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CRIMINAL MINDS OC WEEK ⣠day two. weâre ready to present the profile
Nick Harding + profile
taglist: @richitozier, @foxesandmagic, @lizziesxltzmxn, @phoebestarks, @lovehermioneforever, @jewelswrites-ish, @kiara-carrera, @heavenlysurf, @decennia, @stanshollaand. @ocfairygodmother, @raith-way, @maddies-buckley, @starlit-ocs
#it's not really a profile profile#but hey#it's something#and he is my lil computer bby#cmocweek22#cm ocs#fyeahcriminalmindsocs#criminal minds ocs#nick harding#fic: correlation and causation
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VALENTINES OC CHALLENGE 2023. day six - february 12th. THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.
Amelia Rowe's Bouquet on her wedding day.
Pink and white carnations for admiration and gratitude. Cherry Blossom for new beginnings Clematis for intelligence Daisies for innocence and hope Peonies for romance and beauty Violet for faith and affection Red Poppies for undying love, remembrance, and sacrifice and also me because itâs my fic I do what I want.
Flowers mean something, not just a bouquet as an apology, but the flowers themselves have their own symbolism. What is your oc to afraid to say in words? What flowers share a secret language that makes the wedding so much more meaningful? Or maybe they just like pretty flowers. Thank you @ginevranights for this adorable idea! (that's me guys!! I've made it big)
taglist: @lilac-lemonade @witchofinterestâ @veetlegeuse @arrthurpendragon @sentineljedi @stanshollaand @foxesandmagic @edshopper @eddiemunscns @carmens-garden @dancingsunflowers-ocs @raith-way @ginevrastilinski @wordspin-shares @oneirataxia-girl
Send an ask/message if you wish to be added or removed!
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sick love
spencer reid x fem! reader
pt2!!
synopsis;;
you catch your best friend spencer touching himself and far from being embarrassed, it only turns him on even more. if only you knew he had been dreaming about this moment for his entire fucking life and that he has even planned for it to happenâŚ
cw;; (letâs act as if spencer and reader are the same age (consensual 18) in high school
really perv!spencer, dark themes, spencer uses readers body without implicit consent (i donât know if it counts as cnc since later we find out she doesnât mind), somnophilia (if you squint), INDECENT use of cum, stalker behavior, use of masculine sex toys, breeding kink, mommy and daddy kink, praise kink, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f receiving), sub and dom spencer, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, cream pie, masturbation (m), voyeurism (?), dacryphilia, violence (not towards reader), dirty talking, hair pulling, blood⌠MINORS DNI OR IâLL COME FOR YOU!
@cafekitsune âs separators
Spencer was obsessed with you. Not in a lovely kind of obsessed âthat tooâ but in a really perverted way. His sick infatuation commenced a warm summer, when you and him, best friends since freshman year, had ended up staying up late in your house for a movie night. Your parents were no where to be seen, and being scared of spending the night alone, you invited Spencer for a sleep over.
Everything was perfect. Little snacks, the newest film in D.C in tape and a cozy sofa in which the two of you silently rested as you stared at the tv. That was until you had fallen sleep on the other end of the sofa, loose and extremely short pijama pants letting your lace panties show and nipples erect due to the coldness of the night underneath your tight and white tank top. He found himself stating for far too long, instead of bringing up on your body the blanket that you both had been shared, his eyes taking in just how beautifully exposed you were.
Full honesty? He didnât even remember how his dick had gotten that hard nor how it had ended on one of his hands, palm slick in precum as he thrusted in it, bottom lip in between his teeth and soft moans and groans scaping his lips. But he didnât care. He came so hard that night that he swore he saw stars on your living roomâs ceiling.
After that, he of course felt awkward and embarrassed of himself around you. Masturbating to his sleeping best friend, and just mere inches away from you? Jesus Christ. Though that remorse quickly went away when he found himself sinking deeper in that sickness under your name.
He relished in that pretty tears of yours when you cried about another stupid boy being mean to you and dumping you against his neck, your tits fully pressed to his chest and whimpers making his cock push against his jeans, even more when that same guys were the ones crying and begging for him to stop as he beat the shit out of them.
He liked to see you cry, but if it wasnât because of him, he wouldnât have it. He sent a couple of them to the ER, but they were too scared to get a couple more bones broken if they ever spoke up,â and also, who would believe them if they said that the slender nerd of their class was the one that beat them upâ so he always got away with it. In no time, the guys were fucking terrified of even glancing at you, leaving you all to himself. Like it had to be. You were his, or youâll be.
You were always complaining about things of yours disappearing, âFuck! I cant found my chapstick.â him shrugging even when he knew that he was, in fact, the thug. Then, heâd go back to his house and open the last drawer of his desk â which he had under keyâ and take the same chapstick out of his pocket to push it inside along with the other things he had stolen from you: lipgloss, necklaces, bracelets⌠Panties.
He loved them. He almost had a collection of them, of all types; cotton, lace, thongs⌠He loved the ones that he stole from the dirty laundry the most, whichâs crotch he could push against his nose and lick as he fucked his fist. Getting to taste and smell your slick always drove him crazy.
Another thing Spencer loved to do was take photos of you. He had albums and albums of polaroids for the two of you, being both on the pictures or just you. He loved to watch them from time to time: you smiling, you singing, you dancing, you blowing a kiss to the camera, jumping in the pool, petting a stray cat⌠Being simply you.
But he also had some photos that were exceptionally and just for him. Some of them were flashes of your body in those little and pretty bikinis you always wore in the warm summers, some other of your naked body âfacing away from the door of your bathroomâ when you changed, you eating ice cream with cheeks, lips and tongue stained in the vanilla treat, some of you sleeping, some others of the panties and little skirts that youâd wear. He even had one of you resting asleep on his lap, lips parted and against his hard cock. He saved some of them on his wallet in case he ever had to take care of a boner when he hung out with you.
He was in love with you. Sickly in love. Sickly enough to take some of those photos of yours and cut out your face just to tape them to his porn magazines. Some of the pages had even stuck together due to his cum.
And you were just so unbelievably oblivious of his infatuation that you always left the window to your room unlocked in case he ever wanted to sneak in in the middle of the night to stay with you if he ever felt lonely in his empty house. At first, before his infatuation appeared, he would sneak in from time to time when the loneliness became too strong for him to handle, cuddling with you and leaving first hour in the morning. Now? Now he snuck in almost every goddamn night. To cuddle, to watch you sleep, to be able to hold you close and even to take advantage of your heavy slumber. He had licked his cum out of your fingers when he had used your hand to masturbate, having to hold in his moans and whimpers. Other nights, he would get under your covers and part your thighs just to push his head in between them, face against your clothed cunt as his hips buckled against the duvet, tongue flattening against your heat and moaning when your thighs would unconsciously squish his head.
He loved it when you played with his hair, groaning when youâd pull from it when heâd tickle you, and laughing when youâd scream at him for using your good conditioner after a pool day. He was obsessed with your little lotions and expensive shampoos, using them as lube to fuck his hand while he showered in your house, using then his cum to fill the tubes, evening out the difference.
He would steal food from you in the cafeteria, using your own fork or spoons just to be able to have your spit in his mouth. Youâd always whine about it, but he never stopped, so you eventually stopped caring, giving him full access to it when you were full.
Spencer considered himself to be a man with clear tastes when it came to sexual preferences. He would love to fuck you to his liking, to sink you into submission and to get you to call him daddy. He thought of himself as a dominant kind of person rather than a submissive one, but that changed when in one of his numerous wet dreams it was you the one who choked him and fucked him, using him like youâd use a fucking toy. He had woke up with a raging orgasm as from his lips fell the word âmommyâ.
Was he a pervert? Absolutely. Would he ever speak up about his feelings for you? Absolutely not.
Heâd prefer to die with a boner than ever telling you he loved you. He was just terrified of the thought of you pushing him away or ever hurting your friendship.
So after a day full of what he thought of âteasingâ, since it always involved you dressing in one of those incredibly short skirts or staring at him for too long as you sucked on one of the lollipops that he always bought you, he would come to his house and enter his room with a full tent in between his thighs. He would pull out of the back of his closet his fleshlight and spray one of his pillows with those little bottles of your perfume that came as gifts with the bigger version just to bend his other one and push the fleshlight in it, fully lubed and ready for his cock to fuck into, just like that pretty pussy of yours. And thatâs what heâd do, fuck his stupid little toy with his face fully buried on the perfumed one as he imagined you under him, ass up and chest pushed against his bedsheets. His pace was needy, harsh and deep, from his mouth, dirty talking spilling. âYeah, take my cock you slut, fucking take it.â âThatâs a good girl for daddy.â Those were always the best orgasms, making him fill the toy to the brim when he couldnât found himself to stop. Too pussy drunk even when it wasnât your pussy what he fucked in between whimpers.
He sometimes would leave his houseâs and bedroom door open with the dream of you someday catching him red handed.
But they were all just dreams, they werenât supposed to fucking happen in real life. Yet, there he was, and so were you.
That day he had come with a really painful bonner in between his thighs. Youâd been sitting on his lap for a whole goddamn hour since your classmates from class B had borrowed most of your chairs to hang prom signals, leaving you without a place to sit and using your best friend as a chair. The problem was not only that, it was the fact that youâd be adjusting every five minutes and the fact that he had found himself being completely ignored by you as you talked with your best friends, laughing with them and jumping on his lap when the jokes were too good. Well, he was not being completely ignored, since one of your hands, had found his hair and slowly massaged his scalp, every now and then pulling at his hair when you played with his locks, his hands trembling on your thighs âwhich spread sideways across from his â thumbs circling your soft skin.
The fact that you were using him. The fact that he felt used by you and only you, was what had him gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to buckle against your ass. But Spencer was a good boy, so he just stood sit and went through that delirious torture with not a word coming out of his mouth. He felt like breathing once again when you got up from his lap when the bell rang, notifying the students that the day had ended, but still choking when he no longer could smell your cologne or felt you flush against him.
âFuckâŚâ he whimpered when he plopped on his bed, his palm pushing hardly against his pulsing and leaking cock, precum staining his jeans and underwear. He had pulled out from his closet his fleshlight, since he felt that his hand would not be enough today. He had to fuck himself. âPlease, fuck me, pleaseâŚâ he was a babbling mess when his tip pushed inside the lubed toy. âUse my cock, baby⌠Use meâŚâ he found himself whimpering at his mind scenario, in which you would ride him relentlessly, his dick reaching deep enough to hit that sweet spot that youâd torture to make yourself cum all over his cock. âFuck, mommy, fuck, feels so good⌠Ah, faster.â he was a babbling mess, his hips rutting upwards against his hand movements to fuck his cock deeper in his toy.
âSpence!!!â you had called from downstairs as you opened his unlocked front door. Spencer always left it that way for you to come and go as you pleased. You were smiling, in between your hands a copy of a book he had been dying to read for months and for which he had cried after finding out that it had been sold out. After seeing just how badly he wanted it, you had been fighting with sharp nails to get a hold on one of the limited edition copies that had gone on sale in the cityâs center, where you had rushed just as classes finished and where you had killed your savings in the dib. âI have a surprise for you!!â you chanted, locking the door behind you and jumping excitedly, frowning when you didnât hear and answer from him. âSpencer?â you called out again, the soft sound of his voice reaching you from upstairs. You took off your shoes, a smirk growing on your lips when the idea of giving him a scare came to mind. Up the staircase, you were like a ghost, slowly approaching his room and mumbling, though you froze when a moan got to your ears. Your skin went pale and your cheeks heated up when needy whimpers followed up right after, as if all the blood under your skin had ended up pooling there.
