencer could fully open the door, Y/N had already ducked behind him.
“Hello?” He said ludicrously, “Y/N, it’s almost three am, what are you doing here…” Spencer's voice died down as he got a glimpse of Y/N’s face. It was almost completely red, their skin was slightly shiny from previous trails of the same tears that welled in their bloodshot eyes.
The way Y/N curled in on themself pained Spencer. Their hands gripped tight to their arms, as if Y/N was trying to will themself into disappearing or hold themself together like a broken vase that wasn’t piecing together right and was missing chips and bits.
Spencer slowly closed his door and Y/N’s eyes widened and their sleeve covered arms quickly wiped at their eyes, trying to hide any evidence of how they felt. “Sorry, I uhm… I don't know why I came here. It’s so late! I’ll go home… Sorry!”
They took in a shaky breath and went to leave but Spencer gently grabbed them by their shoulders, pulled them to his chest and he wrapped his arms around them, Y/N’s head immediately buried into the crook of Spencer’s shoulder with a wet sob. He didn’t shush them or tell them it was okay. Instead, he guided them to the couch. “You’re safe,” he whispered in earnest. Y/N’s hands gripped onto him like a lifeline; Spencer let them.
He didn’t like being cried on - too many germs - but he knew that Y/N came to him for a reason, whether he or they knew it or not.
Carefully Spencer rocked the two of them gently, swaying Y/N to a soft rhythm in hopes that their heart or breathing would pick up on its evenness.
When Y/N could breathe without it sounding choked, Spencer spoke up, “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”
Y/N pulled away for a second and violently shook their head in a resounding No. Spencer nodded and replied softly, “Okay.”
“What do you need right now?” Spencer’s hands stroked Y/N’s hair softly. Y/N shrugged at him, then shivered. He quickly grabbed the yarn knit blanket off of the back of his couch - a gift from Penelope - and strung it over Y/N’s shoulders. Y/N’s hands moved to grab the edges of the blanket.
“I’ll be right back,” he quickly jogged to his kitchen, where he had been before Y/N had rapidly knocked on his door. He sighed happily while he checked on the pot on his stove. It had neither boiled over nor gone bad from heat, quickly he stirred it and then grabbed two cups from his cabinet. The liquid was poured in, marshmallows were added and a dash of cinnamon on top.
He walked back with both cups of hot chocolate in hand, setting one into Y/N’s hands and taking a sip from the other. Tentatively, Y/N followed his lead and sipped on it; a warm smile fell onto their lips. Spencer could tell though that something still bothered them.
“Can I put on some music?” They spoke for the first time since apologizing. Y/N’s voice was weak and slightly forced. Spencer nodded, hoping that what they put on wasn’t too bad; he wasn’t the biggest fan of most modern day artists.
Y/N pulled their phone from their pocket, their hands shook as they clicked and swiped.
They had had their first day back to work today, Spencer didn’t know what they did, but knew it had odd hours. Obviously, something from work had affected them. Luckily, though, it didn’t seem to be pain - physical pain at least.
The beat and music that wafted through the air is familiar to Spencer. Y/N set down their phone and schooched closer to Spencer before the first words were sung.
Y/N softly sang along with the lyrics, “Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly, all your life. You were only waiting for this moment to arise.” They only sang the first line, after that they just hummed.
Spencer found that he didn’t mind and rested his head on the top of Y/N’s. He could tell that running through their mind was something he wanted to know.
As the song continued, he found himself overwhelmed by the craving, the desire, the yearning he felt to know why Y/N chose this song, to know why they came over to his apartment, despite having only known its whereabouts because of a conversation over text. Spencer wanted to know why it hurt so much to watch them cry, he needed to know that he wasn’t alone in the idea that they could be something more.
He didn’t utter a word for the fear that - well, he didn’t know what he was afraid of in that moment. Y/N’s lashes fluttered closed and they leaned against him more. He couldn’t speak. Y/N didn’t need weird confessions or weird questions. They needed someone to comfort them, someone to hold them. Spencer didn’t speak for fear of losing the chance to be that someone.
The next song that played was unfamiliar to him. It seemed to be old though, older than Blackbird. He guessed late 50’s or very early 60’s. Y/N’s eyes opened quickly and they moved fast to pause the song and look up at Spencer.
“Dance with me?” Y/N asked and Spencer’s mouth dried.
“Dance with me.” There is a soft but sad smile on Maeve's face as she stands up, her hand reaching only a bit towards Spencer.
He asks after a moment, looking back up from Maeve’s hand to her face, “Why?”
“I want to hold you once before I'm a ghost of a memory.”
Spencer didn't know what to say; his voice would come out too squeaky if he tried. He nodded and stood up, wiping his hands on his fluffy pajama pants. Y/N restarted the song. Spencer already had the first few lines memorized.
Y/N was guiding him through the song, it was upbeat and happy so they danced joyfully and pulled his hands as if he was a puppet. Though, considering the way he followed their lead, he might as well be.
“Well it's a darn good life
And it's kinda funny
How the Lord made the bee
And the bee made the honey
And the honeybee lookin' for a home
And they called it honeycomb.”
Spencer smiled, “I know this song!”
“I hope so! It’s a crime to not know Jimmie Rodgers, especially Honeycomb!” Y/N spinned them both around to the music, Spencer laughed as he almost fell.
“My mom used to listen to this. She had on record,” Spencer mentioned as the music died down. The first note of the next song hurt like a gunshot to his chest.
“Spencer?” Y/N called out worriedly, “Are you okay? You kinda froze there for a minute.”
He looked up at Y/N. “Yeah. This song just reminds me of someone.”
Y/N gasped, “I can change it? I’m sorry!”
“No, no!” he exclaimed, “You didn’t know… Could you restart it?”
Y/N smiled at him with a small nod and grabbed their phone; Sleepwalk by Santo & Johnny sounded through the phone speaker. It was the song from the backdrop of his dream, oh so long ago. It had mostly started him due to the fact that he had just been thinking about the dream.
Spencer pulled Y/N closer to him, their dance becoming slower as they fitted together, narrowly avoiding hitting the table. He supposed there needed to be a new memory for the song, a happier one.
Sure, it was stained by the few, but little, tears that slipped down his cheek and the sniffles that he was sure were coming from Y/N. It didn’t matter though, not a single bit as they danced.
Y/N was not helping him replace Maeve. No, no one could ever replace her. Y/N was just giving him something else to hold onto when thinking of the song, when listening to it.
The two memories, one a dream, the other real, stood in his mind as the song came to a soft close. They weren't the same and they both were nowhere near perfect, but he knew that Maeve would be happy for his new memory. Somewhere, whereve Maeve was, she was definitely glad that Spencer was finally healing.
If only he could have healed with someone in a different way, with a different relationship. Spencer wasn’t ungrateful, he just wished that they’d have been in a romantic relationship.
After the song had stopped, no other songs played. Spencer took a sip of his forgotten hot cocoa, placing both of their cups in the sink before directing Y/N to his bed. It was getting late and Spencer needed to work in the morning.
Y/N sat sleepily on the edge of Spencer’s bed. He carefully began tugging Y/N’s shirt over their head; sat on top of his dresser was a pair of clothes Y/N could borrow for the night.
“No, Spencer,” Y/N grumbled, “I don’t want to right now, it’s late.”
Spencer moved his hands away from them, his mind registered a lilt in their voice; one that said that they were scared Spencer wouldn’t take their no. Disgust and anger at whoever had taught them that their words didn’t mean anything filled his mind. If he was ever able to get his hands on-
“Hey, no,” he comforted, “I’m just helping you change into something more comfortable.” Spencer grabbed the clothes sat on his dresser and placed them in Y/N’s lap. “I know it’s late, I would never-” bitterness had tugged into his voice at the end, he took a deep breath in and tried again, “You said no and I respect that, you are allowed a choice, always.”
Y/N’s hands touched the clothes, they looked up at him and back to their hands, “Okay.”
Spencer moved around to the other side of the bed, sliding under the covers. “The bathroom is right there if you need it, I’ll be here.”
Y/N nodded and walked to the bathroom, exiting a few minutes later in Spencer’s oversized pajamas. Y/N moved under the covers; Spencer expected them to keep their distance and he wouldn't be mad if they did. Instead, Y/N slid as close as they could to wrap their arms around Spencer.
He reciprocated the cuddle, pressing a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head as he slipped fast into a comfort that he had found only to be when he slept next to Y/N.
“Someone will remember us / I say / even in another time,” Y/N whispered lightly. Spencer smiled.
“Fragment 147 of Sappho’s work,” Spencer said back. Y/N nodded a yes, their head thudding against his chest.
“It’s my favorite.”
Spencer hummed, “Tell me more about it tomorrow? I’ll tell you my favorite, too.”
“Mkay. Nighty, Spence.” Y/N mumbled, already half asleep.
Spencer smiled as he continued to drift, “Good night, Y/N.”
How could one person be so great? Had Spencer finally found it? Not a carbon copy of himself, but someone who could think the same while challenging him, it was exhilarating. Y/N was changing how he thought with every moment.
