#Dr. Grey
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I'm just gonna post my top 5 rvb characters
1. (As we all know) Agent Washington
2. Dr. Emily Grey
3. Agent Carolina
4. Leonard Church
5. O'Malley
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More Grey Matters: Episode 75âTaylor-madeÂ
If you would like to âBuy Me a Glass of Wine,â you can click this link or the ***DONATE*** link at the bottom of the menu on the left. Including this one, six more episodes remaining in Season Six. All previous disclaimers apply. Episode 75âTaylor-made JASON Things moved along pretty much like I expected they would once we got back from Detroit. The trip itself was an enigma to say the least. IâŚ
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#Ana Grey#Ana Steele#Anastasia Grey#Anastasia Rose Steele#Anastasia Steele#Becoming Dr. Grey#Ben Lawrence#Benjamin Lawrence#BG Holmes#Bronze Goddess#Butterfly#butterfly saga#Charles Davenport#Christian Grey#Chuck Davenport#Detroit#Dr. Grey#Dr. Steele#Fiction#Gail Taylor#Grey Continued#Grey Crossing#Jason#Jason Taylor#love and handcuffs#Mending Dr. Steele#Misadventures#More Grey Matters#Paging Dr Steele#Raising Grey
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#samiya starr#scp researcher oc#dr. grey#Dr. Grey SCP#fake screenshot#omg an SCP animated show! /j#Samiya looks so innocent tho#digital art#secure contain protect#scp foundation#scp fandom
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character sketches go brrr this is Dr. Grey! Miri's dad creator
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Modern Warfare 3 Zombies Cutscenes & Black Ops 6 Liberty Falls Teaser
#call of duty zombies#cod zombies#codz#codzombies#dark aether#modern warfare 3 zombies#mw3 zombies#mw zombies#modern warfare zombies#victor zakhaev#soap mactavish#ravenov#sergei ravenov#ava jensen#dr. jensen#requiem#grey#dr. grey#bo6#Youtube
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WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader
Description: Sunshine rookie gets a boyfriend, and Spencer canât help but think he would be so much better for her. But that definitely isnât the jealousy talking, right?
Length: 8k
Warnings: nothing really, jealousy? talks of sex? embarrassment? Mention briefly of vomit because of allergic reaction.
main masterlist.
authorâs note: I want to write for these two until my fingers are two little stubs and even then Iâll learn with my toes. Can be read as a stand alone!
He thought he was going to be sick when he saw her that random Thursday, leaning against her desk, a sweet, bashful smile on her face. Or, more specifically, Spencer thought he was going to need to at least sit down when he saw the man standing next to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the little daisy earrings Penelope bought her for her birthday almost laughing at his gobsmacked expression.Â
He liked Agent Taylor Bingley. He respected the fresh faced desk jockey from the third floor that swanned around their bullpen, usually discussing warm up routines with Luke. He was quick on his feet, a pretty decent shot. Never missed a report, never tardy, even offered his parking spot up to Spencer on more than one occasion because he didnât mind the long walk from the other lot. He flew under the radar, and when he was noticed, it was because he was a particularly kind soul.Â
Spencer didnât think heâd ever seen him without those rosy cheeks that made him look almost always sunburnt, or that trademark boyish grin a handsome guy like him had down to a tea. So it really shouldnât have been such a surprise to see him lingering around his sunshine girl.Â
Except she wasnât his, not by a mile. They just spent almost every second of the work day together.
âCheck it out, rookie has an admirer,â Tara said, the heels clicking against the floor as she passed the door, where Spencer seemed to have stopped, his eyes narrowing at the happy couple, âCanât say I blame him. Sheâs a pretty girl, donât you think, Spence?â
She didnât realise she was rubbing salt in a superficial wound, but Spencer felt his jaw feather with annoyance. Because she was beyond a pretty girl, she was honey and all the months of Spring and a hot drink on a rainy day and finishing a good book and the dessert your mom let you have on your tenth birthday. Not that he could admit that. So he just nodded, right as Taylor leaned over to kiss the apple of her cheek.Â
She shied away, smiling to her lap and playing with her fingertips, not looking up from her little potted plant that sat next to her on her desk, and Spencer knew it was because she floundered when people gave her too much attention.
Like when Garcia had said her blouse and bun combo sheâd worn the other day made her look like a sexy teaching assistant, sheâd stammered something close to a thankyou and headed to the kitchenette to get herself a glass of water. Or when Rossi had said the bangs she had cut herself two weeks ago looked cute, that his daughter had been desperate to try something similar, sheâd spilled her coffee down her front not even two seconds later because she had been so occupied telling the man it was no big deal.Â
âMorning, Doctor Reid, Doctor Lewis,â Taylor said, his pearly white teeth gleaming with that West Coast, surfer boy tan that made Spencer want to huff. The man was insufferable. Well, correction, he was insufferably nice for someone Spencer was desperate to pick apart with faults the second heâd seen her preening over their sunshine rookie.Â
âMorning, Agent Bingley,â Tara said civilly, smiling back at the Agent that passed them to head to the elevators. She caught a glimpse of Spencer, and was quick to make herself scarce in the interest of needing to check in with Penelope, because she knew what that stormy look in his eye and the way his lips pressed into a thin line meant, profiler or not.Â
Spencer didnât pay much attention to Lewis leaving his side, not that he was trying to be rude, his eyes were zeroed in on the way she fumbled around her desk, looking for imaginary mess to tidy, which included rearranging the pots of glitter pens and highlighters next to her monitor, only to put them back exactly how they were before.Â
âAgent Bingley, thatâs new,â Came a voice over her shoulder, that made her jump in her seat, and her expression was skittish when she swivelled around, Spencer towering over her with calculating eyes. Luke rolled his chair around the divider to lean in on the conversation, having witnessed the whole thing in high definition since her desk was right next to his.Â
âOh, Taylor?â She squeaked, and Spencer didnât need to touch her face to know it had gone hot just by the way she simpered and fiddled with the hem of her knee length skirt, avoiding their gaze, âYeah, he took me to the aquarium at the weekend and we got lunch. Itâs not really serious or anything, I donât think,âÂ
She seemed unsure, her lips pursed together and a tiny crease between her brow he hated, and it was then Lukeâs deep laugh rumbled next to them.Â
âDoes he know that?â Luke asked, and she shot him a look, wide eyed and confused, as he cleared his throat, âI was thinking I could take you out again in that pretty red dress-â
She threw a wad of scrunched up notepaper at him, an embarrassed smile on her face as she shook her head at him, âYou have spent way too much time with Penelope, youâre turning into gossiping school children,âÂ
But she seemed happy, like the thought of the conversation sheâd had with Agent Bingley made her all the more girlish herself as she giggled lightly, her gaze meeting Spencerâs empty expression. He wished he could hide his jealousy better, perhaps even seem happy for her. She deserved someone soft and saccharine and humane like Bingley, not a rough shell of what once was a brilliant man. He knew he should feel somewhat pleased for her, at least now he had empirical, hard evidence on why he couldnât have her, but he couldnât.Â
âAll Iâm saying, rookie, is if you got that man bringing you breakfast and sweet talking you after one date, youâll have him wrapped around your pinky by the time heâs your boyfriend,â Luke chuckled, and Spencer thought he might just burst a vessel with how hard he clenched his jaw at that dreaded b word.Â
Alvez had no idea just how much he had twisted a knife in Spencerâs gut, which was plunged even further when he saw that sparkle in her eye when she looked up at him.Â
âIgnore him, heâs a busy body,â She chirped, her teeth peeking from her lips when she hid a grin, âYou wanna get coffee later? Taylor brought me tea and Iâm dying for the good stuff,âÂ
Spencer nodded with a small smile, because her attitude was infectious, and selfishly thinking that Bingley couldnât be that perfect for her because she only ever wanted tea when she felt sick, usually towards the start of the month that he guessed was in correlation with her menstrual cycle but would never ask. She wouldnât want tea for another two weeks, and would likely take an extra shot in her cappuccino today because this was when she felt the most lethargic. Â
Swivelling back around in her chair to log onto her computer, she remained completely oblivious to his inner turmoil.Â
For once, Spencer wished heâd been late to work.