âFuck, just like that. Faster, pleaseâŚâ was he with someone? Your chest heaved at the thought of Spencer fucking with some random girl that wasnât you. Youâve liked him for years on end, since the first time that he held you as you cried your heart out after your first breakup. But he never seemed to look at you in any other way that wasnât friendly, so, at the end, âbeing too scared to speak up about your feelings in fear that it would break your friendshipâ you had decided to bury them as deep as you could inside you, believing that he had to be just what he was; your best friend.
Even though you knew it was wrong, you slowly approached his slightly open door, peeking in in need to see who was he fucking, promising yourself that youâd leave once youâve taken a glance. But all that went to hell when you found out he was not fucking anyone but himself, back against the mattress, bare chest rising and lowering slowly as his hips fucked upwards, inside his clear flesh light. Your eyes widened and your legs trembled when from his lips new groans and moans fell. Spencer was fucking touching himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck⌠You needed to get away from there. Yeah, thatâs what youâd do. Youâd go back to your house and forget all about it⌠Or thatâs what you thought, instead finding your feet glued to the floor as you watched.
He looked so hot and pretty all needy⌠Eyes closed shut and mouth agape in gasps, glasses crooked, eyebrows pushed together as his head fell back against his pillow, hair messy all over it. His hand was slow, pushing the toy down on his cock in deep and harsh strokes. You could almost perfectly see his long and thick dick, his thrusts making the lubeâs wet sounds fill the room. âAh, fuckâŚâ his voice was low and so broken you felt your panties damp in your slick, you were so turned on that your free hand cupped your cunt, making you almost moan if you hadnât bit down on your bottom lip.
Your fingers had started to push against the lace of your panties underneath your plaid skirt, freezing on your clit when a new babble came from inside the room and your best friendâs lips. âFuck, y/nâŚ, mommyâŚ, please, fuck, fuck, fuckâŚâ your eyes widened, not only becauseâŚ, fuck, Spencer was fucking that goddamn fleshlight with you in mind doing so, but because he had called you mommy too. Surprisingly enough that only turned you on even more, a needy moan tearing your throat before you could push it down to your chest. Spencerâs movements stopped, his gaze moving to his opening door just to see you standing there, flushed cheeks, heavy breathing and book in hand.
He quickly pushed away the toy, cursing under his breath when he sat up, a pillow hiding his hard and leaking cock, which was twitching at the sight of your trembling legs. âFuck, y/n, IâŚâ he didnât even know what to say. You had caught him, caught him fucking himself with his goddamn fleshlight, and even worse, caught him moaning your name. He felt sick to the stomach, but at the same, so turned on too. You had caught him⌠Finally. And who knows how much time you had been listening and peeking at him while he pleasured himself. He had to hold back a whimper at the thought of it. âHow much did you hear?â he cursed when you didnât answer, cheeks reddening and cock twitching under the pillow, leaking against his thigh.
âMommy.â you said, making his head snap back to you, a frown on his face, eyes widening when you let the book fall from your hands as you stepped in, closer to his bed.
âWâŚWhat?â fuck.
â âMommyâ. Thatâs what you called me.â you smirked, eyes falling to his lap when he pushed the pillow further down. âWho would think that Spencer, the Genius Spencer Reid, would be so goddamn dirty to even leave the door unlocked for anyone to see as he fucks himself. And even worse, have a mommy kink.â he stuttered as he shook his head.
âItâs not what it seems like, IâŚâ
âYou what?â you pushed, thumb and index gripping his chin so his eyes would find yours. âAre you gonna deny that you were touching yourself while thinking about me? That you were calling me mommy and whimpering for me to fuck you faster?â he moaned at your words, half-lidded eyes full of lust staring at your full and rosy lips. âMmh? Answer me.â you ordered and he whimpered, your pussy clenching when he shook his head and cried out a ânoâ. â âNoâ what?â your lips brushed against his, teasing him to get out of him what you wanted.
âNo, mommy.â you pulled his hair when he tried to kiss you, making him groan against your lips as you clicked your tongue. âPleaseâŚâ he pleaded, hands rocking the pillow on his lap.
âOnly good boys get a kiss, Spence.â
âIâm a good boyâŚâ he was so gone that you almost laughed, so needy for pussyâŚ
âOh yeah?â he nodded, his tongue dampening his lips, hips thrusting upwards towards the pillow that covered his naked body. âThe why donât you show me?â he shivered when your lips latched to his neck, your tongue pressing against his skin in open mouth kisses that led to his ear. âWhy donât you show me how good you are and let me watch you fuck that pretty toy of yours, hm?â he moaned, muttering a âfuckâ as he nodded, making you smirk. âThen go ahead, baby, let me see.â you pulled away as he pushed the pillow off his lap, dick twitching below a pool of precum that dripped from his tip.
In the state he was⌠He would do anything for you. He would even fuck himself stupid if you said the word. Anything you asked, anything you wanted. Anything for you.
He moaned when you sat down on his deskâs chair, skirt rolling up and letting more of your soft and beautiful thighs show. His hands were shaking when his fingers gripped around the clear silicone or his toy, whimpering when he noticed your eyes on his twitching dick.
You had seen dicks before, but none of them was as beautiful as Spencerâs. It was big, with a great large and just the perfect girth, large and thick enough to have you limping for a few days after a good fuck. And you knew he could give it to you, that he would fuck your hard and needy, deep enough to have you drooling over yourself as you came over and over again. You would love to drool and choke on it too, outline the veins on his shaft with your tongue and take him so deep on your throat youâd need to swallow when he came in your mouth. âAw, poor SpenceâŚâ you cooed at his twitching cock, red tip and tight balls. âCaught about to cum. It must really hurt, doesnât it baby?â he nodded, tears on his eyes due to your teasing, chest rising in heavy breaths. âAre you gonna cum on that cup for me to drink, hm? Want me to drink your cum, Spencer?â he moaned a breathy gasp, and you smirked to his reaction. He liked that.
Dirty talking. Mommy kink. Praise kink. Notes taken.
âYes, yes, yesâŚâ he muttered, almost begging for it. The thought of you swallowing his cum making him go crazy. He whined when his leaking tip brushed against the artificial hole, his lip being tortured by his teeth when you parted your thighs, panties exposed and damped lace for him to see. âFuckâŚâ he cursed, bottoming out into the wetness of the fleshlight in a deep and large stroke, almost cumming at the sight. âFuck, fuck, fuck.â your hands came down your body, your left resting on your breastsâ hard nipples pushing against your shirt, which you pulled and pinched in between your fingersâ and your right sneaking in between your thighs and below your underwear, whining when you felt just how wet you were. âShit, y/n.â
His dick was twitching like crazy with every new and fast thrust of his hips, pleads falling of his lips. âI need you. Need you so badâŚâ âPlease mommyâŚâ âIâm gonna cum, iâm gonna cumâŚâ
âOh yeah? You gonna cum?â You clicked your tongue when he nodded, chuckling at his behavior. âLook at how pathetic you look.â he whimpered when you had made your way back to his side, standing in front of him and making his head fall backwards when you harshly pulled on his hair, making his hips stutter and breathy whines rip his throat. âHold it. I havenât even told you where to cum yet.â he cried when you pushed down your thighs your panties. âFuck, you are too fucking loud.â you said and he had to squeeze his dick to not come when you pushed your damped panties into his mouth, slicked crotch flat against his tongue. His muffled begging only made your pussy wetter, his eyes full of tears that seemed about to fall when he could take a taste on just how sweet you were. He choked on the lace when you startled his legs. His eyes fell just as your free hand did, straight to your core, where your fingers dug on your wet folds and parted them for him to see thin strips of slick connect them and just how swollen your little pink bud was, hidden under its hood. âHere. Cum on my pussy.â you said, leaning on the skin of his neck to suck a hard hickey on his flesh.
You didnât even had to say it twice, his hand quickly throwing away the fleshlight to cum all over your folds and clit, muffled groans and moans filling the room when his white and heavy gropes painted your core in white, his mind all foggy and pussy drunk just by the simple contact of your cunt on his tip. You hummed as you stroked his hair, open mouth kisses being splattered across his chest. He was still fucking hard. âGood boyâŚâ you cooed, loving just how fucked out he seemed, moaning when you sat on his cock, his length in between your wet folds and his tip bumping against your clit.
âFuck, fuck, fuckâŚ.â he cried out with your panties on his mouth when you rocked your hips against his. Thatâs all it took for him to cum for a second time, right after his first orgasm.
You moaned, feeling his dick twitch and nails dig on your ass, your pussy sliding too easy due to the amount of his cum that coated it. âYou came again, baby?â he nodded, his cock quickly getting hard again to your humping. âFuck, SpencerâŚâ you pulled your panties away from his mouth, wanting to hear his groans. âLook at you, making a mess of my cunt.â
âFuck, y/nâŚâ your name sounded so wonderful falling from his lips⌠âPlease, can I⌠Can I clean it for you? Let me clean it for you, pleasepleaseplease. Iâll make you feel good, I promise, Iâll be goodâŚâ you pulled his bottom lip with your thumb, warm skin under your fingertips. âI promise. I promise mommyâŚâ your thumb brushed your own lips when he leaned in, pupils blown and need on his hazel thin irises. He looked high. And he was, high on his favorite drug: you.
You nodded, giving in, and gasped when he had your back pressed against the mattress in just a matter of seconds, lips all over the skin of your neck and exposed collarbones, his hands leaving your hips to bump against the bottom of your tank top, fingers so desperate to see your tits that dug too hard on the piece of clothing enough to tear it up. You moaned when you felt the fabric give out, his hands cupping your exposed breast and biting hickeys on its flesh in between groans, muttering a âThe prettiest tits Iâve ever seen, fuck.â. You were tugging on his hair as he played with your tits, biting your nipples and teasing you for a couple of minutes before slowly lowering his lips further down on your stomach, bumping with your skirt, which he quickly discarded it away on his bedroom floor. He pulled away to look to your fully naked body, hair messily spread on his pillow âthe same he had fucked multiple times while thinking about youâ, lips swollen due to constant biting, half-lidded eyes and flushed skin. He moaned, dick twitching, âcause you were so goddamn perfect. Perfect for him.
He didnât waste time in parting your thighs âwhich he took his time with, and of course he would, he had been dreaming about making them bleed for years nowâ, leaving open mouth kisses and sucking hard on the skin, making you whimper and tug on his hair. âSpencerâŚâ you whined when he bit down on your flesh, making your back arch at the incredible pleasure the pain inflicted made you feel. He was so drunk on your skin⌠He could spend his whole life kissing it that he would never get fucking tired of it. But his teasing was making your pussy clench and tingle. You needed his mouth on it now. And he seemed to get it when you pushed him further against it, his hands taking your now fully marked thighs to pull them above his shoulders as he sunk on the mattress, stomach flat against it and fingers gripping at your flesh. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when his tongue pushed in between your covered in cum folds, flattening in a long strip and bumping against your clit. Both of you moaned, him due to just how much he had dreamed about the taste of your pussy âwhich he had tasted before, but only clothedâ and you to how many times you had touched yourself with his mouth in mind. His name falling off your lips on a whimper had his hips rocking against the duvet as he ate you out sweet and slow.
It was only when his fingers found their way to your entrance that he started to eat you just like you needed and he always dreamed of: rough, needy and hungry. You were screaming his name when his fingers pushed inside you, quickly fucking the shit out of you and curving to hit your g spot as his tongue circled your clit. Spencer knew how to use it, really well. So well that he had you tipping the edge in less than ten minutes. He was like a starved man, burying his face in between your thighs unable to get enough of you and your sweet taste, of the mix of the two of you in his tongue. âFuck, Spencer, IâŚâ you babbled, thighs twitching as you pulled harder on his hair. He knew you were close by how moans fell of those pretty lips of yours over and over again. âIâm gonna cum, Iâm gonna cumâŚâ you cried out, Spencer crushing your sweet spot with every harsh thrust of his fingers.
