velvetm00light - Tumblr blog

velvetm00light · 5 months

Text

Peace

photos: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n's dog tackles a handsome stranger in Central Park. As her and the stranger spend the rest of the afternoon getting to know each other, they part too soon and without even telling each other their names. The solution appears quickly in the form of a handsome, lanky man appearing at her apartment the next morning.

Warnings: fluff!!!! pretty much it i think

A/N: I accidentally posted this on my primary that I don't use a few days ago so I decided to just reupload it here. Thought ya'll deserved a cute one. <3 Enjoy!!!

THE GOLDEN LEAVES RUSTLED along the cracked sidewalk, towering mixtures of trees loomed overhead, their branches reaching for each other, the Creation of Adam painting itself in the nature around her. Her charcoal boots thudded lightly, the sound overtaken by the rush of bicycles and the flutter of passing conversations as she strolled through Central Park. The leash in her hand was rough against her soft palms. The dog at her side trotted happily, smiling at the strangers rushing past.

As a native to New York, the city specifically, she made a habit of spending most of the daylight she could spare exploring the park. A habit that proved almost impossible to break because no matter how many times her feet walked the same sidewalk, her eyes took in the same leaves in all seasons - lush green in the spring and summer, amber and fiery red in the autumn, and withered and crunchy spread across the sidewalks and grass in the winter - there was no where else she could truly feel peace.

Peace has been a complicated thing to find her entire life. As soon as she felt it in her grasp, it became sand slipping through the cracks between her fingers before she could even close her fist in an attempt to capture as much as she could. But, that sand turned into the soft wool of her favorite coat as she pulled it tighter around her in an attempt to warm herself. Peace became tangible the moment she threw her coat on, strapped on her pup’s harness, and made her way to her safe place.

She was snapped out her thoughts by a sudden yank on her arm, the soft grip on the leash in her hand gave way before she could consider tightening her hand. Her gaze snapped to her now sprinting pup, heading in the direction of a red maple tree just a few yards to the right of the trail they had been walking. She didn’t allow herself time for confusion on why her normally calm and behaved pup had randomly chosen to run off.

Her lungs burned as cold air pressed into her lungs as she ran in the same direction. Her confusion only grew when she neared the maple to see her dog bouncing onto a man sitting against the trunk of the tree, a thick blanket underneath him and the book in his hands flung into the grass. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She called, slowing her speed as she reached the poor man who was just tackled by her dog. “He’s never done that before.”

“It’s okay,” he chuckled, his hands gliding along his fur, accepting the sloppy kisses attacking his face. “I love dogs.”

She grabbed his book from the dewy grass and laid it on the blanket next to him. “I’m so sorry about your book, it got kind of wet. I’ll give you the money for it,” she apologized, reaching into the pack strapped across her chest to rummage for any loose cash.

“Don’t worry about it, my books are definitely worse for wear normally.” His smile was bright, contagious. A smile crept up on her face, the corners of her lips tugging insistently upward as her hands abandoned her pack.

“Are you sure? I can totally pay you for it. My dog is the reason it got wet.”

“I’m sure. Don’t worry about it.”

The cover of the book she had laid on his blanket was in fact worse for wear. It was curled up at the edges as if this wasn’t the first time it had gotten wet. The spine was so cracked the book almost splayed open just laying on the blanket, the wind a gentle hand trying to pull it fully open.

“I’m glad someone else’s copy of The Fisher King looks similar to mine.” She smiled, her eyes lingering on the blemished book then to his face. Her dog had finally calmed down, splayed next to the stranger with his belly up. He ran slender fingers up and down her pup’s belly.

The first thing that caught her eye was his eyes. There was a flaming halo of amber, with a dirty, leather brown inside. His eyes reminded him of an old leather book - worn with love, pen marks torn through the pages with passion. The sweater vest he was wearing and the circular glasses that sat upon the bridge of his nose established her thought - he just looked like he belonged in a library, reaching for outdated texts, sitting in a poorly lit corner, stacks of books hiding his bowed head from view as he endlessly read books upon books for hours.

His eyes had widened at her statement about his book. “You’ve read The Fisher King?”

She laughed lightly, “Do I not seem like the studious type?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” He smiled up at her from his spot on the blanket. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who had even heard of it before.”

“Good thing I’m not just anyone.”

He nodded lightly at this, the corner of his lips tugging up so far she thought his jaw might start to hurt.

“I personally like Shadowlands better,” she teased. It wasn’t a lie, however. She had always been a sucker for romances - it certainly raised her standards unrealistically, but it’s not her fault fictional men are so much better than real ones. “And you can never go wrong with Les Misérables but it feels cliché to say that’s my favorite.”

His smile reached his dancing eyes. His fingers still rubbed at her dogs belly almost subconsciously. “You’ve got good taste in books,” he says finally.

“I guess I could say the same for you. Mind if I sit? Since my dog seems insistent on staying here the rest of the day.”

“I don’t mind at all, have a seat.” He pulled his legs up, sitting cross legged instead of stretched out like he had been. She copied his posture as she plopped down on the blanket with him and her attention whore of a dog - understandably, because if she had seen him first, she might’ve just ran over and demanded he touch her too.

“Who’s your favorite author?” She asked, placing her elbow ontop of her knee and resting her chin in her hand. She titled her head to the side, and his smile returned slightly at the image of her - innocent and sweet.

“I could probably list about fifteen.”

“Pick one,” she chuckled.

“Thomas Merton, probably. I’ve got a soft spot for his poetry.”

“Love is our true destiny,” she began. His eyes sparkled as he joined in on her recitement from Love and Living. “We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - we find it with another.”

“You really are perfect, huh?” He smiled. Resting his head on the bark behind him, his gaze never leaving hers, and the relentless smile still plastered on his face.

“Your words, not mine.” She smiled back, it was impossible not to smile back at him. She felt like the only person in the entire world when he smiled at her, like she was truly the only thing that mattered. A heat bloomed in her neck and rose into her wind-kissed cheeks. She hoped the cold prick of the wind rubbing her cheeks raw hid the redness heating her face.

Their conversation about literature continued, both of them talking animatedly and rushed, as if the amount of time they had with each other would never be enough. It was a shocking revelation for them both to realize how much in common they had and how effortlessly the conversation between them flowed, like they weren’t really strangers at all.

The sun had begun to set, laying over the horizon as if slowing it’s own process down to give them just a little bit longer. The chill had picked up as the sunlight turned into dusk but neither of them really noticed until the park was empty and hungry whines escaped her dog.

“I didn’t even realize we had talked for so long,” she said, a laugh escaping her lips. She just felt so…at peace. Sitting here with him.

“Honestly, me either.” He gave her a sweet smile back and a shrug. Unspoken words hung on his lips, but he decided not to voice them.

“I suppose I should get going,” she started, standing up from the blanket she had sat on for hours, her joints and muscles protesting against the sudden movement.

“Let me walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“Thank you.”

The stranger gathered his blanket and his book, shoving both in between his arm, following her lead out of the park and towards her apartment. Her teeth chattered so harshly it rattled her skull. The sun had set, becoming impatient waiting for them to finally part.

Without a word, the man her dog had jumped on just a few hours ago unwrapped the blanket from under his arm and laid it across her shoulders. “It might be a little dirty but I put the upside on you.”

“Thank you, my jacket has seen better days anyway,” she smiled, pulling the thick wool around her, engulfing her like a hug. She sighed of relief at the warmth it provided her chilled bones. They walked in easy silence, sneaking occasional glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking.

He was the first one to break the silence. “Have you always lived in the city?”

“Mostly. I grew up just outside of the city but it’s close enough. You don’t look like you grew up in the city,” she teased. Her dog trotting beside her sleepily but eager to get home for dinner. Her grumbling stomach agreed with her dog’s eagerness.

He laughed lightly, “You’re not wrong. I’m from Las Vegas.”

“Wow! That’s really cool actually. I’ve never been out West. Why did you come here?”

“I was tired of it, long story short. But I’ve always loved being in a city, being able to walk mostly everywhere I want to go, the sense of community.”

“Unfortunately, most New Yorkers have no idea what the words community or kindness mean.”

He laughed, nodding in agreement. His laugh was just like his smile - infectious. If he laughed, anyone around him wouldn’t be able to stop themselves from laughing along even if nothing was funny. When he laughed hard, his eyes fluttered shut and he tipped his head back slightly. When he laughed lightly, he had small wrinkles at the side of his eyes, and he always had that toothy grin. It startled her to realize that in the few hours she knew him, she already knew this much about his mannerisms.

Too soon, they reached her apartment building’s door. She fished out her keys from her pack, her pup pushing his head up to the door, ready to kick it down if he had human legs. “Thank you so much again for walking me home. I hope you’re not too far, it’s pretty dark out now.”

“It was no problem, I wanted to make sure you made it safe. Don’t worry about me, I might not look like it but I can put up a fight.”

She smiled at him because he was right. His lanky frame and nerdy look in fact made him look like he didn’t even know how to throw a punch, but who was she to make judgements?

The door unlocked with a click. “Hopefully, we’ll meet again soon,” she smiled, handing him his blanket and heading inside the foyer of her apartment building.

She plopped onto the couch in her cramped living room and let out a sigh she had no idea she was holding in. Then the realization hit her, she didn’t even ask for his name or how to contact him. She groaned. Of course she would be stupid enough to let the only guy she’s had a connection with in years slip through her fingers.

The rising sun shone through her living room curtains, spilling like honey over her face. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion fogging her brain for a moment. She must have fallen asleep on the couch though she wasn’t sure when she even fell asleep. A book laid open, splayed on the hardwood floor next to her couch. This is a familiar scene she sees way more often than she’s willing to admit. There’s no greater way to relax than to read a good book in ambient lighting. It had started raining shortly after she got home last night, the hard patters of rain drops hitting her window. That was enough to cause her to pass out before even finishing a chapter.

She was abruptly snapped out of her daze as her intercom buzzed. Her confusion deepened, completely unsure if she was expecting anyone this morning or if she had overslept and missed a meeting. When the second buzz rang through her apartment, she rushed over to answer it. “Hello?” She said sleepily.

“Hi, I’m sorry uh..I’m the guy your dog tackled in the park yesterday.” If she could see his face, she’s pretty sure he’d have a nervous smile on it. His hand running anxiously through his curls, hoping he buzzed the right apartment and desperately hoping she didn’t feel uncomfortable at him showing up.

“Oh! Hi! Sorry, come on up. I’m in apartment 3B.” She groaned as she realized he probably already knew that, considering he had buzzed her apartment.

She buzzed him in quickly and realized the state she was in. She rapidly ran her fingers through her knotted hair, combing through as many knots as she could in the time it took him to reach her front door. She straightened her clothes, the same ones she had gone to the park in minus the coat hanging by her front door. She rushed over to pick up the book from the floor, setting it gently on the coffee table in the middle of the living room.

A soft knock rattled her front door and she rushed over to it, fixing her hair and clothes again before pulling it open. “Hi,” she breathed, her chest suddenly too tight. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous, he was the one who showed up to her apartment.

“Hi,” he responded, a sheepish smile tugging up the corner of his lips. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, as if to keep himself from fidgeting in front of her, a feign of confidence. “Sorry for showing up randomly.” He finished quickly, realizing she was waiting for him to explain himself.

“It’s okay, to be fair I did let you walk me home. If I thought you came to kill me you wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. She stepped aside and motioned for him to come inside. He didn’t hesitate to step through the threshold and take in her apartment while she shut the door behind him.

“Your apartment is beautiful, it feels like nature but home.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s actually the best compliment I’ve ever gotten,” she smiled, gazing around her apartment with him. She had a variety of plants scattered around her apartment - large potted plants that reached toward the ceiling in the corners, small plants in decorated pots lining shelves, settled on her coffee table, and even in her kitchen. She always assumed having fresh air to combat the natural stench of New York City was never a bad idea. She had posters and picture frames hung up with precision, decorative throw pillows scattered on her couch from a night tossing and turning, bookshelves filled to the brim with books, plants, and trinkets.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, intending for him to sit on the couch while she made them…tea? She wasn’t really sure what kind of expectations she had as a host. “Do you like tea?”

“Love it.”

“Perfect.” She rummaged through her cabinets in search for tea, it would be slightly embarrassing to have run out of tea bags after she already asked if he wanted tea. Thankfully, she found a few loose boxes of tea and made steaming cups for them both.

She carried the tea out carefully so as to not burn herself or spill any on the floor beneath her bare feet. She gently handed him his cup which he gratefully took and cupped between two palms, waiting for it to cool.

She settled in the seat next to him on the couch, copying his actions and cupping the warm cup between her hands. Her apartment luckily didn’t feel like the outside world with the biting wind and the bone-chilling cold, but, this man’s presence was enough to send a shiver rattling down her spine and goosebumps rising along her flesh.

“Thank you for the tea,” he smiled, delicately blowing on his tea to quicken up the cooling process.

“Of course, I’m sure any normal host would offer tea, it felt like the socially acceptable thing to do.” She gave him a small smile back, just enough to lift the edges of her lips upward, but not enough to bare her teeth.

Her brain still felt rattled at the fact that this stranger she had only met around 24 hours ago had remembered where she lived and showed up to her apartment.

They both took ginger sips of the steaming tea before setting their respective cups on the coffee table. “It’s delicious.”

“Thank you, I don’t make tea often but I’m glad I’m still good at it.”

He chuckled lightly and the sound reverberated around her apartment. Her mind betrayed her and thoughts of that laugh just swimming around her apartment on a regular basis caused an ache in her chest. She hadn’t had a man in her apartment in probably years, most likely for the best.

Her work was her life, she had the terrible habit of drowning in her work when life got rough, or when her feelings got inevitably hurt. She almost wanted to kick this gorgeous man out of her apartment before he could hurt her feelings or disappoint her like the rest.

“I’m sorry for showing up randomly,” he started, rubbing his sweaty palms across the legs of his jeans. “I never got your name or your contact information so I hope I’m not crossing any lines by coming by.”

Despite her better judgment, a smile grew on her face. It really was sweet.

“It’s okay, I’m just surprised.”

“Understandably. I just couldn’t let you slip by,” He said shyly. He grabbed his tea cup again, an attempt to still his fidgeting fingers.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Her mind swam as she attempted to push back her assumptions. It wasn’t every day that a random stranger showed up at her door, a handsome one at that.

She realized she must have been staring wide-eyed at him because he chuckled softly. “I’m sorry if that was a little too forward.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay. I just- What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his chestnut curls, the other gripped onto the tea cup like his life depended on it. “I just-I’ve never been able to talk to someone like that.”

She nodded slowly - she knew exactly what he meant. She had thought the same thing as she sat on her couch just hours ago, turning the events of their meeting over and over again in head, as if it was a coin in her hand.

“It was just…easy. Peaceful.” He smiled sheepishly. She relaxed into the couch. Peace. It was all she ever wanted in life and she tried tirelessly to keep control of it, to stuff it in a cage and keep it locked up so she could never feel its absence again. With him sitting in her apartment in front of her, she felt like she didn’t even have to try to reach out and grab it, it ran into her arms like a friend.

“I thought the same thing,” she admitted as she fought a smile rising on her lips. The man in front of her didn’t try to hide his relief or the upturn of the corner of his lips.

“That’s relieving.”

“Agreed.”

They smiled at each other for a moment, both in a daze. “I guess we should do a proper greeting this time,” he suggested, holding out his hand in front of her.

She took it with a grin. “Hi, I’m y/n.”

“Hi y/n, I’m Spencer.”

363 notes · View notes

velvetm00light · 5 months

Text

i accidentally posted this on my other acc & im too lazy rn to change it ill prob repost it on here tmr 😭

Peace

photos: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Warnings: fluff!!!! pretty much it i think

A/N: Though ya'll deserved a cute one. <3 Enjoy!!!

“It’s okay,” he chuckled, his hands gliding along his fur, accepting the sloppy kisses attacking his face. “I love dogs.”

“Are you sure? I can totally pay you for it. My dog is the reason it got wet.”

“I’m sure. Don’t worry about it.”

His eyes had widened at her statement about his book. “You’ve read The Fisher King?”

She laughed lightly, “Do I not seem like the studious type?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” He smiled up at her from his spot on the blanket. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who had even heard of it before.”

“Good thing I’m not just anyone.”

He nodded lightly at this, the corner of his lips tugging up so far she thought his jaw might start to hurt.

His smile reached his dancing eyes. His fingers still rubbed at her dogs belly almost subconsciously. “You’ve got good taste in books,” he says finally.

“I guess I could say the same for you. Mind if I sit? Since my dog seems insistent on staying here the rest of the day.”

“I could probably list about fifteen.”

“Pick one,” she chuckled.

“Thomas Merton, probably. I’ve got a soft spot for his poetry.”

“You really are perfect, huh?” He smiled. Resting his head on the bark behind him, his gaze never leaving hers, and the relentless smile still plastered on his face.

“I didn’t even realize we had talked for so long,” she said, a laugh escaping her lips. She just felt so…at peace. Sitting here with him.

“Honestly, me either.” He gave her a sweet smile back and a shrug. Unspoken words hung on his lips, but he decided not to voice them.

“I suppose I should get going,” she started, standing up from the blanket she had sat on for hours, her joints and muscles protesting against the sudden movement.

“Let me walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“Thank you.”

He was the first one to break the silence. “Have you always lived in the city?”

He laughed lightly, “You’re not wrong. I’m from Las Vegas.”

“Wow! That’s really cool actually. I’ve never been out West. Why did you come here?”

“I was tired of it, long story short. But I’ve always loved being in a city, being able to walk mostly everywhere I want to go, the sense of community.”

“Unfortunately, most New Yorkers have no idea what the words community or kindness mean.”

“It was no problem, I wanted to make sure you made it safe. Don’t worry about me, I might not look like it but I can put up a fight.”

She smiled at him because he was right. His lanky frame and nerdy look in fact made him look like he didn’t even know how to throw a punch, but who was she to make judgements?

The door unlocked with a click. “Hopefully, we’ll meet again soon,” she smiled, handing him his blanket and heading inside the foyer of her apartment building.

“Oh! Hi! Sorry, come on up. I’m in apartment 3B.” She groaned as she realized he probably already knew that, considering he had buzzed her apartment.