â
Two months. They had been dating for two fucking months. As far as Spencer could tell, from Penelopeâs need to chatter about their sunshine rookie and her hot, stud muffin of a boyfriend, things had only been official for about five weeks of that time, but it hadnât stopped Spencer from wanting to swallow glass because that would likely be less inconvenient than seeing the two of them together.Â
Taylor usually brought her breakfast whenever they would get back from a case, which infuriated Spencer because he always bought her tea. She was a people pleaser, Spencer knew it before he had ever thought of her as anything other than the shiny newbie with too much joy and doe eyes heâd never seen before. But now, knowing her better than anyone else in the office did because she practically shadowed his footsteps, it was blaringly obvious to him that she had either never told him she didnât like tea first thing in the morning, or he had never bothered to take notice.Â
Spencer felt an odd puddle of smugness and fury when on more than one occasion he saw her pouring it down the drain, cold after sitting there for hours until it was unbearable and she couldnât force herself to drink anymore. It was obvious to him, so why wasnât it obvious to her own boyfriend? Spencer thought bitterly. But then Agent Bingley did leave a sour taste in his mouth these days.
Speaking of which, Spencer felt that pang in his chest the way he always did when the happy couple walked into the office together. Her hand was usually in his, though she seemed to simper under the weight of the team's glances; knowing and teasing as heâd take her to her desk and whip out the to-go pastries that heâd bought them that morning.Â
âMorning, Spence,â She skipped past his desk, Taylor trailing behind her like a dog, though she seemed not to mind keeping him waiting a moment as she spoke to her friend, âHow was Doctor Who?â
He smiled despite his grudge, because she always remembered what he said. Heâd told her once that Thursdays were his evening to watch the show, and every time Friday morning rolled around, sheâd bound up to lean over his computer and ask.Â
âIt was okay, Iâm excited to see what they do with a Female Doctor, even if Iâll miss Capaldi,â He replied earnestly, and her eyes filled with glee.Â
âDid they give her a new one of the doo-hickies they have?â She asked, his chest butterflying with an aching sort of affection because she seemed to remember everything he ever told her.Â
âSonic Screwdriver?â She nodded her head, even though Spencer knew she didnât quite understand the show entirely, âYeah, I prefer Sarah Janeâs Sonic Lipstick however,âÂ
âI wish I had one of those, I could reapply and save the world, how cool would that be?â She said, and they laughed together a little, before Taylor popped his head over Spencerâs computer with that dentist white beam and his excitable eyes, bluer than any sea rolling onto shore.Â
âMorning, Doctor Reid,â Agent Bingley said, and the smile withered from Spencerâs face, morphing into a civil nod, his expression unreadable.Â
âMorning, Agent,â He said, his eyes tracking back to his screen as he suddenly found Emilyâs group email about staff room fridge etiquette invigorating.Â
Taylor must have taken it as a sign the Doctor Reid was busy and finally let him have a minutes peace, that is until she took a seat at her desk and he leaned next to her, handing her a warm bagel.Â
Spencer heard them chatting for about ten minutes, of which he was trying anything to tune them out, including roping Luke into their own conversation. It wasnât until there was a lapse in the chatter that Spencerâs ears pricked up, and he heard her stand up from her desk, eyes wide as she spat a mouthful out into a tissue.Â
âDoes this have coconut in it?â She asked somewhat fearfully, Spencerâs head whipping around to her little corner of the bullpen. Her little self help stickers dotted around her desktop stared back at him, her reminder to âdrink waterâ almost horribly ironic the second heâd heard her question.Â
His stomach dropped when Taylor frowned, âYeah, itâs coconut and raspberry, is-is that not okay?âÂ
Spencer was quick to stand up out of his own seat, rifling through his satchel to dig out his water bottle, making it to her desk in just two long paces and handing it to her without another word as she looked up at him worriedly.Â
âIf you need to puke, itâll probably be for the best so that you can get the traces out of your stomach. You canât have the steroids before you hurl or it wonât work,â He soothed, and she nodded, sipping on his water with shaky hands, and Spencer was quick to catch the way her skin had a slight sheen to it that hadnât been there before. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to gage if she was well enough to make it to the bathroom on her own or if he would need to drive her to the ER. Either way her expression worried him.Â
âI-I thought it was white chocolate,â She peeped, looking extremely sorry for herself as she dumped the chewed up brownie in her bin, and Taylor almost appeared at her side, looking entirely lost as he stroked a hand down her hair.Â
âTalk to me, whatâs wrong?â He asked, seafoam hues trailing down her sweating face in terror.Â
âSheâs allergic to coconut,â Spencer cut in, his tone a little harsher than needed, and her boyfriendâs expression wilted like a kicked puppy.Â
âShit! You never mentioned, Iâm so- Iâm so sorry, honey,â Taylor went pale, and she didnât look much better as she pushed past the two of them, heading for the bathroom, Spencer a single pace behind her.Â
âI got her, donât worry,â He called over his shoulder to Agent Bingley standing there like a gaping fish, his hand running through his blonde sweep as he watched her all but running out of the office, Spencerâs long legs keeping up with her.Â
âIs your skin getting prickly yet?â Spencer asked. Swouldn't go into anaphylaxis, at least not as far as they knew, but the large hives that would appear on her chest and neck and the vomiting was not ideal. She kept a tray of steroids in her desk incase an accidental cross contamination happened (and because Spencer had forced her to have some on hand), but seeing her panicked eyes as she tasted the chalky fruit had made him fawn over her like she was marked for the plague.Â
âNeck is getting itchy,â She replied, tugging at her collar and pushing the door to the unisex bathrooms open, heading for the nearest stall, âYou donât have to stay for this bit, itâs not-â
He cut her off by sweeping her hair into a ponytail, as if to tell her to stop worrying about him, and he stroked a hand over her arm to let her know he was right there, because he knew she really hated anything gory and gross like that.Â
He hushed her when sheâd try to apologise, hand her his bottle of water in between moments where her whole body seized.