He moaned, begging for it. âPlease cum on my mouth, mommy. Please, let me have it, please mommy, pleaseâŚâ you whined when his tongue gave just one last stroke to your clit, dissolving in the hardest orgasm youâve ever had, whimpers against your cunt as Spencer drank every last drop of it all, helping you ride out your orgasm as your sweet moans filled his bedroom.
You mewled when once youâve come down from your high, his tongue licking you clean as hips rutted on his wet sheets, seconds away from coming when you called from him. He whimpered when you tugged on his hair, pulling him away from your pussy as you sat up. He looked completely gone. Half-lidded eyes unfocused, messy hair due to your tugging, swollen lips and wet chin. âPlease, just a little bit more, mommyâŚâ he begged, needing to go back in between your thighs. Needing to taste you and make you cum again on his mouth. âPlease, I need itâŚâ your eyes fell to his twitching and leaking cock, and then, to the dampness of the sheets where he had been rocking against. You clicked your tongue as you took him in your hand, making him gasp.
âIâll let you choose where to cum next, Spencer.â you said, your other hand coming to his cheek to rub the flush on his skin. âI could let you eat me out again and let you cum all over the sheets all by yourselfâŚâ his balls tightened to the thought of it, feeling cold when the hand that cupped his face left him to fall in between your thighs, spreading you open for him to see. âOr you could cum inside of me.â his eyes rolled to the back of his head, hips thrusting into your hand in anticipation. âWhat do you say, Spence? Where do you want to cum, baby?â he was almost hyperventilating, whimpers falling of his lips as he leaned on you, eyes on your own.
âInside.â he found himself to mutter, unable to think, not when you were offering him the chance to fuck you raw and fill you up. Just the thought of it had him reeling.
âOh yeah?â you whispered against his lips, him nodding slightly, bewitched by your minty breath connecting with his own. âYou wanna cum inside, hm? Gonna let me use your cock too?â you gave him a sweet smile when he moaned, furiously nodding. Leaving a little peck on the corner of his mouth, you fell backwards on your back once again. âThen come here, Spence.â he was fast to top you, your thighs parting to receive him there, hands on his neck when he leaned in, eyes asking for permission to kiss you, which he didnât even need since you were now entering your tongue in his mouth, making him groan. Fuck, he could come just with that. With your tongue on his mouth, your body against him and the thought that you were only letting him fuck you to seek your own release. He moaned on your open mouth when you took his dick to align it with your entrance, which twitched at the feeling of his tip. You needed him, and you needed him now. âFuck, baby, please fuck me Spencer, please, pleaseâŚâ you whimpered, and he didnât wait to push inside in a deep and fast stroke. You both moaned, foreheads against the otherâs as he bottomed out.
âFuck, so tight, mommy, so tight⌠Shit. Iâm gonna cum.â your head had fallen backwards in gasps, giving him full access to your neck, which he kissed and sucked, leaving new marks. He was so big you felt like splitting in half, but not in a painful way. His stretch had you delirious, his tip brushing against that sweet spot that would make you come in a matter of seconds. Your nails dug on the skin of his back, making him groan. The two of you were taking your time, him getting used to the feeling of your tight and warm walls trying to milk his twitching dick and you to the feeling of his heavy and big cock sitting inside your wet cunt, spreading you to edges youâd only dreamed of getting to. He groaned against your neck when you started to unconsciously rock against him. âPlease y/n, can I fuck you now? Let me fuck you mommy, please? I need to⌠I need toâŚâ
âGo ahead, baby. Be a good boy for me and let me use your cock, alright?â he whimpered at your words, and in less than one second he had you gripping to his back for dear life and losing yourself in between moans. âOh fuck, yeah Spencer, just like that baby, shit, fuck me, fuck meâŚâ
He was just feral. Thrusting in you with just cumming in mind. His hips were pushing against yours in a hurry, hitting that spot inside of you that had you whimpering as you thrusted yourself on his cock, just as desperate as him. He was too pussy drunk to even kiss you straight, spit dripping down your chin at the messy made out. âFuck, y/n, mommy, shit, so good, feels so good, fuck, I love it, love your pussy, ah shit, love you mommy, loveyouloveyouloveyouâŚâ he was a mess. Both of you were. His thrusts had you drooling on the pillow, back arched and eyes squeezed shut, too lost in the pleasure, in him. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release with every new deep and harsh thrust, making your nails dig up on his back, probably leaving marks.
âFuck, Spencer, fuck, Iâm close, shit, Iâm gonna cumâŚâ you whimpered on his ear, making him fuck you harder.
âCum on my cock, mommy, please, please⌠Use me. Use meâŚâ he begged, and then you could only feel yourself cumming over and over again. It was all too much, but too good at the same time. So good that had your soaked cunt gushing all over his dick as he fucked you dumb, his hands pulling on your nipples and teeth digging so hard on your neck that draw blood. You were seeing fucking stars in the ceiling.
The only thing that you seemed able to coherently form was his name, which you chanted like you sang your favorite summer song. âSpencer, Spencer, SpencerâŚâ
âShit, Imma cum, Iâm cumming so fucking hard⌠Gonna fill your pussy mommy, gonnaâŚ, fuck!â his thrusts became sloppier. âIm gonna cum, iâmcummingiâmcummingiâmcumming.���hips thrusted one, two, three more times before his dick twitched inside of you, filling you so full you choked on air, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when some of it spilled out. He was whimpering âmommyâ over and over again in between cries against your neck, thick gropes of cum painting your insides in the purest white.
âShit, fuck, Spencer. So goodâŚâ you moaned, rolling your hips at the feeling of fullness. You were fucked out, brain dead on the cock that had just gave the best sex of your life. You were trying really hard to come down from your high and calm down your breathing. âSpencer!â Though you really couldnât even do that, since you found your head being hardly pushed against his pillows and back arched with your chest against the duvet when he pulled you up from your ass, his newly hard cock ramming inside of your full of cum pussy. You cried out when his hand came down on one of your cheeks in a hard spank that had you whimpering.
âYou didnât think I was done with you, were you, âmommyâ?â you could hear the teasing in his voice. âIâm sure you really enjoyed having your way with me, didnât you?â you couldnât really comprehend how his mentality had switched so drastically fast, but you were no one to whine about it. If a submissive Spencer had you cumming so hard on his cock, how would a dominant fuck you out? You felt your pussy clench around his dick in anticipation. âWell, I hope you did, âcause now is my fucking turn.â
-
i needed to.
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they really told us to trust the process
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid x oc#nerdy spencer reid#spencer reid angst#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid cm#spencer reid comfort#spencer reid core#criminal minds moodboard#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds imagine#criminalmindsedit#derek morgan criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic
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opposites attract | s. reid
summary; spencer would give the world to be your person, even after you argue that you two are too different.
warnings; fem reader, pining!spencer, lowkey pining!reader, bombshell!reader, rejection, reader is described as confident and more of a black cat, insecurities, doubting, a bad date mentioned, happy ending, spencer lowkey gets frustrated, reader has tattoos.
an; messy and switches perspectives whoopsies. Idk how many words, a lot. Too many.
Two years. That was how long Spencer had been a complete and utter mess. Two years since his brain didnât quite function the same, he remained intelligent, sure, but god so incomplete. Two years since you started at the BAU, two years since he met you.
You were out of his league. He had decided it the moment he laid eyes on you. You were stunning, absolutely perfect in anyones gaze. You were everything he could ever want and more, not just physically. Your laugh, your voice, the way you spoke to everyone around you, gentle, warm. The way you sat quietly in the corner most days, not because you felt out of place, nor shy, not because you didnât enjoy being there, but just because no matter where in a room you were, your presence was known. Especially to Spencer.
He tried to pretend that he didnât fall completely in love with you the first time the two of you ever had a conversation and you spoke to him with a smile, listened to him, he tried to pretend the scent of your perfume didnât make him lightheaded, and the sight of your tattoo that he only saw on occasionâs didnât make him wonder if you had more, what made you get it, was there meaning?
Spencer wanted to know everything about you, he wanted to live in your brain and know your every like and dislike, what made you smile a little wider, what made you unable to stop laughing, what your favourite drink was, what colour you liked the most, where your family was from, your middle name.
Spencer would stop the world to know you.
That was impossible to hide, even two years later. He tried, so many times to get your attention, to be the subject of your fascination. It didnât help that every-time you looked in his direction his skin grew ten temperatures too warm and his head spun.
He tried asking you out, twice. Sort of.
The first time was too subtle, too rambling and hidden in the mix of stutters and hot cheeks, fidgeting hands. Because you were looking at him, with a gaze so intense and caring, patient.
How was he ever suppose to talk when you were looking at him like that? Like there was something that made him worth the gravity the warmth in your eyes held.
âWould you date me?â It was blurted out on a Tuesday afternoon, you were standing beside him as the buzz of the bullpen had calmed down, your gaze was focused on reorganising the files on his desk, his gaze was on you. You were reorganising because you didnât like the way he had done it, and it had been âbuggingâ you for weeks.
Spencer loved the way his files were organised, but he loved you more.
It was stupid, he didnât even mean to say it. It was out of place leaving his lips and he knew it the moment your head turned towards him and a sweet laugh left your lips, not mocking him, god you would never. It was a laugh of shock, confusion, maybe even surprise.
âAre you asking me out?â You asked, raising your eyebrow slightly as you met his eyes. His cheeks heated before he could help it, eyes went wide because he had no idea what he was doing.
âWhat- I- no.â His voice was an octave higher, a tell sign he was nervous, if you needed any more tell signs between the fidgeting of his hands, his bright pink cheeks and his avoidant gaze. You smiled as you shook your head, looking back at the files on his desk, he watched your hand as your ran your finger along them once they were organised neatly, anyone else he mightâve cringed at the sight, but it was you.
âI donât think soâ You had mumbled in response and Spencer felt the world shift into an imbalance. You said it so casually. He didnât know if his heart was beating too fast or if it was breaking. You turned your head back to look at him, a frown on your lips when you saw the frown that had snuck its way onto his features before he could even realise.
âNot because you arenât great. Or attractive. You are â You definitely are. I just think we are too different.â You said. His eyebrows knitted together as he met your eyes. He hated the fact you were frowning, he hated the fact he was frowning. He hated what you had just said, god he loved you.
âRightâ he didnât know what to say.
âSpenceâ You spoke through a warm huff of laughter, shaking your head as you twisted your body to face him fully, your hip leaning against the desk as you crossed your arms over your chest. He watched your hair fall down the sides of your face, over your shoulders. He wondered if you had changed your shampoo since the last time, the only time you had hugged him a few weeks ago, when he had gotten the chance to breath it in, and then it was all he thought about for weeks.
You smiled at him and it was contagious, despite the ache in his chest and overwhelming sense of illness in his stomach, you were smiling. âI think youâre amazing, i always haveâ you started and his cheeks warmed more. âBut we are complete oppositeâs.â
He wanted to argue you. Say that he could change and be more like you, more like the guys he had seen pick you up after work, he could be whatever you wanted. He could be someone. Someone to you.
But he didnât.
That was the last time Spencer had attempted to ask you out, you never bought it up. You never questioned it again, you didnât push you ask why he wanted to know. Spencer remained sickeningly in love with everything about you, you remained pretending to not notice.
Why were you here? You couldnât quite remember or find the time to think about it properly between the noise surrounding the fancy restaurant you were in and the sickening long rant the boy in front of you was going on. Something about a business, something about saving it, something egotistical and sickeningly boring.
The date starts out fine. Itâs all small talk at firstâwork, hobbies, the usual pleasantries. But soon, you realize that Mark has a lot to say. About himself. A lot.
âAnd then I closed the deal,â he says, recounting some work story about how he single-handedly saved his company from financial ruin. He leans back in his chair, smiling like heâs just told you the most fascinating thing in the world. You nod politely, but your mind starts to wander. His voice fades into the background as you think about something else, someone else.