“It’s okay, to be fair I did let you walk me home. If I thought you came to kill me you wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. She stepped aside and motioned for him to come inside. He didn’t hesitate to step through the threshold and take in her apartment while she shut the door behind him.

“Your apartment is beautiful, it feels like nature but home.”

��Make yourself at home,” she said, intending for him to sit on the couch while she made them…tea? She wasn’t really sure what kind of expectations she had as a host. “Do you like tea?”

“Love it.”

“Thank you for the tea,” he smiled, delicately blowing on his tea to quicken up the cooling process.

Her brain still felt rattled at the fact that this stranger she had only met around 24 hours ago had remembered where she lived and showed up to her apartment.

They both took ginger sips of the steaming tea before setting their respective cups on the coffee table. “It’s delicious.”

“Thank you, I don’t make tea often but I’m glad I’m still good at it.”

Despite her better judgment, a smile grew on her face. It really was sweet.

“It’s okay, I’m just surprised.”

“Understandably. I just couldn’t let you slip by,” He said shyly. He grabbed his tea cup again, an attempt to still his fidgeting fingers.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Her mind swam as she attempted to push back her assumptions. It wasn’t every day that a random stranger showed up at her door, a handsome one at that.

She realized she must have been staring wide-eyed at him because he chuckled softly. “I’m sorry if that was a little too forward.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay. I just- What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his chestnut curls, the other gripped onto the tea cup like his life depended on it. “I just-I’ve never been able to talk to someone like that.”

“I thought the same thing,” she admitted as she fought a smile rising on her lips. The man in front of her didn’t try to hide his relief or the upturn of the corner of his lips.

“That’s relieving.”

“Agreed.”

They smiled at each other for a moment, both in a daze. “I guess we should do a proper greeting this time,” he suggested, holding out his hand in front of her.

She took it with a grin. “Hi, I’m y/n.”

“Hi y/n, I’m Spencer.”

8 notes · View notes

velvetm00light · 6 months

Text

hey guys!! are there any other characters ya’ll wanted to see me write about? they can be other criminal minds characters or other fandoms!! i’ve got some prompts i wanna try writing!!

also, if u want to leave requests 100% go ahead, i just will not be able to guarantee when i write it since this is for fun and i work 6 days a week :’) but i will try my best for ya’ll <3

10 notes · View notes

velvetm00light · 6 months

Text

Snowed In

photos: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 4.4k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: The entire BAU team decides to take a vacation to snowy Vermont. After a day of traveling together and being the last of the team to show up to the cabin, Spencer and y/n are exhausted and in need of quality time with their friends. When alcohol and games are mixed, Spencer decides to get y/n worked up before sneaking into her room that night to show her what can happen when the sexual tension between them finally snaps.

Warnings: smut, choking, alcohol consumption, others in the house, teasing, sneaking into her room, fingering, oral (female receiving), sexual tension, games (Twister).

A/N: I know it's freshly November but that's close enough to Christmas for me. This idea has been plaguing my brain for literal days now so I just couldn't resist the itch to write this. I also don't want to keep a masterpiece away from you guys especially since I probably won't be able to write for a week after this :(. But, as always, I hope ya'll eat this tf up like I did while I was writing it. <3 Also, I think I like the 3 pic banner so much better than the gifs so I might start doing that :)

THE ICE THAT COATED the sidewalk became a mirror, the concrete beneath twisting into the twin of the gloomy, gray sky above. Y/n's frost-bitten fingers tremble against the ebony wool coat she was wearing tightly wrapped as close to her body as she could possibly pull it. The unrelenting wind bit at her cheeks, her skin raw and burning.

She and Spencer had decided to walk through the cabin's yard rather than risk slipping on the glassy ice, which proved rather asinine as both of their boots and luggage wheels caked in packed snow and mud the deeper into the yard they hiked, slowing their pace. She peered ahead at Spencer under her heavy hood. His chestnut boots a bit more worse for wear than hers, considering he's worn the same ones probably every day of his life.

One hand shoved into his pockets, the other gripped onto the handle of his suitcase so tightly his knuckles blanched. His head dipped against the sharp wind. If she had any energy left by the time they finally reached the cabin's wooden front door, she was going to one hundred percent rub it in his face. They had a negligible argument prior to arriving at the cabin - Spencer completely hellbent on not needing a winter coat, and y/n explaining that Vermont's climate is completely paradoxical to Virginia's at most times of this year.

When they had left Virginia, the sky had been a meager blue, and the wind had grown a bite to it, indicating the impending winter but not intense enough to warrant them to avoid being outside at all costs yet. Temperatures had called for slacks and the usual sweater under a proper coat during their last few cases prior to their very welcomed vacation time. She just wanted to laugh in his face at how right she had been proven in the 5 minutes since they'd parked their rental car in the snow-packed driveway.

When they finally reach the cabin door, Spencer fumbles with the brass knob, his frozen fingers barely able to grasp it enough to twist and open. The door opens without difficulty and y/n almost slams into Spencer's back in an attempt to flee the harsh cold of Vermont.

Y/n hastily shut the door behind her. She and Spencer didn't bother unwrapping any scarves or unbuttoning any coats until they could feel their extremities again as they made their way into the expansive living room, leaving their suitcases by the door. A fresh pine tree lay decorated in lights and garland in the far right corner, the smell of pine welcome in her nose, a large window hiding behind it, climbing halfway up the logged wall before stopping and becoming more logs, with a smaller window on top, shaped to a slope to match the cabin's sloping ceiling.

JJ, Emily, and Penelope sit perched on the chocolate-colored couch to the left of the pine tree turned Christmas tree, wooly sweater sleeves pulled over their hands as they gently hold warm mugs of hot cocoa, most likely.

"You're finally here!" Penelope calls, setting her chipped mug gently on the coffee table just a leg lengths away from the couch. Emily and JJ copy Penelope's actions as they rush over to greet the two latecomers.

"We thought you guys might've gotten stuck or frozen to death or something," Emily explained, engulfing y/n in a hug so tight she thought her lungs might have to escape her body entirely to relieve the pressure.

"With the way Spencer drives, I think we almost got stuck like 4 times," y/n teased, resulting in a malicious side eye from Spencer but giggles from the women in front of her.

"To be fair, we only actually got stuck once. We made it in one piece so I don't see the issue."

Y/n rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, the rest of her energy spent on the single ridicule, her mind unable to continue the back and forth.

"The rest of them are in the kitchen," JJ explains, leading them through an archway embellished with fake leaves and fairy lights.

Rossi's back is to them as he pulls a steaming mug from the microwave. When he finally turns to spot y/n and Spencer, the last two team members to make it through the treacherous countryside of Vermont, he places the mug on the kitchen island. "I was just making you guys some cups of cocoa, but it's the packet kind. I would've made it from scratch if I thought I could survive another trip outside."

The team erupted in chuckles, "Yeah, I wouldn't suggest going out there, Rossi. You might freeze on the spot," Morgan laughed.

"Hey, I'm old, but I'm not that old."

Spencer reached delicately for the mug resting on the kitchen island, sliding his fingers through the handle and carefully lifting it as to not spill it over his hand. He turns to y/n and holds out the cup for her.

"I'll take the next one," he smiles. She gives him a sweet smile back as she takes the hot cocoa from him, "Thanks, Spence."

Y/n rose to sit upon a marbled counter, her hot cocoa clutched into her hands, greedy for the warmth it brought to her numbed fingers. Her legs swung, feeling restless despite the exhaustion that weighed her entire body down.

Vacation had began to seem like a myth considering serial killers never cease to kill and each and every person in the kitchen with her had the same mindset when it came to their work. People need us. She can't remember the last time one of her coworkers had taken a vacation or even just a day off as if they were avoiding it like a contagious disease.

She had to admit, it did almost make her feel uncomfortable to think about taking a vacation. She didn't hold much trust in others to do their jobs for them. But, nevertheless, she was grateful to finally have some time to spend with her favorite people doing nothing but watching cheesy Christmas movies and playing board and card games like she was a child again.

With all her might, she pushed down the lingering guilt she always seemed to feel when she wasn't working towards catching a bad guy. Villains always need their heroes, and she didn't like the idea of letting the villains run rampant for too long.

Her internal battle must have shown on her face because Spencer laid a secretive hand over hers as he leaned against the countertop she sat upon. He tilted his face upwards to look at her, silently asking her, what are you thinking about? Spencer seemed to be the one person who could read her like a book, despite y/n keeping the book of her life and emotions locked, shut, and completely hidden away from everyone else.

She shrugged, not important. She diverted her gaze from his, the weight of his causing her mouth to part slightly, wanting to spill everything running through her mind - but she clamped her mouth shut because that is definitely not something she wanted to do in front of her entire team.

She could feel his gaze still on her, reading the emotions on her face like a book, as if he looked long and hard enough, her thoughts would display themselves above her head. "Stop profiling me, weirdo," she whispered, just loud enough for only him to hear.

He rolled his eyes at her, the corners of his mouth threatening to turn up into a smile.

"How was the drive, Spence? It seems like you guys got the worst of this incoming storm," JJ stated, her mug had been retrieved from the living room coffee table and now rested in her cupped hands as she rested her elbows on the kitchen island.

"Dangerous," y/n muttered. Spencer playfully elbowed her. "Hey! You can't tell me you didn't fear for our lives at least once during that drive."

Spencer didn't bother responding, knowing she was right. The drive hadn't been the worst it could've been, but the snow had began flurrying as they arrived to the airport, y/n's hood pulled so far over her head she kept her eyes locked on Spencer's boots in front of her to lead her. The roads were slick with snow and ice, and the winding strip of road leading up to the isolated cabin had not been the easiest or safest to navigate.

"It's a good thing you guys got here before it got too bad, we might have to really get comfortable with each other considering we'll most likely be stuck here longer than we want," Emily suggested. The team nodding in agreement. Y/n was grateful she had remembered to bring every card and board game she could get her little hands on - Monopoly, Cards Against Humanity, even Twister. She couldn't wait to get the team drunk and convince them to play Twister.

"Speaking of, I think it's time we whip out the alcohol and the games," Emily smiled, as if reading the thought directly from y/n's mind, taking a bottle of top-shelf Tequila by the neck and wiggling it in the air.

"Best idea I've heard all day," Rossi stated.

Y/n and her team made their way into the living room, spiked hot cocoa in hand. She relaxed in the middle of the couch after grabbing her Cards Against Humanity box from her suitcase by the door, Spencer to her right and JJ to her left. Rossi and Hotch taking the two reclining chairs and pulling them forward to reach the table. Emily gracefully sitting on a pillow on the floor, Morgan settling for sitting directly on the carpet, and when Spencer attempts to offer Emily his spot, she dismisses him with the wave of a hand and a suggestive glance towards y/n.

Spencer repositioned himself again on the couch, the meaning of Emily's glance fully understood.

Y/n takes the liberty of pulling the cards out of their designated box and separating them into piles scattered across the coffee table, making sure every has access to a pile of white cards. As she finishes, the conversation about who goes first and random rules to add immediately sparks. Considering the instructions clearly read that whoever pooped most recently was to be the one to start.

The conversation turned argument continued on longer than any thought necessary, laughter filling the cabin to the brim. "Well if we're really trying to have a good time, all the losers each round have to drink."

Once in agreement, the team finally quieted as Hotch reluctantly grabbed the black card on the top of the stack in the middle of the table and read it aloud.

Y/n's head began buzzing as they were a fourth of the way through the stack of black cards, the game no where within bounds of stopping. Her limbs finally felt loose from being curled up in a plane and car seat for hours, trying to avoid looking at the snowy danger they had to travel through.

The entire team shed their worries, stresses, and found it in themselves to be in the moment. Everyone had equal amounts of pain lacing their chests and stomaches from laughing too hard at cards played and also equal amounts of disgusted faces and a little bit of gagging after the rules began to increase the more alcohol consumed - they had began ranking everyone's answers by the fourth time around, the person in first being exempt from drinking anything, the person coming in last being required to take a shot instead of a sip of their drink. Y/n seemed to be on a losing streak.

Luckily, her team was too engrossed in the game to notice when she took smaller shots than she was supposed to. She didn't want to be totally inebriated in the first few hours of her first vacation in God knows how long.

Spencer's arm was outstretched on the couch behind her, his other hand holding his cards secretively, knowing that y/n would a hundred percent be trying to take peeks now and then.

Once they had almost completely blown through most of the black stack, y/n ceased the opportunity. "I brought Twister!"

The entire room cheered, and she stumbled over to her suitcase to grab it out. It was quickly set up within a minute and to her distress, they decided to make teams and compete, obviously.

The girls split into a group and the boys into another. Emily and Hotch started first, Emily easily more flexible than Hotch, his leg unable to twist towards the red dot in the corner, resulting in him falling over and a chorus of laughter echoing off the logged walls.

"Spencer, Y/n, you guys should do it next!" Penelope gasped. "You're both so lanky, it'll be a close match."

Y/n's heart beat against her throat and she felt the rush of heat bloom in her neck and rise towards her still raw cheeks. She took a deep breath, not willing to show how much of a reaction she had at the thought of being tangled up with Spencer.

JJ and Rossi finish their round, JJ sneakily leaning into Rossi enough to knock him over, giving the girls a 2 point lead. Y/n and Spencer stroll leisurely towards the edges of the Twister map. An arched brow climbs her forehead, "I hope you're ready to lose."

"In your dreams," he smirks, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

As Penelope spins the pointer, she begins to call out body parts and colors. Within minutes, y/n and Spencer are a heap of tangled limbs, her back resting against Spencer's chest as she's bent over to reach her left hand to yellow, Spencer's hand next to hers on green. Her hair obstructs some of the view of the colored circles beneath them but the look of Spencer's flexed, muscular forearm on the side of her head does little to ease her rapidly beating heart. His breath is hot on the nape of her neck, coiling a heat in her middle she desperately attempts to push down.

"I think I enjoy you being under me," he whispers onto the skin of her neck, sending shivers rattling down her spine. As Penelope calls out left hand blue, she racks her gaze around the mat beneath them.

She can practically hear the rush of blood in her ears when she finally sees the blue between her strands of hair. The closet blue dot is down towards her legs, considering her right hand was already on the blue next to her left, requiring her to bend her hips upward. She takes a deep breath and reaches her hand to the spot, her ass rising upward into Spencer's hips.

She can hear the catch of his breath as she tilts upward to get into her position. The next color is called too soon after, resulting in Spencer's right leg moving to the left side of y/n's body, their bodies no longer touching in the way that spooled heat further into her center. Their limbs fight for purchase on different colored spots as the game continues, their teammates shouting at both of them, the game obviously riveting from above, but completely distracting between the two players.

After a few more minutes of twisting her body in ways she never knew she could, her arms trembled as she reached towards a yellow. Refusing to let a man who probably weighed the same as her beat her in a game of Twister, she fought through the shaking of her body and painful stretch of muscles she probably haven't used in years.

She could feel Spencer's body tremble underneath her, placed in almost the same position as before, just on the opposite side this time. "I think I enjoy being on top better," she whispered in the same way Spencer did to her.

His body tensed under hers before he dropped to the floor, crowning y/n the winner of quite literally a battle to exhaustion in a drunk game of Twister.

The women on her team cheered and hugged each other before reaching out a hand to pull her from her spot on the ground in which she collapsed onto right after Spencer did. "That was probably the longest game of Twister in the history of Twister games," Penelope laughed.

Y/n and Spencer plopped onto the couch together, content to watch Penelope and Morgan go against each other from their comfortable spots on the couch. As Emily called out colors and body parts and the teams cheering on their teammates, Spencer leaned over to y/n's ear. "If you're gonna be on top of me I think it'd rather be able to see you."

Her pulse quickened, the heat that as been building inside her since the start of their Twister match is beginning to come to an edge. Get a grip, she chastised herself. They were on vacation with their entire team for crying out loud, now was not the time for flirtatious advancements or sexual tension.

"In your dreams," she murmured, trying to keep the want in her voice caged down, but with the way that Spencer's lips lifted in a smirk told her she didn't do a very good job at it.

"Certainly."

She couldn't get her eyes to leave his face, lowering them to his mouth, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from saying anything stupid.

He noticed her do this and his expression turned hungry as he watched her work her bottom lip between her teeth. It was one of the things that always set him off without her even realizing. Her nervous tic could be taken as flirtatious by someone who doesn't know her. Even though Spencer knows better, it still causes tension inside his pants every damn time she does it.

"If you keep doing that I'm not going to be able to stop myself," he growled lowly.

The sexual tension between y/n and Spencer was almost palpable as the team said their drunken goodnights and stumbled to their respective rooms. Y/n climbed into her bed, pulling the quilt atop her closer to her face. Her thoughts swam, unable to stop them from completely consuming her with thoughts of Spencer - of his body on hers, his breath on her neck, and god damn the stupid comments he made, knowing they were working her up and torturing the hell out of her all night as they continued to play other games with their friends.

Her thoughts fell away, like birds falling out of the sky, as she heard a low sound. She sat up in her bed, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness swallowing her room, in attempt to see what the noise was. Her door opened gently and a figure quietly stepped through the threshold and shut the door behind them, obviously trying not to wake anyone up.

"Hello?" Y/n called out softly, at first she thought it was Penelope, coming to tell her some new gossip she overheard somewhere. But, it wouldn't make any sense of her to sneak in if she thought y/n was asleep. It most definitely wouldn't have been Hotch, Rossi, or Morgan and the only reasonable explanation for any of them to be in her room is if they mistook her door for a bathroom, but she doesn't believe they'd be that quiet about it. Emily was so inebriated she almost didn't make it to her bed by herself.

A nervousness began in her chest as the figure stalked closer to her bed and didn't answer her. Before she could react, lips met hers hungrily. She gasped into their mouth, an opening they took to their advantage as they slipped their tongue between her lips and battled hers for dominance. She supposed that if this was someone trying to kill her, they wouldn't have kissed her first and damn it was a good kiss.

She allowed the kiss to overtake her senses, small moans rising out of her throat as her bottom lip was taken in between teeth and tugged. When her bedroom intruder finally broke their kiss, they were both panting. "I did warn you I wouldn't be able to control myself," the voice growled. Oh.

"Spencer?" Y/n whispered, "What are you doing?"

"Well I wasn't going to wait for you to come to me," he murmured, dipping his head to her neck, trailing sloppy kisses downward to her collarbones. Her fingers tangled into his soft curls, a moan slipping from her lips as he teased her sensitive skin.