And for a minute, she thought that Spencer might be the only person who sheâd ever let see her like this. Not Luke, or Garcia and certainly not Taylor.Â
The thought of it kept her quiet for the rest of the morning.Â
-
They seemed to move past the whole debacle quickly. Luke said Taylor had taken her to a fancy restaurant uptown to apologise, making a huge point to avoid the coconut banoffee pudding like it was an explosive.Â
âYou guys are so cute, youâre like Jane and heâs literally your Bingley. I swear your kids are going to be sweet enough I could drizzle them right next to ice cream,â Penelope said over the SUV console speaker, Spencer in the driving seat and her in the passenger, flicking through her files as they approached the victimâs house.Â
The rookie blanched, âWoah, woah, kids?â She protested, and even Spencer felt himself nearly swerve the minute the bubbly IT geek said it. She looked shaken, awkwardly chuckling and reaching to tuck hair behind her ear, âSlow down, Garcia, weâve not even- you know what, I think weâre talking about the wrong thing here-âÂ
âYouâve not even what?â Penelope burst out, her need for the lastest gossip overwhelming the reading of the room. She swallowed heavily, shifting in her seat to face out of the window, her knees touching the door with a thud, âHave you guys not had sex yet?âÂ
âPenelope!â The woman screeched, her face hot and gobsmacked that sheâd even said it out loud.Â
But it was telling enough, and Spencerâs face whirled over the console to her, guilt written on her features.Â
âI just assumed you guys had done it seeing as both of you are the hottest couple I know, I mean I wouldnât be able to keep my hands off you if I was a guy-â Penelope tried to save herself in the only way she knew how, by digging herself a deeper hole.Â
Spencerâs hand shot out for the centre screen, âWeâre losing you, Garcia, youâre breaking up, bye,â He pressed the end call button, and he didnât need to look at the girlâs face to know she was the epitome of mortified.Â
Spencer opened his mouth to say something, the awkward silence of the car killing him as much as he knew it was her, but he thought better of it and clamped his mouth shut. It took him a minute before he opened his mouth to speak again, if not to ask her if she wanted to stop at a drive thru for breakfast, but she beat him to it.Â
âI was going to say weâve not even said I love you yet,â She murmured, keeping her body entirely swivelled away from him, her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to make herself smaller, as if she could just smush herself into the seat so he wouldnât say anything. She cleared her throat, scratching her wrist nervously, âBut I guess thatâs also true too,âÂ
âWhy not?â Her eyes snapped onto Spencer when he braved those two words, and he sensed heâd overstepped some sort of boundary before he realised it sounded like heâd been speaking about the latter, âWhy havenât you said it?â He clarified.Â
She went quiet, her shoulders shrugging being the only sign that sheâd heard him, gaze trailing back out her window.Â
âHeâs not said it yet either, and I donât think I want him to. Not yet at least,â Her voice was soft, heavy as if every single one of them was coming from her heart, âLove is such a big emotion I think if he did say it, I wouldnât know how to respond. Like, if Iâm going to say it back to someone, I want to be sure I feel it otherwise itâs like Iâm betraying everyone elseâs version of love, you know?âÂ
He thought she might just be an angel bottled up and thrown into his life, and he sometimes wished he could take a look inside that head of hers because how she had protected her beautiful look on the world after seeing so much hurt staggered him. He had become cruel and cold and heavy where she looked at the lecherous shithole heading for disaster they called Earth and saw right to its soul, gave it a hug, told it she would care even when no one else would.Â
He tore his eyes from the road, and took in the outline of her face, mindlessly watching the pedestrians on their daily commute to grab lunch, a dog peeing against a lamp post, a motorcyclist bobbing and weaving in between the midday traffic, her doe eyes never missing a trick.
Forcing his gaping expression back on the road, because he might just swerve and hit the damn rider off his bike if he let himself get lost in his little dreamscape that consisted of nothing but her and her face and her thoughts and her words, he cleared his throat, not sure how to add to the poetic, rose tint she seemed to see the world in.
âThatâs good, that youâre taking things at your own pace, atleast,â He said, not particularly profound but at least it was something, âYou shouldnât do things just because someone else wants you to, even if you think it would make them happy,â
âBut I like making people happy,â She countered, her expression troubled as she looked over at him with a quirked brow, âI like making you happy especially,â
âWhat makes you think Iâm not happy?â Spencer asked, his mouth drying up, his stomach flipping in cartwheels when she giggled to herself like for once she was the smart one snd he was the one who needed teaching.
âIt took you three and a half weeks to crack a smile when we first started working together,â His jaw clenched, because he was the one who counted the statistics. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her. âHonestly, I thought you hated me. I thought a seasoned agent like yourself probably would get frustrated teaching the dumb newbie the ABCâs, even ones that admire him. But then I thought, instead of getting so butt hurt about it all, I could just give you a reason to smile and youâd see that Iâm not just a useless rookie learning to roll over for treats.â
Spencerâs throat bobbed. Heâd hate himself forever for being so cruel to her those first few weeks, the clipped tones when sheâd add something in a particularly chirpy voice, the way he would forget his manners sometimes when sheâd bring him a coffee, because his head had been so deep in survival mode that being nice didnât matter. Being nice had got him nowhere in Mexico, in fact it had shown his soft underbelly and drawn a target on it.Â
âI never hated you,â His voice croaked out, weak and pathetic, and it's times like that he remembered ten years ago talking to her would have made him blush, pop a boner, and lose half his IQ all in one go. Coughing, his knuckles turned white at the wheel, and he avoids her gaze that feels like a pitfall trap, âItâs difficult to go back to how you used to be when youâve got a thousand eyes on your back waiting for you to lower your guard,â
âI know, I know that now, I jus-â She floundered, worried sheâd touched a nerve, but he stopped her by leaning over the console and putting a gentle hand on her kneecap.
âRelax, I know I wasnât the most pleasant person to be around,â Spencer said, his timbre quiet but honest, âYou were one of the few things I looked forward to, if Iâm honest.â
âReally?â She said, agog, like she was waiting for him to turn around and say it had been a joke, âYou didnât think Iâm too loud or, like, too much?â
âHow can there be too much of you? If your body wasnât in correct proportion, your organs wouldn't function-â
âSpencer,â She said, though he knew she was smiling even without having to look, âYou know thatâs not what I meant,â
âI know,â He replied, a smug little smile quirking on his own lips because he loved making her happy too, âNo, I could never find you too much.â
She simpered under his words, his hand a stoked flame on her skin as she brought her fingers over the top of them to squeeze them together, before she changed the subject because she knew her cheeks might just explode if they heated anymore.