Spencer.
You wonder what heâs doing right now. Probably at home, curled up with a book, or maybe heâs watching a documentary. You can almost picture him, pacing around his apartment, muttering facts to himself about some obscure topic that no one but him finds interesting. But you love that about him. Heâs so passionate about everything, even the things that most people would overlook. And heâs never trying to show off. He just loves sharing what he knows.
You try to pay attention to the guy in front of you, you really really do. But god he is so boring. You wonder how quickly you could get one of your friends to come save you from this horror of a date. You wonder how long you would have to hide in the bathroom for before he disappeared.
Markâs voice pulls you back to reality. âSo, what do you think?â he asks.
âHmm?â You blink, realizing youâve missed the last five minutes of whatever he was talking about.
âI was saying,â he repeats, a little slower this time, âI just think itâs amazing how people like me can juggle so many things at once. Donât you think?â
You smile, but itâs strained. âSure, thatâs impressive.â
As the date drags on, you start to notice little things. Like the way Mark talks to the waiter, snapping his fingers for attention, barely looking up from his phone when the waiter brings the food. He doesnât say thank you. Not once. Itâs subtle, but it grates on you. You find yourself cringing, wondering if anyone else notices.
He was much more interesting when he asked you out a few nights ago at a bar, when you were drunk. Why had you agreed? Maybe drunk you saw something sober you didnât. Or maybe drunk you just saw a male who was conventionally attractive and made you laugh. You wondered how low the bar was
You didnât have a lot of time to wonder before you heard your name from behind you, your head spun and you almost cried with gratefulness when you saw Penelope standing there, a wide grin on her face, and then Spencer standing beside her, he offered you a gentle shy wave that made your heart warm.
âOh my gosh! Do you guys want to come sit?â You asked, praying they said yes, praying that Penelope noticed the wide urgent look in your eyes and understood that you were begging. You were genuinely begging for a conversation about anything other than Markâs biggest accomplishments.
âOh- We donât want to interrupt.â Spencer mumbled, looking between you and Mark, the two of you sitting opposite sides of the booth you were in. You noticed the look in Spencerâs eye, you knew what it was. He didnât want to sit there while you were on a date with someone else. Clearly he misread the urgency in your gaze.
âNo! Mark doesnât mind? Do you mind Mark?â You asked, spinning your head around to face Mark who was confused on the two people and why they were talking to you. Why they had interrupted him. You had to hold back the urge to roll your eyes.
âUh..â he started, you cut him off. âHe doesnât mind. Come sit.â You shuffled over to make room for the two.
Penelope slides into the booth beside you, while Spencer takes the seat across from you, next to Mark. He looks nervous, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table, but he offers you a small, shy smile.
âWhat are you guys doing here?â you ask, trying to suppress the excitement bubbling up inside you.
âOh, we were just nearby, and I figured weâd grab something to eat,â Penelope says.
Spencer fidgets with his napkin, glancing at you, then back at the table. âI-I was telling Penelope about this, uh, documentary I watched the other night. Itâs about the history of the subway system in New York. I think youâd really like it.â
You raise an eyebrow. âReally?â
He nods, his eyes lighting up as he starts to explain. âYeah, itâs fascinating, actually. They had to navigate all these geological challenges, and the engineering behind it is incredible. I know you mentioned once that youâre interested in architecture, and I thought you might appreciate how they designed the stations.â
You stare at him for a moment, surprised. You donât even remember telling him that you liked architecture, but he did. And now, here he is, rambling about a documentary he thinks youâd enjoy, not because heâs trying to impress you, but because he genuinely thought youâd find it interesting.
Meanwhile, Mark is looking more and more uncomfortable, clearly not enjoying the conversation. He cuts in, talking over Spencer to launch into another story about himself, but youâre barely listening anymore. Instead, youâre watching Spencer, noticing how different he is from Mark. Spencer, whoâs always so considerate, who listens more than he talks, who looks at you like youâre the most important person in the room, even when heâs nervous.
And then thereâs Mark, who hasnât asked you a single question all night, whoâs rude to the waiter, and whoâs more interested in hearing himself talk than getting to know you.
âI think I might head off..â Mark muttered, clearly annoyed at the fact you had not only been interrupted on your date, but also frustrated that you were paying more attention to Spencer than him. You couldnât care less.
âOh okay! Have a good nightâ You smiled, sickeningly nice as he shuffled his way past Spencer to leave the table. He glanced at you once, not saying anything before he walked away.
âHe was an asshole!!â Penelope bursts out into laughter the minute Mark was out of earshot, you immediately joined her laughter while Spencer remained quiet, shuffling around on the now empty side of the booth.
âThose are the type of guys you go out with?â He asked, his voice was quiet, almost offended. You wish you understood why when you stopped laughing at met his gaze. You opened your mouth to talk as the tension around the table grew.
âHey! Donât judge!â She gasped out, pointing her finger dramatically at Spencer, clearly not noticing his underlying feelings and why he had even said anything, you did. âItâs slim pickings out here!!â
Spencer hummed, tapping his fingers against the table as he avoided meeting your gaze. You frowned slightly. Soon enough the conversation fell back into rhythm, flowing like it did any other time. They ate, you paid since it was your date. Then Penelope left.
You stood outside of the restaurant, looking around the busy streets. âHow are you getting home?â Spencer asked, his gaze meeting yours as you tilted your head upwards to look at him, you couldnât not smile. It was impossible not to smile around Spencer.
âUh- Walking. I walked. Itâs really not far.â You nodded to support your words as you buried your hands inside the warmth of your pockets. You had been in a state since Spencer had gotten there, a state you couldnât quite explain. Silently lost in thought, a state of confusion? Maybe realisation.
âIâll walk you home. Its late.â He said it like it was a no brainer. Like it was the most obvious thing for him to do. No date you had ever been on had offered you walk you home.
Every time Spencer speaks, you feel yourself softening, smiling without even realizing it. His nervous energy, the way he fumbles over his words, itâs all so endearing. Heâs not trying to prove anything to you. He just wants to share the things he loves with you, and itâs the sweetest thing.
âOkay.â You breathe out the silent agreement before your feet find rhythm next to Spencerâs as you walk down the street, the post lights causing an orange glow across the ground, across his face.
âTheres a study.â Spencer started, his breathe coming out warm against the cold air causing a fog of steam to follow his breath, you watched it for an moment before your eyes flickered to the side of his face, youâre still walking, his gaze doesnât meet yours.
âThat uhâ Shows that opposites attract, itâs more of a theory, since scientifically it doesnât actually work like that â although negatives are attracted to positives if youâre looking at electricity â but uh- People believe that a lot of people are attracted to people opposite them, because each person offers something the other lacks, making the relationship feel more complete.. Majority of relationships that are built off of opposites work better than people who are too similar because theres more of a balance.. its chaotic but, it uh â it works.â
He was nervous. You could tell. Your breath hitched slightly as he spoke, as he brought it up again. Your mind tried to process the overload of information he had mumbled out. You tried to process it.
âSo scientifically we wouldnât work.â You huffed out. He laughed. Genuinely laugh, it was breathy and quiet but genuine and it made your heart warm.
âTechnicallyâ but theoreticallyââ
You cut him off, a rare occurrence, âI thought you were a science guy.â You mumbled.
He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. âI think I am just a you guy.â
You didnât know what to say. It was sweet in a way that your brain couldnât process. He was going against everything he believed to be correct because he wanted you?
âI thought data and statistics are the most reliable source of information.â You mumbled the response, words he had said, probably months ago. Why were you fighting him on this? Why were you fighting yourself on this? You werenât sure.
âSure; most of the time. But they are subjective. Especially when talking about psychologically. Each couple, each set of people â theyâre different.â He said, his gaze didnât meet yours. You pulled your eyes away to focus on the street in front of you. You were getting closer to your house, yet part of you wanted to stay right here.
âYou think we could work?â You asked. It was a whisper.
He paused, you could see him nod in your peripheral. âI do. Iâd make it work, iâd do anything.â Maybe it came out more desperate than he had intended, you found it sweet.
You found him sweet.
âSpencerâ you paused your movements and his stopped with yours. His body turned to face you as you looked up at him. His eyes were pleading, desperate, hoping. It almost made your heart ache at the slight fear in them, that you were going to maybe reject him again.
But you found him sweet.
âId date you.â You answered the question he had asked maybe months ago now, you didnât realise until now that you had conveniently stopped outside your house. You turned your head to look at the front door before back at Spencer.
âCan i- uh- Will you- I-â He stuttered and your heart warmed at his nervous attempt to ask you out.
âYes.â You answered gently, saving him the hassle. Maybe being different was a good thing. Maybe you could beat the statistics that proved otherwise.
Maybe opposites did attract.
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A muted shade of green ⧠Spencer Reid
genre: fluff, light angst
word count: 6339
pairing: reader x spencer reid
description: Dr. Spencer Reid is simply adorable. And you actually think he might be perfect. Until, that is, he isn't.
a muted shade of green masterlist // next chapter
His apartment is a muted shade of green and you always wonder why is it that he painted it so dark. The book covered walls never fail to impress you, making you smile into the ether that was this place with its shelves and shelves of worldly stories. His taste, you think, is more towards the classics and refined tales that carry significance and importance in the world of literature. Dostoyevski, Austen, Orwell, Doyle. Though here and there, in some corners of the living room or thrown haphazardly in the kitchen counter, you see peeks of contemporary names, the ones youâre sure you sold him a long, long time ago. Murakami, Zadie Smith, George.Â
You met Spencer when you first moved into D.C., about a year or so ago, and sometimes, you really think that it was just yesterday when you first saw him with his purple scarf walking inside your store.
âExcuse me.âÂ
You have too many books in your arms to even see who is talking to you, but you apologise nonetheless; itâs the least you can do for your first customer. âIâll be with you in a moment, apologies for the mess, we literally just opened.â In your defence, you had been so busy unpacking all the new orders and organising things into shelves that you absolutely forgot to put the plaque with your opening hours by the door. You can hear his shoes clicking and clacking around the place, and a wave of anxiety washes through you. If he leaves with a bookâ luckily twoâ you will have made your first sell and that just might remind you that of the reason why you decided to do this in the first place.