Had Hades felt this way when Persephone sprouted a field of wildflowers in the barren underworld?
I think I already love you, was the last thing he thought before falling totally and completely asleep.
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Little Mix Up -- Chapter Three
A Little Mix Up
Characters: Spencer x reader
Word Count: almost 3000
Author’s Note: someone recommended I write from Spencer’s POV, soooo here is chapter three!!! Y/n talks in a regressed state. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Please be nice
Warnings: Regressed state, Professor!Reid, ddlg dynamic, broken glass, mentions of wounds, little!y/n, somewhat stern!Spencer
IDK how to taglist, but maybe this is how? If it works and you wanna be on the taglist lemme know :)))) @silverhetdanes @spencelover02
CH1 --- CH2 --- CH3
** also he is literally so pretty in this gif
I drove as fast as I could, safely. I hated the idea of y/n being alone, especially in the dark. When I finally made it to the chemistry building, I took in a sight that was absolutely heart shattering. All I saw was a scared, crying, lonely y/n sitting on the steps clutching my sweatshirt trying to stay warm. I should have never let her go home in the first place. I could have prevented this. I rushed over to her side and offered her a hand. She looked up at me with tears streaking down her face in shock.
“Of course I did, y/n. Please get in the car.”
She only nodded and took my hand as I grabbed her backpack. I helped her into the car and buckled her in after putting her bag in the backseat. She was exhausted and absolutely drained. I paused to take in her state, even in her tears and exhaustion she was the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I just want to hold her and save her from everything, including herself.
“Do you want to take a nap on the drive home? Have you eaten yet?”
All I got in return was mumbles, not one coherent word.
“Y/n, have you eaten dinner yet?”
She shook her head and her lips quivered as she began to cry again. My heart broke over and over as she cried. I wiped her tears and leaned into the car to hug her. I can tell she is regressing, likely due to all the stress. She just needs someone to care about her.
“Alright, you just go to sleep and I’ll take care of you, okay?”
I opened the back door and pulled out a blanket, rounding my way back to the passenger seat. I gently wrapped her in the blanket and wiped her tears one more time. Y/n began to mumble before I could understand what she was saying.
“Spen- Spen- Can me have a, me have a kiss?”
I was shocked by the question and observed y/n in her vulnerable state. Here I have the cutest regressed y/n with her tear stained cheeks and runny nose asking me for a kiss. I leaned in, leaving her with a soft kiss on the forehead. She smiled and got comfortable in her seat.
I gently closed her door and made my way to the driver’s seat. On the drive home my thoughts are racing. Between yesterday and today, so many things have happened. Yesterday all I planned on doing was asking her to turn in her paper instead of the little’s coloring book she turned in by accident. Sure, I am a daddy who happens to want a little to take care of, but it would have been inappropriate to ask her that. I was only going to drive her home since it was raining, the nice thing to do. Then she regressed and cried about going home and I simply couldn’t abandon her. I took her home this morning, no, this afternoon. Not even hours later she’s back in my passenger seat sleeping, just like yesterday.
I pull into my driveway and admired my sleeping beauty before getting out and going to her side. I carried her bridal style and somehow manage to unlock my front door. I gently lay her on my bed and cover her up. She needs to rest while I figure out what to do. It is only five, so I’ll let her sleep while I make dinner and some calls.
I pulled out my laptop to see what classes she has tomorrow, she needs a day to rest. She has Dr. Walker, Dr. Langston, and then of course my class. Walker will be easy, we work together and that’ll be a quick phone call. Thankfully, Langston is my closest friend. Both of which already know about y/n being here because I had called them both for advice yesterday night.
**On the phone with Walker**
Spencer: Hey, it’s me. Y/n is back tonight and I don’t think she’ll be in your class tomorrow. Can you count it as excused?
Walker: Of course. Is she okay?
Spencer: Physically, yes. Emotionally, I don’t think so.
Walker: Just take care of her, Spence. I can send you this weeks assignments. We meet tomorrow and Friday, but she can be excused for both. I just ask that she’s back in class on Monday.
Spencer: Thank you so much. I can keep you posted. Have a goodnight!
** end of call**
I need to call Langston. He has a little, they’ve been together for about a year and they are happier than ever. I just want to make sure I am doing the right thing. I mean, I couldn’t just leave her out there alone, right?
**On the phone with Langston**
Langston: Hey did you get her picked up?
Spencer: Yeah, she’s asleep at the moment. I did the right thing, right?
L: Spencer, you couldn’t just leave her out there like that. She needs someone to care for her. She’s in my class and I can tell you she isn’t holding it together all that well..
S: Oh, speaking of which, are you okay with her staying home from class tomorrow and Friday? I don’t think she needs to be there.
L: Whatever she needs, I can keep you in the loop with assignments.
L: Just call me if you need anything. I take care of my little girl everyday and I would be happy to help you.
S: I appreciate it.
**end of call**
I can’t cancel class again this week, but she can stay home. I want her to rest this week and then we can get her on a better schedule. I’m going to call housing tomorrow and get her moved to another room, I think that will help her out.
*an hour-ish later*
I made my way to the bedroom and couldn’t help but smile when I saw y/n in my bed. She looked so peaceful and I honestly didn’t want to wake her up. Nonetheless, I approached the side of the bed and brushed the hair out of her face as I lightly shook her.
“Y/n, it’s time to eat dinner.”
She stirred slightly and rolled over to move further away from me. I sat in the bed and lightly shook her again. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked my way with sleep still in her eyes.
“Dinner is ready.”
“Is it gross?”
“Well, y/n, I sure hope it’s not, but you have to try it to know.”
“Me not hungry.” She’s still in her regressed state, adorable. I predicted she would be, if not, everyone loves dino nuggets, right?
“Not even for dino nuggets and mac and cheese?”
Y/n eyes light up at my comment and she scooted closer to the edge of the bed as I stood up.
“Can we hold hands?”
She spoke so soft and sweet, I couldn’t tell her no even if I wanted to. I opened my hand to her and she grabbed on tightly, following me to the kitchen.
“What would you like to drink?”
“Me want chocolate milk.”
“Hm, only good girls who use their manners get chocolate milk.” Her eyes met mine and she shifted under my gaze. Her eyes fell to the floor before she spoke while playing with the sleeves of my hoodie that was a tad too big for her.
“Me please have chocolate milk?”
“Of course. Thank you for using your manners, such a good girl.”
She squirmed at the pet name and I chuckled while fetching the milk from the fridge.
“Do you want to pick your cup?”
She smiled and ran across the kitchen, very unsafe.
“Excuse me, little one. I’m not sure if you know the rules, but in my house we do not run.” She looked down at the floor and mumbled a quick ‘sorry’. “You didn’t know the rules about running, but thank you for apologizing. If you want to pick your cup out, you can go back and try again, this time walking.”
She turned to try again, this time walking and slightly sliding her socks across the wood floors. She was genuinely the cutest thing I had ever seen. I smiled on the inside about her immediate obedience and not fighting me on the running in the house rule. She was slightly pouting when she made it back to me, but I have zero intentions on babying her when she has no reason to pout.
“Y/n, you can either quit pouting and pick out a cup or you can continue to pout and drink water with your dinner.”
“Can me has the pretty flower cup?” She stood on her tiptoes and pointed to a mug I had gotten from the thrift store.
“That one is glass, will you promise to be careful with it?”
“Me promise!!” She was so excited. I’m nervous about her dropping it. Not because it has any meaning to me, simply because it is glass.
I sat her glass in front of her and went to fix our plates. I failed to tell her she would have broccoli to eat with her dinner tonight… Let’s see how that goes. I sat the plates on the table and she immediately noticed the broccoli on her plate.
“Me not like broccoli.”
I only nodded as she ate all her mac and cheese and nuggets. I only put about six pieces of broccoli on her plate, but she has to eat some of it.
“Can me has more nuggets?”
“After you eat your broccoli.” I knew this would be a fight but I wouldn’t be looking out for her if she didn’t eat any healthy vegetables. I honestly hate having to be strict or enforce things, but I know it’s for her best interest and mine as well. If I don’t develop an authoritative position now, the fights will be worse later on.
“Me not like broccoli, me not want to eat it.”
“How old are you feeling y/n?”
She looked across the table at me as she held up three fingers.
“Three?” She nodded. “Okay, then you have to eat three pieces of broccoli and then we can get you some more nuggets.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes.
“If you want to have an attitude, you can eat all of what is on your plate. Do you want to do that?” She shook her head as she stabbed a piece of broccoli with her fork. “Words, please.”
“Me sorry for rolling me eyes.”
“Thank you for the apology. I don’t appreciate it when you roll your eyes.”
She eventually ate three pieces of broccoli and some more nuggets. I watched as she drank all her chocolate milk. She was all finished as I stood to take my dishes to the kitchen.
“I will be back to get yours. You can go watch some TV while I clean up, if you want.”
I had just sat my dishes on the counter when I heard a clatter followed by her screams. I rushed to the hallway to see her on the floor surrounded by a broken mug and plate. I knew this would happen. I shouldn’t have let her use glass.