"Shh," he shushes her, his voice vibrating through her entire body. "You don't want anyone to hear, do you?"

"Spence..." she whimpered.

His fingers played with the hem of her tank top, only the thin fabric separating him from her breasts.

"I can't get you out of my head and it's been driving me insane," he muttered against her bare skin, his fingers trailing lightly over her exposed lower abdomen, sending goosebumps over her skin. "I can't stop thinking about that pretty little mouth wrapped around me, or the sound of your moans that I coax out of you in every possible way I can, or the sound of you screaming my name as you come."

Y/n feels breathless at his touch, the skin beneath his lips burning with heat. "Are you okay with this?" He asks after y/n's silence.

"Absolutely," she whimpers. "Don't stop, please."

As if that was his undoing, he tears her tank top from her skin, y/n almost unable to raise her arms up in time to get it over. As soon as her tank top is thrown to the floor, his lips latch onto her peaked nipple and a cry of pleasure gathers in her throat but she clamps her lips shut, not wanting to let anyone hear. He continues to work her nipple in his mouth, using tongue and teeth, mixing pain and pleasure.

Her fingers grip his hair tighter, her back arching to bring his mouth as close as it could possibly get to her exposed breasts. Without budging from her nipple, he removes her pants swiftly, gripping her hips with his hands to swing her under him.

Her eyes can just barely make out his face in the dark hovering above her, her body begging for more. She squirms underneath him, hardly able to contain the desire coursing through her blood. His smile turns feral as he realizes just how badly she wants him to keep going.

He lowers himself antagonizingly slow, leaving soft kisses along her naked body until he reaches her inner thighs. He settles himself comfortably in between her legs as she widens them to give him complete access.

He slides his tongue gracefully through her folds and she lets out a gasp. "I've been aching to taste you," he groans against her center, gliding his tongue from the bottom up again. "You taste fucking delicious."

His pace starts out tame as he saviors every whimper that leaves her mouth and the taste of her on his tongue. Another gasp escapes her as he slips a finger in, wasting no time in gently sliding it in and out, curling it upwards to hit her sweet spot just right. She bucks her hips, riding his tongue and finger as her pleasure builds in intensity, her breathing ragged.

Suddenly, his tongue and finger abandon her and she lets out a whine of disappointment. "Someone's needy," he chuckles lowly. "I'd rather make you come with me buried deep inside you."

Spencer quickly undresses himself and gently lines up with her center. He slides the tip through her folds, making her arch her back towards him, her silent plea.

Without hesitation, he slips inside her and releases a groan. "You're so wet for me," he smirks. She can barely see his face, but she knows he has a smug look on it. It's as if he's known how crazy he makes her, how she has fantasized about this very moment before.

His thrust starts out delicate, like he's afraid he's going to break her apart. She wraps her legs around his waist, an attempt to pull him as deep as possible. "Careful," he growls against her neck as he teases her skin once more. "I don't want to let loose just yet and hurt you."

"What if I like it rough?"

"Tell me how you want it, then." A challenge.

"I want you to fuck me dumb."

"Your wish is my command," he smiles against her skin and immediately latches onto her neck, sucking and pulling on her delicate skin. His hands grip her waist to keep her steady as he pounds into her, the sound of his bare thighs hitting hers. He places a hand on her throat and gently squeezes, as if he knows exactly how she likes it.

"Fuck.." Spencer growls, unhooking her legs from his waist with his available hand and using his weight to lift her legs above her head and driving in deep. Y/n claps a hand over her mouth to keep her screams in, her other hand gripping the sheets so hard her knuckles turn white. "You're taking me like such a good girl."

"Fuck, Spencer," she whimpers under her palm.

"Say my name again."

"Spencer..."

"Louder."

"Fuck, Spencer!" She cries as he hits home, her pleasure reaching it's breaking point hastily.

"Open your mouth," he demands. She releases her palm from over her mouth and opens wide, Spencer wasting no time in sticking two fingers on her tongue. She closes her lips around his fingers and slides her tongue over their length. He groans in pleasure as she continues to tease his fingers.

"Come for me."

Those words were her undoing as she falls over the edge, Spencer following her over and her body releasing the pent up desire. Her entire body trembles as ecstasy floods her.

He releases her legs but stays positioned inside her, face hovering just inches above hers. Their panting breaths tangle with each other in the air between them. "You took me like such a good girl," he coos, cupping her cheek gently and rubbing her heated skin with his thumb.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Y/n whispers, trying to control her wildly racing heart.

"Of course."

"I've thought the same things," she confesses, pulling him by the hair to meet her lips again. "And I hope you're not too tired for another round."

An animalistic smile grows on his face as he pauses their kiss, "I'm going to tear you apart."

522 notes · View notes

velvetm00light · 6 months

Text

Temper Tantrums

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n has finally entered the dating scene after refusing to even look at another guy romantically in years. As she gossips with her coworkers at the BAU about her date, Spencer sees red. As the tension grows between Spencer and Y/n, she's finally fed up and confronts him.

Warnings: Cursing, coworkers, mutual pining, immature behavior, name calling.

A/N: Actually kind of proud of this one, I hope ya'll enjoy it as much as I hope you will :))

Y/N CAN FEEL THE jet humming beneath her boots, the hand she's rested her chin upon vibrating her skull so intensely she begins to wonder if she could get the adult equivalent of shaken baby syndrome from it.

Emily is settled in the seat next to her, immersed in a game of chess with Spencer on the opposite side of the chessboard. JJ sits across from y/n, and the both of them can't help but watch intently as pieces are moved and soft curses are exchanged. "I'm getting anxious just watching this," y/n whispers to JJ. JJ nods her wide-eyed approval, never moving her gaze from the restless hands attached to their coworkers.

As the intense game of chess seems to last for an eternity, JJ finally tears her gaze away from the game and speaks to the rest of the team, "I know I'm ready for drinks when we get back."

"As long as Rossi's buying, I'm in," Morgan chirps.

"I guess I'm buying," Rossi's playfully rolls his eyes, the smile tugging at his lips ratting out his amusement. If no one had mentioned getting drinks after departing the jet, Rossi would've offered to buy rounds just to get the team to go with him.

"Did I hear Rossi's buying?" Emily asks, her head finally rising from the chessboard for the first time since her and Spencer began playing games ago.

"Are you coming?" JJ asks y/n, her lips forming a pout.

"I can't, I have..plans," y/n smiles apologetically.

"Who could be more important than us?" Emily asks, her jaw slack, as if completely taken aback by her sudden plans and the fact that she hangs out with people other than them.

"If you must know, I'm going on a date."

Spencer's head snaps up from the game, his gaze burning a hole into y/n as she smiles shyly and wrings her hands in her lap.

"A date?" JJ gasps, "With who? Oh my god, you have to tell us everything!"

"I don't want to jinx it. This is the first date anyway, he could be a complete weirdo."

"Please tell us how it goes after!"

"I will."

"Oh my god, this is so exciting, y/n!" Emily exclaims.

"It's about time you got back out there," JJ agrees.

"It's just a date, guys. No need to get your panties in a twist just yet. This job isn't for the weak, especially when it comes to dating."

"Oh, we know." They both dramatically sigh.

Spencer has not ceased gawking at y/n since she announced she was going on a date, the game of chess before him completely forgotten. He only tears his eyes away from her when she looks towards him, her brows furrowing together in confusion.

"Have so much fun and be safe..."

"Believe me, I'm not that type of girl, don't look at me like my mother would," y/n laughs. The girls laugh along with her but the tension in the air is palpable to the rest of the occupants on the jet.

Luckily for the rest of the team, the jet lands with perfect timing. The girls send y/n off on her date, explaining to her over and over again about using protection, red flags to look out for on the first date, and a million other tidbits of information they felt necessary to indulge her in before she could be on her way.

Spencer is the last to leave the plane, purposely packing up his chess pieces and board slowly. When he finally steps onto the tarmac, he can't stop himself from searching for her. There's an ache in his heart as his gaze bores into the back of her head as she walks quickly to her car in the carpark, her steps light and excited.

He doesn't allow himself to wish that she was rushing to go on a date with him, instead.

Y/n pushes through the glass doors to the BAU bullpen with a smile plastered across her face. She plops down in her brown, leathery swivel chair at her desk which, unfortunately for Spencer at this moment, is directly across from his.

He watches her intently as she settles in her chair, placing her bag underneath her desk and getting comfortable enough to go over some case files. She barely even gets to open a file before JJ and Emily are rushing up to her desk. JJ sits herself on the side of y/n's desk and Emily pulls up an empty chair.

Spencer's grip on his pen turns his knuckles white, his pen almost ripping through his paper. He keeps his head down, attempting to seem uninterested in the conversation he knows they're about to have.

"How did it go?" JJ asks impatiently, resting her head in her hands, leaning closer as if that'll get the information out of y/n any faster.

"It was actually..really good. He was sweet."

"Aw, good! You totally deserve someone who's sweet. You don't strike me as the type to swoon over the bad boy."

Y/n chuckles, agreeing wholeheartedly. In theory, the bad guy seems nice, he's protective, he'll murder anyone who touches his girl, and danger is thrilling. But, y/n has known that she's too independent to deal with a guy's possessiveness and it would just piss her off. Plus, sometimes the guys who look like they wouldn't hurt a fly but would actually would murder someone just for looking at his girl wrong...even hotter.

"There's nothing better than a secretly protective man. The bad boy exterior is kind of..embarrassing," y/n whispers. The women's eyes simultaneously land on Morgan, walking down the stairs to his own desk.

Morgan pauses as he notices the stare of the 3 women in the bullpen. "What?"

All he gets is giggles as a response as they turn back to their conversation. "To be fair, the mysterious persona fits him," Emily says matter-of-factly.

JJ and y/n nod in agreement and continue to whisper to each other about y/n's date the previous night. Unable to listen to anymore explicit details, Spencer abruptly rises from his chair and storms into the kitchen to gather and distract himself from the rising rage coursing through his blood.

He rummages through the public cupboards, keeping himself busy enough to miss out on the rest of that stupid conversation. "Spence?" A soft voice calls out. He whips around, almost jumping out of his skin entirely. His temper already worn thin at all the thoughts jumbled in his head, the leash on himself becomes completely taut seeing y/n standing in the doorway, a worried look on her face.

"What?" Spencer snaps.

"I-I was just seeing if you were okay," she says softly. Spencer mentally chastises himself. He hates that he's taking his anger out on her when she's done nothing wrong. He's the one who's ignored and shoved down his feelings for her since he began to feel those butterflies in his stomach when she spoke to him.

"Thank you for checking up on me, but I'm fine," he deadpans. He makes no move to move out the door past her in fear he'll accidentally brush up against her skin and his restraint will snap completely.

"Are you sure?"

"I said I'm fine."

"I can tell you're not, I wouldn't be a very good profiler if I believed you. But I'm not going to push you. I just hope you're okay. If you ever need to talk, I'm here for you."

"Thanks," he grumbles. He turns his back on her, continuing to go through the cabinet in hopes she leaves. His immaturity made him lose his appetite, and when he peaks over his shoulder towards the doorway, he isn't sure why his heart aches to see it empty.

Several days pass by and y/n's irritation is full to the brim. Spencer avoids her at all costs - sitting on the opposite side of the jet on the way to their newest case, if the only seats open in the conference room are directly next to her, he stands on the opposite side of the room, and ignoring any and all questions, comments, or concerns she has tried to communicate to him.

The tension between them becomes a wire stretched to it's breaking point, threatening to snap if they're not careful. The hostility that seems to be growing between them is not missed by their coworkers.

Morgan and y/n are camped out in a dark unmarked car provided to them by the local police enforcement. They were assigned to keep watch at the unsub's preferred dumpsite to see if he returns to revisit his victims like he'd done previously.

She wonders if Hotch purposely stuck her on boring duty to try to relieve the strain in the air - she wouldn't doubt it. She's honestly feels grateful for a moments reprieve. Well, she was grateful, but that was until Morgan opened his mouth.

"What's going on between you and Reid?"

"What do you mean?"

"You honestly can't think I'm stupid. I feel like I have allergies because the air around you guys is so damn suffocatingly...angry."

"I have no idea what you're talking about Derek."

"Hey, if you don't want to talk about it, that's completely fine. I'm just worried about you, kid."

She sighs and rests her head back on the head rest. She allows herself a moment to regain her composure - her coworkers shouldn't be punished because of Spencer's childish behavior.

"Thank you, Derek. I appreciate you. I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"It's okay, I get it. The kid's been weird this entire case."

"Tell me about it."

"Is there a specific reason?"

"Fuck if I know."

"Fair enough, I guess."

Morgan shrugs and returns his attention back on the wooded forest in front of them. Y/n's mind chases itself in circles as she considers asking Morgan about it but she isn't sure if it would even make her feel any better. She racks her brain for an actual reason to justify the way he's been treating her but she can't. She sighs to herself, internally fighting the struggle between fighting for their friendship, or letting him ruin it.

Y/n keeps her eyes glued to the jet window, resting her head on the plane wall, unconsciously wringing her hands in frustration. "You only do that when you're nervous or angry," Emily whispers over the small table between them. Emily's eyes dart to Spencer, sitting at the tail end of the plane, exactly where y/n assumed he would be like a coward.

Y/n's eyes finally peel themselves away from the darkened night sky and are met with Emily's concerned expression. "Do what?" She asks lowly, too mentally and physically exhausted from tracking down a serial killer and dealing with the temper tantrums of a grown man turned toddler.

"Wring your hands like that."

"Oh," is all she can manage out. She looks down at her moving hands, immediately removing her hands from each other and sitting on them.

"I know you well enough to know that if you wanted to talk about it, you would have already so I won't ask. I just don't like seeing it consume you."

"Thank you, Em. I just-I'm pissed the fuck off."

"Why?"

"Spencer has been throwing tantrums since he stormed away from his desk right before we left for this case. I went to check on him and he snapped at me and completely shut me out, which fine whatever, I don't like to be pushed either. But he's done nothing but avoid me, ignore me, and just flat out pretend I don't exist this entire case and I'm at my breaking point."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"How am I supposed to do that? He couldn't even set his emotions aside for one second to hear my opinion on why the unsub was dumping where he was or why he chose the ritual of displaying them like that."

"Maybe you should just confront him, make him listen to you."

"If I thought it was that easy, I would've done it already."

"Do it after we get off the jet."

"He's going to take forever to make sure I'm half way to my car before he even thinks about exiting this damn jet."

"Just give it a try, you're just making excuses now, y/n. I'll give a heads up to the rest of the team to avoid the crossfire."

"Thank you, Em. I appreciate you," y/n sighs. She runs through the conversation in her head over and over, deconstructing and reconstructing her opening statement and the evidence she plans on bringing up to prove her point. She's sure as hell not going to deal with this for any longer and she's not going to let someone she thought was her friend drive her away from the job she loves and the people she cares about most.

The door to the jet whirs open and the rest of the team hauls out of the jet quickly. Y/n takes her time getting up from her seat, her heart beating rapidly as she takes the stairs down to the tarmac one by one. She decides to stand out of sight from his seat on the jet so she can hopefully catch him by surprise.

After a few minutes of clutching her jacket closed from the piercing wind, Spencer finally drags himself out of the jet. Once his feet hit the tarmac, she falls into step beside him. "We need to talk."

He whirls his head to where she's walking casually beside him, her gaze fixed on the expanding airstrip ahead. "There's nothing to talk about," Spencer retorts.

"You might not have anything to say, but that's fine. That means you can just listen to what I have to say," she demands, catching his arm, spinning him to face her. Fury is written all over her face and Spencer's heart starts to beat faster. He knows he deserves every ounce of fury and venom she's about to spit at him.

"Why are you acting like such a child towards me? You've done nothing but ignore, avoid, and act like I'm not even a person to you, let alone your friend, like I thought we were. I don't deserve to be treated the way you've been treating me, Spencer."

"I know you don't and I'm sorry. But that's why I've been angry."

"Why?"

"Because, I don't want to just be your friend. It's eating me from the inside out to continue to just be friends and hear you talk about this new guy and knowing that I'd never be man enough to tell you that I'm tired of just being friends but I never want to get in the way of your happiness so I just didn't think there was a point in saying anything now."

"What are you saying?"

"That I have loved you from the damn moment you risked your life in the Utah case 2 years ago. In that moment, I knew that losing you would tear my entire world apart."

"You absolutely fucking idiot!" Y/n cries out. Before Spencer can react, y/n takes him by the collar of his sweater and crashes her lips onto his with fiery passion. Their tongues dance in tandem together. They're both breathless and panting when they rise from their kiss, y/n's hand still gripped on his sweater. "I love you, too, you fucking bonehead."

527 notes · View notes

velvetm00light · 6 months

Text

Falling

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Six of Save Me

Previous Chapters: one, two, three (y/n), three (spencer), four, five

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After an eventful bath together, you and Spencer spend some quality time together dancing in his kitchen while making dinner for Penelope's upcoming friends-giving.

Warnings: smut, PinV, finger sucking (reader), dancing in the kitchen, slow dancing, domxsub, nipple sucking, hickeys.

A/N: This is a shorter part but it contains both smut and fluff sooo. ;) I'm going out of town this weekend so I'm going to try to pre write some one shots for ya'll before I leave :))

YOU SINK INTO THE steaming water, your muscles immediately relaxing. A small moan escapes your lips at the instant relief of your loosening muscles. Spencer's lips quirk upward. Your legs were trembling so terribly after you and Spencer's previous...session you could barely make it to the bathroom yourself, and you needed him to help you into the large square bathtub much to your dismay. Spencer, however, enjoyed every second of it and would do it every day of his life if you allowed him.

Your eyes flutter closed as you sink down to your chin in the toasty, bubbly water. Suddenly, the water rises around you and your eyes fling open, attaching themselves onto Spencer's bare body sinking into the water with you. "What? Did you think I was just going to miss out on a hot bath with a beautiful girl?"

You're thankful for the small bubbles that float across the surface of the water so he can't see just how aroused you are by the perk of your breasts. "I guess I can't blame you," you grin. "It surely must be hard being in the same bath as said beautiful girl, knowing she's fully naked just inches away from you."

He cocks his eyebrow and settles his arms on either side of the tub. It was during certain times like this where you wish you were some kind of artist so you could paint yourself a picture of how ethereal he looks. "It's not the only thing hard in this situation."