â
They were back from a long case, one that had made everyone tired and grumpy, especially because they needed to swing by the office for an hour of admin even Emily couldnât wriggle them out of.Â
And ofcourse, as he always was when Spencer was feeling like he was already about to strangle someone out of annoyance, Agent Bingley was right there when they entered the lobby.
She hadnât slept well on the jet, despite Spence loaning her his jumper to use as a pillow, and she was in desperate need of coffee, the kind that Spencer and Penelope forced her to try instead of the cold caramel thing she liked. Sheâd even go for one of Lukeâs zero sugar, zero milk atrocities right now.
âHey guys, how was the flight?â Taylor jumped in to ask, and everyone gave some sort of variation of a groan because that was exactly how it had felt. His attention turned to her, as she pulled up the rear with Spencer attached her her hip because she had been practically sleepwalking the entire way there, âHi honey,â
âTaylor, hi,â She said, her eyes perking up when he held out a hot take away cup for her, âYou really didnât have to,â
âNonsense, herbal tea is supposed to alleviate headaches and help get you to sleep,â He replied, his other hand behind his back quickly whipping out to produce a bunch of flowers in front of her face.
She barely had time to flash him a grin to hide the disappointment that it was nowhere near as caffeinated as sheâd like, nor that she didnât even liked herbal tea, before a bunch of lilies were thrust her way.
âLillies,â She said, her hand covering her chest at the touching sentiment, âTaylor, you shouldnât have,â
âI know theyâre your favourites,â The blonde replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and effectively putting a wall between her and Spencer, whether he meant to or not. Her expression wavered, and Spencer's eyes went straight to her, waiting for her to correct him. Because they werenât her favourites, not even in her top five. Hyacinths were. Or Foxglove. Or Delphiniums. Not Lillies.Â
She nodded wordlessly, and the three of them headed for the lift, where the rest of the team held the door for them, her expression tiptoeing between guilty and smiling, Taylorâs almost ecstatic to see her after her long few days away, and Spencerâs entirely pissed off that the sun kissed jerk couldnât see every sign blaring in his face.Â
âI might have to cut off the stamen when Ace comes over,â She queried, her eyes roving over the beautiful white petals opening towards her like a book.
âAce? Whoâs Ace?â He said, and Spencer and JJ exchanged a glance, because the whole elevator was now privy to their conversation as David pressed the six button. Taylor reached forward to push the three for himself.
âThe dog I foster sometimes, the one I told you about. He helps me when I need to talk through some things. Heâs a very good listener,,â She said with a dopey smile on her face, her eyes casting over her boyfriends face with a willing expression, because she knew for a fact sheâd told him at lengths about the bouncy Spaniel that adored her, âHe comes over for playdates, but the pollen inside lilies are poisonous to dogs,â
Taylor scrunched his nose up, âUgh, I hate dogs, theyâre so slobbery and the always seem to smell awful,â He commented, her face dropping the slightest in a way that made Spencerâs hand curl into a fist, because how dare Agent Bingley take that away from her, âI thought you were a cat person?â
âI like them both equally, but Ace is sweet. He curls up on my legs after weâve gone for a walk,â Taylor still didnât seem convinced, and she felt stupid for even mentioning it, well aware that the rest of her team were listening in on her childish description of the old dog that wanted nothing but love.Â
âWhy do you need a dog to talk anyway, babe? You have me,â Taylor said, in a way that was supposed to sound comforting but made Spencer want to shake him and tell him to listen to a damn word she was saying. Her eyes dimmed, and she looked at the lilies again, feeling entirely ungrateful for wishing they were something else, and the elevator doors opened onto the third floor. Taylor kissed her cheek and waltzed out of the lift with a quick goodbye to her team that was returned in murmurs. Turning to look at her, his body already in the anteroom of his own floor, he smiled sweetly at her, âI love you,â
JJ and Emily whipped their heads to her face, expecting to see some kind of puppy love blossom there, only to find wide-eyed panic, her smile slowly slipping. Rossi cleared his throat when she said nothing, the air turning stale as the team waited for her response, Taylor looking at her expectantly, and she wished the ground would open up then and there to swallow her whole, because that would probably be better than whatever this was.
Tara nudged her shoulder, waking her out of her daze, Luke scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, and it was then after a beat more of silence that Taylor opened his mouth again, âBabe, did you hear what I-â
She leaned forward to press the close door button, her doe hues in full flight mode, her fingers only picking up the pace when her boyfriend took a step closer towards the elevator, and Emily brought a hand over her mouth in muffled laughter when the doors slammed shut in front of him, their sunshine rookie entirely spooked and needing a quick exit.
The tiny metal box went silent, Spencer watching her face meld from alarm to horror, to sheer embarrassment.
âI mean, Iâll give it to you kid, thatâs one way to do it,â Rossi said, patting her on the back and she shoved her face in her hands, the stems of the dove white flowers brushing against her cheek roughly.
âPlease tell me that didnât just happen,â She groaned through her fingers, JJ chuckling as the doors to their own floor opened up.
âOh honey,â She said, rubbing the girlâs back gently, leading her out onto the BAU carpet that felt harsher against the souls of her shoes than it ever had before, âI think what you need is a coffee and a long talk with someone who isnât a dog,â
Spencer watched her shuffle to slump down behind her desk, her expression still rattled and lost, JJâs eyes flicking to him every now and then in a way that urged him to be the one to do just that because it was obvious by now who she talked the most openly to in the office.
But by the time heâd braved walking over to her desk, sheâd already rushed through her report, excusing herself home for the day, and he knew her well enough to know she needed some breathing room before he could approach the subject, otherwise she would shut the doors on him too.
He hated the spiteful part of him that revelled in Taylorâs expression when that metal screen had slammed in his face.
â
It was three days later, and she had enforced a strict ban on talking about that day in the office. For once she didnât look like she was going to break her resolve either, since every time someone tried to weasel information of her she would either pretend she hadnât heard, or would excuse herself to make her fifth coffee of the day, or even had thrown her paperwork on the floor when Luke had pushed her for an answer just for an excuse to avoid the topic.
In fact, Spencer himself had been tempted to get her alone because he knew she would crack without much pressure from him, though the thought of using her trusting nature against her seemed wicked, and so he stopped himself and settled for curiosity.
It wasnât until they were away on a case and they were shoved in a room together that the subject of Taylor was even brought up, and even then it was entirely out of his control.
âIâll take the couch,â Spencer said, his eyes falling on the double bed in the centre of the room, striding over the other side of the room to throw his to go bag down on the two seater sofa that would wreck his back.
âDonât be silly, we can just share the bed.â She said, as if it was the most obvious solution, which it was, âI sleep talk a little, but just give me a shove and Iâll shut up,âÂ
Spencer paused, watching her fumbling around her bag for her toothbrush and paste.
âWonât your boyfriend mind?â He asked, his palms clammy because he worried for a moment it was wrong to bring it up, and his chest butterflied when she froze, âSorry, I know you didnât want to talk about it, I just thought I wouldnât like my girlfriend sharing a bed-â
âWe broke up,â She said, taking pulling a large pink shirt out her bag and some strawberry printed shorts, her toiletries stuffed in her pockets, âSo donât worry about any of that stuff, we can share,â
And she waltzed into the bathroom without any more explanation, the lock clicking behind her and leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts.