“Y/n, I need you to stay calm for me. Can we do that?” She nodded as she wiped her tears. I weaved my way through the glass and picked her up. “Where are you hurt?”
She pointed to her leg where she had a small piece of glass stuck on her leg. Easy fix, but it might be hard with a very stressed y/n. I carried her to the bathroom counter and sat her down. She was crying, almost sobbing. I could tell she was crying over something other than the small injury she obtained.
“Y/n, I know your ouchie hurts, but is something else wrong?”
“You mad at me.” She managed to get out her sentence between her sobs.
“I am not the slightest bit upset. Why would I be mad at you?”
“Because, because me break your dishes and me make a mess and now you have to fix my ouchie and clean up mess.”
“I am not mad about any of these things. Accidents happen, don’t they?”
I wiped her eyes as she nodded. I gave her a soft kiss on her forehead causing her to smile.
“Alrighty, I don’t think my little girl needs to see this ouchie. Can you cover your eyes until I get you all cleaned up?” She nodded and covered her eyes with the sleeves of my hoodie and leaned against the wall.
She began to cry as I extracted the glass and cleaned the wound.
“You’re doing so well! You are such a brave little girl. We are almost done, okay?”
She nodded and sat still as I wrapped her up. It wasn’t a huge wound, but to someone with the headspace of a three year old it could be the end of the world.
“All fixed up. You were such a big girl.” She uncovered her eyes and smiled at the praise. “Now, can you tell me what you were doing with your dishes when I told you I would be back to get them?” I asked softly, not wanting to feed into her idea of me being mad when I am far from there.
“Me just wanted to be helpful. You made dinner so me wanted to do something nice for you.”
“You are such a sweet girl. Do you know that?” She smiled as I softly booped her nose causing her to giggle. This may be my new favorite sound. “Can you watch TV while I clean up the glass and the dinner mess?”
“Me want to watch a movie.” I picked her up off the counter, carrying her on my side as she clung to my shirt.
“Hm, that didn’t sound like manners to me…”
“Can me please watch a movie?”
“Yes you can. What movie does my little princess want to watch?”
Y/n giggled at the idea of being a little princess and hugged me a little closer.
“Can me watch Frozen, please?”
“Mmhmm, I like that movie.”
Her eyes widened at my comment. “YOU WATCH FROZEN??” She shouted in excitement.
“Inside voices, please.” I gave her a stern look to emphasize my point before continuing. “Yes, I have seen the first and second, multiple times.” She squealed in excitement as I sat her on the couch. I covered her up as I started the movie. I began to walk away before she spoke.
“Excuse me, mister.”
“Yes?” I turned around to see a sassy y/n with her arms crossed. I chuckled inside but stayed serious so she would think I was taking her seriously.
“You forgot my forehead kiss.” I chuckled as I made my back to the couch and bent down to kiss her forehead.
“Anything else for the princess?” She shook her head. “I’ll be back after I get everything cleaned up. Be good.”
She squirmed a little at my last comment. She seems to really respond to small praises and warnings. Very much noted.
After I had finally got everything cleaned up, I entered the living room to see y/n dead asleep on the couch. I turned off the TV and carried her to bed. I tucked her in and started to make my way to the living room after giving her a goodnight kiss on the forehead.
“Noooo, me want you to stay with me.”
“Okay, I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“No, me want you to cuddle, pretty pleaseeeeeee.”
“Are you sure, y/n?”
I made my way to the other side of the bed and got under the covers. She quickly cuddled up to me. This is the closest we have ever been. Her body fits perfectly into mine and I could stay like this forever. She quickly falls asleep and I fall soon after her only after I admire her beauty and wonder how in the world I ended up here.
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An Inconvenient Affection [Chapter 1]
Summary: When a couples’ therapist is suspected of murdering his own patients, Y/N and Spencer must go undercover as a feuding married couple to draw him out.
A/N: This is the first part in a series, thank you so much for the response to the teaser! I hope you guys enjoy, and any feedback is always appreciated! ❤️
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Category: Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst
Warnings: alcohol consumption, language, criminal minds typical violence, murder mention, suicide mention, stalking, cheating, please let me know if I've missed anything!
Word Count: 4.4k
Read it on AO3
"He's forcing one to kill the other" Spencer mutters under his breath, staring so intently at the photos pinned the the cork board that he must be able to see through them by now.
"Pardon?" Y/N pipes up from her perch at the opposite end of the room, surrounded by imposing stacks of files, photos, newspaper clippings, anything to give her something even resembling a leg up on this case.
Spencer turns sharply on his heel to face the team, his hands contorted as he speaks, "The unsub, he's abducting couples but I think he could be forcing one to kill the other" he states it louder this time, tearing a photo down from the board and walking it over.
"We already know they were killed with the same gun, but why was Mrs. Milton restrained while Mr. Milton wasn't?"
Y/N screws her eyebrows together in confusion, she'd been at the scene and she'd analyzed the photos. Mr. Milton had been restrained. There was another chair at the scene that seemed as though he'd been strapped to it, the bindings were loosened but the general assumption was that he'd managed to free himself before getting shot by the unsub.
"I think our killer untied him" Reid spoke confidently, Y/N liked watching him like this. He could be so shy in his day to day life but there was something about his work that gave him a boost.
"So do you think the same goes for the Stevenson's from 4 months back? What could his motivations be for doing something like that?" Derek asks. The first case had initially been labeled as a murder suicide by the local police precinct but the most recent victims were both shot in the back of the head. Though the scenes had far too many similarities to rule out a serial homicide.
"Most likely" he nods, "though I haven't gotten to the why just yet. But what I can tell you is that our unsub seems to really hate the women" He turns his attention back to the cork board.
"Well that's not very original" Y/N quips before pulling out her cell phone to call Garcia. "Hey Babe, I'm gonna need you to find any overlap between the Miltons and the Stevensons, any clubs, stores, hangout spots, somewhere where they could've met, or met the same people. If that's too broad maybe narrow in on the wives, anywhere they would've potentially overlapped, we think they could've been this unsub’s primary target"
"But of course my Angel" Garcia's almost sickly sweet voice pours out of the headset along with he clacking of her brightly colored nails on the keys. "Hmm." she let's out a little frustrated, "They lived a little too far apart to be members of the same gym, church, what have you. Wait!" she stops in her tracks excited, "Both couples had several appointments at the same clinic, St. Andrews Medical Centre, but those records are sealed."
Y/N lets out a frustrated sigh, "Can you unseal 'em?"
Garcia scoffs, "Can I unseal them, who are you talking to? I'll have the info in 3, 2, 1, Bingo. Both couples had several appointments with a therapist, one Dr. Harris in the months leading up to and week of their disappearance" she sends a picture and attached file to Y/N's tablet as she beckons Spencer over to take a look.
"He's a therapist with a specialty in, oh," Garcia pauses, "couples counseling"
"So what were they in for?" Derek pipes up, "Is our Dr. just interested in the look or has the couples' issue got something to do with it?"
Y/N reads through the files Garcia's sent on Dr. Harris, combing though them as fast as she can for any ounce of helpful information.
"Harris is divorced?" Y/N says in confusion.
"His wife cheated on him, and she's currently married to that guy" Garcia interjects, "he wrote a whole article about it, yeesh, someone is not over it.”
"Maybe he's targeting couples where the wives have been unfaithful to their husbands?" Spencer suggests, "That would account for the unjust hate towards the women, and the implication that he forced their husbands to kill them first, perhaps he's using them as a surrogate for the vengeance he wants?"
"Maybe so, but we've got no evidence for any of this, the crime scenes were spotless, not even a trace of DNA to tie anyone other than the couples to the scene, if it is this guy then we have to prove it before we can arrest him." JJ counters as the voice of reason.
The room goes silent.
"Prove it?" Y/N asks, Hotch looks down at her, before averting his gaze towards Spencer sitting beside her.
"I've got an idea" he says, monotone and serious. “The two of you come with me.” He motions with is hand.
The two of them look at each other with profound confusion before following behind Hotch, resigned.
“A married couple?!” Spencer all but shouts, the office is hardly soundproof and the rest of the team must’ve caught on by now. For the ‘smartest member of the team’ Spencer sure had some gaping holes in his foresight.
“You can’t be serious!”
He stands up from his chair, shaking his head in disbelief, starting to pace around the medium sized office to work off the nervous energy building in his chest.
“This is hardly outrageous Reid” Hotch states, making sympathetic but brief eye contact with Y/N before he pinches the bridge of his nose in an effort to restrain himself. “Yourself and Y/N already have a friendship to build on, she’s worked undercover many times and your memory should make it simple for you to integrate into the false narrative she can construct. Plus, you’re a non-threatening presence to an unsub like this. What else could you possibly need convincing of?” Hotch adds with exasperation, he’d mentioned all of that and more in his initial proposition but Spencer was still reluctant.
“If I’m really that repulsive I’m sure we can find someone else to play my husband Spence?” Y/N tries to joke but there’s something about the sentence that makes her stomach uneasy.