"Hmm, I'm not sure I believe you. Should I check for myself?"

Desire immediately flashes across his face, his eyes traveling down as if wishing he had xray vision so he could see your slick, heated body under the water. "Come and take me then."

You lower yourself onto your hands and knees, purposely keeping your breasts out of sight under the bubbles and water. As you near him, you stop your face just inches away from his. You allow your gaze to drop to his lips, taking your own bottom lip in between your teeth. When your eyes meet his again, you can tell his self-restraint is leashed to capacity and if you even try to tease him, it's going to snap completely.

You ease your lips onto his, your tongues immediately moving in the dance they've somehow already perfected together as if they've known each other your whole lives. You place your knees on either side of Spencer's legs and rub your core slowly along his length.

His hands grip your waist roughly and pull your lips apart, "You're such a fucking tease, you know that?"

Mischief sparks in your eyes as you lower your lips onto his jaw and travel your way down his neck, your tongue circling his sensitive skin. Goosebumps bloom across his skin at your tongues caress. "Uh-huh...keep going," he purrs.

Your lips make their way across his chest and up the other side of his neck, then jaw again, then back to his lips. You lower yourself onto him as you take his lips again. "Go slow, my love. I want to make this last," he mumbles into your mouth.

You roll your hips in rhythm with his as he guides you in and out of him with his rough hands gripping your waist. He removes his lips from yours and attacks your neck, sucking on your delicate skin and leaving love marks in his wake.

You increase your rhythm as your pleasure ignites inside you. His moans sink into your skin, threatening to become a part of you that you realize you might never be able to be rid of. "Open your mouth for me," he says as he averts his gaze back to yours, your skin raw.

You do as commanded and open your mouth. He slips two fingers into your mouth and you wrap your lips around his fingers. Keeping eye contact, you slide your tongue around his fingers, wishing it was his cock instead. "I can't wait to see those pretty little lips wrapped around me," he groans, the tether of his restraint spread as thin as it can possibly go.

"Oh, Spence," you whimper around his fingers. You can almost see the tight control he's had on himself snap free.

"If you say that again, I'm not going to wait for permission to fuck you dumb," he growls.

"Spence, please." He removes his fingers from your mouth and harshly takes control of your waist as he ceases your movements.

"I'm going to fuck you until you see stars. Don't cum without my permission."

Before you can even widen your eyes at the dominance seeping out of him, he slams into you, causing you to cry out in satisfaction. Your skin erupts from his possessive touch and the marking kisses he left all over your skin just moments prior.

"You're so tight around me, my love. I'll never tire of feeling you wrapped around me."

You gasp, trying your absolute hardest to reign in your climbing climax. He pumps into you harder as if sensing your rising orgasm. "Not yet, I'm not done with you."

You throw your head back and shut your eyes, allowing the ecstasy to engulf your mind, body, and soul. You cry out, begging Spencer for your release. You're unsure if you'll be able to hold it in much longer with the way he curves his hips upwards to glide along your sweet spot. He increases his pace a final time, taking your nipple into his mouth, tugging with his teeth and causing just enough pain to heighten your pleasure.

"Come for me," he growls around your nipple and you gladly do as told. You cry out his name as he follows you over the edge, your walls pulsating around him as you try to calm your racing heart. "Let me stay like this inside you for a minute, I'm not ready to let you go just yet."

You're not going to deny that you feel the same way, so you lower your head onto his chest as he wraps his firm arms around you. He places his chin gently on the top of your head as you both catch your breath and take this moment to feel and appreciate every inch of each other.

"As much as I wish we could stay like this forever, I do have a proposition to run by you," Spencer smiles, lightly pushing a stray hair behind your ear.

"Shh..we can totally stay like this forever," you whisper, pulling yourself tighter into his body. After drying off from the eventful bath, the both of you were too fatigued to do much else. He helped you dress in your own clothes this time and lead you back to bed as he laid with you in his arms for a while, breathing in the scents of each other.

"I don't think it would be healthy for either of us to stay inside my apartment the rest of the month."

You groan and lift your head from his chest. "Depends what you have in mind. I plan on being a pain in the ass if I don't want to do it."

He rolls his eyes but you know his annoyance is faked with the way the corners of his mouth lift into a smile. "Well, with the holidays soon, you know exactly how Penelope gets. She texted me to ask if we wanted to come to her place tonight for a friends-giving. There is a requirement though."

"Hmm?"

"Everyone has to make something and bring it."

"I hope you're a good cook."

"Too bad you're gonna help me."

"I'm so tired."

"Come on, we better get started."

Spencer drags you out of bed by your hand and leads you into the kitchen. "I'll let you choose what we make."

You dramatically tap your chin as you think, you run through all the possible recipes you could know but you've never been much of a good cook. "One of the few memories I have from my childhood is my mom's baked mac and cheese. I've made it for myself countless times, it's always a hit...with myself."

"Baked mac and cheese it is, then."

He pulls you into an embrace one more time, unable to get enough of you. Too quickly, he releases you and beings to gather all the necessary ingredients, spices, and kitchen equipment you guys will need to make dinner.

As he leaves you to start the pasta, he grabs a speaker from his bedroom and connects his phone to it. You only notice when Fly Me to the Moon begins to play and he ceases your waist. He whips you towards him as he takes your hands and begins dancing with you. You can't help but giggle as you both badly bellow the words together.

You begin to wonder what kind of playlist he could possibly have on when the songs change from Footloose to Enter Sandman to Little Lion Man to The Way You Look Tonight. You sing loudly and dance goofily in between mixing and seasoning and cooking. When you finally pop the mac and cheese in the oven to bake, one song ends and another turns into Can't Help Falling in Love. Spencer takes your hand, snaking the other around your waist to pull you close. You both softly sing to each other as you slow dance around the kitchen, soaking in the love floating around the entire apartment. You move in perfect cadence, as if your bodies were perfectly sculpted to match the other.

"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner that I'm madly in love with you," Spencer smiles, his face mere centimeters away from yours.

"I think you made up for it."

"Good, because I'd get on my knees for you if you asked me."

"I find that doubtful."

"I don't beg for anything or for anyone. But, I would absolutely get down on my hands and knees to beg for you. A hundred percent."

"I might just have to put that to the test."

"Careful," he purrs, pulling you into a tender kiss.

TAG LIST: @qatiee @dottirose @thisaintredwine @jay-2s-world @ruziazyn @translatemunson @sky2nd @dysphoricsanity @bunbunbl0gs

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velvetm00light · 6 months

Text

Trust

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Five of Save Me

Previous Chapters: one, two, three (y/n), three (spencer), four

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer keeps his promise to take care of you and makes you breakfast but as you have breakfast in bed, he sours the mood by suggesting he go to your apartment to retrieve your clothes. When he returns, he seems to have gotten a little ahead of himself and decides to show you what he means.

Warnings: smut, domxsub, praise kink, PinV, hickeys, nipple play, cursing, strip teasing.

A/N: Feeling a little smutty, you're welcome. ;) Also, if you guys have any requests for one-shots or even things you might like to see happen in this series, I'd love to hear ya'lls ideas! I'm most just writing these chapters as I get some ideas and will probably post one-shots when I'm stuck on what else to write for this series. But anyway, I hope ya'll eat this shit up like I did while I was writing it.

THE SUN SPILLS A warm light through the curtains on Spencer's bedroom window. Spencer's arm is wrapped across your waist, holding you tightly against his body. His breath on the back of your neck. You realize you could stay like this forever, screw water, food, and work.

You hear a mumbling behind you so you twist your body within his grip to face a sleepy Spencer, his eyes adjusting to the rich, honey light pouring into the room. "Good morning, love."

"Good morning, Spence." A lazy smile splays across your face and he returns yours with one of his own. He pulls you into him even further, his hand finding it's way to the back of your head and pulling your face into his bare chest. You wouldn't complain if you spent the entire day like this, no matter how badly your throat burns from the lack of water, or how badly your stomach grumbles. You don't care how stiff your limbs get, you just want this feeling to last a lifetime. If only you could bottle this feeling up and get drunk on it.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

You hum lowly, thinking of the many inappropriate things you could say, but decide to save them for later. "Whatever you're in the mood to make," you settle on.

"What are your favorite kind of pancakes?"

"Chocolate chip."

"Perfect."

You whine at the sudden emptiness of the space beside you. "You stay your pretty ass right there, I'll be back."

You decide to do as commanded, but only because you're still so exhausted. But, your mind can't help but start imagining what he must look like out there, cooking breakfast for you in nothing but his boxers. Suddenly, you feel wide awake.

You smile to yourself as you slowly climb out of bed, your bones and muscles barking at you to lay the hell down. Seeing him practically naked is way more important than comfortability right now.

You tip toe through across his bedroom floor and make your way to the door you didn't even notice that he left agape, probably because he knew you'd want to watch him. You're a hands-on learner though, so you creep along the living room until you reach the kitchen. You wrap your arms around his waist and settle your cheek onto his back.

"Fuck!" He yelps. You can't contain the giggle that erupts out of your throat. "Didn't I tell you to stay in bed?"

The smile is wiped completely off your face and replaced by shock and desire at his commanding tone. "I couldn't help myself, you just look so inviting."

"You're lucky," he begins, then shuts his mouth quickly and turns his head back towards the pancake batter you interrupted him from making.

"I agree that I'm very lucky, but I'm interested to know why you think so," you purr. You release your arms from him as he turns to face you. Heat rises to your cheeks and into your core at the smirk that spreads across his face. He places his hands on the counter of either side of him as his gaze travels up and down your body. "Are you sure you want me to say it?"

"Yes, I'd love to hear it." But, nothing could've prepared you for what actually came out of his mouth.

He takes your chin in his hand and pulls your face just inches from his. "You're lucky that I care about how you feel and your aching body, because I tend to punish bad girls who can't listen."

There's a throbbing that starts in your center and you almost choke on your own spit. "Is that so?"

"Oh, absolutely. So, go lay back in bed like a good girl while I make you breakfast. Enjoy the show from in there." He tilts his chin in the direction of his bedroom. Your legs turn to jello as desire pools in your core.

"Yes, sir," you smirk mockingly. The evidence of his arousal at your submission in his boxers. You let your gaze slowly travel downwards, the bulge barely contained by the thin fabric. As you raise your gaze up to his again, the smile is off his face and his eyes are aflame with thirst. You grin innocently up at him and turn on your heels back towards the bedroom.

After breakfast was brought to you in bed and you and Spencer enjoyed an intimate morning with each other, your mood has quickly turned sour.

"You don't have to come, I can do it myself," Spencer suggests. He recommended just after breakfast that instead of looking like a little boy from the 1950s, your clothes should be retrieved from your apartment one way or another.

"I don't know if you should just go digging into my closet alone," you start, but you don't continue when you see the sly smile that tugs on his lips and the arch of his eyebrow.

"Is there something you don't want me to see?"

"What? No! I'm just..private."

"You only have two options, so pick one."

You groan in frustration. "You really know how to ruin the mood, you know that?"

"Pardon me for not wanting to be seen in public with you dressed like that. People might mistake you as my son."

"Hey! Asshole. You gave me these clothes!"

"And I think you look adorable. and frankly, I look adorable in them. Hence why they're my clothes."

"You're so annoying," you say, trying to prevent the smile threatening to spill onto your face. You swat him in the arm and he easily catches your wrist. "Careful," he purrs.

"Fine, you can go alone."

"As you wish," he says sweetly, kissing the back of the hand currently in his grasp. Too soon, he leaves his side of the bed and begins to dress. "Is there anything else you might need?" He asks, looking over his shoulder at you as he buttons up his shirt.

"I guess all my toiletries would be smart. I'm not going to use boy products on my hair."

"Hey, I'll have you know, I use some pretty high quality shampoo and conditioner. You don't get hair like this by treating it like shit," he states, pointing to the mop of chocolate curls on his head.

"You do have really nice hair."

"That's what I'm saying."

He finishes dressing himself and before he leaves you to your own devices inside his apartment, he puts a finger under your chin and lifts it up so he can meet your eyes. Without saying a word, he places a tender kiss on your forehead. "Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone."

"Is that an order?"

"Always."

You wave goodbye from the comfort of his bed as he blows you a kiss from his spot at the front door. Then all too soon, he disappears into the hallway and you're all alone in his apartment.

This time, you don't fight the urge to go through his things just like you'd bet your life on the fact he's definitely about to go through yours. You start with the bedroom, a picture of his beautiful mother and him in a golden frame on his night stand, along with a charger, some chapstick, and an alarm clock. Boring.

More pictures from his childhood are placed deliberately across his dresser. His shoes, mostly black and brown dress shoes all polished to a shine, are lined up neatly in a row at the bottom of his open closet, sweaters, cardigans, and button-up shirts alike neatly hung.

You wander into his living room, and your eyes sweep across your surroundings. The hundreds of books placed upon bookshelves throughout the entire apartment, his prized copy of War and Peace on the coffee table that he probably reads every morning before work. Plants are scattered around the apartment, taller ones placed on the floor next to bookshelves and windows, with the smaller ones placed on shelves and his desk.

You launch yourself into his books, taking out book after book, inspecting covers and summaries. You come across a light blue book with the illustration of a cloud on the cover titled In Cold Blood by Truman Capote. You shrug and decide to give it a shot - if you're going to be out of work for at least the next month, you might as well do something with your time other than oogle at Spencer although you would definitely enjoying spending the entire time oogling.

You're so captivated in the story you don't hear Spencer return to the apartment, your clothes and toiletries in tow. You almost jump out of your skin entirely when he suddenly puts a hand on your shoulder. "Fuck! You scared the shit of me," you pant, whipping your head around towards him.

He bursts into a laugh and only calms down enough to say, "Pay back."

"Thank you for getting my clo-" you start, and when he sets down the bags in front of you, you notice a bright red garment sticking out. Noticing your puzzled expression, Spencer reaches for the garment and pulls it out to reveal a sexy red lingerie bodysuit you probably haven't worn in a few years. "Oh my god, Spencer!"

"What? I thought this might come in handy." He smiles at you innocently.

"You're a freak, you know that?"

"You have no idea," he whispers, barely audible enough for you to hear.

"What was that?"

"I said, you have no idea."

"No idea about what?"

"How much of a freak I can be," he says unflinchingly. You squirm under his ravenous gaze.

"Oh, really? Enlighten me."

Both brows rise as he takes in your words. "Oh, my love. I don't think you mean that."

"And what if I do?"

"Then prove it. Undress and spread yourself on my bed," he smirks. Your eyes widen at his request. Your whole body heats as he patiently waits for you to abandon your book and spot on the couch. "Or would you rather me do it for you?"

The corners of your lips tug upwards and you decide to cease the moment to tease him as he did you this morning. "I can do it myself."

He motions for you to go on and you rise from your spot on the couch, but instead of walking away from him and into the bedroom, you stand directly in front of him. Your hand gravitates to his waistband. You hook a finger into his waistband and pull him into the room with you.

"Someone's needy," he coos.

As you stop him at the foot of the bed, you release his waistband and immediately use your fingers to slowly lift up the sweater, revealing your bare breasts underneath. Spencer sucks in a sharp breath, obviously expecting you to have had worn something under the sweater he gave you. The thought of you walking around bare under his sweater all morning starts to drive him wild.

Your fingers play with the waistband of the shorts he provided for you. You notice him becoming impatient, the need coursing through his blood turning him almost animal. You let the shorts drop to the floor, to reveal you weren't wearing anything else under his shorts either.

You slowly back up to the bed, bracing your hands on either side of you and crawling backwards. "Spread those pretty legs for me."

You do as asked and he's instantly upon you. "You look so pretty spread out for me," he says as he begins to trail kisses down your jaw line, all the way down your neck and to your collarbones, kissing even gentler over the healing cuts along your skin. You gasp as he sucks the skin of your breasts, and your skin aches at his touch.

"Spence.." you gasp at the electricity that runs through you as he takes your nipple between his teeth and tugs. He coaxes whimpers from you as he continues to work both of your nipples, one with his tongue and teeth, the other with his fingers.

He withdraws from your nipples and places delicate kisses down your abdomen. As he reaches your core, he nibbles on your inner thighs instead. He picks up his head and stares at you from between your thighs. God, you wish you could take a picture of him right now, you'll never tire of the site of his head between your legs. "How do you want me to please you, my love?"

"I want...need all of you. But, gently please. And be patient, I'm not sure if I'll be able to..you know..deal with it, just yet," you admit.

"We'll stop when you say so," he promises, "just focus on me. You're safe."

You nod, and he's lays kisses along your body back up until he reaches your lips. He crashes his lips against yours in a sensual kiss. Your tongues dance together in tandem. Spencer undresses himself, not breaking the kiss as he unbuttons his shirt and throws it off. He breaks off the kiss and you're left with swollen lips and an insatiable desire for the man above you. "Do you trust me?" He asks in a low voice.

"With my life."

He pounces on you again, your lips tangling with each others, his tip nudging your entrance. "You're so wet for me," he breathes into your mouth as he deliberately slides in to the hilt. You adjust around his hardening length, refusing to think of anything in this moment except how long you've waited for this moment, never believing your fantasies would actually come true.

He gently rocks into you, pleasure immediately filling your entire body. Your skin turns to fire as he uses a calloused hand to explore your entire body while his tongue explores your mouth. He keeps a slow pace, tilting upwards to hit your sweet spot. "Oh, god..Spencer," you moan shakily. You roll your hips in rhythm with his, maximizing both of your pleasures.

You both deepen the kiss, moaning into each others mouths, unable to get enough of each other. You halt the kiss, his pace never ceasing as he eases in and out of you in loving motions. "I want you to fuck me."

"Are you sure?"

"Consider it making it up to me for hiding your feelings from me all these years."

"You're playing a dangerous game, (y/n)," he smirks as he drives into you. A gasp escapes from your lips and you dig your nails in his bare back, his muscles working beneath your grip. "Beg for it."

"Please, Spence. I need it, I need you," you plead, bucking your hips upwards.

"You're so pretty when you beg," he smiles, giving into your desires and thrusts into you roughly, your climax rising towards you.

"Spencer, oh god!" You cry out, a wave of ecstasy crashing into you.

"Louder, don't hold back."

You cry out again as he drives deeper into you.

"You're taking me so well, my love. I'm so proud of you," he purrs into your ear.