They had broken up? Was it because of what happened in the elevator? Was it because of what Penelope said in the car? Was she the one to break up with him or the other way around?
Spencer felt like a gossip, even though his thoughts had gone no further than his cranium, and by the time she emerged from the bathroom, fresh faced and in her pyjamas, he had already changed himself, tucked himself under the cover in the hope she understood they didnât need to talk about it if she didnât want to.
She smiled at him, tucking her dirty clothes back in her bag and heading for the bed, slipping under the plush duvet with a soft ooft.Â
âLight on or off?â She asked, her finger hovering over the switch beside their bed.
âOn, if thatâs okay?â He replied and she nodded wordlessly, shuffling down under the covers, pulling them up to just below her armpits. Crossing her arms over her stomach like she was snow white waiting to fall into a poison-laced slumber, her eyes bore holes into the ceiling, and his thoughts banged loudly against his temple. The silence of the room seemed to only turn their avoidance tactics into a cacophony they couldnât ignore.
âIf youâre going to ask questions, I might as well tell you before we get back to Quantico.â She said finally, her sigh heavy and exhausted and she looked over at him, his brunette locks splaying over the pillow in waves, his facial hair scratching against the sheet when he flicked his head over to her too.Â
Hazel had never been such a pretty colour than when they sat in silence for a moment, staring at one another, almost daring the other to speak first. He swallowed, his mouth watering at how she looked, tucked under the sheets, her body lax and soft under her pyjamas, her hands skimming over her stomach nervously.
âIs it because of the day in the elevator?â Spencer asked after a few minutes, breaths suddenly becoming difficult to regulate naturally unless he forced them to be, because he was so close to her under the covers, his entire body too long and gangly for just a twin bed, he could smell her shampoo and conditioning combo in full force. Her spearmint tongue rolled words around her mouth for a minute, dropping down to his Star Wars shirt he felt childish for wearing the minute he saw her looking at it.
âKind of, he just wanted us to move so fast, it just kinda made me nervous, but I always thought being nervous was supposed to be good, you know?â She sighed, forgetting to breathe in between her splurge of words that had been building up inside her for weeks, âLike you said the feeling of excitement and fear are almost identical so I think I just convinced myself I was being dumb and I was being a bad person for not just giving him what he wanted. Iâm supposed to love him, right? Being his girlfriend and all that,â
He had said that; because scientifically that was exactly correct. The hormones released during love and during fear were, down to their core, chemical matches, and it felt funny sheâd remembered that fact considering she made him feel somewhere in between too. He knew she was special, just as much as he knew the idea of tainting her with his core terrified him. Like he secreted some kind of radiation that would ruin her if she got too close for too long. But he couldnât help it. How do you stop yourself from wanting something good? It was just science. A Pavlovian response.Â
âYouâre not supposed to do anything. Thereâs no timeline for how you feel, and you canât force yourself to feel something any quicker or stronger than you do,â He said, shaking his head when she bit her lip, her fingertips playing with one another ontop of the sheets.
âHe wanted to know when I was ready to haveâŚâ She swallowed, her cheeks heating, âIntimacy with him. A-and itâs not like Iâve not done it before, I had a boyfriend in high school, but I just felt like with himâŚâ
âHe didnât pressure you, did he?â Spencer asked, his brows furrowing as he felt a surge of annoyance flash through his blood that she had wound herself up so much just because of some guy who couldnât keep it in his pants for a few months.Â
Her eyes widened, taking in the storm brewing in that beautiful woodland gaze of his, and she shook her head quickly, âNo, no, nothing like that. This was all on me, it was all just me being dumb,â
âYouâre not being dumb just because some guy didnât like the answer you gave,â He corrected, exhaling deeply and letting his frown drop, because he knew she hated when he did that, âWhy didnât you want to, if you donât mind me asking?â
She shrugged, looking back up at the dusty lamp shade hanging from the ceiling, the cobwebs that smattered around the wooden panels.
âI donât know, I just kind of never saw the two of us.. becoming intimate, you know?â She said, her tone sheepish like she was in confession and he was a priest sat on the other side of the divide. He looked over at her, scanning the outline of her face, but she seemed adamant on avoiding his gaze, because she knew she would spill everything the minute she looked at him. With Spencer, there were no secrets, and that was entirely the problem.Â
Spencerâs lips pursed, thinking of exactly the right thing to say to such a delicate soul when she was laying herself hypothetically bare for him.Â
âYou donât have to be intimate in a relationship if you donât want to. No one who loves you should ever make you feel like thereâs an expectation or like you owe them that,â Spencer explained softly, edging his pinky finger out the tiniest bit to catch the back of her hand that now lay flat on the bed, her head turning up to meet his round forest hues that looked down at her with more softness than heâd felt in a long time.Â
He wished he could stay here with her forever. In the quiet of this room, they were just the two of them, not Doctor Reid and the Special Agent he had a huge hopeless crush on that was years his junior and thought she could fix everything wrong with the world.Â
âI know,â She sighs, and his heart caught in his throat when her pinky raises up to meet his own, the tips of their fingers brushing against one another like they were meeting each other for a slow dance. He had touched her many times before, but there was something illicit about this time. Like their skin had become oppositely charged and was pulling the other one in with an electric crackle, âHe never pressured me but I felt like I could have tried harder to want it.â
âIf you donât want it, you donât ever have to have it. A lot of people reach your age when your frontal cortex is developed and realise they might be asexual, itâs not a bad thing-â He tried reassuring her, but she was quick to shake her head again, bashfully ripping her eyes away from him to look at their caressing fingertips.Â
âNo, no. Itâs not that I never want to be intimate ever, I just never really felt comfortable around him enough to let myself want it. Like I couldnât just be me with him, I was just being what he wanted me to be. Like he never really knew the real me,â She explained, and she rolled over onto her side to face him, her other finger coming up to absentmindedly trace over the prominent vein that ran up his arm, stopping just below where his old needle scars were at the crook of his elbow. If she saw them, she didnât say a word, but Spencer felt like she was trailing a flame over his skin. He thought if she took his manhood in her hand sheâd probably get the exact same response from him, because with every invisible swirl and line she drew over his skin, he felt a heat ripping through his loins. âDoes that make sense? Like I didnât think he would like the ikky parts of me so I ended up putting on a charade,âÂ
âY-yeah,â He replied, and his stammer made her look up, eyes wide and innocent as she watched him all but falling apart under a single fingertip. God he was pathetic. Mid thirties and nearly finishing in his boxers over a pretty girl touching his arm. Only it wasnât just a pretty girl. It was her. His sunshine girl. âBut I donât think you have any ikky parts, to be honest,â
Her eyes deepened into pools of awe, and he watched her trail a glance down his nose to his mouth vulnerably.