“No!” Spencer sits again with haste, looking between the two other agents, “No that’s not it, I just” he takes in a deep sigh, “I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this, I don’t want to ruin the investigation” he confesses and Hotch immediately shoots it down.
“That won’t be an issue, our unsub’s primary target will be Y/N. She’ll be the cheating partner, your role will mostly be following her lead which shouldn’t be too difficult”
Spencer might be great at acting after all. He lets his shoulders slump and his posture relaxes entirely as though his boss has just put all of his worries to rest. But that’s not what was bothering him. Not even close.
He’s had a stupid schoolboy crush on Y/N from her first day at the BAU. He’d like to think it had come later but he knew it had been almost instant. Her first day had been on Halloween 2 years earlier, he’d been explaining the historical origins of the holiday when Y/N corrected his pronunciation of the Irish word Samhain.
“It’s more like ‘Sah-whin’ than ‘Sam-hain’ in spite of its spooky origins it’s actually the current Irish word for November” she spoke up from her seat in the bullpen, setting up some stationary at the once empty desk next to Spencer’s.
“Y/N L/N,” she stood up outstretching her hand, “I guess I’m your new co-worker” she half-smiled, her nervous energy getting the better of her as he ignored her gesture and just looked at her palm instead.
“He’s just weird about touching” Emily reaches out to reciprocate the handshake, “I’m Emily Prentiss, it’s nice to meet you, this little guy here is Spencer Reid” she says as she places her hands on both of his shoulders and shakes him gently
“Dr. Spencer Reid” he corrects quickly, shooting her a tight lipped smile paired with an even more awkward half-wave.
“Oh, a doctor” she raises her eyebrows, “best not tell my Mom I work with a doctor or she’ll be hounding me to marry you” she cracks. It’s obviously a joke but Spencer can’t help but recall the conversation now and how prescient it feels.
“We can work out the details together if you think that’ll help you feel more comfortable?” Y/N reaches out her hand to touch his forearm to steady him in his seat. He’d grown so used to her casual touch by now that he barely noticed it. But this time, with his rolled up sleeve, feeling her fingertips against his bare skin it felt as though he was going to combust. How was he going to be able to hide this childish infatuation if they had to masquerade as a married couple. What if she touched him literally anywhere else. She was a profiler too, of course she’d notice.
“It’s paramount that it looks natural. This unsub knows the ins and outs of what it’s like to be a married couple so I’ll expect the two of you to prepare accordingly” Hotch is stern and focusing on Y/N as he speaks, “Work on it together, tonight, and report back to me tomorrow morning. We’ll make our decision on how to proceed then.” he says before dismissing them from his office.
They stand in the bullpen in unsure silence for a moment too long before Y/N speaks, “So, your place or mine hubby?” she leans on the last word and it feels comical coming out of her mouth but it still makes something in Spencer’s stomach tighten.
Garcia sends them away with piles of notes and transcriptions from each of the couples’ sessions so they could aim to predict the kind of questions they could be asked. Digging through interviews with Mrs. Milton’s friends it became apparent that she’d been stalked in the weeks leading up to her abduction, and potentially longer. Y/N and Spencer had to be prepared for that eventuality too.
Each of the couples had had at least 4 appointments before they were abducted, so the new Mr. and Mrs. Reid had to come up with several hours worth of talking points, along with day to day appearance of living as a married couple in order to be prepared.
Shouldn’t be too difficult.
Spencer was already making moves to walk back his commitment. Now that he was in Y/N’s living room pages strewn about the coffee table he was finding the whole situation a little overwhelming.
“Look I don’t think I’m up for this, I’ll just call Morgan and see if he can do it. I’m so bad at lying Y/N, I’ll get us both killed” he lets his head flop down into his hands.
“Hey, hey, calm down. Just rest your head between your knees and take a few deep breaths” Y/N coaxes and he does as instructed, his heart rate dropping to normal again almost instantly. It might be the breathing exercise but it’s probably her hand tracing up and down his back over the fabric of his dress shirt that’s actually calming him.
“The golden rule of working undercover is to tell the truth until you absolutely have to lie” she says softly, continuing her movements along his spine. “Sure we have to lie about being married, and about my infidelity. But that doesn’t mean everything has to be a lie. We can pull stories from our real lives and force them into our Legend.”
“Legend?” he says into his own lap, just loud enough for her to hear.
“Mmhmm” she hums, her finger tracing circles between his shoulder blades now, “Our Legend, it’s like our profile, our history, for our undercover identities. We’ll build it together so that we know it inside out. But it doesn’t have to be a total fabrication.” Her voice is gentle and sweet as she explains.
Spencer sits up straight again, looking to Y/N with a furrowed brow and she continues, “Remember the first time we hung out outside of work?” She coaxes and he nods. Even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory he would never forget.
“You asked me to go see that Russian film and you translated it into my ear the whole time?” He smiles at the memory, “And I just hadn’t told you that I spoke Russian yet” she giggles.
She was going to tell him right as the movie started, honestly she was, but the way he had to lean in so close to whisper the words in her ear, so close that she could smell his soap and shampoo. She would’ve told him, but then he would’ve stopped.
“Then we went to that noodle place next door and you started to fact check a bunch of my translations?” He finishes the story.
“That’s the one!” She sees him ease into the seat on the sofa, his body beginning to relax, “So how about we keep things simple, that was our first date.” Y/N states so plainly, like the suggestion doesn’t make Spencer’s heart skip a beat.
“Yeah, okay.” he nods in agreement swallowing the lump in his throat.
“Great, so we have our starting point” she pulls out a notebook and makes a note of it, he leans over to peer at the writing on the page.
“November 18th” he says quietly and she turns to him confused,
“That was the uh, the date, the date of our ‘first date’” she nods in agreement and puts the date next to the bullet-point in the notebook
“November 18th” she repeats content.
“We’re Spencer and Y/N Green. We’ve been together for 2 years, married for just over a year. We eloped in Vegas after going to visit Spencer’s Mother. He’s a professor and I’m a bartender. That bar is where we met. We have opposite schedules in order to facilitate my infidelity.”
Y/N and Spencer stand at the top of the room facing the team gathered at the round table, the pages of their legend tacked to the board behind them.
“I found out after I left work early 4 months ago. Y/N doesn’t have a consistent partner but revealed she’d been casually sleeping with other people for the 6 months prior. She agreed to stop at the time but continued to cheat. This time we’re seeking professional counseling to see if we can save the marriage.” Spencer finished the story with ease. Turning to Y/N to shoot her a small smile.
Once they’d worked out the overall story, the details came easy. He wouldn’t let on but he was pretty confident he may know everything there was to know about his ‘wife’ already.
“Okay, if you both feel confident I can start making the arrangements with Garcia to set up an appointment for you two” Hotch stands up from the table turning back on his way out.
“Great work agents.”
There were no appointments available until the following week, which comes as both a stress and a relief. On one hand it gives them more time to prepare, but on the other hand it stretches this whole situation out further.
Garcia coaxes Rossi into inviting everyone over for the evening with little to no real effort. More than anything Spencer just wants to go home and read in the peace and quiet of his living room, but Y/N sits herself on the edge of his desk before he has a chance to leave for the night.
“You coming kid?” She picks up his satchel off the ground to hand it to him as he stands, he takes it from her before shaking his head.
“I don’t know that I’m up for it” he scrunches up his nose a little as he says it, it’s one of the nervous ticks he’s got that Y/N loves the most.
“Aw c’mon. My husband is gonna make me go to a party on my own? No wonder I went and cheated on you” she shoves his shoulder gently, antagonizing him just a little. He chuckles as he and shakes his head softly. “But seriously Spence, it’s been a rough day and half, and it’ll be an even weirder week. It might be good for you to blow off a little steam, get out of your own head” she reaches up to ruffle his hair as she says it.
He loves that. The way she has to reach all the way up on her tippy toes to get to the top of his head but she still insists on doing it. He softens with so little convincing.
“Y’know what, you’re right” he sighs, slinging his bag across his shoulder, “Lets get out of here.”
And it’s already worth it to see the smile that spreads across Y/N’s cheeks.
“I can see it, I think pretty boy here’s a bit stiff but you can pull it off” Morgan squints at the two of them sitting next to one another around Rossi’s table.
“Hey I’m not stiff” Spencer jumps to his own defense before the table erupts with laughter. He wants to fight it again but Y/N’s hand comes to rest on his forearm laying on the table between them.
“Yes you are Spence, but I married you anyway” she makes an exaggerated kissing face before the table begins to giggle yet again. Spencer doesn’t mind this time because after the joke is over her hand doesn’t move from it’s position.
“Oh, oh, oh!” Garcia almost begins to vibrate in her chair, “I’ve got a great idea, we should test you guys”
The team starts to holler and the sound throws Spencer’s head back into chaos. Each time he felt his heart start to palpitate he hoped Y/N couldn’t tell.
Garcia pulls out her phone and starts to look for questions, “What did they wear on your first date?” She asks with a quirk of her eyebrow.