Carefully putting the pile of Maggie Nelsonâs on the counter, you finally turn to face him, tired smile from ear to ear when you see him holding two books already. âYou found something you like?â You gently ask, voice calm and fingers fidgeting while you wait for an answer. âMany things, actually. Iâm quite glad to see a wide variety of books here, itâs been hard finding something new to read lately.âÂ
His voice is pointed and it echoes in the empty store. The clock on the walls says itâs 7:58AM and you suck in a breath; itâs definitely too early for someone to be looking for books, but maybe he wants entertainment for his commute, maybe he needs a distraction for the way, or maybe he is odd like that.Â
It must be cold outside. The man is wearing a purple scarf inside what looks like a wool coat, and somehow, he fits in there, in your store. He looks like the kind of person who would be buying books as early as 8 in the morning and youâre not sure if that is adorable or unhinged.Â
âJust these, thank you,â The loud thump of the pile of books he deposits by the cashier makes you gasp. âYou have a great selection here, I was lucky you open early!â The twinkle in his eyes is what keeps you from telling him that that, in fact, was a big mistake. In the middle of rushing to get the keys from the landlord in time, get the deliveries, get everything sorted and organised, you had completely forgotten to put out the hours for the shop.Â
âI am glad you found us here! Do you live nearby?â At this point, youâre just trying to make conversation as you bagged his items, smiling at the titles and happy to see your favourite book in the midst. âI live just across the street, actually,â He said, giving you his card. âYouâll see me a lot, Iâm afraid.â
âAnd what should I call my most loyal customer, then?â One look down at his card and you would know, but you wanted him to tell you himself.Â
âSpencer Reid.â
There is not really a sound reason as to why you walk so freely into his apartment. The first time he asked you to do this, he was going on a case and needed someone to water his plants. As it turn out, your store is quite literally across the street from his building and you donât really mind the mindless task, so you tell him to not worry, youâll take care of it. It had been a few months since you two met, five or so, and despite taking you some time to truly understand, you got used to the fact that Spencer created a routine for both of you, knocking on your shopâs door every Monday at precisely 8 in the morning. With time, you stopped questioning him even when you had many, many questionsâ was he even reading all these books? If yes, how?! Every visit, he left with three books or more, and unless he pulled all nighters every night, those were simply sitting on his desk.Â
Instead, you start putting a few titles aside whenever you spot them. You start it with âA Gentleman From Peruâ by AndrĂŠ Aciman, short and sweet. Next week it was âA Little Paris Bookshopâ by Nina George. Then âCultishâ by Amanda Montell. And just like this, you two form your own little book club, his visits extending beyond their usual thirty minutes into the better part of the hour to talk about the plot, the characters, the arcs. You know there is quite a lot you donât know about Spencer, of course there is, but you learn more and more with every little debate you two have. You learn about his morals through the character he likes, and his dreams through the plots he enjoy. You learn about his photographic memory that allows him to quote his favourite sections to you, and you learn that he is a very logical man through his hatred for the inaccuracy of investigative books. You learn and you learn and you learn and you find out that you like learning about Spencer. More than you like learning about anyone else, that is, and now, every time he walks in, you canât help but get excited, smiling as you only imagine what you would learn that day.Â
Sometimes, you did notice the absence of your favourite customer. He would disappear for weeks on end and then act like nothing happened, and you get it; he doesnât owe you anything, youâre just the lady that sells him books, but you feel like there is something that is starting to bloom when, every time he comes back, he brings you a book. âI thought youâd like it,â Is all he says before leaving with his bag of new reads. For a moment, itâs like an exchange, but Spencer never demands anything of you; never asks for anything more than new books and recommendations.Â
Itâs quite rewarding finding the books you sold him scattered through the apartment. There are a couple in the kitchen, open split on the counter and you smile fondly at the clumsy way he marks his books. There is no folded page, no book marker, no random picture; just his book, cover facing up, open and splitting the spine in half enough to crease. You shake your head, smiling like heâs done this just to rile you up.
âOh my god, donât!â
You donât mean to shout but itâs too late. His eyes widen in shock and he immediately freezes, mouth stuck in a little âoâ shape that makes you blush. âWhat did I do?âÂ
The wince in your expression is as visible as the light of day when you speak. Your hands hover in the air, unsure of what to do now, but still trying to do something. âThe book, Spencer,â The words come out like a whine, and if you start stomping your feet you might as well look like a child. âThe spine. The book. Theâ oh my god, the noise!â
The way he laughs at you is contagious, and you start laughing with him, face hidden behind your hands in embarrassment. Owning a bookshop doesnât come for free. Your particularities when it comes to your literary treasures are enough to scare any sane person away. âYou know, there are worse sounds than a bookâs spine breaking,â He mused, closing the book before walking to your counter. His nimble fingers drum a soft rhythm as he waits for you to go around and charge him for the book. Itâs a symphony, almost; so loud in your quiet store that, for a second, your heart is tuning in, thumping as his fingers do, beating to the song he creates.Â
âYou donât have to buy it,â Itâs a little ridiculous how airy your voice sounds then. Arenât you a little too old to have a crush? âItâs okay ifââ But he doesnât even let you finish, rattling off some facts about the writer. Most of the time, actually, he is rattling off some fact about something, and some you know, some you donât, but you never interrupt him. You like hearing him talk.Â
You miss hearing him talk. Whenever Spencer leaves, you miss him. You miss the knock on your shopâs door at 8AM. You miss the shy little chuckles. You miss the purpleâ the constant, always there purple. A wave of sadness hits you then, looking around the apartment with a longing expression.Â
The first time he calls you over, itâs not really an invitation. A week before it happens, he doesnât show up for your Tuesday unboxing and you have to carry all the new orders inside by yourself. It takes double the time and despite the effort it takes you, itâs the absence of his coy chuckles and snarky commentary that leaves you breathless. When you open the boxes, checking inventory to make sure there had been no issues with your order, you find the book Spencer asked you to get him. Itâs one of those special books, so old and unique that you could only get your hands on it because you had contacts in the space. âHuh,â You frown at thatâ it isnât like Spencer to forget something. Hell, it isnât like Spencer to forget anything. Before you can cower away from doing it, you send him a text. You have his number saved in the system, and this feels wrong, it really does. Using his personal information that he gave to you as a client felt wrong. But for a second, it makes you stop biting your nails in anxiety.Â
Your book is here.Â
Itâs Y/N, by the way.Â
He doesnât answer right away and you wallow in your regret for as long as you can. Your shoulders hunch forward as you line up the new arrivals in the shelves. Your frown sits on your forehead all day while you help other passing customers. Your hands brush against the book, all ready and wrapped up and sitting on top of the counter. You hate waiting; you hate waiting for someone or for something to happen as if youâre praying for a miracle. Literature has taught you many lessons in life. It has shown you countless of love stories that couldâve been resolved with a simple conversation. It has told you about people that waited and waited and waited until time passed them away. It has taught you that waiting is simply delaying the inevitable.Â
But what literature has not taught you is that, sometimes, waiting truly is all you can do.Â
That day, you donât get a message back.Â
You get a call instead.Â
âY/N?â The familiar voice on the other side speaks before you can and your shoulders tense up. Something is wrong. He sounds hoarser than usual, airier, too.Â
âSpencer,â You say back, clearing your throat of any remnants or indicators of how nervous you are. âSpencer, are you okay? You sound rough.â
Even his laugh sounds weak and a zap of worry rushes through you. âIâm fine,â He mumbles, and you know heâs saying it out of politeness. âI just got sick. I think I have a cold, itâs nothing much, really.â
The relief that washed over you in crashing waves is almost embarrassing. Even though he is not there to witness it, your face still flushes in a dramatic red. âOh. I see. Sorry, I didnât mean to bother youââ
âItâs not a bother,â The way his voice interrupts you, so strong and concise, makes you chuckle. âYouâre not a bother. I uh, Iâm glad to hear my book arrived.â
For a moment, you both stay quiet. You, on your end of the line, are nodding like he can see you. Except he canât. Except he is waiting, probably, for you to say something. Do something. âI can bring it to you. If you want.â
This time, there is no pause. âYes. I mean, yes, please. Iâ I donât have anything new to read andââ Spencer pauses to cough and you start moving immediately. There is no one in the store and you quickly change the sign to âclosedâ, grabbing his book and your bag before locking the door behind you. There is a pharmacy at the end of the block and you keep your cellphone balanced between your shoulder and ear while your hands make sure you have your wallet with you. âSorry.â
âNo problem at all,â You cross the street in such a hurry that you donât notice the traffic, getting a symphony of horns calling you out as you run to the other side of the street. âShitâŚâ
âAre you okay?â
âIâm fine,â You tease, laughing a little and entering the pharmacy with purpose. âSo just a cold, right?â
âY/N, where are you?â
âOut,â There is no need to be vague, but you donât want to give him a chance to protest. âI should be at yours in fifteen minutes with the book.â
âJust the book?â He asks in such a suspicious tone that you canât hold back a laugher.Â
âWhat else?â Thank god for automatic cashiers speeding up this entire process. You are in an out in less than five minutes and before he can even answer, you are almost at his door. Admittedly, you are speed walking, almost running, in a futile attempt to get there sooner. âWhich apartment do I buzz?â
âApartment 23.â And that is the end of the call.Â
By the time you make it to his floor, panting just as you hike the last step upwards, he is already waiting for you, and you canât say youâre terribly bothered to have a man like Spencer Reid waiting for you by the door. âSpencer,â You still admonish, a small smile playing on your lips. âYou shouldnât be out and about like this.âÂ
âThen who would let you in?â The mischief in his expression, much like that of a child making an innocent joke, makes you giggle, nodding in agreement. âDo you want to come inside? I promise everything is clean, Iâm not a slob or anything.â
âYeah, let me come in so I can give you your stuff.âÂ
âI knew it wasnât just the book,â The coughing fit that followed has you rushing your hands, pulling things out of your bag in a desperate attempt to get him the medicine you bought. This had always been your curse, the flustering anxiety of wanting to help but being unable to take your time. Shaky hands push the book towards him, with the medication and some old receipts stuck to it.Â
âOh shit, sorry!â You squeak, grabbing the receipts and shoving it back in your bag. One of these days, youâd have to close the store early to clean this thing. âBut uh, yeah, I got you some cold medicine and your book. Iâm sure you know this with your big brain and all, but you need to take this before bed, cause it makes you drowsy, and this other one in the morning since it has caffeine! And you should be good in no time⌠hopefully!â
In life, a pause is not always a bad thing. Itâs a time to think. A time to appreciate, to enjoy. Itâs a time to be. A pause, however, from the man whose brain worked a thousand miles an hour, doesnât feel like something to be thankful for. âIs⌠Do you not like that brand? I didnât want to get the generic thing, I donât know why, Iââ
âThank you.â
At first, you barely hear it. For someone whose voice is so rough and hoarse, youâre surprised he can still sound so smooth and airy. Your reaction is obvious; he can see the blush in your cheeks and the way you bite back a smile. âY/N, thank you, I really appreciate it,â He says it again and now you think he just wants to get a rise of you. âYou didnât have to.â
âI know,â You shrug, faking humbleness while you keen at his praise. âI wanted to.â
âI know.âÂ
There is a dance that happens after that, one that you find yourself enjoying quite a bit. Spencer is more present than ever, and youâre getting used to having him around. Itâs like you two broke the glass wall the kept you at a safe distance, and now is when you two discover each other a bit better. Like how you find out that, when Spencerâs hand lays on the cashier counter, just an inch or less away from yours, you feel the heath that it emanates. Like how your fingers curl and your palms itch at the sight of his shaggy curls falling on top of his beautiful eyes. Like how his laughter is deep when itâs true and dry when itâs forced. Like how he can read 20,000 words per minute, but he chooses to read 183 instead just so he can read you passages out loud.