âSpencer, youâre being too kind,â She whispered, and he swore his chest lurched.
He cleared his throat, and moved to roll over towards her too, hoping to disperse some of the energy that was clogging between them, only for it to become dialled to a hundred, trapping them in a tiny box where they were looking at one another, laying on the bed they were being forced to share and almost holding hands, because committing to full thing was scary like they were ten years old in a playground.Â
âOf course that makes sense. Itâs much healthier to form intimate relationships with people we trust and feel safe with than rushing into things,â Spencer tried to breeze past the tension, but her breath was fanning over his face, almost tripping him over his words, because she was still looking at him like he knew all the answers. Because he usually did. Except for this time. This time, he felt like he was walking blind towards his point, âNot that one night stands should be shamed or anything, but itâs much better to engage in sexual intercourse with someone when it feels right,â
She breathed out deeply, licking her lips, and her finger movements stopped.Â
âSo itâs just a when you know, you know, kind of thing?â She asked, her brows pulling together in a saddened frown, âIâm not, like, broken or anything?âÂ
He sat up on his elbow, grabbing her wrist tight enough she would listen the minute he said it to her, because he never wanted to hear her say that again, âThere is nothing wrong with you, you hear me?â She looked up at him with glassy eyes, wide and shocked to see him so desperately insistent over her, âYou feeling secure is more important than any guy out there, no matter how nice they are, got it?âÂ
She nodded after a beat, because she thought her brain might have stopped working with the way he was leaned over her, looking down at her with a glimmer of the harshness heâd been drowning in when she first met him. These days he seemed to have mellowed out the tiniest bit, except the straightforward tone he held with everyone else who wasnât her, or the general heavy handedness he didnât seem to realise he was capable of. Like in the way his warm, rough hands gripped the skin of her wrist, his expression somewhat frustrated though not with her as he looked down at where she was half beneath him.
âSpence?â She whispered into the electricity between them, her eyes trailing over his nose again and ghosting over his half attempt at facial hair. They were just whisps, but they suited him embarrassingly well. He didnât reply, just stared at her to wait for her response, âI feel safe with you, you know that?âÂ
He swore his heart was thumping out of his chest. She looked divine under his hand, sweet like a pudding begging him to taste, and he couldnât help it when his thumb trailed up the side of her jaw, brushing just under her bottom lip, and she seemed to press herself further into his touch, a cat being scratched behind velvet ears.
âYouâd tell me if you ever wanted me to stop, wouldnât you?â He murmured, gooseflesh crawling up his arm when she nodded, her eyes boring holes into his soul when she looked up at him like that. Â
âAlways,â She answered honestly, blinking at him once, twice, before she took a deep breath for courage, âBut what if I never wanted you to stop?â
Spencer nearly moaned when he crashed their lips together, and he heard her squeak in delight beneath him, his large hand cupping her jaw, weaving into her hair, tugging her closer. She felt like her was consuming her whole, and she had no qualms about it, not when she reached a hand up to his shoulder and tugged him even more on top of her, the weight of him on her chest comforting and achingly right.Â
He pulled away to breathe for a moment, but she was chasing his lips, her touch maddening and he swore his brain switched off when she ran a hand up his spine, slipping under his shirt and tracing over every one of his vertebrae making him shiver. Her lips were stronger than any craving he had ever felt, the instant dopamine rush embarrassing for a man of his age, so hardened by the world reduced to putty, ready to beg for more because now heâd had a taste of her ambrosia, he didnât think he could ever think straight again. A man sent crazy by forbidden wine.
He pushed her hair away from her face, using his long fingers to wrap around the back of her head and pull her impossibly closer to him, his other arm skirting down to her clothed waist and pressing their bodies together. She whined in his mouth, and Spencer thought he could finally die happy.
He pulled away to let her catch a gasp, her fingers carding through his long, brown curls, scratching against his scalp in a way that drew a low growl from his throat. He needed more, needed her, more than the air he gulped down ravenously and he found himself kissing at her soft neck, her head tipped back in bliss as he kissed every inch he could.
âThe reason I didnât want it with Taylor,â She choked between manic breaths, her hands holding onto him so tight he knew she didnât have any intention of asking him to stop, âWas because it didnât feel like this,â
Spencer wove their fingers together, pushing her hand above her head as the other came up to tilt her face towards him, looking into her bleary eyes for a second, their noses ghosting past one another, her mint breath delicious on his lips.
âIt never feels like this, baby,â He whispered, their foreheads pressing together before he gave into her again and pressed his lips against hers so hard she whimpered into his mouth.
And she believed him.
--
#spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#matthew grey gubler x reader
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the way he blushes more and more every time he gets a kissđ¤
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Previous week was harsh with amount of work and I couldn't draw the next Doctor, BUT!
Fourteen rolls in! The Doctor Ă Posing
The idea of long-haired Fourteen belongs to @nipuni, I just couldn't pass by ^^
#long-haired Fourteen supremacy#can we also talk about grey strands of hair?#he is still mister flexibility and hyperactivity#just a little calmer#time lord#the doctor#doctor who#dw#dr who#doctor who fanart#dr who fanart#fourteenth doctor#14th doctor#fourteen#david tennant#art#artists on tumblr#my art#fanart#raspbel art
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LITERATURE SERIES: Classic Horror
âThe horror genre never dies. It just keeps getting reÂinvented and it always will. Horror is a universal language; we're all afraid. We're born afraid, we're all afraid of things: death, disfigurement, loss of a loved one. Everything that I'm afraid of, you're afraid of and vice versa. So everybody feels fear and suspense.â âJohn Carpenter
#horroredit#literatureedit#litedit#booksociety#booknet#litseries#Frankenstein#The Legend of Sleepy Hollow#Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde#The Picture of Dorian Grey#Dracula#The Phantom of the Opera#Haunting of the Hill House#The Exorcist#literature#1k#horrormine#litmine#mine*
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Have some fire. Be unstoppable. Be a force of nature. Be better than anyone here, and donât give a damn what anyone thinks. Youâre on your own. Be on your own.