“A light blue sweater with black pants and boots” Spencer answers with no hesitation.
“No fair!” Y/N yelps, “this game is rigged, the kids got an eidetic memory!”
“Alright then, I’ll change it up, who’s the tidiest?” Garcia asks, and that’s also unfair because Y/N knows it’s Spencer but doesn’t want to pay him that compliment. Before she can speak he’s already on it though.
“Me, is that not obvious?” He jokes,
“Yeah okay that one’s right too” Y/N sulks.
“What’s their dream job?” Garcia offers and Y/N jumps in before he can answer first.
“Aha! Magician!” she yelps and Spencer turns to her, eyebrows pulled together.
“Yeah, how’d you remember that?” he interrogates.
He knows exactly when he told her. Y/N was having a moment during a case. it was getting to her more than she’d like to admit but Spencer could tell. She’d knocked on his hotel room door one evening when she couldn’t sleep, she knew it wasn’t his strong suit either.
He’d let her in, settling on the bed. This was one of the better mattresses they’d had in a hotel. It helped soothe the muscles that had been tensed all day. Y/N didn’t want to talk about why she couldn’t sleep. This was the first time it happened, but they’ve found themselves in each other’s hotel rooms over and over as the cases went by.
They both knew that what they were searching for was distraction, and comfort, but they wouldn’t admit to the last one.
“Just tell me something, anything”
Spencer had to wrack his brain looking around the hotel room when something struck him. “Do you want to hear an interesting hotel fact?”
“Sure Spence, shoot” she murmured into the pillow she had curled up in her lap.
“Did you know that the ‘Sky Beam’, a bright light that shoots out of the Luxor Hotel in Las Vegas, attracts so many insects that it has established a new ecosystem of moths, bats, and owls” he says with fervor but he can see from the way her face contorts that he’s put the wrong foot forward.
“Not a gross fact Spencer” she knocks him in the head with her pillow, not too harsh, but rough enough to ruffle his curls.
He skims the room again, eyes landing on a few coins scattered on his bedside table. “How about a magic trick?” she looks at him strange but shakes the expression away and nods.
Spencer picks up a coin of the nightstand and shows it to Y/N with enthusiasm, “See just a regular coin” he jokes and she returns the look exasperated.
“Alright, spoilsport” he holds it out to her pinched between the thumb and index finger of his right hand, moving his left hand over the coin quickly before it vanishes. He then holds out his two empty palms to Y/N for inspection.
“Nah, bullshit” she says, pulling his open palms towards her. He snaps them away before she can look too hard. Pulling his hands back in towards himself he waves one in front of the other and the coin reappears between his fingers.
“What?” is all she can say, and he’s accomplished his goal of distracting her now. “How’d you do that?” she picks up the coin and starts to inspect it closely, with no idea what she’d even be looking for.
“A magician never reveals his secrets” he smirks, confident now that he’s left her so dumfounded. She snaps her head up to look at him, throwing the coin back into his waiting hands.
“So you’re a magician now?” she jokes, reclining back onto the pillows below her and turning her head to look up at him. He follows suit, lying down on his own pillows next to Y/N and returns her gaze.
“Yup, that’s actually what I wanted to do when I was a kid. Still do if I’m honest with myself. So I guess if this FBI thing ever goes belly-up I’ve got a back up plan” he says it like it’s just a silly joke but Y/N can see it’s a little more than that. Spencer joined the BAU so young he almost didn’t get to have a childhood at all, he barely even chose what he would spend the rest of his life working at.
“You have to teach me that one sometime” she yawns, shutting her eyes softly.
“Anytime” he smiles, even thought she can’t see it, and watches as her breathing evens out and she’s asleep. He’s gone not long after. He wishes he had the energy left to stay awake, watching her for even a few moments more so that he could commit the sight to memory. But something about her presence in his room, in his bed, just put him at complete ease and he couldn’t help but fall asleep.
Like so many things in their friendship he’d assumed he was the only one to remember it all so vividly. Despite how often Y/N proved him wrong he would never get used to it.
“Of course I remembered you wanted to be a magician Spencer. How was I supposed to forget that, you still haven't taught me that coin thingy” she feigns annoyance but really she’s just had a glass or two of Rossi’s expensive wine and is feeling brave.
“Sorry Y/N I tried to teach you that, your coordination is just that bad” he shrugs and takes a sip from his own glass.
Derek interrupts, scanning the screen of Garcia’s phone for an interesting question before he appears to land on one, his face lighting up.
“Of the two of you, who’s the better kisser?” Derek says with pure confidence that catches Spencer so off guard that he almost spits out his wine like he’s in a cartoon.
“We haven’t– we don't need– we uh” Spencer stammers having next to no clue what he’s even trying to say.
“I’m sure it’s 50/50, isn’t that right Mr. Green?” Y/N reaches her hand up to cup his cheeks, pushing his lips into a small pout. The red wine staining his lips ever so slightly so that they’re just a shade pinker than usual. And Y/N can’t help but stare at them for a second too long before looking up into his eyes.
He looks uneasy, and a little nervous so she lets go of his cheeks, letting her hand fall down to rest on his forearm once again, grazing the exposed skin.
“You gotta at least play the part pretty boy” Derek laughs, “What happens if this therapist starts asking about your sex life, are you gonna clam up, freak out?”
And he hadn’t thought about it. But it made sense, the sessions were going to be about ‘cheating’ which is by it’s very nature linked to their sex life. This was worse than he thought.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it Morgan. I’ve thought of it all.” Y/N waves off the comment, gripping Spencer’s arm a little tighter as she spoke in an effort to comfort him. “You know what, I actually think it might be time to head out.” She stands up from the table, rubbing her ‘husband’s’ shoulder as she moves so that he follows suit, recognizing this move as her saving him from the interaction.
They’re out the door together with minimal teasing in under 3 minutes, piled into a cab beside each other with no real plan other than to leave that table.
“Do you want to go by to yours and watch old reruns of The Twilight Zone?” Y/N offers and Spencers shoulders almost melt into the black leather of the seat behind him.
“So so badly” he groans, letting his eyes close as he falls back against the headrest.
Thank you so much for reading, comments, reblogs, and tags are always appreciated! ❤️
Let me know what you thought about this chapter here <3
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Morning Glory (S.R.)
Summary: Spencer goes into way too much detail about nocturnal penile tumescence (or morning wood, or morning glory, or whatever pejorative you prefer).
A/N: Here is my second (late) addition to the Only One Bed Challenge, this time with Spencer! This is completely unedited and written in a sheer state of panic. Bon appetit.
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)
Content Warning: Cuddling, accidental grinding (asleep), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering
Word Count: 5.7k
Ever since I was a boy, I’d been plagued by nightmares. My interest in dream analysis had been a great part of my budding interest in psychology — until I’d gone and learned that it was all mostly bunk. That, too, had been a great sense of comfort, because I realized my nightmares meant nothing about who I was (beyond my brain chemistry, which, I suppose was everything about who I was - but I digress).
But still, I wanted them to change. Each night when I laid down, I would force myself to think of anything and everything beautiful. That particular evening, it had been easier than usual.
It wasn’t the first time (y/n) and I had shared a room. The very first time we had, I think we’d both been a bit nervous to see each other in such an intimate setting. Every time after that, however, she’d made a point of picking me in the event we had to partner up. When I’d asked her why, she sort of just shrugged. She’d talked about snoring, weird habits, and schedules, but in the end she’d told me that she simply felt safe when she was with me, and I had happily accepted that answer.
However, when we walked into our room, we noticed something peculiar. Something that threatened the typical comfort we felt together. It was a product, we supposed, of having been a man and a woman in professional dress, asking to share a room in a hotel far nicer than our normal taxpayer-subsidized stay.
There was, in the center of the room, only one king-sized bed.
The woman beside me hardly seemed to notice at first. It wasn’t until I’d asked her if she wanted me to talk to someone that she realized there was a mistake. At that point, she just bit at her nails and shook her head. She hadn’t wanted to be a bother, and she saw no harm in us sharing a bed, especially one so large.
‘It’ll be like I’m not even there,’ she’d said.
She was wrong. Wrong in the best way.
We both knew it the second we fell in bed together at the end of a day that went on for far too long. She had only been right about one thing — the massive space that existed between us. But all it had taken was one look, one twitch of hands too close together in the middle of the bed before we realized that we didn’t have to leave it there.
(Y/n) and I hadn’t talked about cuddling, but we had done it, anyway. It had started with interlocked pinkies and nervous giggling that eventually shifted into her back pressed against my chest. There was still space between us, as physics demanded there always be. But it was not for a lack of trying. Each time I pressed forward, she would press back.
We would meet in the middle, but we said nothing.
I had fallen asleep just like that, with her wrapped safely in my arms. The beat of my heart pounding against her shoulder blades and the smell of her shampoo filling my lungs with each calm, rhythmic breath.
That was why it had been easy to think of something beautiful. I had thought only of her, and how no matter her size, she would always feel small when she sank further into my embrace. I imagined a reality where this was not a one-off, a favor from fate to let us both find something wonderful where we usually only saw death and pain.