You are not sure what he has learned about you, or if he even cares to learn something about you, but the thought still makes you smile. âWhatâs gotten you so smiley so early in the morning?âÂ
Ah, yes; another thing youâve learned about Spencer Reidâ he is as quiet as mouse when he wants, and as loud as an elephant when he doesnât. âMy god!â You jump, hand immediately going to your heart to try and keep it from beating our of your chest from the shock. âSpence! You scared me!â
âIâm so sorry,â He laughs, raising his hands in the air, shaking the two cups of coffee he is holding. âI come in peace.â
âAnd with bribery, I like your style.âÂ
His style doesnât change, still havenât. For ages, you think he buys you coffee at the nearby cafe. You donât really know the name of the place, some cliche Cafe something something, but the one time youâve been in there the coffee was terrible and the music too loud. Itâs hard picturing your shy, smiley book-lover in there, trying to order something without raising his voice. Itâs only when you see the go-to paper cups on his counter, on the fourth or fifth time you come around, that you realise Spencer has never gone to that cafe to begin with.Â
The cups are still there. You make a point in spotting them every time you come overâ next to the microwave, close to the paper towels. The reminder that this man has, in fact, been making you coffee most mornings validates the fluttery feeling you have whenever you think of it. It makes it somewhat logical. âI must be spending too much time with him,â You mumble to yourself, pushing your sleeves up and getting to work. You are there for a reason, and if those wilting plants die on you, you fear that you might just never be invited back. âWhy does he even have plants?âÂ
You donât know much about Spencerâs job. He hasnât told you anything about it except that he travels a lot for it, but you can imagine it is something of importanceâ a man like Spencer was someone of importance, after all. In your mind, you can imagine him walking into an office down by the Financial District, working with big corporations as an advisor. Yes, you can absolutely see him as some sort of advisor or consultant, but something about him working in finances doesnât sit right with youâ he is yet to talk to you about crypto investments and how to better implement a payment system into the store. Shaking your head, you switch it up. Financial services, arenât quite right, but maybe an editor, working in a publishing house. With the way he devours books and how well-rounded his personal library was, you could see him as a Publishing Director instead, reading manuscript after manuscript.Â
The thought of him reading brings a smile to your face. In his living room, there is an armchair that sits next to the large window on the west wall of his apartmentâ he says he likes how the sunset hits and makes the pages look warm and golden, turning words into a burning fire of knowledgeâ and you can practically see him there, blanket over his legs, books and books pilled next to it. Itâs your own little secret, how every time you come over, you grab a book, any book, and you sit there for thirty minutes, forty, fifty, an hour; until the sun has completely set and you have to get up to turn the lights on.Â
Today, when you sit down, when you bring your knees up, when you drape the blanket over you, something feels incredibly right and incredibly wrong. On the pile of books next to you, right at the top, lays a copy of Gulliverâs Travels. If you remember correctly, which you usually do, last time you sat down at that spot you managed to read up to chapter five before the sun was gone. When you grab the book and you see the bookmark you gave Spencer the second time he visited the store, and you frownâ usually, heâd pick up from where you left off. âHow long has it been since you last came home, Spencer?â You muttered out loud, grabbing the book regardless. Because even when it breaks your heart to know something has been keeping him away from his precious nook, it fuels your heart to know he leaves your book where you can easily pick it up. To know he doesnât mind you sitting on his armchair, to know he doesnât mind you reading his books, to know he doesnât mind you settling, somehow, in his house.Â
A knock on his door, however, breaks you away from your precious moment of rest and relaxation. For a moment, you canât move, frozen in place light a kid that has been caught doing something wrong. Itâs only when they knock again that you move, shuffling to the door to look through the peephole. âWho is it?â You ask, voice weak and shaky.Â
âI have a delivery for Spencer Reid.â
How silly you feel in that moment, hand over your heart as you take a deep breath in relief. Unlocking the door, you smile to the USPS guy. âSorry, he isnât home right now. I can take it for him.â All you have to do is sign it and close the door, but once you put the package on the counter and your eyes catch sight of a note scribbled on top of the box, all those butterflies inside of you slow down. And find perch. And for a second, make you miss them just like you miss him.Â
The first time you think Spencer might have a girlfriend is when he comes into the store with a certain look in his face. He is practically glowing and his eyes donât leave his phone for a second. âWhat has you smiling like that?â You two are close enough to ask these kind of things now, making jokes about each other as if you have been friends for ages. âOr uh, who?â Even though you started the conversation, you want to end it now. There is a sour aftertaste in your mouth when you suggest another person to be cause of his happiness, and you know, right there and then, that that is just your jealousy speaking. At this point, youâve been harbouring a crush on Spencer for the almost two months and thereâs only so much a girl can take before exploding.Â
âOh, itâs just a friend.â Somehow, this answer doesnât settle you as much as you hoped it would.Â
The second time is when he brings a woman around. She is blonde, and loud, and colourful, and you eye her carefully. They are matching costumes, and for a second, without even saying, you already feel left out. Itâs stupid, being this green over someone so pink. If Spencer was purple, and if you are green, than that woman was pinkâ she is happy and light and exciting. Next to her, you⌠well, you are as muted as his green walls. âY/N!â He calls for you with such a big smile and you just donât have it in you to pretend to be busy anymore.Â
âHey Spencer,â It comes out quiet and a bit distant, but he doesnât seem to notice, not with the way he is going back and forth on the ball of his heels. âAnd hello, maâam. Welcome, Iâm Y/N Y/L/N, the owner. Please let me know if you need any help.â
That day, you two barely talk, but thatâs okay, because Penelope, as she introduced herself to you after you help her find a specific book on coding, speaks for both of you. She says that itâs lovely to finally meet you, and mentions how much she has heard about you, and you think this is a very cruel thing to do to your poor, squeezing heart. But you push through. You pretend youâre tired, you apologise for the distance, and you lie about a cough. Itâs better if they stay away, you say, but Spencer doesnât buy it. Instead, he buys Penelope her book and leaves with promises of coming back the next day with your usual coffee.Â
After that, you donât see Spencer for two weeks.
Itâs a bittersweet feeling when you get the text that he is back. After almost a week and a half without seeing him, you miss Spencer. He created a space for himself in your life and in your store, and when he is gone, itâs just not the same. But just like how he did, you created a space for yourself in his apartment. Suddenly, the muted green walls arenât claustrophobic or smothering, but comforting. They are safe. Familiar. They are Spencer. And just like you said, you miss Spencer.
âY/N!âÂ
You should be happier to hear his voice, but itâs not the same. The fluttering in your stomach is still there, like a slow buzz trying to come alive, but itâs not the same. Not when the note on the box, flashing like neon signs behind your close lids, has been tormenting you and your poor heart ever since you made the mistake of opening the door. âY/N? Are you here? The door says openâŚâ At one point or another, you have to come out of hiding and face him. Delaying the moment, though, is the best defence plan youâre able to come up withâ if you look into Spencerâs eyes, if you see that pretty smile he has every time he comes back from a work trip⌠youâre fucked.Â
âY/N, I need you to tell me if youâre here!â Itâs not the same.Â
His voice. Itâs not the same.
Usually mellow and undulating, Spencer sounds stiff, like heâs holding something back. Something new. Something⌠heavy. There is an edge to him right now, so sharp and cutting that it has you stepping out from behind the Science shelf in pure curiosity. And just like people say, curiosity killed the cat. In this case, however, it almost kills you.Â
When you turn the corner to find him by the door, the first thing you see is a man. He is tall and handsome and oddly serious. The way his brows are pulled together make you falter, steps slowing down and mouth opening to ask if he needs help.
Thatâs when you see it.Â
More like you catch a quick glimpse of it, the shinning spark of metal to your side, and you do a double take. You have to do a double take. Itâs like your brain doesnât believe what youâre seeing, and you move your head so fast you feel your neck tensing up in that way that makes your eyes water. âWHAT THE FUâ OH MY GOD!â There is no way to throw yourself against a wall graciously, arms over your head and fear written all over face. You land in an awkward angle and your shoulder takes the brunt of the shock, making you gasp in pain while your legs give our under you.Â
Of all the ways youâve imagined Spencer, him holding a gun up to your head was never one of them. âY/N!â
âOh my god!â You think you might pass outâ youâre breathing too fast and your chest is squeezing, squeezing, squeezing to the point of physical pain. There is a ringing in your ears, muffling the entire conversation between Spencer and the other man and even though you try, you canât look up; youâre frozen in a state of distress. For the first time since you met him, youâre scared of Spencer Reid. âIâ Iâ Oh my god, I c-canâtâ I canât b-breathe, I canâtââ
âY/N, look at me! Look at me, youâre okay, Iâm so sorry, Iâm sorry,â The moment his hand touches your shoulder, youâre shrinking away.Â
âWho are you?!â You manage to gasp enough air into your lungs to scream at him. One shake hand moves to the back of your neck, pressing down on the sore nape as you finally move to look at him, crying and all. âSpencer, who are you? Who is he? What is happening? Why do you have a gun in my bookshop, whyââ
âMaâam, I need you to take deep breaths,â The other man quickly holsters his gun and you actually think you might be going insane when flashes you a badge. âIâm SSA Derek Morgan, I work with Spencer. We are with the FBI.â
Federal Bureau of Investigation. Spencer is a fed. And he never told you.Â
âThe FBIâŚ?â You whisper, eyes going wide and breath hiccuped in your throat. âS-Spencer, you work for the FBI?â Nothing about this makes sense to you. The gun, forgotten in his left hand and now pointing down and away from you, is all you can look at. The gun that looked heavy and cold. The gun that those hands holdâ the same hands youâve wished and, admittedly, dreamed of holding yours instead. The gun, the gun, the gun.
The gun. Youâve never seen a gun before, not this close. In museums, of course, and in movies and shows, but never in real life. You donât have interest in it either, having voted, without fail, for anti-gun laws and representatives. Anything and everything about this, about seeing him with that deadly weapon, feels wrong, and you really think you might be sick soon.
âKid, put it away, youâre freaking her out.âÂ
Then is when you catch sight of the Spencer you know. Itâs the clumsy actions, looking almost freaked out himselfâ his hands fumble with the holster and it takes him a couple of tries to fit the gun properly. Thatâs when you know for sureâ you are going to be sick. âTrash,â You mumble, trying to get up but falling again and again. âTrash, pass me theââ But there is no time and you throw up right there and then, between the cashier and the nonfiction section.Â
âWhat just happened?âÂ
âMorgan, get her some waterâ there, over the counter,â The rapid successions of words make you feel a bit better, a cadence of tone and rhythm that has your hands finally stabilising. âY/N, youâre in shock. Adrenaline kicked in and left, and you pressured crashed, which is what made you nauseous. You need water, and to come sit by the counter.â
Itâs funny, how in any other circumstance, youâd be ashamed and embarrassed to have gotten ill in front of him. As far as you know, Spencer is a germaphobe and this surely counts as germs. But as he grabs your hands, gentler than youâve ever seen him grab any book in your store, and brings you to your chair behind the counter, you wonder if he forgot or simply doesnât care. Both options donât make sense. âSpence, what is going on?â Your voice comes out winey and rough, and there is no way to hold back the pained wince when you feel the sting spreading through your throat. Sip by sip, you try your best to drink the water and soothe yourself, but nothing seems to help.Â
Nothing until you hear him next to you, small and quiet and, dare you say, meek. âIâm sorry.â
As much as youâd like to tell him he has nothing to be sorry for, he does. âI seeâŚâ
âIt was just⌠it was new, having someone not know Iâm FBI,â His thumbs play with each other and youâve known him long enough to recognise that Spencer is nervous. âAnd we started getting closer and I just didnât find an opportunity to tell you.â
âThere were plenty,â You clarify, feeling a bit of a bitch for the bite in your voice making him gulp. âBut itâs okay. Iâm not⌠Iâm not anything of yours, I guess, so itâs okay. You donât owe me anything.â
âDonât say that. Youâre my friend.â That hurt.