You finally reach your climax at his praise, arching your back off the bed and towards his sweating body. He follows you over, his moans of pleasure music to your ears. He slides out of you, his chest heaving as he reads your face.

"You look so good beneath me, you know that?"

"You look even better above me."

You smile at each other and he withdraws from you, coming back with a soft towel and cleans you up himself. "I'll run a bath for you."

"Thank you, Spence." A nice hot bath sounds like the perfect way to allow yourself to readjust after everything that just happened. Your brain still comprehending the fact that this is real and not just another one of your fantasies. Maybe if you're lucky, he'll join you in the bath and help you indulge in another one of your fantasies.

TAG LIST: @qatiee @dottirose @thisaintredwine @jay-2s-world @ruziazyn @translatemunson @sky2nd @dysphoricsanity @bunbunbl0gs

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velvetm00light · 6 months

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Honestly between the new save me update and that one shot,it's safe to say I cried,squealed,giggled and kicked my feet the whole way through😂😭You never fail to deliver!😍

ahh thank you so much!! that's exactly what i was going for ;) there's plenty more to come:))

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velvetm00light · 6 months

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Drunken Confessions

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: drunk&dom!Spencer Reid x sub!Female Reader

Summary: After a night out at the bar, Spencer drunkenly tells his coworker, Y/n, how he feels about her. She's shown the side of him no one knows as they go to his apartment together and show each other exactly how they feel.

Warnings: Alcohol, PinV, fluff, coworkers, domxsub, smut.

A/N: First attempt at a one-shot. This honestly went in a different direction than I actually planned for and I'm not mad about it. I hope ya'll enjoy. ;)

GLASSES CLINK NOISLY AS the Behavioral Analysis Unit team of the Federal Bureau of Investigation cheers each other over the too small wooden table inside their favored bar for after-work drinks. They had just gotten back from a particularly gruesome case and all agreed to try and let loose for the night. They even managed to get their innocent boy wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid, to tag along.

Music thundered around the bar, y/n's feet feeling the vibrations through the hardwood floor beneath her. It was almost impossible to hear each other over the music, so they all had to result to either yelling or not using their words at all.

JJ basically jumps from her seat and yells across the table, "time to dance!" Y/n, Emily, and Penelope wasted no time rising from their seats and rushing onto the dance floor, the boys decidedly choosing to stay at the table.

Emily has made the point multiple times before that they reason they all choose not to dance is most likely because they're embarrassed of their dancing skills and it might just kill them to make a fool of themselves in front of strangers. Even though Morgan swears he actually dances like a "sex god" per his own words, he is perfectly fine sitting his married ass down and sipping on a nice cocktail.

The girls waste no time getting down to business on the dance floor as the boys at the table talk, well, more like yell, amongst themselves. Despite only having a single drink, in which he is currently still nursing, Spencer finds his eyes gluing themselves to y/n. The way she gracefully moves her body to the rhythm of the music, the flow of her hair behind her, stray pieces already beginning to stick to the nape of her neck and shoulders.

"Earth to Reid."

Spencer's attention snaps away from y/n's mesmerizing moves and stares at Morgan. A heat creeps up his neck and into his cheeks, feeling like a kid caught red-handed.

"Go dance with her. You're oogling her and I won't be surprised if you started to drool had I not said anything." Morgan was reveling in the fact that Spencer finally couldn't deny what the entire team pretty much already knew, a smirk on his face as he tilted his head in y/n's direction.

"Absolutely not!" Spencer cried, already feeling the second hand embarrassment. His too long limbs cause a great deal of trouble every time he's ever attempted to dance. He can't imagine making that big of a fool of himself in front of the girl he's been developing a crush on ever since she joined the Bureau.

"You've got to take life by the balls, kid. How do you expect her to know you're pretty much in love with her, if you tell her?"

"What? I'm not in love with her," Spencer argues, knowing damn well his actions rat him out as a total liar.

"Fine, have a few more drinks and then let me know how you feel." Morgan gets another round of drinks and pushes two new, full rum and cokes in front of Spencer. "Try not to take an hour to drink these, kid."

Deciding he could actually do with some liquid courage, he downs the first drink. The instant burn of the heavy handed pour sliding down his throat causes a war within his stomach and he instantly regrets it. He's not used to alcohol and alcohol definitely does not tend to agree with him. But hell, who is he kidding? He might be better off getting so drunk he finally tells her how he feels and doesn't remember doing it to save him from the embarrassment likely to follow.

Y/n and the girls are in the middle of a pretty heated dance battle together when Spencer stumbles onto the dance floor.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is wonder boy coming to dance with us?"

The women immediately stop their dancing and turn towards where the man himself is carefully weaving through the crowd towards them. "I thought I might join you guys,"

"Please do!" Y/n shouts over the music. The women instantly resuming their dancing and Spencer immediately feels at ease. He's unsure if it's the multiple rum and cokes he downed just a few minutes ago or if it's because the women begin dancing like lunatics without a care in the world. He joins in without hesitation.

They all dance the night away together, y/n and Spencer laughing with each other as they sing and dance together, him spinning her across the dance floor, and on occasion them getting so close he almost took the risk to kiss her.

As the night gets darker, the bar gets emptier, and swear pours down their entire bodies, they finally make their way back to the table.

"You looked great out there, kid." Morgan chuckled, sipping the last of his drink.

"I think this was the best night of my life," Spencer smiled. For a brief moment, y/n and Spencer's gazes caught each other and they shared wide, toothy smiles. The tension between them so palpable you could cut it with a knife. As if realizing it, the rest of the team says their goodnights and leave y/n and Spencer to their own devices at their littered table.

"I'll drive you home," y/n suggests, fishing into her purse for her keys as they make their ways toward the parking lot. "Before you ask, no I'm not drunk. I haven't even been able to touch a drink most of the night because I was obviously too busy getting down and dirty."

Spencer smiled down at her, "Thank you, I would appreciate that very much."

They climb into her car together, and Spencer instantly heats up at the proximity and the fact that they're alone. As she starts up her car and focuses on pulling out of the bar parking lot without hitting drunk pedestrians, Spencer is compelled by the very essence of her. His eyes greedily roam over her from her lush, lip glossed lips to her sweat slick hair sticking to her neck, to her perfectly formed nose. He drinks in each and every one of her features, truly unable to find a single flaw on her.

The short, red dress she's dressed in hugs her curves perfectly, her long legs teasing him as they move back and forth from gas pedal to brake and back again. Desire courses through his blood and feels as if it might boil him from the inside out if he doesn't act upon it.

"You know what's crazy?"

"What, Spence?"

"I've had a crush on your for years and I've been way too scared to tell you." He bursts into a laugh and y/n's breath catches in her throat. She doesn't even consider allowing herself to believe he's telling the truth, because out of all people, why her?

"You're drunk, Spence."

"You know what they say, drunk words are sober thoughts."

Her whole body tingles as her grip tightens on the steering wheel. Her core feels molten at the desire pooling at the bottom of her stomach as it has been all night. Even when he was dancing like an absolute goof, he was still the hottest man she's ever seen in her life. The entire night, all she could do was wish the moment would last forever, Spencer spinning her across the dance floor, their faces being inches away from each other. She almost gave in and kissed him every single time she could feel his panting breath on her face.

"I mean it, you know. Ever since you joined the Bureau, I've just had this...pull to you. You're seriously the most mesmerizing, brilliant, generous, exquisite woman I've ever met in my life. I ache to be near you every single time you leave. I ache to kiss those beautiful lips every single time you talk, or when you bite your bottom lip when you're nervous, or when we'll sometimes accidentally get so close to each other it almost just makes sense to grab you by the chin and kiss you."

Y/n is dazed after his revelation. Her heart begins to beat so rapidly in her chest she swears it might just burst through her ribs and out of her body completely. "I-Are you sure you're not just drunk, Spence?"

"Oh, I'm drunk. But I'm just saying the things sober me would have never said in a million years," he smiles at her. She catches his gaze for a moment, wide-eyed and absolutely dumbfounded, before quickly returning her gaze to the road in front of her. "I was always afraid you would never feel the same, and I guess the suffering of never telling you how I felt was a better option than telling you how I felt, you not feeling the same, and then our entire friendship is ruined. I don't think I could bear losing you."

"Spence.." Y/n chokes out. "Let's talk about this inside."

She swiftly pulls into a parking spot outside Spencer's apartment and they both rush inside. As y/n shuts the door softly behind her, she whirls around and almost slams into Spencer.

Before she can do anything, she's backed up against his apartment door, his hands above each side of her head, trapping her. "This doesn't make you uncomfortable, does it?" He asks softly.

"No," y/n manages to breathe out.

"Good, then hopefully this doesn't either."

Before she can ask what he means, he greedily crashes his lips into hers. A small moan escapes her lips as he takes her bottom lip between his teeth and tugs roughly. The opening of her lips gives Spencer the chance he was hoping for and she readily accepts his tongue as hers dances along. The kiss between them is greedy and hungry, the built up tension between them finally snapping.

She's pushed completely into the wall by Spencer's towering body. He bends down slightly, reaching for the back of her legs. He pulls her off the floor, and wraps her legs around his waist without breaking the ensuing passionate kiss.

She feels his body move beneath her as he grinds up into her. A whimper escapes from her and passes into Spencer's mouth which only causes him to grind against her center again, his arousal evident.

She removes her arms from around his neck and fumbles for his belt. She swiftly unbuckles him and pulls out his hardening length. She slides her hands slowly up and down, teasing small moans from his lips.

Before she can even react, he's pushed the hem of her dress up to her waist. He finally breaks the kiss and says, "How wet do you think you'll be for me?"

"Why don't you check for yourself," she purrs, attacking his lips, their tongues once again battling for dominance.

He groans at the pleasure and the desire in her reply, wasting no time pulling her panties to the side and sliding a finger between her lips. "God, you're so wet for me," he breathes in her mouth before tugging on her bottom lip once again.

He removes her hands from him and slams her hands above her head, his hands on her wrists to keep her from budging. "Are you going to take it like a good girl?" He murmurs.

"Yes," y/n manages to get out.

"Yes, sir," he scolds.

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl."

Without another word, he lines up underneath her and gently pushes into her core. He can feel her throbbing against him as he eases into his movements. "Oh my god," she whimpers. Spencer releases her swollen lips and trails kisses down her jaw and neck as he thrusts hungrily into her, his hands solid against her wrists.

He releases one hand from her wrist and commands, "Do not lower your arm."

"Yes, sir."

He lowers the neckline of her dress, exposing her breasts taut from the desire coursing through her. He sucks on the skin of her breasts, leaving his marks along her chest. He takes her nipple into his mouth, using his tongue and teeth to play with it, perfectly mixing the right amount of pain with her pleasure.

He pounds into her harder as he works her nipples. Her rising climax becoming almost unbearable.

"Don't cum unless I give you permission."

"But-"

"You heard me."

"Yes, sir."

Y/n's body moves in tandem with his as if their bodies unconsciously know this dance together between their sweating bodies. His thrusting doesn't cease or stutter, the euphoric feeling of him perfectly hitting her aching spot sends her eyes rolling.

"Please," she chokes out. Her head pushed back against the door, her back arched off the door as if instinctively reaching out for Spencer's body. Spencer releases the nipple in his mouth and returns his ravenous gaze to hers.

"Come for me, baby."

Their lips join together again as he pumps harder, the both of them chasing their releases. She can't help but cry out at the ecstasy that overtakes her as she falls over the edge, Spencer following with his own.

Y/n's entire body trembles against the door, both of their breaths heavy and mixing with each others.

He lets her down gently from the door. "How about we take a bath and wash up," he suggests, need written all over his face. Y/n nods, her legs threatening to give out beneath her.

Spencer helps her into the bathroom, smiling at himself for being the reason she can barely walk. He wastes no time getting a bath started and they lower themselves into the tub without waiting for it to completely fill up.

She moans as the hot water soothes her muscles.

"Relax all you want right now because I'm not done with you yet."

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velvetm00light · 6 months

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Loved

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Four of Save Me

Previous Chapters: one, two, three (y/n), three (spencer)

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You've awoken in the hospital after experiencing hellish torture at the hands of your foster brother turned stalker. Your coworker, Spencer, worked tirelessly to save you. He's stayed beside your hospital bed since he found you. He decides to take off some time from work to help you get back on your feet and work through the trauma with you, and give you his undivided attention.

Warnings: Hospital, trauma, grief, one bed. Previous and future parts mention guns, torture, kidnapping, dead parents, suggestions of sexual assault, knives and cutting torture, sense deprivation (sight), emotional manipulation, fear, grief, PinV, oral, domxsub situations, grief, bondage, physical harm, etc.

A/N: My heart is so warm at all the comments, reblogs, and messages! I'm so happy you all are loving this series. It really makes me want to keep writing! I will probably start posting small one shots while also writing this series just to take a break when I'm not sure what to do in the next chapter. I plan on (hopefully) making this a long series since it's so loved already so the stress isn't over yet. ;) Thank you from the bottom of my heart for supporting me. ♡

THE LIGHTS WERE BLINDING as your eyes fluttered open. Machines beep annoyingly all around you. As you adjust to your surroundings, the memories of the past few days come crashing into you, threatening to drown you. Your entire mind, body, and soul feels drained and worn.

Your eyes slowly gaze around the room, starting with your bruised and patched up body, luckily mostly covered by the hospital gown you've been dressed in. You shift your gaze to the baskets, cards, and balloons lined around your room, presumably from your team. A smile tugs at your lips as you can see their love in object form. Your eyes reach the other side of the room and you spot a sleeping body curled up in a love seat to the right of your bed.

As if he can sense you've awoken, his eyes snap open and are instantly on you, inspecting every inch of your body, then your face. You can see him release a heavy sigh of relief. You admit, he looks like hell but you know you look the exact same.

He gives you a small smile as he scoots his chair closer to the side of your bed and takes your hand in his. You try to return the smile, but it falls flat on your tired face.

"How long have you been here?" You manage to croak out. Your throat feels raw from the pleading and yelling you'd done the past few days.

"The whole time," he replies. You're not sure why it shocks you, but it feels almost too good to be true. None of your team is to be seen, but by the looks of your room, you would bet every single one of them have already come to check on you and you're sure Spencer's phone isn't lacking in text messages and phone calls. You begin to wonder if he asked to stay while the rest of the team carried on their due diligence to the world and are chasing after bad guys while you lay helplessly in the hospital.

"Thank you," is all you can say and you still feel like it's just not enough. Nothing will probably thank him enough for his care and the efforts and energy he expended to save your life. You're sure this is probably the first time he's slept in days.

"I'd do anything for you, (y/n)," he said it so matter-of-factly it took you by surprise. Your heart swells hearing him say these sweet things to you, the kind of things you allowed yourself to fantasize about. "You don't have to talk about it."

"Is he dead?" You whisper, unsure of which response you're hoping for.

"Yes."

By the look that overtakes his face, you don't need to be a rocket scientist to know he was most likely the one who did it. You're unsure if you really want to know if you're right or not. "Good."

"I'm sorry," Spencer murmurs, barely loud enough for you to hear. Your eyes knit together, confusion evident on your face.

"Why? You saved me."

"You only got abducted because I'm the fool who told you it was safe to sleep."

"None of this is your fault, don't apologize to me."

His eyes widen in astonishment at your tone. "Don't get used to bossing me around," he smiles.

You heart dances at his comment and at the smile you guarantee hasn't been on his face in days. It's still not as wide and goofy as normal, but you'll take what you can get for now. As long as he's still able to put somewhat of a smile on his face, that's all that matters to you. It feels odd to put one on your own considering just hours ago you were chained to the ceiling of a barn and had a metal mask around your face like some kind of caged animal.

As if he senses your quick change in mood, his smile falls. "I really am sorry though, that you're going through this, and for what you went through." He squeezes the hand that he's refused to let go off since you awoke. You give him a small squeeze back as your reply.

His eyes fall to your body again, studying the different cuts and bruises peppering your skin. His gaze could set the entire world aflame as the rage threatens to consume him. He tears his eyes away from your wounds and looks away from you for a moment in an attempt to control the fire coursing through his blood. He knows he should be grateful that the guy who did this is already dead, but God, he just really wishes he could do it over and over again in more painful ways for good measure.

"I took a month of leave." He tells you, his gaze finally falling back on your face.

"What? Why?" You ask, a bit stunned that he would even take a day off let alone a whole month. You suppose you really underestimated how hard this could've been on him.

"Your injuries are..extensive, and that's being generous. I figured it might help to have someone who can do things for you." You notice the blush run up his neck and into his cheeks, as if he's nervous you'll tell him no.

"That's sweet of you, Spence, but you don't need to do that. I'll be okay." He looks at you with an expression on his face that basically says, liar, and you know he's right. Reality is, you'd love absolutely nothing more than getting his undivided attention, for him to cook you food, and take care of you for an entire month.

"Tough shit." A real smile spreads across your face this time. You're pretty sure this is the first time you've ever heard him curse and you almost ask him to do it again, but you realize that's probably inappropriate for the current situation you're in.

"I'm not even going to argue with you because I know I'm not going to win."

"Good girl," he smirks. Your skin turns hot as you push down the bubbling desire building inside you, you're in the hospital after all. But you can't help but start to realize that being in his presence makes you feel...normal. Like nothing ever happened and you're having a conversation on any normal day. It feels refreshing.

Keys jingle in Spencer's hand as he unlocks the door to his apartment. While in the hospital, you confided in him about the fact that you didn't think you could handle being in your apartment or even seeing the state of it right now. You'll have to see it eventually because as much as you would love to just stay with Spencer for a while, you couldn't bare to put that onto him, he's already allowing you to stay for a month, that should be long enough.

"Thank you for letting me stay, seriously. You didn't have to do all this for me."

"Did you think I was just going to let you suffer alone, in your own apartment where everything happened?" You know it's a rhetorical question, but he looks serious, and almost offended that you could possibly think such a thing of him. To be fair, you weren't aware of the feelings he had been keeping hidden from you.

"I mean, I guess I just didn't expect anything, you know? Yeah, I went through something traumatizing but so has everyone on this team. I'm not going to let it control me, well, I'm gonna try not to."

"There's nothing else I'd rather be doing. You're the most important thing to me. I plan on being here for you through it all."

You realize you're speechless, you've never had someone who put you as a top priority before. You've only been able to count on yourself to survive, it honestly feels strange to put your survival instincts in a cage and let someone else to the work. You're unable to stop yourself from getting tearful. He slowly reaches towards your face and wipes a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.