My mind spun so many fantasies, all of which turned to dreams filled with her. Every dream, each thought of her became more complex as the night went on. Eventually, it felt like I’d hardly been dreaming at all.
I hadn’t wanted to let it go. Even — especially — when the mood began to shift from the innocent, naive kind of puppy love to something else. Something that made my chest ache with a desire that I’d rarely experienced before. I could still smell her perfume, the lingering hint of her true presence.
My hands gripped her hips harder, pulling her against the true source of my longing. The thought that she would allow me to do that was enough to drive me mad with lust. But she hadn’t stopped there; hellbent on turning me to nothing but a feral animal seeking warmth in the cold, she began to move against me with a similar need.
The friction and the sounds of rustling sheets and her breath became too much to bear. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t see anything but visions of her riding my thigh until she begged for something more. With frustrated tears streaming down her face, she choked out a plea for me to take her until there was nothing left but one two-headed beast.
“Spencer,” she whispered apprehensively.
“(Y/n)…” I returned, dragging my nose along her neck just to feel her shiver. Which, she did. And with just a few seconds of self-reflection, I realized that the sensation of her name in my throat had felt just a little bit too real.
Because it was.
And so was that.
“Hm?” I sleepily replied, somehow still not caught up on the fact that my dream had not, in fact, been confined to my own mind.
That poor girl seemed too petrified to speak at all, much less explain the nature of what was happening.
“Um…” was her dreadfully inarticulate reply. I didn’t blame her for not knowing what to say, though.
There were very few suitable options for when you awake in the morning with your coworkers dick pressed firmly against your ass, and his mouth buried against your neck. In fact, I think ‘Um’ was probably the least hurtful of them all.
What did hurt, however, was the sharp sound that left me immediately thereafter. That pain was shared, as was the guilt that followed. Because as soon as I’d jumped away from her, I realized how close to the edge we’d come over the course of the night. My head hit the nightstand with a terrible thud, and my body hit the floor much the same.
“Are you okay?!” she screeched, holding the blanket to her chest like she’d actually had something shameful to hide.
Meanwhile, I was sitting there with a persistent erection that apparently was impervious to pain.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied in the least convincing manner. All of my genuineness would be saved for the next word to leave me — which really ought to have been the first: “Sorry.”
She didn’t accept my apology. Instead, she jumped from bed and landed on two feet that quickly took her out of the room.
“Let me go get you some ice!” she yelled, as if I wouldn’t notice the way she’d left the ice bucket behind.
Unsurprisingly, she left for quite some time. I could only hope that she would return at all. Thankfully, she did. She’d even managed to snag an ice bucket from someone or somewhere else, and I prayed that it wasn’t a member of the team. I really didn’t want to think about anyone other than the two of us knowing about this just yet.
I wanted to be a bit more diplomatic about Derek Morgan finding out I had basically just assaulted a coworker because I couldn’t control my dick.
Diplomacy, however, was apparently not a skill I had perfected just yet.
“Okay, first, before you say anything,” I said much too loud and much too fast to a girl simply trying to tie off a thin bag from a cheap hotel ice bucket.
I’m not sure what I had expected her to do, but she stared at me with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth and her eyes wider than I’d ever seen them. The poor thing looked petrified, or some other kind of powerful emotion that I would project everything negative onto. If I’d thought about her feelings for even one second before I started to speak, I might’ve realized that I could have asked her if she was alright, or if she needed anything from me.
But no, I just started talking. Per usual.
“I just want to assure you that nocturnal penile tumescence, or NPT, or—or morning wood, or morning glory, or whatever… colloquialism you prefer, is completely unrelated to sexual arousal or thoughts.”
Not entirely true.
“I wasn’t… like… arousing myself by touching you, I swear.”
A bald-faced lie.
“It’s actually theorized that the cause it the lack of the normal noradrenergic neurons of the locus ceruleus, which inhibit penile erection during the day to prevent… disruptions,” I continued, just barely catching myself before I said something even more regrettable. I should’ve figured, though, that there was no right answer when I was playing with the trolley problem’s tracks.
(Y/n) still said nothing.
So, like an idiot, I just kept talking.
“A-And testosterone levels are highest in the morning. Although, most men have several erections at night, they just only notice in the morning because they wake up.”
“Spencer, I—“ she actually tried, but it sounded so terrifying that I immediately cut her off again.
“Sorry, I know I’m rambling and it’s not even 9am and you really don’t want to think about your coworker’s penis but, I want you to know that I also don’t want to think about your genitals, and that I wasn’t doing that before.”
The disgust or rage or whatever it had been faded into a frightening apathy. (Y/n) looked down at my feet, still clutching a bag of frozen water that had been meant to make me feel better. If I’d let her speak, I might’ve heard the crack in her voice and realized that she hadn’t actually been apathetic at all. In fact, she almost seemed… sad.
I had been so busy being wrapped up in my own shame and self-hatred, though, I hadn’t cared to look. My concerns were entirely set on self-preservation, and even more so, repairing any damage I’d already done between us.
I just didn’t want to hurt her, and I wasn’t quite sure how to undo what I’d done. I didn’t know how to assure her that, although I found her beautiful and I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything or anyone, I would never have touched her without her blessing. That I would only ever want it if she showed a similar amount of enthusiasm.
But then again, I didn’t exactly want to explain to her that she had been displaying that desire for me in my wildest fantasies. Nor that I had wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep and feel them again.
Instead, I firmly repeated, “It has… nothing to do with sexual attraction or arousal.”
That time, I did see a flash of anger in her eyes. It was a palpable pain that I very much wanted to avoid if given the chance. I figured that the best way of doing that was either humor or guilt. I tried, and failed, to do both.
“A-And, you know, women get it too, nocturnal clitoris tumescence, it’s just not visible because while most penises are visible when erect, the clitoris tends to remain hidden,” I stated with a tight-lipped smile and a sure nod.
“Right,” was all that she replied.
In the awkward silence that followed, I squeaked, “Yeah, it’s all very interesting.”
“Yes. Interesting,” she sighed. “Can I… get ready to leave now?”
It was regrettable, really, that all I could say was a pitiful beg. Just one small, “Please,” that I hadn’t meant at all.
Nonetheless, she had accepted it.
“Okay. I’ll… bye,” she muttered, dropping the dripping bag of ice back into the sad plastic bucket.
As she disappeared into the bathroom with a door that shut a little too hard for comfort, I continued to stare at the discarded trash. I thought for a second that I should use it, considering she had gone through the trouble of getting it for me. But then I figured that I deserved the dull ache as a reminder of just how fucking stupid I had been.
Relief was a luxury I didn’t deserve. The least I could do for the girl I’d practically defiled in my sleep was to suffer in honor of the death of her perceived notion of safety. Not even halfway through the day, I found myself mulling over that same feeling to the point of near-obsession.
And I came to a realization. Whoever said time heals all wounds was a goddamn liar.
As the hours stretched on, the only thing that got any easier was avoiding (y/n) at all costs. Truthfully, that also had nothing to do with time and everything to do with the fact she had also made the executive decision to avoid me at all costs.
Enough so, in fact, that it had only taken Derek approximately three hours to realize that something had happened. As I’d promised myself, I was much more diplomatic in explaining the incident that had happened that morning. I left out a lot of the… more distressing details, and left it a simple, conclusory statement: “We woke up cuddling in a slightly disturbing way.”
He hadn’t asked for any clarification, immediately understanding what had happened and instead going directly for the jugular.
“You apologized, right?”
“Yes?” I answered, “Or… possibly no? I mean, I-I explained that it wasn’t anything to do with sex. I think I said sorry.”
“You think?” he balked, only barely resisting the urge to smack me upside my already injured heard. “You have an eidetic memory, man. What do you mean you think you apologized?”
“I was panicking! I don’t remember things I say when I get flustered, you know that!”
“Give me the shortened version,” he demanded with a heavy sigh.
Condensing the conversation was hard for a number of reasons. One, because I had a massive headache and a lump on my head that I probably should have looked at. Two, because I actually did remember the conversation with a frightening amount of clarity and was horribly embarrassed by it.
And three, because about halfway through the story I noticed the way his jaw dropped, and never came back up.
The silence in the room was deafening. The normal sensory overload I struggled with had disappeared, replaced only with the suffocating lack of noise. Even as I nervously bounced my foot and tapped my fingers against the desk, I could barely hear them over the blood rushing through my ears.
“So… let me get this straight,” Derek started, and I knew I was doomed. “You rubbed your business all over a girl, and then spent the next five minutes repeating over and over that you find her repulsive?”
Slowly, I felt rusted gears in my head start to turn. I repeated what he’d just said over and over to myself, trying to formulate why he was the one who’d mistaken the meaning of a social interaction. But the longer that I tried, the more exasperated the man sitting across from me became.
“Reid. We’ve talked about this.”
“First of all, I have an eidetic memory and I can confidently say that we have never once talked about this—“ I stated sharply, pointing an accusing finger that I quickly corrected and turned to numbers, instead, before continuing, “—and second, that’s not what I said at all!”