Dr. Cristina Yang | Greyâs Anatomy
#Dr. Cristina Yang | Greyâs Anatomy#motivation#quotes#poetry#literature#relationship quotes#writing#original#words#love#relationship#thoughts#lit#prose#spilled ink#inspiring quotes#life quotes#quoteoftheday#love quotes#poem#aesthetic
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á´
á´Ę đˇđš â Ęá´á´
Ę á´Ąá´ĘsĘÉŞá´
october 25th | spencer reid x fem!reader
contains: nsfw 18+, no use of y/n, body worship, praise kink (?), oral sex (f recieving), fingering, porn without plot.
word count: 1.3k
kinktober masterlist | main masterlist
spencer's hands traced the soft curves of your body with a gentle confidence. he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "you're so pretty," he murmured, his voice a soft caress that seemed to echo the sentiments of your own heart.
his fingers danced over your hips, lingering briefly at the small of your back before moving up to cradle your face, turning it towards his. his eyes searched yours, a silent question brimming with anticipation. your breath hitched as you nodded, a silent consent for him to continue. the room was bathed in a soft, warm light that cast a gentle glow over your intertwined bodies, highlighting the contours and the tender moments of intimacy you shared.
his kiss was a gentle exploration, a promise of what was to come. your lips parted to welcome him in, and his tongue met yours with a passion that made you feel like you were the only person in the world who could ever satisfy him. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your bodies melding together as if they had always been meant to be this way. spencer's hands traveled down your body again, caressing the curve of your waist before finding their way to the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head with a slow, deliberate motion that made your skin tingle with anticipation.
his eyes swept over you, taking in every inch of your bare skin with a reverence that made your heart swell. "you're gorgeous," he whispered, his voice filled with awe, and you couldn't help but believe him. he placed soft kisses along your collarbone, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through your veins, making your breath hitch in the most delicious way. "every part of you," he murmured, his gaze lingering on your breasts before moving lower, "is a masterpiece."
spencer's thumbs traced the swell of your hips, his touch featherlight yet filled with a certainty that was unmistakable. "you're perfect," he said, his voice a warm rumble that seemed to resonate deep within you. "so, so perfect." his words were a gentle cascade of warmth, each one a tender affirmation that filled the quiet room, wrapping around you like a soft, comforting blanket. you felt the tension in your body begin to melt away under his touch, your insecurities and doubts evaporating like mist in the sun.
his eyes never left yours, holding you captive in their deep, intelligent gaze. "you have no idea how much i adore you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. you felt your cheeks heat up at his words, a blush blooming across your chest. his hand cupped one of your breasts, his thumb circling the sensitive peak with a tenderness that made you gasp. "you're the most gorgeous person i've ever laid eyes on," he continued, his eyes darkening with desire, "both inside and out."
you couldn't help but smile at his earnestness, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered in the entire universe. "thank you," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. the words seemed inadequate, but they were all you could manage in the face of his unbridled admiration. spencer's smile grew, his eyes sparkling with love and affection as he leaned in to kiss you again.
his touch grew more insistent, his fingers unclipping your bra with a practiced ease that spoke of his longing to feel all of you. as the fabric fell away, he took his time, worshipping each new inch of skin with kisses and caresses. you moaned softly, your nipples tightening under his expert ministrations. his mouth followed the trail of kisses down your chest, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin before taking a nipple into his mouth, eliciting a gasp from you.
his hands traveled further down, tracing the line of your abdomen to the waistband of your pants. with a gentle tug, he urged you to slip out of them, leaving you in only your underwear. spencer's gaze was hungry, his eyes devouring the sight of you before they met yours again, filled with love and lust. "you're driving me crazy," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.
his fingers slid under the band of your underwear, hooking them and sliding them down your legs, taking in the sight of you completely bare before him. "so sexy," he breathed, his eyes lingering on the apex of your thighs before moving back up to meet yours. you felt a rush of heat between your legs, a throb that grew stronger with each beat of your heart. "i can't wait to taste you," he said, his voice a low growl that made your knees tremble.
spencer kissed his way down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. his tongue traced the curves of your waist before dipping into the hollow of your belly button, making you giggle. but as he moved lower, the giggles turned into soft moans, the anticipation building like a crescendo. finally, his mouth found its target, his tongue flicking out to tease your clit before delving into your wetness, making you gasp with pleasure. "yes," you whispered, your hands tangling in his hair, guiding him closer, deeper, as he explored your most sensitive spots with a hunger that was intoxicating.
his mouth worked wonders, bringing you closer to the edge with every flick of his tongue. the warmth of his breath against your sensitive skin was a stark contrast to the coolness of the air, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. your legs began to shake as his expert touch hit all the right spots, and you couldn't help but let out a low, keening moan. "spencer," you whispered, his name a prayer on your lips.
his eyes flicked up to meet yours, a question in them. you nodded, your breathing ragged and desperate. he knew exactly what you needed, and with a smirk, he intensified his efforts, his tongue swirling and pressing against your clit with a precision that had you seeing stars. your nails dug into the sheets, your hips bucking involuntarily as the tension built within you, coiling tighter and tighter like a spring about to snap.
"right there," you gasped, your voice barely recognizable as your own. spencer's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his movements unrelenting as he pushed you closer to the edge. your moans grew louder, filling the room with the sweet sound of your pleasure. you felt it building, a crescendo that threatened to consume you whole, and you clung to him, your legs trembling as you teetered on the precipice.
his fingers slipped into you, curling in a way that made you arch your back and cry out. the sensation was overwhelming, his mouth and hand working in perfect harmony to drive you wild. "spencer," you moaned, his name a desperate plea for more, for the release that was just out of reach. and he gave it to you, his touch unyielding, his kisses leaving a trail of fire across your skin as you shattered under his touch.
your orgasm was a symphony of sensation, a crescendo that built and crashed over you like a wave. your body tightened around his fingers, your muscles clenching and releasing in a delicious rhythm that had your toes curling and your eyes rolling back in your head. spencer watched you with a rapt attention, his gaze never leaving yours as you rode the wave of pleasure. "so beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder, and you felt a surge of pride and love that only made your climax more intense.
as the last tremors of your orgasm faded away, spencer's kisses grew gentler, his touch more reverent. he worshipped every inch of your body, as if memorizing the feel of your skin, the taste of your sweat. "you're amazing," he whispered, his voice filled with awe as he kissed a trail back up your stomach to your breasts, his thumbs tracing lazy circles around your still-sensitive nipples. "so perfect."
kintober taglist: @multi-fandom-imagine, @imamexican, @majaduzejaja, @moony-artemis, @emma-e-a, @agoodgirlsguidetomakingmencry @indigoangel77, @froyofreya, @weirdothatwritess @dale-kobbles-wife @mattheoriddles-slutt
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid smut#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#matthew gray gubler x reader#matthew grey gubler smut#mara's kinktober '24
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daniel ricciardo and max verstappen on the godowood house balcony during the goodwood festival of speed | đ¸ jpr.photos
#daniel ricciardo#maxiel#dr#mv#SICKENING#LIKE#WE HAVE SEEN THIS MULTIPLE TIMES#NOT THIS PHOTO#BUT THIS MOMENT#BUT WHY IS THE GRIN SO BIG#WHY ARE HIS EYES SHINING#(also this photo keeps my grey hair daniel agenda alive !!!!!!!0#GOD#i am a freak 4 freak for these freaks 4 freaks
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Marveltober 2024
#holy shit how I am going to tag this???#my art#scarlet witch#quicksilver#polaris#daredevil#black panther#gambit#dr strange#captain america#black widow#spiderman#captain marvel#the vision#spider man#nightcrawler#rogue#cyclops#storm#tigra#she hulk#psylocke#wolverine#iron fist#phoenix#Jean grey#magik#ilyana rasputin#wonder man#marvel comics
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I just know he whimpers
also not related but I accidentally sat on my cat and she bit my assđđ
#mgg pics#mgg#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#matthew gray gubler#matthew grey gubler#WHAT GREY/GRAY IS IT???#criminal minds#cm#i love hashtagsđ
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YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader
Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- iâm a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 𼚠UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR đšif itâs okay, may i request another fic with the same couple đ perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo đŤś
Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?
Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)
warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.
authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship
There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted.Â
He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didnât even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck.Â
Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?
Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been sheâd been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin.Â
He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again.Â
They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest.Â
âUnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,â Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him.Â
Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.
They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time theyâd arrived on the scene.Â
Sheâd gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been.Â
Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henryâs phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men.Â
They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wridsâ daughter had been one of them.
Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to.Â
Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldnât help but feel sorry for, one she couldnât help but think wasnât entirely wrong in his actions.Â
âBobbie Wrids,â Taraâs voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, âThis is the FBI, weâd like to talk,âÂ
They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently.Â
Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSubâs arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the fatherâs face.Â
He was grieving. He was grieving his little girlâs death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet.Â
âBobbie,â Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henryâs beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. âWeâre going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-â
They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henryâs skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, âDonât come any closer, this pig isnât worth your mercy,â
âWe know,â She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. âWe know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.â
His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry.Â
âThey hurt my little girl,â Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, âShe was my girl. She was only eighteen.âÂ
She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage.Â
âI know, Iâm so sorry for what happened to her,â She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, âIâm so sorry,âÂ
âHe doesnât deserve mercy, none of them did,â Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henryâs trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him.Â
She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them.Â
âBobbie, listen, I know they didnât deserve to walk free, okay?â She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, âBut she wouldnât want this for you, would she?â
The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob.Â
âCome on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,â She begged, because she wasnât beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, âPlease,â
Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencerâs eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasnât good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbieâs hand.Â
âPlease,â She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbieâs shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter.Â
Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights.Â
Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didnât care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldnât lay a hand on her since she wasnât part of his list. He didnât care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughterâs description. Spencer didnât care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible.Â
His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way heâd feared. Because she had grabbed him. Sheâd pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was.Â
Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed.Â
âAgent,â His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didnât listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him.Â
âItâs going to be okay, youâre okay,â She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasnât still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands.Â
âThey killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,â He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, âNo one would listen, the police didnât listen, I had to do something,â
âI know, I know, Iâm so sorry,â This was wrong. She wasnât supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldnât help it, she couldnât help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, âIâm listening. Tell me about her,âÂ
âShe was so beautiful,â Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. âShe never hurt a soul,â
She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip.Â
âIâm sorry,â She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, âI can help you,â
He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the manâs hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldnât be surprised if it were true.Â
He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didnât see the jeopardy she was putting herself in.Â
Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years.Â
âYouâre a sweet girl,â He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. âBut no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,â
And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.
â
She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldnât open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe.Â
She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbieâs body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe.Â
It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbieâs body growing larger by the second.Â
âI donât understand,â She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing.Â
But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late.Â
âYouâre in shock, you need to breathe,â A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them.Â
She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldnât feel anything that wasnât the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when theyâre overwhelmed.Â
âI donât-â She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, âI donât understand, I was going to help him- I donât understand- why?â
âI know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,â Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone heâd taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since sheâd driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadnât left his face since heâd gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new.Â
âSpencer, I donât- I donât get it,â She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, âSpencer, I donât under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-â
âShhh, you need to breathe,â He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where sheâd just been front row seats to a messy suicide, âCome on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,â
But she wasnât listening, and he wasnât offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them.Â
Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them.Â
He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently.Â
âJust breathe, hey, look at me,â He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, âYou need to calm down, youâre going to faint if you donât breathe,â
She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands.Â
âSpencer, I donât understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,â She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt.Â
His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didnât want to face what was going to happen when they left that building.Â
Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him.Â
â
She hadnât smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasnât entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk âincase she needed something nice to think about,â
She hadnât looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldnât do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelopeâs sake that she would put it to good use.Â
He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard.Â
They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasnât listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign.Â
He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, âWhat do you want to drink?âÂ
She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, âHot chocolate, please,âÂ
And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes.Â
Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didnât. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested.Â
But Spencer had had enough. Heâd worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again.Â
It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadnât slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible.Â
He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because heâd asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything).Â
The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasnât sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright.Â
He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet.Â
âJust a second,â He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadnât seen since heâd helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance.Â
She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock.Â
âOh my god, Spencer!â She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class Aâs, âI never knew you had a dog,âÂ
âI donât,â He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canineâs ear, âThis is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handlerâs number. They said heâs the happiest dog in the world,âÂ
 âI would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,â She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing.Â
And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin.Â
Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dogâs jowls to gently push him down.Â
âOh, you are the sweetest guy,â She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, âYes you are, youâre the sweetest little guy around, huh?âÂ
She chuckled, scratching down the muttâs neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than sheâd realised.Â
âPetting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?â Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point.Â
Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, âLook, Iâm sorry Iâve been so off lately, I just canât sleep at the moment-â
 âDonât apologise,â He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, âWhat happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,âÂ
She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, âYou wouldnât,â
His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadnât sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didnât think she was actually capable of that emotion.Â
She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day heâd held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.
âYouâre so brave, Spencer, youâre like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I canât even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,â She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, âI wish I was like you,â
His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise.Â
âDo you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?â Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off.Â
She wouldnât blame him for hating her. Sheâd always worried, until perhaps that day theyâd gotten into her car and sheâd driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him.Â
âIâm sorry-â She started, but he shook his head.
âStop apologising,â He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, âI donât want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,âÂ
She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, âReally?â
He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, âYes, really.â Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, âWe all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,â
She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again.Â
âYou donât think Iâm too sensitive?â She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his.Â
Spencer shook his head, âSensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,âÂ
Her smile was blinding, because sheâd never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasnât stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub heâd tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all.Â
But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didnât think heâd ever forgive himself if she did. Heâd protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him.Â
She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, âTea?â
Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didnât stop him from thinking about it, though.Â
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#dr spencer reid#Post Prison!Spencer Reid x reader#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#matthew grey gubler x reader
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morning cat yoga (yeah those đłď¸ââ§ď¸ colors were chosen like this on purpose)
#accidental purpose!#lemme break it down for y'all#so I didn't wanna use stupid boring white or grey as a bg AGAIN so I tried every damn color under the sun#figured only either pink or blue looks good#some misclicks happen and I end up realizing âwhy not bothâ#and then it hit me#this is so trans flag coded I'm keeping that#I am suddenly entirely in love with Flug being trans#ever since I drew that silly theory thing 2 months ago that went viral#villainous#villanos#vilanesco#dr flug#flug#kenning flugslys#black hat#paperhat#villainous black hat#villainous flug#catboy#trans#trans flug#my beloved#lgbtq#cartoon#fanart#my art#there's a pixel sized easter egg in this
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