You fight the urge to flinch, reminding yourself that the man in front of you is probably the last one on this entire Earth who would hurt you. "You're so strong, you know that?" He coos.

"I'm just glad that this is a burden I have to deal with, and not one of you," you state, and it's the truth. You wouldn't even begin to know how to comfort someone if the roles were reversed, and you wouldn't wish what you went through on any of your coworkers, or really anyone for that matter.

"You're not going to share this burden alone."

Before you can think of a response, Spencer leaves you to settle yourself in the living room while he grabs you some of his clothes to change into. You're currently in random garments of clothing, donated to you by your team. The clothing you had arrived to the hospital in were basically scissored to shreds, and you wouldn't be caught dead leaving the hospital in a hospital gown, what if your ass accidentally showed through the robe?

He swiftly comes back and you can't help but giggle when you examine the clothes he chose for you. "Spence, these clothes look good on you. I'm literally about to look like a little boy who probably lives in the basement of a library."

"Are you telling me I look like a little boy who lives in the basement of a library?" He asks as he attempts to keep a stern look on his face but you notice the smile tugging on the sides of his lips.

"What if I was?" You ask with a lift of the eyebrow.

Spencer's mouth opens, then closes quickly. You feel like he was most likely going to make some kind of flirtatious comment but probably thought better of it. While the sentiment is sweet, you begin to feel a bit annoyed. You're the last person to want people walking on eggshells around you in fear they're gonna set you off.

"Spence, can you promise me something?"

"Anything," he says quickly, sitting down next to you on the couch.

"Please don't walk on eggshells around me. Say exactly what you want to say, don't sugar coat or avoid saying certain things just because you're afraid to upset me. I'm a big girl."

"I-Okay. I just don't want to bring up any memories."

"I know, and that's extremely kind of you. I just know I would hate feeling like you can't be honest with me."

"Okay, I promise."

"Thank you."

He places a soft kiss on your temple, "Anything for you."

"Thank you for the clothes, just don't laugh at me."

You rise from your seat on the brown leather couch slightly right of the middle of his apartment's living room, and head into his room to your right. You gently shut the bedroom door and quickly change into the beige wool sweater and black shorts he gave you. You fight an internal battle with yourself, fighting against the urge to look around his room. To be fair, you'll have an entire month to learn probably everything about him, anyway.

You turn the cold brass knob of his bedroom door and crack it. "Remember, no laughing," you command, only sticking your head out.

"I won't, come on. We've got take out to eat and movies to watch."

You unhurriedly open the bedroom door further, revealing that you in fact do kind of look like you belong in the library. Spencer takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, his facial muscles giving away the fact that he actually wants to laugh.

"You look adorable," he giggles as you retake your seat next to him. You side eye him and begin to dig into your food. "Your choice of movie."

You think for a moment as you savior the extremely salty and very bad for you take out. "The Proposal."

"Is it just because you want to look at Ryan Reynolds?"

"Can you blame me?"

"No, I can't."

He follows through on your wish, and digs into his own meal as The Proposal starts to play. It was the first movie that came into your head, but it's makes the little girl in you feral at the fact that you're literally watching a romcom, eating take-out, and wearing Spencer's clothes, with Spencer. Shit, he literally could've put on the Conjuring for all you cared and your whole body would still tingle at the fact that you guys basically look like a married couple right now.

You're awoken by Spencer laying you softly into his bed, putting you under the covers. "You didn't even make it halfway," he smiles at you as he stands back up. "Goodnight, (y/n)."

He begins to head towards the door when you ask, "Where are you going?"

"To the couch."

"Why?"

"Uh, do you not want me to?"

"I think I'd feel safer if you..you know..slept in here with me."

"Okay."

Well that was easy, you thought. He climbs into bed beside you, and your breath catches at the sudden proximity. Sure, it's probably the same distance away you were from him on the couch but it seems so much closer when you're laying in bed together.

You lay in silence for a moment, his eyes roaming around your face before settling back onto your eyes. He opens his arms and whispers, "Come here."

You happily do as commanded and as soon as you get within reach, he greedily closes his arms around you, pulling you in as tight as he can. You rest your head on his chest and take a deep breath as his almond and lavender scent fills your lungs.

His hand rubs lazily up and down your spine, causing you to relax even further into his embrace. For once in your life you feel truly, utterly safe.

"I love you too, by the way." He whispers as he plants a kiss on the top of your head.

You snap your head up and stare at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. "What?"

"You heard me." He smirks, using a hand to pull your head back down into his chest.

"I, also, love you too." You whisper, not even bothering to fight the smile that appears on your face.

TAG LIST: @qatiee @dottirose @thisaintredwine @jay-2s-world @ruziazyn @translatemunson @sky2nd

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velvetm00light · 6 months

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I just had to come here to say how much I love the save me series,those two chapters were incredible.I would have never guessed it would have been the step brother and Spencer absolutely broke my heart!I love them!Keep up the amazing work!❤️❤️

oh my gosh thank you so much!! that’s so sweet of you 🥺 i appreciate you!!

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velvetm00light · 6 months

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you fed us today with two chapters, anyway, i love the save me series already, it’s so good!!

thank you so much!! ♡ it felt wrong not to post both POVs at the same time :p

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velvetm00light · 6 months

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Rescue: Spencer's POV

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Three of Save Me in SPENCER'S POV

Y/N'S POV: here

Previous Chapters: one, two

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You're abducted by a brutal serial killer who's been stalking you. Spencer and your entire team work tirelessly to find you. But Spencer is fighting with more than just his worry for a friend, he's finding over the guilt he feels for not telling you how he felt beforehand.

Warnings: Torture, kidnapping, dead parents, suggestions of sexual assault, knives and cutting torture, sense deprivation (sight), emotional manipulation, fear, grief. In future parts, will mention PinV, oral, domxsub situations, grief, bondage, physical harm, etc.

A/N: I feel like I don't see a lot of writings from Spencer's POV because technically it's all in the "you" perspective but I thought this would be a cool twist for ya'll to be able to read what's happening in both of their heads during the same time period! This chapter is also written in Y/N's pov so you can read that instead or skip both all together (there is a big detail at the end of Y/N's chapter so you can avoid the rest of the chapter and just read the end if you want:)). The chapters after this will be tamer but as always, warnings will be listed before the chapter!

PANIC BEGINS TO SETTLE in his stomach as your phone rings and rings, and he only keeps getting your voicemail. "Something's wrong," Spencer chokes out, fighting back the tears threatening to spill across his cheeks. "She's not picking up. She didn't text Hotch back for her hourly check in and didn't pick up for him either."

Seeing the look plastered across Spencer's face, Morgan doesn't waste any time comforting with false hopes. They both immediately jump out of the car they've been cooped up in for the past 12 hours. Spencer's legs wobble beneath him, half from sitting in the same position for so long and the other half from the fear he feels coursing through his blood like poison.

He and Morgan race up your apartment stairs, taking them two at a time until they're face-to-face with your intact apartment door. Morgan tries the handle first, but when the door doesn't budge he ignores all other conservative options. The door gives easily under Morgan's heavy kick, and both men rush into the apartment.

The first thing Spencer notices is the blood splattered all over your living room carpet. He lets out a defeated whine and feels himself frozen in place, unable to go any further. It's obvious that whoever has been stalking you has finally grown the balls to abduct you and he begins to worry that when he finally finds the guy who took you, he just might actually kill him. Fuck that, he will fucking kill him.

He barely registers Morgan on the phone with Hotch as he slowly begins to analyze the scene before him. Your blood and spit ruining your carpet, the balcony door curtains thrown carelessly to the side, all your hidden gun compartments open and guns missing from each of them. He quickly wipes the tears that escape down his face before Morgan can notice.

"We're going to stay here and learn everything we possibly can from her apartment while the rest of them get back to the office to find this son of a bitch," Morgan explains to Spencer. "Reid, we're going to find her." Morgan lays a comforting hand on Spencer's shoulder as Spencer stays motionless, staring at the fresh blood from your face on the floor.

"If you don't think you can handle this, it's okay, Reid."

"I can handle this," Spencer breathes. He straightens his spine and goes through your entire apartment painstakingly slow. He tells himself over and over again not to miss a single detail or else he might never forgive himself for missing something that could possibly save your life.

His heart begins to hurt more and more as he notices all the locked windows, the coffee pot still sitting on the kitchen counter, the blood starting to dry on your bedroom floor, and your phone and empty gun holster resting on your nightstand. His chest constricts at the fact that he was the one who told you to rest, that he would protect you. He's unsure if he'll ever begin to forgive himself for it.

At the round table, Spencer can't help but tell his team every single detail he noticed around your apartment. It was almost just as hard to go through your entire life as seeing your blood on your apartment floors. He and Morgan practically trashed every room, going through photo albums, your phone, and anything else they could get their hands on. Your entire team felt icky about diving into your life to such an extent but they knew you would forgive them if it meant they found you alive.

Garcia bursts into the conference room with her laptop in hand. "He hacked into the surveillance system."

"What?" Everyone's voiced echoed in unison.

"He-He hacked into the cameras. I have no idea how long he's had access or how he even managed to do it. He's gotta be mega good because I'm the best of the best and to get past all of my alarms...God, this guy is frustrating."

Spencer's breath caught in his throat. "So, he's been watching her everywhere she goes?"

"Most likely. If he can hack into our cameras I don't doubt he has access to all the cities traffic cameras, businesses security cameras.."

"We have to assume he's watching us now. We give him no indication that we know who he is," Hotch commanded. The team nods and silently resumes their work.

Random names are written on the board, random case files are scattered on the table, assuming they're all being watched.

Spencer stands frozen in front of the whiteboard, staring at your picture underneath with the word "abducted" written in angry, uppercase letters under it. He doesn't realize the entire team has gone off to do whatever Hotch has demanded of them until a gentle hand is placed on his shoulder. "We're gonna find her, Spence."

He snaps his attention to JJ, who stands tall beside him. The tears attempt to betray him again and it's almost impossible to hide them. "I..I don't know what I'd do with myself if I lost her."

"I know. We're all scared, and we all want to find this son of a bitch. But, I know, Spence. I see it."

He looks at her puzzlingly, his brain mush from the lack of sleep and the intense stress and guilt he's been drowning in.

"Spence...we all know. You two think you're so great at hiding it, but we see it. The longing, the love, the care. Just focus on getting her back so you finally have a chance to tell her."

This brought the tears flowing from his eyes and coating his cheeks. JJ wraps him in an embrace and runs a motherly hand up and down his back. "I'm afraid that I'll be too late and she'll never know how I feel," he chokes out, his tears soaking into JJ's blazer.

"You won't be, we're going to bring her home, you're going to bring her home. But, you need to focus. We need your brilliant brain more than ever right now."

He backs away from JJ's embrace, wiping his slick cheeks on his cardigan sleeve, and nods.

Their attentions are forced to the team entering back into the conference room. "Everyone look normal, we've got something to talk about," Hotch declares as your team takes their seats at the round table once more.

Garcia sits with her back away from the camera to ensure nothing on her computer can be seen, and then she begins.

"Our unsub is Blake Rixley, he's (y/n)'s foster brother. A picture of him and all his details have been sent to your phones."

"Foster brother?" Prentiss asks, her brows knitting together.

"When her parents died, she was sent to a foster home with Blake and a few other kids. She ran away when she was 11 from her foster home and from what I can find, stayed with a distant aunt until she was 18."

"Why did they send her to foster care if she had a family member she could have lived with in the first place?"

"Her aunt lived in Canada and under a different last name. Y/n managed to contact her and made her way over the boarder. How, I have absolutely no idea. But that's why I can't find anything from the age of 11-18 on her," Garcia explained.

Spencer's blood runs aflame as he imagines you at 11, a mere child, sneaking across the boarder by yourself, trying to survive on your own.

"Why did she run away?"

"I'm not sure.."

"Maybe it was because of her foster brother," Prentiss suggests. "Maybe he tried to take advantage of her, or maybe flirt with her or something and she rejected him because even though they weren't related by blood it felt wrong."

"He's also 8 years older than her..." Garcia pointed out. "He was 14 when she came into the house."

"He could have easily used his position in the house to manipulate her into doing things. Garcia, is Blake the son of the foster parents?"

Garcia types furiously on her laptop and her eyes go wide. "Yes."

Spencer's heart just about cleaves in two. He can't help but picturing you as a small child, losing your parents and being taken advantage of on top of it. Unable to bare any more information, he abruptly gets out of his chair, swinging the conference door room open, and slamming it shut behind him.

He decides to get some air to ease the bile rising in his throat.

As he makes it outside, he finally lets the pent up heartache free. He stumbles to a bench and throws himself down onto it, his body shuddering with his sobs. His thoughts come fast and heavy, suffocating him in his grief. He begins to wonder if you'll ever forgive him for suggesting you go to sleep, for not being there to protect you, for not doing enough to make sure you weren't taken in the first place, and worse of all, for not telling you how he felt from the start. He can't help but weep harder at the possibility that you might never know how he feels, how the curve of your lips distracts him just about every day of his life. How no matter how many times he sees you and even when you're together for days on end working on a case, he is still awestruck over your beauty and itches to be with you when you're apart. How he could listen to you talk about the most boring subject on earth for hours on end. How he has been completely and utterly in love with you since the day you accidentally fell asleep on his shoulder on the jet coming home from a case, shortly after you joined the Bureau.

Spencer and Prentiss sit in a strained silence on the way back from surveying a few farms and abandoned buildings on the prospect list. After each place that turned up empty, the hole within Spencer's heart felt as if it was growing bigger and bigger, becoming a void threatening to destroy him.

Spencer has never been so frustrated in his life, and he would know. He was frustrated when he didn't even notice when one of the suspects he interviewed had Dissociative Identity Disorder and switched right in front of him. He was frustrated when an unsub kept crossing state lines and it look the team almost a week to catch up to him. He was frustrated a million times over when a new victim was found and they were not fast enough to stop the killer. But this...This really takes the cake.

The tension feels almost like a wire tethered from Spencer to the entire world, taut to almost it's breaking point. That wire of tension loosens a bit when Emily's phone rang and he allows a small bubble of hope to begin to stir.

He attempts to listen to the conversation, his body aching to rip the phone from her hand and demand to know if they've found you. Emily glimpses at Spencer for a moment, then turns her attention back to the road. "We'll be there in 5," she says as a goodbye.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself before explaining to Spencer what she heard. "Reid, before I tell you anything, you have to promise me something."

His stomach basically fell into his ass at her tone. He wonders if sometimes people assume he's normal, and not someone who can basically detect the mood of someone like some sick sixth sense.

"We're on our way to an old farm that the unsubs father used to live on when his father was a child. I'm not going to guarantee you this is where she is. But if she is there, don't be stupid."

Emily eyes him again, judging the tells on his face. She knows better than anyone that he would love to watch the life exit this guy's body at his doing, preferably with his bare hands. If circumstances were perfect, Spencer would love to do exactly what he's done to her and worse, to the sick bastard.

"I hope he gives me a reason."

Emily doesn't have to ask what he means. She gains her composure and schools her features as they pull down a winding, dirt road. A farm looms up ahead, a sizable, wooden, red barn stands tall behind smaller disheveled shacks and barns - some sunken in on themselves, others with caved in roofs, wood slats missing off the sides. The farm looked worse for wear, and that was being generous.

Emily comes to a stop at the edge of the farm, and they are met with the rest of their team. Everyone is already adjusting their bulletproof vests, checking their guns, and discussing any last minute details to whatever plan they cracked while Spencer and Emily were away.

"Prentiss, Reid, take that cabin on the left. JJ, Morgan, take the small blue barn to the right. Rossi and I are going to stake out the parameter and we'll meet together at the big red barn in the back," Hotch explained. The entire team split up into their groups and wasted no time getting to their respective buildings.

Spencer just about jumps into a sprint towards the cabin, his heart screaming at him to go. Emily hauls after him, not judging or chastising him for his urgency. They stalk the perimeter first, peeking into the dirty windows. "I'll go in through the back, you go in through the front," Emily orders. Spencer quietly makes his way to the front, peeking again into all the windows as he passes, trying to find the son of a bitch.

They open their respective doors in unison, bursting into the small cabin. Spencer enters what appears to be a dining room and kitchen, a semi-rotten wooden table just a few feet away from a stove and countertops that probably haven't been changed out since Christ himself was born. There were empty cans scattered across the countertop and dirty dishes in the sink.

A living room sat just beyond, a half wall the only thing separating the rooms. The hardwood under his boots turn to carpet as he slowly makes his way through the house towards Emily. His attention snaps towards the sound of Emily's voice.

"Put the gun down, Blake."

Spencer picks up his pace, trying his best to stay as quiet as possible. He turns a corner and spots Emily, her gun raised and pointed at the man standing in between them, oblivious to the other agent directly behind him. He holds a shotgun, one powerful enough to probably make a hole deep enough to reach the Earth's damn core.

Emily lifts her hands up in surrender as she spots you, holstering her gun. "I just want to talk, that's all."

"It was a mistake coming here by yourself," he snarls. Spencer couldn't see his face but he was damn sure this sick bastard was probably smiling.

"Put the gun down so we can talk," she tries again.

"I'm not a fucking fool! Of course you don't want to just talk," he growls. Spencer almost pulls his trigger just by the way the man in front of him begins to shake with anger, his shotgun rattling softly in his hands.

"If you cooperate we can help you, we know what she did. She hurt you, Blake,"

Spencer's fingers tighten around the grip of his gun. He isn't sure he can stand to listen to Emily blame you for all of this. He knows she doesn't mean it, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Unlucky for you, I promised a certain someone I would teach her lesson for that specific reason," he says smugly. All too quickly, he cocks the shotgun and takes aim and before Spencer can even hesitate, he squeezes the trigger.

The man slumps to the ground between them. His chest heaving in small, shallow breaths as a pool of blood begins to form underneath him. Spencer leans down to the mans face and whispers, "I would kill you a million times over again for what you took from her, but I guess once one time is just going to have to be enough."

The man's eyes swell in rage until they hold nothing inside them at all. Spencer stands up slowly and meets Emily's gaze. "You did the right thing," she claims, patting his shoulder as she walks by him and out of the cabin.