The only answer worse than a denial was the knowing stare that I received.
“… Is it?” I squeaked.
With just one nod of his head, I felt the depths of my self-loathing rise to levels unknown. I felt myself be swallowed by the dread that I almost certainly deserved to feel, and I dropped my bruised head down onto the table with absolutely no attempts to save myself any of the pain.
“Yeah,” he agreed as he stood from his seat to leave me alone in my misery. His final parting gift was a simple, and well-deserved, “Good luck with that one, dumbass.”
To say that I’d had a bad day would be an understatement. The day wasn’t even over yet, but I’d dug myself a hole six feet deep and I was more than ready to find my way to the bottom already. However, this particular hole would prove to be more difficult to crawl into because it would already be occupied.
Spencer and I hadn’t really talked since that morning, and I knew that was what he’d wanted. But knowing that my best friend didn’t want to talk to me didn’t make the day any better at all. It made it much, much worse.
I hadn’t stopped replaying the morning in my head, but each time that it started, I found the pit in my stomach growing larger until it threatened to swallow me whole.
I knew Spencer well. Well enough to know that when he was put in an even slightly uncomfortable situation, he would panic. But when I’d been backed against a rock and a… hard place, I hadn’t really had any good options.
The options were these: wake up Spencer before either of us did anything even more regrettable, or take advantage of his sleepiness and built my repertoire of fantasies for when he awoke and inevitable hated me forever. And honestly, both of those things made my heart race in entirely different ways.
It didn’t matter anyway. It was in the past now, and all I could do was attempt damage control now that we’d be forced into a room together again.
However, seconds after the door closed behind me, I realized that it would be easier said than done.
The poor boy was like a deer caught in the headlights, but with cheeks the color of the sports car the animal was about to total. After a few seconds of tense and prolonged eye contact, he turned away from me and refused to meet my eyes again.
We said nothing, instead going about our nightly routines as if the other person weren’t there at all. I wasn’t sure which was worse; him avoiding me, or him ignoring me. Either way, I knew that the feeling wasn’t fading anytime soon.
I tried to tell myself that things would be better again soon. I just needed to get him into the bed with me again, to wrap his arms around me like he had the night before. Neither of us were exceptionally great at talking, especially about feelings. But not that many hours ago, we’d expressed more about our feelings than we ever had before.
When Spencer held me, I felt nothing else. The pain and suffering I’d witnessed faded like the later Summer sun. Fiery hues of pink and orange consumed me, and the sheet of blues calmed heated skin. Our embrace felt like safety and home and everything good.
So, when it slowly became less and less innocent, moving away from it was the furthest thing from my mind. My body was still burning from the love, and I sought only to stoke the flames higher and higher until they licked at my jaw where his breath ghost over a frantic pulse.
I shouldn’t be thinking about this, I reminded myself as the heat returned to my cheeks.
“Do you, um… do you want me to sleep on the floor?” Spencer squeaked from where he stood on his side of the bed. “B-Because I can. I don’t mind.”
“No, Spencer. Don’t be ridiculous,” I sighed, although I think we were both tempted by the thought. “I know you didn’t mean to make me uncomfortable or anything.”
“Did I?” he asked.
“Did I make you uncomfortable?”
What kind of question is that? was what I’d wanted to say.
“Um… no. It’s fine,” was what I said, instead.
Because it felt like a trap. What had I been meant to say? That yes, he had made me uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the part where he pressed his dick against me, it was the part where he extended my rejection well past the minute mark.
Talking had been bad enough already, anyway. We’d both proven time and time again that our mouths couldn’t be trusted to open without causing panic or something much worse. So, I hoped that my next instruction could be one of the latest sentences uttered to end the worst day.
“Come get in bed. I’m cold.”
To his credit, he did follow my directions. However, he also made a point of staying so close to the edge of the bed that a light breeze probably would have tipped him over the edge.
“Do you want to put a pillow between us or…”
My answer came in the form of a heavy sigh. I actually heard Spencer’s voice crack into the nothingness. Over rustling sheets, he continued to make pitiful sounds like I was honestly about to hit him for being kind.
But I wasn’t going to hurt him. I wanted to do the opposite.
My hand on his wrist was gentle, but firm. I wanted to show that I had no doubts nor reservations when I yanked him closer.
“It’s fine, Spencer. I mean it.”
Spencer did not fight my grip at all. If anything, it almost seemed like he leapt at the opportunity to hold me closer. But I knew that was probably just wishful thinking, and I was trying to keep things as relaxed as one can be when half-clothed and vulnerable with a coworker in a king-sized bed. When he was finally in his rightful place beside me, however, I realized that I wasn’t quite ready to let him go.
It was not my idea for Spencer to wrap his arm around me so that we could continue to hold hands without putting stress on my shoulder — but I did not deny the offer. Not even close.
While it was frightening and exhilarating to think that he was close enough to me that he could almost surely feel the way my heartbeat went wild and my lungs struggled to fill at the risk of losing any part of his hold, I still felt so free. So at home in his arms that my tongue became loose and threatened to spill all of my secrets.
“Your hands are so warm.”
Spencer’s breath caught in his throat, but he said nothing. I closed my eyes and prayed that it would stay that way, because I was terrified what words might come out. I also sort of hoped that when he made a noise, they wouldn’t be words at all. At least not any shaped like my name.
I could still hear his sleepy voice calling out to me, the first word uttered that morning between soft sounds of pleasure. The feeling it elicited deep in my chest was so powerful that I had hardly noticed when my hand, still in his, began to steadily descend down my stomach.
It wasn’t until our skin touched, the gentle pads of his fingertips brushing over the exposed skin of my stomach, that I gasped. Goosebumps littered my skin, each particle of my existence reaching out in the hope of touching him.
“You’re so soft,” he whispered with broken words half-muffled against the column of my throat.
As if to prove his point, Spencer slipped his hand further underneath the hem of my shirt. Abandoning my hand as it fell between my legs, the man behind me recounted his steps now that he’d rid himself of the barrier in the way. If I’d thought my heartbeat was wild, his could hardly be counted in its frenzy. But I still tried. I paid attention to every place where his body pressed against mine, relishing in the way it felt to be desired in the way he swore to me that he wasn’t.
When the backs of his knuckles brushed across the underside of my breast, though, he paused. Whether he was catching his breath or seeking my permission, I didn’t care.
“Don’t stop,” I begged. “Please, don’t stop.”
Spencer’s response was immediate and powerful. Forcing his leg between my own, his other hand appeared out of seemingly nowhere to ensure that I was exactly where he’d wanted me. With a ruthless hold and hands that shook under the pressure, he began to lead my hips to move against his leg. His other hand continued its previous path, tenderly kneading my breast just enough to make me want more.
I’d always want more.
“You’re so beautiful,” he praised just before laying a sloppy kiss against my throat. That kiss, too, was followed by another, and together the sensation robbed me of my breath and any remaining sense.
I became nothing but what I’d always wanted to be — His.
“Spencer…” I called, allowing his name to slip between parted lips.
His leg wasn’t going to be enough. I wanted more, craved that sunset feeling of him enveloping me and burning through each and every defense. I wanted to be nothing but ash and dust in his wake, still dancing along the rays.
After a few more moments of passionate, breathtaking adoration, Spencer had also decided that our current situation was both too much and not enough. Pressing a now familiar hardness against my ass, he finally rewarded me with a long, drawn out sound of pleasure.
“I want you,” he groaned, “Please, I want to have you so bad.”
There were many ways I’d envisioned this happening. Fantasies about sleeping with the ever elusive, always awkward Dr. Reid were plentiful and pervasive. I’d always envisioned something remarkably special; a romantic outing or a deep, emotional conversation following something terrible.
But when he offered himself to me in the heat of the moment in a beautiful hotel and a king-sized bed, romantic gestures seemed simpler. It didn’t have to be rose petals and wine. I didn’t want anything to distract us from each other.
I wanted him just as badly as he wanted me, and I wasted no time in demonstrating that to him. I tugged down my shorts, trying my hardest not to kick him while also removing my clothing as quickly as fucking possible. His job was easier. He didn’t even need to pull his pants all the way down — and he didn’t. In the moment, that testament to just how eager the two of us were felt a lot like romance to me.
As did his hand on my cheek, pulling my face back so that he could kiss me for the first time. It felt less like a checklist of things we were meant to do, and more like a bucket list of dreams that suddenly seemed accessible. That would explain why we hadn’t stopped with just the one. We kept going, a flurry of kisses that broke into lighthearted laughter.
It felt exactly how it always did with him. Safe. Comfortable. And when the feelings became less and less innocent, with his legs intertwining with mine and his cock slipping between my thighs, it still felt like home.
Again, Spencer paused. His body stalled there, no matter how much he struggled not to continue. He waited with heaving breath and tiny, desperate whimpers until I gave him my permission to cross that last line.
“Fuck me, Spencer,” I whispered.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said with a dreamy chuckle, “More than you could ever know.”