âDo you point a gun at all your friends or am I just special, Spence?â It is supposed to be a joke, but the memory makes your bottom lip start wobbling again and you feel stupid. You feel so, so incredibly stupid right now that you canât even begin to explain why. âSorry, Iâm justâ Iâm not okay.â
âI know, and weâre sorry,â There is such raw honesty in his words and he manages to make you smile a little. Your hand is still shaking, but you stretch it out towards him regardless. Itâs a conscious decision to hold onto his wrist, covered by his jacket, than to reach out for his palm, and from the way he looks at you, you know he recognises the effort. âBut you need to come with us.â
âWhy?â You cry out, a single tear coming out of the corner of your eye. At this point, the shock is going away and youâre more overwhelmed than anything else. Youâre scared and confused and overwhelmed and itâs his pulse, beating again and again, that brings you back to Earth. âWhy do I need to go with you? What is going on?â
âY/N, when you were housesitting for me, you received a package, right?â
In the midst of everything, the memory of that day, that box, that note, all fade. Frowning, you shrugged. âThe delivery man knocked and said he had a package for you⌠Iâm sorry, I didnât mean to intrude, Iââ
âNo, no, no, you didnât, you didnât. Please.â
âMaâam, when you signed for the package, did you use your name?â The man, Morgan, ask, and all you do is nod. Of course you signed with your name. âKid, we need to take her to the office now.â
âI am not going anywhere until you tell me whatâs going on!â
Finally, some energy in you. Some strength. Your voice echoes in the empty shop, and the chair tips back when you stand up on stiff legs. Looking at Spencer is hard, when you feel the burning of your rage inside, but you still do; you still meet those pretty brown eyes, you still stare him down until you practically force the answers off of him. âThe package⌠did you see who it was from?âÂ
âSpencer, are you insinuating youâve pointed a gun at me because I read a message your girlfriend wrote on the package she sent you?! Because I didnât mean toâ I didnât! It just⌠It was there, right at the top and Iââ
âShe is not my girlfriend,â He immediately cut you off, hands waving in front of him in a visual demonstration of desperate denial. âNot at all! I donât have a girlfriend! I wasââ
âWe can deal with this later,â Morgan is quick to interrupt, sighing as he looked at you. âY/N, we re really sorry to disrupt you like this, but this is for your own protection. Please lock the store and letâs go.â
It takes time for you to gather everything you need. You are not a disorganised person by any means, but suddenly, you canât remember where you put what. Your bag is thrown under the cashier, and your keys are, for some reason, in the Fiction shelf. Your glasses are in your head the entire time, and Morgan has to point that out to you. The more you look, the more flustered you get, yet somehow, you make it to the car. Morgan is driving and Spencer is on the passenger seat, and the way they keep talking to each other using words that make no sense to you make you want to scream. âSpencer.â
The heaviness of his name, said with such emotion,, lingered in the air. His eyes meet yours through the rearview mirror, and he nods. âYeah?"
âSpencer,â You whisper again, eyes wide in shock as reality starts to dawn. âSpencer, if sheâs not your girlfriend, then who the fuck is Cat Adams?â
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
AAAAAhhhhh I'm trying something new >.< I've been a massive criminal minds fan for a long, long time and Dr. Spencer Reid has my heart <3
Please let me know what you think, this is my first Spencer fic and I'd love if it got to turn into a series!
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid series#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid x oc#nerdy spencer reid#spencer reid angst#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid cm#spencer reid comfort#spencer reid core#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fic#criminal minds
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KURTIS KIX
Look at this guy
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ââ ŕ¨ŕ§ !ăGOD'S WILL
spencer reid x reader
SUMMARY: Where Y/N Reid is forced to watch her husband being tortured by a delusional and psychotic serial killer through a computer screen.
WARNING: Based on s2e15 âźď¸ Use of gun, blood, being beaten, death, usual CM violence.
REQUESTED?: No.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
ăăăŕźťâŚŕźş ăŕźťâ§ŕźşăŕźťâŚŕźş
The air was thick with tension as Y/N, Morgan, and Emily stepped out of the SUV, the silence of the rural property around them almost deafening. The barn loomed ahead, a dark, foreboding shape against the twilight sky.
They moved in quickly, flanked by a small group of local police officers, their flashlights cutting through the dim light, illuminating the path to the barn. The scent of decay and rot hit them before they reached the entrance, a sickly rancid smell that made Y/Nâs stomach churn. She pressed a hand to her nose, trying to filter out the stench, but it was impossible to escape.
As they entered the barn, their beams of light swept over the scene inside, revealing the carnage. Dead dogs littered the floor, their bodies twisted and broken, and the last victim's remains sprawled in a grotesque display.
The walls were smeared with blood, and the metallic tang filled the air. Y/Nâs heart clenched, horror flooding her senses at the sight of the animalsâ suffering, the brutality of their deaths. Sheâd seen a lot in her years with the BAU, but this... this was something else.
"Jesus." Morgan muttered under his breath, the disgust clear in his voice. Emilyâs jaw was clenched, her eyes dark with anger and revulsion. They moved further into the barn, their guns raised and ready, searching for any sign of the unsub or another victim.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, a gun pointed directly at them.
"FBI!" A familiar voice screamed, the word slicing through the air like a knife.
Morganâs reaction was instant, his gun snapping up to meet the threat.
"JJ! JJ, itâs Morgan, Prentiss, and Y/L/N!" He yelled, his voice a desperate plea. "Donât shoot, itâs okay!"
Recognition dawned in JJâs eyes, and her grip on the gun faltered, her arm lowering as she took in the sight of her colleagues. Relief flooded her features, but it was mixed with fear, her face pale and drawn.
Y/N didnât hesitate. She rushed forward, her hands reaching out to steady JJ, her heart pounding in her chest.
"JJ, are you hurt?" She asked, her voice laced with worry, her eyes scanning JJâs for any sign of injury.
JJ shook her head, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
"Tobias Hankel is the unsub." She said, her voice cracking, eyes wide with horror.
"Yeah, we know." Emily replied, her tone clipped and urgent.
JJâs eyes flickered over the dead dogs, her expression crumbling.
"I had to kill them." She whispered, her voice thick with guilt, her gaze distant as if she were replaying the scene over and over in her mind. "They attacked me. I didnât have a choice. I had to-"
"JJ." Y/N interrupted, her voice firm, cutting through JJâs daze. Her hands tightened on JJâs shoulders, grounding her. "Whereâs Spencer?" There was an edge of desperation in Y/Nâs voice, a need for answers that she couldnât contain.
JJ seemed to waver, her eyes not quite focusing as she tried to gather her thoughts.
"He... he said he was going to the back. To check the cornfield." She finally said, pointing vaguely towards the rear of the barn, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Y/N felt a cold wave of fear wash over her, chilling her to the bone. She turned to look at the cornfield, its tall, dense rows seeming to stretch on forever, hiding whatever secrets lay within.
"Alone?" She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. The thought of Spencer out there, by himself, searching for a killer without being used to confront one on the field, made her stomach twist into knots. "Why didnât you go with him?"
JJ looked down, guilt flashing across her face.
"He insisted. Said he could handle it. I... I should have gone with him. I should have..." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head, visibly struggling to keep her composure. "Iâm sorry, Y/N."
Morgan didnât waste a second. He bolted for the door, his determination radiating off of him in waves. Y/N started to follow, not even looking at JJ again, her feet moving before her mind could catch up, but Emily reached out, grabbing her arm.
"Y/N, wait!" Emily said, her grip firm. "Why don't you help me search for some clues around here? Morgan can do it, okay?"
Y/Nâs heart screamed at her to go with Morgan, to find Spencer, but she knew Emily was right. She had to be logical, had to stay focused. They needed to understand what they were dealing with if they were going to help Spencer. She nodded reluctantly, pulling herself together.
"Okay." She said, her voice tight.
It didn't take too long, and soon, the whole scene was covered by ambulances and local police cars. JJ was already being checked by paramedics, her face still pale, her hands trembling. Y/N felt a pang of sympathy, but she couldnât focus on that now. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of Spencer, with the fear that she wouldnât find him in time.
The sound of steps interrupted her train of thoughts, catching hers and Emily's attention. Morgan finally reappeared, his face grim, his eyes shadowed with worry, and Y/N could feel her heart instantly dropping. She knew the answer before he even spoke, the tightness in his shoulders, the way he avoided her gaze.
"Heâs not there." Morgan said, his voice low and rough. "Reidâs gone."
The world seemed to tilt around Y/N, her vision narrowing, her breath catching in her throat. The reality of his words slammed into her like a freight train, the implication of Spencerâs absence echoing through her mind. She had known it in her gut and had felt the terror creeping in, but hearing it spoken aloud made it all too real.
She staggered back, her hand finding the rough surface of the barn wall to steady herself. Spencer was missing. Tobias Hankel had him, and God only knew what he was doing to him. The thought was a knife to her heart, twisting and tearing, leaving her gasping for air.
"You can't find him?" JJ's voice echoed closer to them, her figure involved by a thin blanket that disguised her exhausted form.
Y/N kept her eyes on the ground, her eyes widened while her mind ate her alive, not noticing how Emily shook her head negatively or how JJ approached her hesitantly, her face etched with worry.
"Y/N." She said softly, trying to reach through the haze of sadness and worry that surrounded her friend. "We will do everything we can to find him. I promise."
Y/N whirled around, her eyes blazing with a fury so intense it made JJ take an involuntary step back, her hands clutching tightly around the blanket.
"Everything we can?" She spat, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotion. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't need to do anything at all! You should never have left him alone. You were supposed to be with him, JJ! He was with you!"
JJâs face paled, guilt flickering across her features.
"I- We thought it would be faster if we split up. We didnât know-"
"You didnât know?!" Y/Nâs voice rose, sharp and accusatory. Her tears blurred her vision, but she didn't bother wiping them away. "You let him go off on his own! You let him-" Her voice broke, and she took a shuddering breath, trying to hold herself together. "And now heâs..." She gestured helplessly at the corn field as if pointing to nothing and everything at the same time. They didn't know where he was.
JJâs eyes filled with tears, but she tried to hold her ground.
"I know youâre angry, Y/N, but I was just trying to do my job. I thought heâd be safe-"
"You thought?!" Y/N cut her off again, her voice laced with venom. "How could you think heâd be safe? Weâre dealing with a killer, JJ! A crazy sadistic psychopath! And you thought it was okay to let Spencer out of your sight? Heâs not like us! Heâs not... heâs not..." Her words faltered as a sob tore from her throat, her anger giving way to the raw, unfiltered terror that gripped her heart.
"Hey, hey..." Emily got in between them, her eyes going from Y/N to JJ. "Y/N, I know youâre scared. We all are. But lashing out isnât going to help find Spencer."
Y/N's shoulders fell, a mix of a sob and a deep breath escaping through her throat before she shook her head.
"I can't even look at you right now."
ăăăăă༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
The quiet that had settled over the old house was deceptive. Every member of the team could feel it: the heavy, expectant tension pressing down on their shoulders, tightening their throats, and making their hearts beat just a bit too fast.
The house reeked of rot and disrepair, the moldy walls and peeling wallpaper a bleak reminder of the darkness that had taken root here long before Tobias Hankel had become who he is now. But it wasnât the squalid condition of the house that held the team captive, nor was it the videos from the past victim that they were analyzing with a scrutinizing eye. It was the video footage being streamed live on a grainy, unstable feed.
Spencer Reid - her lover, her husband, her everything - was on the screen, and he was in agony.
Y/N stood before the makeshift command center. Every muscle in her body tensed to the breaking point. She couldnât tear her eyes away from the flickering image of Spencer, bound to a chair, blood streaming down the side of his face, his eyes wide with fear. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, nails digging painfully into her palms. She barely registered the sharp sting, her gaze locked on Spencerâs face, every detail of his pain etched into her mind.
"Y/N." Emily said quietly, her voice breaking through the fog of her thoughts. She stood a few feet away, her expression a mask of professional calm, though Y/N could see the concern in her eyes. "Do you want me to bring you to the hotel?"
"No, thank you." She answered in a beat, not tearing her gaze from the screen. "I need to see this."
"Y/N-"
"I said no!" Y/N snapped.
"Hey, calm down." Hotch quickly intervened, noticing her demeanor changing drastically. "Weâre all doing our best here. There's no need for that."
Y/N rounded on him, her eyes flashing with a dangerous fire.
"Donât tell me to be calm, Hotch!" She muttered, her voice raw with pain. "My husband is out there, alone, being tortured for hours, and you want me to be calm? How am I supposed to be calm? How am I supposed to just stand here and watch while heâs suffering?"
Her chest heaved with each breath, her heart hammering against her ribcage. She felt like she was drowning, like the walls were closing in on her, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her mind was a whirlwind of images of Spencerâs bloodied face, his desperate eyes.
"Do you have any idea what heâs going through?" She demanded, her voice breaking. "Do any of you know what itâs like to watch the person you love more than anything in this world being hurt and not be able to do anything to stop it?"
Hotchâs expression softened, but he stood his ground, his voice gentle but unyielding.
"Weâre going to find him, Y/N. But we need you to stay focused. We need you to keep your head clear. If you don't, I will send you to the hotel until this investigation ends."