After one last look at the man who within a few days has taken everything from the women he loves and the woman he loves from him, he follows Prentiss out of the cabin and toward the red barn.

After a short walk, they reach the looming barn doors. "I think we should wait," Emily starts but Spencer cuts her off. "He's already dead. I'm not letting her be here a moment longer, she's suffered enough."

Before Emily can argue, Spencer swings open the barn doors and just about falls to his damn knees at the sight. "She's here!" He calls. He and Emily rush to you, instantly grabbing at the handcuffs around your wrists. As you're released, he falls to the floor along side you, trying to avoid a hard impact with the floor. "(Y/n)?" He whimpers, feeling for a pulse.

"Take it off.." you whimper. His heart cleaves in two. The sight of you battered, sliced open, and isolated inside a metal mask makes him want to crawl into the depths of hell just to kill the fucking bastard again.

"I'm trying.." He fumbles with the straps on the mask, his hands trembling so terribly he can barely grip the straps.

"Take it off!" you cry, ripping at the mask with your fingernails. His hands pick up speed.

"(Y/n), please, I'm trying. Hold on.."

The mask finally releases and he lets out a relieved sigh. You curl up into him and let out shuddering sobs that pain him to the ends of the Earth. All he wishes is to be able to stop the grief and pain you're experiencing. "I'm here, you're safe now," he coos, running a gentle hand through your hair in comforting strokes.

When your cries begin to quiet, he softly grabs the sides of your head and lifts your eyes up to meet his face, slick with tears and battered to hell with stress.

"Spencer.." you choke out, throwing your hands around his neck. "I'm so sorry..."

Rage courses through him, "(Y/n), why? You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about." It kills him to hear you apologizing for this. He wants to do nothing more than you spill out his whole mind to you, but he isn't sure it would even help in this moment.

"He..he told me he would hurt you, all of you, if I fought back."

Tears well up in his eyes and he embraces you again, attempting to hide the fact that he's been crying this entire time. "I'm here."

You lift your gaze to his as you whimper out, "Spencer..."

"Yes, love?" He responses, cupping your wet cheek with a calloused hand.

"The only thing that got me through...what he did, was you."

He truly didn't think anything could have made this worse. He should be ecstatic that he's the reason you survived, that he was able to help you get through it even though he wasn't there to save you originally. But..he just can't find it in himself to be happy about it. You should have never had to go through this in the first place, and worse, you had to go through things he can't even begin to fathom probably thinking everything will always just be a fantasy. "I am so sorry."

"You found me," you smile sadly up at him.

As paramedics rush into the barn, Spencer lays you on the floor so they can reach and treat all of your wounds. He couldn't help feeling hollow and empty pulling away from you. "Don't leave.." you whine, and he greedily grabs your outstretched hand. He continues to hold your hand in comfort the entire walk to the ambulance and as they continue working on you on the way to the hospital.

"I love you," you whisper and he can tell you've already fallen asleep, using the last of your energy doing the one thing he wished he was man enough to do before.

"I love you, too." He whispers back, kissing the back of your hand. He felt the need to say it back right then and there whether you heard him or not. He aches to tell you everything he feels about you and can't wait to finally tell you to your face rather than keep everything in his brain this time.

He stares at you the entire ride to the hospital, monitoring your breathing, his eyes roaming from each cut on your body, the bruises forming on your abdomen, and the exhausted look on your face. He is grateful this part is over, but a whole new difficult journey lays ahead. But, he's not afraid. He's ready to be at your side every second of the day possible, and he's ready to be your savior.

TAG LIST: @qatiee @dottirose @thisaintredwine @jay-2s-world @ruziazyn

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velvetm00light · 6 months

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Rescue: Y/N's POV

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Three of Save Me in Y/N's POV

Spencer's POV: here

Previous Chapters: one, two

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You're abducted by a brutal serial killer who's been stalking you. In an attempt to survive, you allow yourself to imagine the comforting words and actions of your coworker, Spencer. After a few days of grueling torture, your team finally finds you, but not before the damage is done.

A/N: This one is a dark one, so please read at your own risk. If you still want to read the series but want to skip over the abduction, you're totally more than welcome to skip this chapter. This chapter is also written in Spencer's POV so you can read that instead or skip both all together (there is one important detail at the end so if you want to just scroll down and read the very end you can do that too:)). The chapters after this will be tamer but as always, warnings will be listed before the chapter!

YOUR HEAD POUNDS RELENTLESSLY as you come to, your vision blurry. Your hands are immovable, cold metal biting into your skin. As you attempt to move, you hear the rattling of chains above you which you realize can only mean you've been chained to the ceiling.

You attempt to get your bearings as fast as possible to determine if there's anything within your reach that can help, or anything that might tell you about this guy that you can use to your advantage.

Too slowly, your vision regains it's focus. You quickly analyze your surroundings, the chains that are hooked onto handcuffs on your hands are connected to a hook on the ceiling, the light wood table just to your left has a variety of tools laying upon it, the large barn doors, too far in front of you, the cold straw already numbing your bare feet. You feel lucky that he didn't blindfold you, at least. Small victory.

You look downward, feeling another small victory as you realize you're still clothed. Without a clock, you're unsure of how long you were out and how far your team might be into saving you. It could have only been a few hours, depending on how long the drive here was, how long you were out, and if he kept you out longer. To the left, just beyond the table, a wooden slat on the side of the barn is skewed, allowing you to just slightly determine if it's night or day.

The sun threatens to spill through the barn through the small opening, and you sigh in small relief, assuming that if it's still light out, hopefully it's still the same day and has only been a few hours since your abduction.

The barn door opens slowly and your entire body trembles. You can't decide which could be worse, him taking his time to torture you with the anticipation of what he's gonna do and when, or him bursting in here and getting to work. You decide to settle on the best case scenario for this moment is for him to take his time. The more time he takes, the more time he gives your team.

Your stomach begins to sink as you realize he might feel comfortable taking his time because he's sure he won't be caught. You shake your head quickly to rid of the thought, your team is the absolute best at what they do, there's no way they won't find you. Feeling helpless will not help you survive this.

The wooden doors finally open fully and you try to remember as many details as you can in case you're able to get away. He's wearing a black hoodie, but has the hoodie down this time to reveal jet black hair and a tattoo peaking out across his neck. He's wearing dark blue jeans, the kind most likely worn for farm work or manual labor. They're dirty and ripped in some places. He's wearing dark work boots, but you're unable to see any kind of brand name.

As he begins to walk towards you, you do the only thing you can to distance your mind, you profile. You study his gait, and notice he prefers his left leg over his right, considering you're in a barn and the clothes he's wearing, you bet he probably got injured working on this very farm. For him to bring you here, it must hold some sort of significance to him, most likely where he grew up.

The lack of farming equipment in the barn suggests he either can't do farm work anymore due to his injury, or he has another place for storage and this barn is simply for his disturbed pleasures. Considering his dirty work clothes and that fact that he's a textbook narcissist, you highly doubt even with an injury, he still does some kind of farm work, which also sends a chill down your spine at the thought that his injury does not make him an easy fight.

Once he gets closer, you continue trying to distance yourself from your body. His eyes are hazel, a coppery brown lining the irises. If he wasn't a serial killer who kidnapped you to torture and murder you, you'd probably think his eyes were actually kind of beautiful.

The stubble on his face is only a few days old, a small patch of hair no longer growing due to a scar on his right jaw. The tattoo crawling up his neck looks to be...a rose? An odd choice for a neck tattoo, but to each their own.

He stops mere feet away from you, not close enough for you to reach him which is a smart move on his part, you suppose. You've proven you won't go down without a fight, but hopefully that will make him more reserved with his methods.

A devilish grin spreads across his face and it tightens the knot in your stomach even tighter. He seems to simply be getting off on the fact that he's taking the shots and you have to suffer in anticipation of what's going to happen next. You keep your expression emotionless and devoid of the fear he desperately wants to see from you.

You stare him in the eyes, unwilling to back down or be the first to initiate the beginning of whatever he has planned. You're perfectly fine staring at him for as long as needed if it means giving your team more time to find you and yourself more time to detach.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," he starts. He makes no move towards you or to the tools on the table. You try your hardest to keep your emotions off your face and deny him of everything he wants. "Do you remember me?"

You squint your eyes and tilt your head to the side. Every action, every thought slowed as much as you can. You hum quietly, trying to seem unbothered to him. "Should I?"

"Yes, you should."

You play your little game again, squinting more this time and turning your head to the other side. You really have never seen this man before, at least not that you know of. You try to rack your brain of all the cashiers, baristas, salesmen, anyone you could have possibly come into contact to as long back as you can remember.

"Maybe you should jog my memory, you did land a pretty hard one. I could be suffering from amnesia."

He barks a laugh. "Do you take me as a fool?"

"Well, considering I'm not sure who you are, what your name is, or really anything about you for that matter, I'm not really sure what I take you as other than a kidnapper and a stalker."

His smile is unfaltering as he studies your face closely. It's almost impossible not to squirm under his gaze.

"I'm offended you don't recognize me, but I guess I have grown up since then."

Grown up? His comment takes you by surprise and you begin to shuffle through all the memories of your childhood as possible. Your parents were killed in a horrific accident when your were 6 years old which landed you in a foster family. Your memories of that time are just fuzzy patches of little moments. You had such a hard time getting through the grief that you holed so deep into yourself that it took years for you to come out, and you haven't wanted to even try to crack open any of those suppressed memories of your childhood.

"I guess I can't blame you back then, it must be hard to lose your parents in such a way."

This time, you can't keep your emotions from running all over your face. How did he know about your parents? You haven't even told your coworkers about it. "Let's try to jog your memory, shall we?" He grins and slowly makes his way towards the tools, knowing you're watching his every move and terrified of what he can do with each of them.

He runs a light finger over each tool before settling on a basic kitchen knife. Of course he would start simple, why get into the fun right away when he wants to make it last? He obviously wants you alive, so he isn't going to kill you outright, but he might just come close to it if he doesn't get what he wants.

He strolls casually towards you as if he's not holding a knife in his hand and about to probably do terrible things with it. He circles you like a predator before stopping directly behind you. You're unable to stop the rising panic at not being able to see him. You flinch as cold metal bites your skin as he traces the exposed flesh of your arms. He grabs the hem of your shirt and yanks it up, releasing a gasp from your mouth. He glides the blade gently over your back, a shiver sending down your spine. "Do you remember?"

"No."

He tsks and swipes the blade. Sudden pain courses through you as you realize he actually just cut you. He would most likely start shallow, but you don't like the idea of the increasing pain as you further slide into yourself to ignore the pain. "How about now?"

"Pain doesn't help. If you want me to remember, you should use your words instead." You grit out through your teeth.

"What would be the fun in that?"

He swipes the blade again in a different spot and you whimper. You remember the deep breathing Spencer reminded you to do just before your abduction and begin to utilize it. Your mind begins to wander to Spencer and how you just wish he was here to save you from this mess you've somehow put yourself in with actions of your childhood. You wish he was here to profile him and help you understand what they hell you did, what you're supposed to remember, and how to fix this mess.

You begin to imagine Spencer running his gentle hands over where the cuts on your back are, imagining him kissing them better. You close your eyes and picture Spencer in front of you, a sweet hand cupping your cheek, telling you how brave and strong you are.

You're snapped back to reality with another sharp pain, this time in your abdomen. Your eyes snap open and you're met with the gaze of your kidnapper. "No sleeping, just thinking."

You look down at yourself, a shallow wound sliced across the right side of your abdomen. Luckily it's not deep enough to cause any real bleeding, just small droplets poking out the edges of your now split skin. You steel your gaze and raise your eye back to his.

"I already told you, pain does nothing."

"We'll see about that."

He continues toying with you, making short shallow cuts around your body. As he continues, you continue to climb deeper down the hole into yourself until you're picturing Spencer touching you instead of a blade, his hands holding yours, encouraging you to keep going. You play out different scenarios in your head, anything and everything you can think of; telling Spencer that you've had a crush on him these past few years and him confessing the same, marrying him and having little brilliant combinations of you and him running around, all the dates you wish he would take you on, the places you want him to touch you.

"Why don't we play a game?" His voice comes from right in front of you, bringing you back to reality.

"I don't think we have the same definition of the word game."

"I'm going to let you ask any questions you want about who I am, but they're going to be yes or no questions." A creepy smile tugs at his lips. He stays close to you, fiddling with the knife in his hands as if itching for more. "If I say no more than 3 times in a row, I cut deeper and deeper each time."

"You're fucking sick," you spit. He just laughs in your face and says, "Begin."

You try your best to go through your memories, if you're going to play this sick game it'll be on your time.

"Did we meet as kids?" You ask first.

"Yes."

You lose a relieved sigh. "Did we meet before my parents died?"

"No."

The memories after your parents deaths are almost impossible to bring to light and you begin to grow frustrated. "I don't remember after my parents died."

"I don't care. Next question."

You groan and try to think. "Did we go to the same school?"

"No."

Your breath hitches and you remind yourself to tread carefully. The deeper he slices, the longer you'll have reminders of this and you're unsure if you'll be able to handle it. His smile widens, as if he can hear your thoughts and it pleases his sick fucking mind.

"Did anything romantic or sexual ever happen between us?"

His smile falls and you notice a twitch in his jaw. At least his answer to this will help you, if he says no, then he's angry over the fact you rejected his sexual advancements and if he says yes, then he is probably an old jealous boyfriend. "No." Well that solves that, you think.

He wastes no time slashing across your abdomen again, this time you can't stop the grunt that comes out. You don't dare to look down but you can feel the warmth of your blood slowly travel downward towards your pants.

"Did you make a sexual advancement towards me?"

He seems almost hesitant to answer, but eventually says, "Yes."

"Did I reject you?"

"Yes." His knuckles start to turn white as he tightens his grip on the knife.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not!" He roars, grabbing your neck with a rough grip and lifting your face up to meet his. "Look at you now, I could do exactly what I've wanted to do since we met and you can't tell me no this time."

Your eyes widen at his implications. He drops you and sets the knife down on the table lazily. He slowly saunters over to you, running his fingers across all the bare skin he can see, then making his way down towards your pants.

"Get your hands off me!" You growl, bucking wildly, attempting to land some kind of kick to him.

"I don't think I will."

His hand wanders up the nape of your neck and into your hair. He twists your hair between his fingers and yanks. You yelp in shock. "I'll make sure to kill your little crush, when he eventually comes to save you if you keep fighting."

"What?"

"Don't think I haven't noticed. The way you two look at each other, the way you flush when he brushes against you. I know you're thinking of him right now, hoping it'll save you. It won't. I'm going to ruin everything for you so you're not able to enjoy anything with him."

"How long have you been watching me? How do you even know all of this?" You cry out, your heart threatening to break in two at the thought of Spencer's life being at risk because of you. You didn't even know that it was obvious how you felt about Spencer.

"A man never reveals his sources." He whispers, his mouth close to your ear as his breath travels down your neck.

"Please, just don't hurt him."

"Only if you stay still."

A tear slips from your eye and falls down the side of your face as you stare up at the ceiling, his hand still forcing your head backwards. "That's what I thought."

He releases his hand from your hair. You hear the sound of a buckle undoing behind you and you can't help but let the tears flow. You attempt to crawl into yourself, imagining Spencer here with you, telling you all the statistics and smart things he would probably tell you to make you feel better, all the love you so desperately have wanted him to give you. You drop your head and focus on the thought of Spencer.

Hours later, you wake to pure darkness. Your body is sore and your eyes feel tired from the tears that overtook them. You begin to think it might just be nighttime until you realize there's a mask over your face. He left a hole for your mouth, probably to get you to play more games with him that will lead to pain. You feel almost suffocated in it, unable to see if it's day or night, whether he's even in the barn with you currently or not.

Your arms ache from the constant position of them above your head and from the metal handcuffs digging into your flesh. You whimper as you try to move, your body rejecting all movement. You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you begin to silently apologize to Spencer. You had no idea that just by simply liking him you've put him in danger, he could easily be in your spot right now if this son of a bitch's priorities had been different. You thought you had kept your feelings towards him pretty chill but your mind runs through all the small interactions you've had and how you acted. You're still unable to think of a reasonable explanation on how he could possibly know so much and how he could've seen you do it all. You don't recognize him from the Bureau so that would leave hacking the surveillance but he also just didn't look like the hacking type.

You allow yourself to fall into an imaginary conversation with Spencer in your head to help keep your sanity.

"You're so brave," you imagine him telling you, his thumb slowly rubbing circles on your hands. "You're the strongest person I've ever met and you inspire me every single day."

"I don't know if I can do this, Spence.."

"Of course you can. You have to. I need you to come back to me."

"I want to..so bad."

"Then do it. Survive this and come home to me, please. I don't think I'd be able to live this life knowing you're not here to experience it with me."

Imaginary Spencer is ripped away from you as a blow is landed to your abdomen. The air from your lungs whooshes from you. He lands a few more, and your body tremblings in fear as you instinctively brace yourself for more. "Having no sight really heightens all your other senses, huh?" He whispers into your ear.

He feels so close to you it makes your skin crawl and you wish for nothing more than to get as far away from him as possible. "You know, I'm actually looking forward to your team eventually finding out where you are. It'll still take them too long, the damage will already be done by then. Then, I can take away all the people who mean the most to you."

"Please.." you croak. "Please, don't hurt them. You already have what you want."

"You might be right about that, but what's a better final blow to you than knowing you caused this and you have to mourn your friends for the rest of your life knowing you're the reason they're not here anymore?"

You choke on your sobs, unable to even get a word out to beg for their lives. You know that you would never forgive yourself if any of them got hurt even though they would tell you it wasn't your fault and that you had no idea. You still can't help feeling guilty anyway.

A day or two pass, maybe. You're unsure if it's only been a day or multiple with the mask constantly on your face. Your kidnapper was generous enough to give you sips of water here and there but your stomach grumbles intensely with hunger. You swear you could probably eat just about anything to get rid of the feeling. Old blood is crusted all over your body and clothing, new blood still warm on your skin and soaking into your clothes. You feel as if you're starting to lose hope, maybe this guy really is too smart and covered his tracks. Even if they do eventually find you, will they find you alive?