There was no more hesitation. With utmost care, he answered my call. He pressed into me slowly, with both of his hands holding me tightly and his mouth buried against my neck. I felt each moan and every gasp shaking my throat, and I tried my hardest to offer him my own in return.
But we both knew we weren’t the best at talking, and (for the most part) let our bodies speak for us. Still, it was sweet to hear just how much I was affecting him with each inch deeper he went.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he practically sobbed. I’d never heard him so exasperated, so raw and vulnerable and rendered speechless. “And so… fuck…” he mumbled, “God, you feel amazing.”
“So do you,” I offered in exchange, unable to predict the visceral reaction he would have.
His hips thrust forward, filling me completely with little warning. The sudden stretch of the sensitive muscles caused a chain reaction, and before I knew it I was clinging to any part of him I could reach. The shoulder he’d been kind enough to think about earlier was now craned back, leading my hand to grab fistfuls of his hair to keep his lips against my neck.
“Harder,” I demanded.
And harder, he provided. Everything about him became harder. Our hips met with a brutality that seemed too crude for him. His breath came with more force, too, causing his lips to slip on the dew of my neck. That didn’t stop him, though. The same way that I had been dedicated to finding new ways to hold him, he used every bit of his 187 IQ points to ensure that our bodies were never farther apart than they needed to be.
But while his moans were drowned out by the debaucherous sounds of skin slapping together, mine were freely flowing through the room. That was, until those same, soft fingertips clamped over my lips.
“Shhh,” he said, not as a command, but a humble request. “It’s okay. Be quiet, sweetheart.”
As if that hadn’t made me want to sing his praises more. When my jaw dropped open, his fingers toyed with my lips that begged to be kissed. But he couldn’t, because we were both too caught up to let each other go long enough to turn around.
I didn’t need to face him, though. I just needed to feel him. Always more of him. My lips closed around his fingers, sucking them in until the sounds coming from my lips were just as lewd as the ones between my legs.
“Oh, good girl,” he choked, “My sweet girl. I can’t wait to taste you.”
My heart skipped a beat, or several, on his command. If it weren’t for the revitalizing sensations he was providing, I very well might have dropped dead right then and there. But death wasn’t strong enough to separate the two of us now that we’d finally gotten our hands on one another.
Things continued to devolve, with Spencer’s pace fluctuating based on the rate with which I lavished his fingers. I could only imagine the things he was thinking, the images a mind like his could conjure now that I’d given him the tools necessarily for all his little hypotheses.
I, however, remained firmly in the present. Because I knew that it was almost the end, and I wanted to enjoy the finale to the fullest.
Which was why when he asked, “Tell me where you want it.”
I already knew my answer.
“What?” he balked, but not in the way that sounded surprised. It was more like he was… excited.
“Come inside of me,” I repeated without hesitation.
Spencer, ever the gentleman, remained unconvinced. Despite having intimate knowledge of my medical history and my nightly routine, he still wanted to ensure that nothing about this night would be regretted in the morning.
“Are you sure?” he urged.
To which I cried against his fingers wet with my spit, “I need it, please!”
No more words were needed. Whether he’d been convinced or caught off guard, it didn’t really seem to matter. Because when the fireworks began, we were both lost to the beauty of the lightshow. Stars burst behind my eyes, my hands gripping tightly to his on my hips as he gave a few more powerful pumps of his hips.
He didn’t stop, even after it was over. He continued to rock against me exactly like he had that morning; a comparatively innocent demonstration of his insatiable desire. The way he still wanted me, the same way I would always want more of him than I could have.
As if on cue, Spencer’s voice was quiet when he called, “Come here, sweetheart.”
The instruction seemed superfluous, considering he immediately used his existing handle on my hips to turn our bodies. He hoisted me onto his lap until I sat on his lap, facing away from him in a way that made me suddenly feel bashful.
… and that feeling got much, much worse when he slowly lifted me from his softening dick, and I felt the aftermath of our actions drip out of me and over his stomach. The feeling sent a shiver down my spine, which again was worsened by the sound of a deep, rolling moan from the man underneath me.
Because we would both always want more than we could have. Not in the sense that we couldn’t be together, but because the laws of the universe dictated that no matter how close we became, there would always be a layer of particles separating us.
But as I started to stand on shaky legs, laughing and watching him struggle not to spill all over our only bed, I thought that Spencer and I… might find a way to truly touch one another. If any two things in the universe stood a chance, I believed that it was us.
“How considerate of you,” I sighed, motioning to the mess he’d made on himself so I would have less of it between my own legs.
Unable to spout his usual facts, on account of being out of breath, he merely muttered, “Physics.”
“It’s all very interesting,” I teased to a man whose pink cheeks suddenly had a very different meaning. “You should tell me more about it sometime.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he chuckled like he’d been in on the joke.
“I hope you do,” I said, “I hope you never let it go.”
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This message is for the late night scrollers, the ones who prowl Tumblr late at night for an escape. Looking for those fics that hit just right, that take away the hurt and make you feel like your comfort character is there, beside you, holding you, loving you.
Take a deep breath for me, in and out. They're there. Can you feel them? They know you struggled today and they're so proud of you! They're so happy to see you even if it's only in the dark, when you're hurting, when you need an escape. They treasure these moments with you, breathing in your scent, feeling you. God, how they love you.
I hope you find the story you need. The one that brings you comfort and peace that follows you into your dreams. I hope tomorrow is better then today and that you remember you are loved, even if the only love you can feel is from that fictional character you adore so much.
They believe in you and so do I, the random girl on Tumblr who's scrolling late at night too.
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can you write something with a touchstarved!spence with a reader always playing with his hair/hands and mutual pining? ty<3
blurb time bc i don’t like to sleep!
TW: hair touching, cuddling?, mutual pining, kissing
cute as shit watch ur toes!
It’s an unspoken rule that Spencer gets to invite himself over to your apartment after work. The two of you have become good friends over the year, and he’s expressed his shameful loneliness multiple times to you— so you put an end to it by offering company 24/7.
Spencer was never irritating and never a bore. Synergy flowed freely between the two of you, never a moment of tension.
Spencer enjoys your company more than he should. He feels safe, warm, and welcomed when he’s with you. You’re nothing but kind and caring to him, a nice contrast from your semi-abrasive personality at work.
And as your friendship blossomed, you slowly let your guard down around him. Recently, you’d become comfortable enough to cuddle up to Spencer while watching TV, resting your head on his shoulder, threading your fingers into his hair, holding his hand.
He’d never expected you to be this... touchy. But here you are yet again, snuggled into Spencer’s side as Jeopardy plays on the TV. Your fingers massage at his scalp and twirl bundles of curls every so often. Spencer’s barely listening to the show; his eyes are closed, relishing in the feeling of your hand in his hair.
He’s starting to fall in love with you— hard. You’re so intelligent and beautiful and unique; how could he not? Spencer’s never had someone be this touchy with him; it’s relatively new. But he likes it a lot.
“You should be on a game show.” You laugh, looking up at him. “You’d get all the answers right.”
“I don’t know.” Spencer shrugs. “Isn’t having an eidetic memory an unfair advantage?”
“I mean... the best player wins, right?”
You stifle a yawn, and your eyes begin to flutter shut.
“Alright, sleepy-head.” He chuckles. “It’s time for you to go to bed.”
“I’m not even that tired.” You reply, another yawn getting caught in your throat.
“Lies.” Spencer chuckles, yanking you up from the couch by the hand. “You need to rest up.”
“Fine. But only because the doctor told me to.”
“You know it, doctor’s orders!”
Once Spencer opens to door to your bedroom, you’re crashing onto the mattress, burying yourself adorably underneath the blankets.
“Are you leaving?” You mumble.
He shrugs, hesitantly asking “Can I stay?”
“Of course you can.” You smile. “This is practically your home too.”
“O-okay, thank you.” And with that, Spencer’s pivoting to walk back to the living room.
“Where are you going?”
He stops and turns back around, “The couch...?”
“No, stay with me.” You order, patting the space on the bed next to you.
Spencer doesn’t really have the opportunity to protest before he’s crawling next to you. You point out how his feet don’t fit under the blanket, so you offer to cuddle him extra to keep him warm.
“You always smell nice.” You sigh. “I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable, Spencer.”
“You’re not. Don’t worry.” He replies, rubbing your back lightly. “No one’s ever been this nice to me before.”
“That’s awful, considering you’re the nicest person I know.”
You brush the curls away from his forehead with your palm, placing a gentle kiss on his skin. You’re lips make his face tingle, leaving goosebumps all over his body.
“Goodnight Spencer, I love you.”
Just before you’re about turn away, Spencer pulls you in by the neck, his lifts softly capturing yours in a proper kiss. You gasp at first, but eventually sigh with content.
A flush covers his face when he pulls away, “I’m sorry... I uh don’t know why I—“
You silence him by kissing his lips again, stroking his face lovingly. “Shhh... Goodnight, Spence. We can talk about this in the morning.”
“Okay, yeah, in the morning.” He hums as you stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. “I love you too, you know.”
“I know.” You smile.
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