You hear slight rustling outside the barn somewhere, your mind too scattered to determine if it's him or maybe some wild animal, or where the sound is even coming from. The barn door explodes open and you can't even find it in you to flinch. "She's here!" You hear a voice yell and within a few seconds, you feel hands over you, some untangling your hands from the handcuffs and chains, others holding you steady once you're released. Your body is so utterly exhausted, your legs give out on you and you fall to the floor. Arms are wrapped around you as they cradle you on the straw floor. "(Y/n)?"

"Take it off.." you whimper out.

"I'm trying..."

"Take it off!" You cry, ripping at the mask with your fingernails.

"(Y/n) please, I'm trying. Hold on.."

The masks finally releases from your face and the light is blinding but the relief is instant. A sob shudders through your body and you curl up into the person on the floor with you and release all the pent up emotions you've kept at bay.

"I'm here, you're safe now." A voice coos, a gentle hand runs through your hair.

Once you have no more tears left to cry, soft hands are placed on the sides of your head as they twist you to look at whoever they belong to.

"Spencer.." you choke. You swear you could cry again at the sight of him. You throw your aching arms around his neck and he embraces you tightly. "I'm so sorry..."

"(Y/n), why? You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about."

"He..he told me he would hurt you, all of you, if I fought back."

Spencer's face is slick with tears and he squeezes you tighter into him. "I'm here."

You lift your face to look at his and he meets your gaze with sad eyes. The bags under his eyes tell you he probably hasn't left since your abduction. "Spencer.."

"Yes, love?"

"The only thing that got me through...what he did, was you." You confess, feeling your tears restock and begin swarming your eyes again.

His lip quivers as he digests your confession. "I am so sorry."

"You found me," is all you can say back.

Spencer releases you from his embrace as paramedics rush to your side. "Don't leave.." you whine, reaching for his hand as you lay on your cut up back. "I'm here," he says, grabbing your outstretched hand and squeezing as the medics begin their work of patching up all your wounds and transferring you to a stretcher.

Spencer doesn't drop your hand while you're rolled to the ambulance or while the medics continue to work on you during the ride to the hospital.

"I love you," you whisper, unsure if he could even hear you. You're unable to find out before sleep consumes your exhausted mind and body.

TAG LIST: @qatiee @dottirose @thisaintredwine @jay-2s-world @ruziazyn @jay-2s-world

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velvetm00light · 6 months

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LOOK AT WHAT I GOT LOLL i’m in love.

from: doubleletterdesigns on etsy!!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #bau #bau!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid sweatshirt #eras tour

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velvetm00light · 6 months

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Taken

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Two of Save Me

Previous Chapters: one

Word Count: 3.7k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You and your team at the BAU come to the disturbing realization that you're the final target of a brutal serial killer. Without any leads, your team determines you need to be the one to draw him out. As you sit alone in your apartment for hours, on edge, you can't help but want your coworker, Spencer, to be there with you. But, is your little crush enough to get you through the upcoming torture?

Warnings: Mentions guns, sexual assault, murder, serial killer, torture, stalking, physical harm, kidnapping, fear. In future parts, will mention vivid torture, PinV, oral, domxsub situations, grief, bondage, physical harm, etc.

A/N: I'm actually enjoying writing this soo much. I hope you all are enjoying reading it! I'm going to write the next chapter in both (y/n) POV and Spencer's POV, so I'll probably post both at the same time!

YOU CAN'T HELP BUT fidget in your seat at the round table as the rest of the team takes their seats and waits for Hotch's word to begin. You couldn't bring yourself to be in the same room as them as they discussed different ways for you to lure him out, unable to listen and play out those possible scenarios out in your head. Spencer at first fought against your wishes for him to discuss with the team, but all you could do was look into his sad eyes with yours and tell him, "I need someone who is going to fight for me. I trust that you will know when enough is enough." He stopped fighting then and did as you requested.

He was the first to arrive back at the round table, immediately taking the seat next to yours, not even hesitating to give you his hand. You took it greedily, needing any kind of human contact to keep your mind grounded, bonus points because it was him.

"Let's get started." Hotch announced, and you noticed that no one would meet your gaze directly as your eyes wandered to your friends around the table. Your heart sank into your stomach and you had a feeling the discussion they had was a hard one. You can't imagine it being easy for your friends to discuss the best way to capture a brutal serial killer by using your life without actually endangering it.

"(Y/), tonight you're going to go home as normal. We have to assume he watches your every move so he cannot know that we're aware of you being his final target. We obviously will not leave you unguarded, Rossi and I will sit down the street from your apartment, Morgan and Reid will sit in the back of the parking lot so they can see anyone who exits and enters. If he's not bold enough to do anything tonight, we will simulate a day of errands for you, each of us posted where you go."

A chill runs down your spine. It's hard to believe you're about to be sent home and expected to act completely normal. To sit in your apartment alone, just waiting for him to try to break down your door or draw you out.

"You'll let me know every hour how you're doing and call Morgan or Reid if you notice anything since they'll be closest. If it makes you feel more comfortable, we can send someone ahead of you to replace your apartment security guard so someone with a little more training is there."

"Yes, please. I think that'll help." You almost whine. The more you sit here, the less you want this conversation to end because you want to avoid going home at absolutely all costs right now. You know you can't push it off forever or else you risk other women's lives. Before the meeting ends, JJ meets your eyes. "I promise you, we will find him."

"We're going to get this sick son of a bitch," Morgan adds. The rest of the team chimes in and you feel grateful to being going through this with a support system by your side. It makes the tight knot in your stomach loosen a little, realizing that you know you're safe with them. You know your entire team would stay up for days on end to catch this guy, and wouldn't allow themselves a moment of relaxation knowing you're unable to sleep or feel safe in your own home.

Hotch sends an agent to your apartment before you to simulate security guards changing shifts. You hope this will be enough, but something deep in your stomach twists anyway.

Before Reid leaves with Morgan to get to your apartment before you, he pulls you into the kitchen - a public place, but with enough cover to make your body heat. The thought of getting caught doing something scandalous sends a shiver up your spine but you quickly chastise yourself. Your life is in danger, now is not the time for fantasies.

"Can I ask you to do something for me?" He asks softly, his face looks battered from stress and you're sure you look the same. "Of course."

"Can you text me too? To let me know you're safe."

"Of course I will." You try to give him your best smile, but it falls flat. His care is warming, but it's hard to feel anything other than absolute fear at the moment.

"You're going to be okay," he promises. He abruptly pulls you into an embrace and you waste no time relaxing into his chest. He smells of almond and lavender. You take a deep breath, trying to memorize the smell of him. Your embrace ends too quickly and he leaves you standing alone in the kitchen.

After a torturous drive home, you pull into the parking lot of your apartment. You quickly scan your surroundings, making sure to wait an extra moment before exiting the car to see if another car pulls in. You spot the car Reid described to you sitting in the corner in the back of the parking lot and you let out a relieved sigh. This whole situation is terrifying and ridiculous all at once. You remember Hotch's words and get out of your car, trying your best to act as if you aren't completely afraid for your life and you're not about to spend the entire night rechecking your door and window locks, making sure all your hidden guns are reachable and in place.

You pass the agent posed as a security guard and trying not to draw attention to yourself as you head down the left hall towards the elevator to your apartment. You would be out of your complete mind to take the stairs in this situation, but you're unsure if an elevator might actually be worse if he were to randomly enter it.

The elevator stops with a jolt and opens on your floor. You take a cautious peak out and check down the hallway left and right before exiting. You quickly make it to your apartment door, looking back to make sure there's no one in the hallway. If you're lucky, he might not know what exact apartment you live in, but then you realize with despair that if he's been watching you for however long, he could have easily seen you enter and exit your apartment multiple times.

You fumble with your keys as you try not to act panicked and open your door. You swiftly enter and lock it immediately behind you, making sure to lock the deadbolt and put the chain on as well. You loose a deep sigh and your eyes widen at the fact that you still might not be safe yet. You didn't even think about the fact that you'd have to check your apartment when you got here to make sure he wasn't already waiting for you.

You quietly pull the gun from the holster on your side and slowly work through your apartment, turning on every light and lamp possible, locking every single window you walk past, checking inside your bedroom closet, the kitchen pantry, the small storage closet just outside your bedroom, and even behind the shower curtain. Once you've decided that there's no possible place for him to hide, you finally feel your muscles relax. You place your gun back in your holster, unable to feel safe without it by your side.

You grab yourself a glass of water and some snacks and decide to stay in the living room. You're able to keep an eye on the door and balcony simultaneously. You don't risk turning the TV on or listening to music to relax you. You need to be at complete high alert until your team catches this son of a bitch.

Time goes by agonizingly slow as you try to keep yourself awake and entertained. A full pot of coffee sits on the counter for you to refill as the night goes on, although you're unsure if you'll even need it. The fear is enough to keep your blood pumping hard through you. You try to play card games with yourself and practice some card tricks Spencer taught you when you first joined the Bureau.

You aren't able to keep your attention on one task for too long, your fear pulling your eyes to scan every inch of the room. You decide to risk sneaking a peak through your balcony curtains. You look out from the side, just barely moving the fabric over so no one would notice a disturbance in the curtains from the outside. After deciding the coast is clear, you recheck the balcony door lock and do a walk through of your apartment once again, checking locks, hiding spots, your gun always close by.

The first hour passes and when your phone buzzes it just about makes you jump completely out of your skin. You reach into your pocket to pull it out and quickly read a text from Hotch, asking for an update. You reply to let him know that everything's normal so far, all possible access points are locked and you've gone through your entire apartment in intense detail.

You remember the promise you made Spencer and text him as well, basically explaining the same thing you told Hotch.

Me: im scared spence

Spencer: I know, that's okay. You're brave, remember?

Me: im trying really hard to be. i can't even turn on the TV or focus on anything long enough without getting worried im going to miss something and he's going to catch me off guard.

Spencer: You're the strongest person I know, don't let him control you. These offenders love control and making you feel helpless.

Me: he is controlling me though. i cant even imagine sleeping, im jumping at every car door being shut, every car horn from the street, every bug at my window. even if we catch him, will the fear ever go away?

The text bubble appears and disappears a few times. You start to wonder if maybe something happened, if they caught someone trying to get into your building when your phone buzzes in your hands.

Spencer: I think we both know the statistics. But, I promise that I will do everything I can do ease the fear and be there for you when it's too much.

You begin to get teary eyed at his promise. Never in your life have you felt cared for or protected. It was always kill or be killed and you fought for your life since you were a child, just trying to survive in a world destined to chew you up and swallow you.

Me: thank you spence. that means more to me than i think you'll ever understand. you mean more to me than you'll ever understand.

You set your phone down on the table next to you, feeling jittery after sending that text. You deleted it and rewrote it about 5 times, but if your life is in danger, why hold back? You also think about how he might try to profile you and believe you're forming an attachment to him due to trauma bonding or transference.

You let out an aggravated sigh and rub your face with your hands. This has complicated your life in just about every way possible and you promise yourself that if you ever get your hands on the man that feels like he can make you cower away, locked in your apartment, you'll make him regret it.

I pick my phone back up and when I see Spencer hasn't replied, I text again.

Me: have you guys seen or learned anything?

Spencer: Not yet. Few people have walked into the building but we're not legally allowed to deny people the right into their homes. You live on the third floor so hopefully that should deter him from your apartment.

Me: hope so. im not sure i could ever come back here and live my life without fear if he chooses here.

Spencer: That's understandable. I don't think he's prepared for his endgame just yet. But I'm also not sure he is disorganized enough to attempt to attack you in broad daylight in a public place like the grocery store.

Me: he abducted those other women in broad daylight in high traffic areas though and no one saw a thing.

Spencer: (Y/n), you're a federal agent. If he has an IQ that's at least half of mine, he would need extra planning. A damn good rouse to lure you away and that's only if he's confident we have no idea you're his target. Don't worry, okay? We will stay here all night for you.

Me: thank you..it helps to know you are here. i don't feel alone in this.

Spencer: You're never alone. Never again, (y/n).

Spencer: As much as I want to keep talking to you to make sure you're safe, I think it's best you focus on your surroundings. Deep breathing exercises actually trick your brain into thinking that you're relaxed and takes your body out of flight or fight.

Me: are those drs orders?

Spencer: Yes, now be a good girl and relax.

Your breath catches in your throat with his last text. It takes you aback at the pure brashness of it, something you weren't sure he was even capable of doing.

You do as commanded and you allow yourself to pull your legs up onto the couch, despite the impracticality of it in the sick chance he breaks into your apartment. You try your hardest to do breathing exercises you found on Google.

You are slightly surprised when your body begins to relax a bit and you feel less at edge. You don't allow yourself to completely let down your guard, but you welcome the slight relaxation of your muscles at least.

Minutes turn to hours and if you didn't have your phone to check the time, you would have thought days were passing by. All you've been able to do is stare at the ceiling when you're not making your routine patrols around your apartment. You feel as if you're starting to get a bit stir crazy.

You check in hourly with Hotch and Spencer, not allowing yourself too much of a distraction. But, as the hours tick by, your eyelids get heavier and heavier. You begin to lower your vigilant wall the tiniest bit. If he wanted to attack here wouldn't he have done so by now?

Me: im so tired.

Spencer: It's okay to sleep. It's highly recommended by every doctor, including me.

Me: alright smart ass. do you think he would've already tried something by now? the suns about to come up and it's been almost 12 hours.

Spencer: Go to bed. None of us are going to sleep so you're safe. You've been through a lot, you deserve some rest, even if it's just an hour.

Me: i guess youre right. ive got all my locks in place anyway and i guess i would probably hear if any glass broke but i dont know how anyone would expect to take an entire grown woman down 3 levels without risking being seen by using the stairs.

Spencer: You don't need to justify sleeping to me. You deserve the rest, no matter what. No justification needed.

Me: Thank you, Spence. ♡

Spencer: ♡

Still a bit weary, you decide to check the balcony and do your patrol once more before you allow yourself to relax. After determining the coast is clear, you decide to finally retire to your bedroom. You unhook your gun holster and lay it on your nightstand, making sure to keep it in reach in case.

You don't even bother changing out of your clothes as you finally climb into bed. You let out a small moan of relief and sleep consumes you almost instantly.

You're taken out of your sleep by a loud thud, confusion overtaking you for a few moments as you blink rapidly around the room, attempting to adjust your eyes to the daylight. You're frozen in fear as your vision clears and there's a gun pointed right to your face.

The man holding the gun is in a regular hoodie and jeans, seemingly normal. You reel your terror back as you hold your hands up in surrender, attempting to make him believe you're willing to do as he pleases in hopes he makes a mistake.

You eye the time on the clock on your nightstand, if you can only distract him for a little bit longer, Hotch will call you when he realizes you aren't replying to his hourly check in and they'll come up here and save your ass.

All your able to do is stare at your attacker and stay completely still. You rack your brain for the best possible thing to say to get him to deescalate or at least lower the gun. "What's your name?"

"My name?" He questions, tilting his head to the side. You thought he might be put back by the question, instead he seems to have gained a confidence your profile suggested he was close to growing into. You suppose he must have had some new found confidence to be able to sneak past multiple undercover agents, and into a room on third floor with all doors and windows locked. He makes no move to lower the gun and no attempt to answer your question.

"How did you get in?" You ask as calmly as possible, hoping he made a mistake that way at least. Maybe your team was already outside, discussing how to play it to where he surrenders. You realize your luck as probably fallen short at the way a wicked smile spreads across his face.

"Do you not want to talk?" You try again. The blog posts he made about you play over in your head. You're hoping he takes the bait.

"Don't you think it's a little late to talk?" The gun stays unwavering in your face.

"What do you mean?"

The smile falls from his face and if you were in a cartoon, you can almost bet smoke would come out of his ears.

"What do I mean? You know what I mean!" He roars, shaking the gun angrily around. You decide to take this as your opportunity now that the gun isn't pointing towards you.

You release your leg from under the covers and kick as hard as you can muster into his abdomen. He reels back and you stumble out of bed and attempt to retrieve the gun on your nightstand when you realize it's no longer there. You spin around in time for his fist to connect with your jaw, knocking you off your feet, your knees barking as they connect with the hardwood.

You sweep out his legs from under him, sending him to the floor along with you. You spot his gun laying on your bedroom floor, right next your dresser, which unfortunately, he is right in front of. Before you can think to hesitate, you're up on your feet and lunging for the gun.

Before you're able to reach it, he grabs you by the collar of your shirt and swings you around and slams you into the wall. The breath clears your lungs and all you can do is fall to the ground on once more.

Blood from somewhere, you assume your face, drips onto the polished floor below you. You attempt to play the defeated victim, hoping it draws him close enough for you to catch him by surprise.

His heavy feet slam against your floorboards until he is right in front of you, gun completely abandoned on the floor. He grips your neck with a strong hand and lifts you to your feet. When he brings your face to his, you spit blood into his eye, causing him to drop you.

You use the few moments you gave yourself to at least make it out of your bedroom, grab a knife or one of your hidden guns, anything to give you the upper hand against a man twice your size and strength.

"Bitch!" He roars, wiping furiously at his eyes as you scramble with the door to your bedroom. You swing it open and lunge towards the closet gun you can think of when you see the open compartment, your gun missing from it.

"You think I don't know every single detail about your life, (y/n)?" He laughs from behind you as you're frozen in the middle of your living room. "I've been waiting for a long time, (y/n). Do you like the presents I left you? I figured I'd show you what I would do to you."

"You have an odd perception of the word present." You deadpan. You scramble to come up with a solution. All your guns are gone, if you run to the kitchen you better hope to hell he doesn't shoot you first or get there before you. "What do you want?"

"You." He smiles, and before you can react he's on you again. As you fight tooth and nail against his raging grasp, you hear your phone begin to ring. You allow hope to bubble in your chest, just a few more minutes, you say to yourself. They'll save me.

When you finally think you have the upper hand on him, he lands a fist to your temple that throws you to the carpet. Your vision spins as you attempt to crawl anywhere but where he is. You feel his laugh in your bones and you can tell he is taking his time taking in his win and the power it gives him. Your sight becomes blurry and you fight as hard as you can against it. But, all you seem to have the strength for is to watch blood spill from your mouth and the wounds on your face, onto the carpet of your living room. You gather enough strength to at least look your attacker in the face and deny him as much of the power he craves as you can. "I'm not afraid of you," you whisper. Your throat feels tight, and it's almost impossible to swallow. You spit blood onto your carpet as you try to relieve the pressure in your throat.

"You should be," is the last thing you hear before you see his boot come down towards your head and the world turns black.

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