Y/N shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Hotch... heâs all I have." She whispered, her voice breaking. "Heâs everything to me." Her voice dissolved into sobs, her body shaking with the force of her grief.
"We will bring him back, Y/L/N. That's a promise." Gideonâs voice echoed closer to her, his hand squeezing her shoulder for a moment, trying to send any type of comfort to her.
Her blurred eyes got back to the computers, breathing heavily. The video feed flickered for a second, distorting the image for a moment, and she felt a flash of panic, her breath catching in her throat. When the image stabilized, showing Spencer still alive, still struggling, she let out a shuddering breath.
"Please, God." She whispered, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them. "Just bring him back to me."
She could feel her heart pounding a relentless, painful rhythm against her ribcage. Each beat felt like a countdown, ticking away the seconds she had to save him. Her chest tightened, and each inhale felt like she was dragging razor blades into her lungs.
But it all stopped abruptly when her eyes caught Tobias appearing in the frame again.
"This ends now." Hankel's deep voice echoed from the cheap microphone, echoing around the room. "Confess your sins."
He raised his hand, and Y/N felt her blood turn to ice. Her body tensed instinctively, her muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. She could see Spencerâs fear, see the way his eyes darted towards Tobias's face, wide and pleading, searching for some shred of mercy. But she knew there would be none. Tobias was too far gone, too lost in the labyrinth of his own madness.
The slap echoed through the small room, amplified by the crackling speakers, a sharp, vicious sound that reverberated in Y/Nâs skull. It was as if she had been struck herself, the force of it radiating through her bones.
"Oh my God." She gasped, a strangled, broken sound, her hand flying to her mouth as she watched Spencerâs head snap to the side, a fresh streak of blood painting the side of his face. His eyes closed for a brief, agonizing moment, his face twisted in pain.
Y/N felt her own cheeks burn with the phantom pain of that slap, as if Tobias had reached through the screen to strike her too.
The helplessness she felt at that exact moment was suffocating. She was supposed to be his shield, his protector, and yet here she was, miles away, separated by a screen, powerless to stop the horror unfolding in front of her. It was torture of a different kind. Every inch of her body screamed to leap through the screen, to place herself between Spencer and Tobias, to take the blows herself if it meant sparing him.
How could I let this happen? How could I have been so blind?
She replayed the events leading up to this moment, searching for the misstep, the overlooked detail that had led them here.
When Spencerâs eyes opened again, glassy and unfocused, her vision blurred with tears that were never really gone. His pain was a tangible thing, a living, breathing entity that clawed at her heart, ripping it to shreds. She felt a sob rising in her throat, thick and choking, but she swallowed it down.
"Garcia, please..." She whispered, her voice a broken plea. "You couldn't find anything yet? Anything at all?"
The sound of her own voice brought a fresh wave of agony crashing over her. Spencer couldnât hear her. He didnât know she was there, didnât know she was watching, didnât know she was tearing herself apart with every second that passed.
"I'm sorry, Y/N..."
When Tobias struck his face again, the sound seemed to echo endlessly in her mind, each repetition a fresh cut to her soul. Spencerâs cry of pain, raw and involuntary, cut through her like a knife.
"Reid." Gideon said softly, his voice cutting through the haze of her anguish. His hands gripped her shoulders, turning her back to the screens and lowering his upper body in a way that he could look inside her eyes. "Why don't we step back for a moment?"
She shook her head violently, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand, smearing them across her cheek.
"I canât leave him, Gideon." She choked out, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotion. "I have to stay with him. I have to-" Her words dissolved into a sob, and she clamped her hand over her heart, trying to hold herself together.
"Oh my, he's killing him." Penelope's words made her go into complete shock, her head turning to the computers so fast that she could feel the pain radiating from her neck.
The sound of the impact of the chair against the ground was sickening, Spencerâs body hitting the hard floor with a thud that reverberated through the barn, and that Y/N was sure she would have nightmares with it for the rest of her life.
"No!" Y/Nâs scream tore from her throat, raw and anguished, her hands flying to her hair, pulling at her strands, ignoring the pain that washed over her head, her eyes widening in horror.
On the screen, Spencerâs body jerked violently, his limbs thrashing, his back arching off the ground as his muscles spasmed uncontrollably. Foam bubbled at his mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head, his face contorted in a rictus of pain.
Y/N stumbled back, her legs giving out beneath her, her hand reaching out to catch herself on the edge of the table. The world spun around her, her vision blurring with tears, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Spencer was convulsing, his body seizing, and she couldnât do anything.
Until it all stopped.
A scream tore from her throat, raw and anguished, as she turned away from the screen. Her fist connected with the doorframe behind them, the wood splintering under the force of her blow. Pain shot through her hand, sharp and electric, but she welcomed it. It was a distraction from the pain that was tearing her apart from the inside.
"Y/N!" Morganâs voice cut through the haze of agony, his figure reappearing from the room he escaped to minutes before, his hands grabbing her shoulders, pulling her away from the door. "What the hell are you doing?"
She struggled against him, tears streaming down her face, her body shaking with sobs she couldnât control.
"Heâs dead." She choked out, her voice broken. "Heâs dead, Derek! He's dead..."
"He- what?" Morgan turned to Gideon, searching for any trace that told him that Y/N's was lying, but there was none.
"I should have been with him. I should have been there to protect him. How could I let him come here? How could I be so stupid?"
Hotch stepped forward, his expression as hard as steel.
"This isnât your fault, Y/N. None of us could have predicted this. Weâre dealing with a monster, and weâre doing everything we can to stop him-"
"It wasn't enough." Y/N shook her head, lowering her eyes to the ground, her heart feeling a kind of pain that she never thought she would have to feel.
"Guys." Garcia's voice was a shaky whisper, gaining their attention. "Guys, you should see this."
Y/Nâs head snapped up, her heart lurching in her chest. She couldn't take any more scares.
On the screen, the image had changed. Tobias was leaning over Spencer now, his hands pressing rhythmically on Spencerâs chest, his face contorted with concentration. The sight was surreal, a twisted juxtaposition to the violence they had just witnessed.
Spencerâs body was still, his face pale and lifeless. Y/Nâs breath caught in her throat as she watched Tobias count under his breath, his hands moving with a practiced precision. For a moment, it seemed like nothing would change, like Spencer was gone for good. But then, there was a small, almost imperceptible twitch of Spencerâs fingers. His head rose suddenly, his body jerking as he took a ragged breath, coughing loudly, his eyes flying open.
"Heâs alive." Y/N breathed, her voice trembling with a mixture of relief and disbelief. Her fingers found the golden ring that decorated her left hand, ignoring her hurting knuckles, her eyes wide as she watched Spencer cough and gasp for air. For a brief, shining moment, hope flared in her chest. Spencer was alive.
They still had time. They could save him.
But the moment was shattered when Tobiasâs got away from Spencer's body, his face twisted, his eyes darkening as the cruel, sadistic personality took over again. His expression shifted from concern to cold satisfaction as he stared down at Spencer, his lips curling into a smile.
"You came back to life." Tobias muttered, his voice a low, eerie whisper that sent a chill down Y/Nâs spine.
"Raphael." Spencer gulped, breathing heavily, the not so pleasing experience from dying and coming back to life taking a toll on him.
Y/Nâs hands found Garcia's shoulder, trembling violently while gripping her covered skin, trying to ground herself.
"There can be only one of two reasons." Tobias - or Raphael - voice echoed again from the computer, cutting into their conversation.
"I was given CPR." Reid muttered, his face twisting in pain. His obvious answer would make Y/N laugh if it was on another occasion.
"There are no accidents... How many members are on your team?" Tobias's question brought confusion to the team's head. Why would he ask that in the middle of his own chaos?
Spencerâs breathing was shallow, his voice weak as he responded.
"Seven."
Y/Nâs eyes flicked to Emily, who stood beside her, her brow furrowing.
"Seven?" She repeated, confusion knitting her features. "But thereâs eight of us..."
"He took himself out of the count." Emily realized, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Spencer didnât include himself."
Before anyone could react, Tobias began to talk again, his voice low and ominous.
"Seven. And the seven angels that had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first angel sounded, and there followed hail and fire mingled with blood, and they were thrown to earth."
A horrified understanding dawned in Hotchâs eyes.
"He thinks weâre the seven angels of death." He said, his voice grim. "He believes weâre here to bring about the apocalypse. The seven archangels versus the seven angels of death."
The room fell silent, everyoneâs eyes glued to the screen as Tobias lifted Spencerâs chair, setting it upright again. Spencer winced, his body still weak, his breathing ragged. Tobias moved around to stand in front of Reid, his expression a twisted mask of anticipation.
"Tell me who you serve."
"Son of a bitch." Y/N whispered, her voice wavering as her free hand brushed roughly against her cheeks, trying to wipe the tears that never seemed to end.
"I serve you."
"Then choose one to die." Tobias commanded, his voice harsh and unyielding.
"What?" The sound of Spencerâs voice mixed with Morgan's one as both asked the same question.
"Your team members... Choose one to die."
Y/N felt a hand searching for hers desperately, Garcia's touch meeting her own above her shoulders, squeezing her fingers.
Spencer shook his head weakly, his eyes filled with pain and desperation.
"No... I wonât... I canât..."
Tobiasâs face darkened in a way that wasn't like Tobias or Raphael, his jaw clenching. He took a gun from behind his back, raising it with an expressionless face, pointing it directly at Spencerâs forehead, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"Oh, but you can." He hissed. "And you will. Or I start with you right now."
Y/Nâs left hand balled into a fist at her side, squeezing her marriage ring between her fingers.
Spencerâs voice broke through the silence, choked and desperate.
"Please... donât make me... please..."
Tobias's eyes hardened, the barrel of his gun almost digging into Spencerâs skin.
"Choose and prove you'll do God's will."
Y/Nâs heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing as she watched Spencer struggle with his decision. She could see the conflict in his eyes every time Tobias pressed the trigger, the fear and the resolve battling within him. For a moment, it seemed like he might refuse again, that he might find a way to resist. But then, his eyes closed, his face going still, as if he had made a decision.
When Spencer opened his eyes, his gaze was steady, his voice calm as he spoke.
"I choose... Y/N Reid."
The room went deathly quiet, everyone seeming to stop breathing, the words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. All eyes turned to Y/N, her face a mask of shock and confusion. Her heart stopped, her breath catching in her throat as Spencerâs words echoed in her mind.
He had chosen her. Why?
Spencerâs voice was steady, almost detached as he continued, his words cutting through Y/N like a knife.
"She thinks sheâs stronger and better than everyone else. That she can do anything she wants, and no one can stop her. Not even God."
Y/Nâs eyes widened, the words stinging like a slap. She felt her eyes burn more than before, her hands trembling. She knew Spencer didnât mean it. He couldnât mean it. But hearing those words from his lips, feeling the weight of his condemnation, was more than she could bear.
The others were staring at her, their eyes filled with shock and concern, but Y/N barely noticed. Her focus was entirely on Spencer, on the pain and sorrow etched into his features.
Spencerâs voice dropped to a whisper, and he began to recite.
"Mark 5:3-4. This man lived in the tombs, and no one could bind him anymore, not even with a chain. For he had often been chained hand and foot, but he tore the chains apart and broke the irons on his feet. No one was strong enough to subdue him."
Tobiasâs eyes gleamed with malicious delight. He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a dark smile, a different one. The kind of smile Spencer had only seen in Tobiasâs father's face.
"Reid?" He repeated, drawing out the name mockingly. "Now that sounds familiar." He glanced down at Spencerâs left hand, the faint glint of metal catching his eye. "Is she the reason for this ring on your finger?"
Spencerâs eyes darted down to his hand without moving his head, the simple gold band that had become a symbol of their love, their commitment to each other. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady.
"I... I donât know what youâre talking about." He lied, his voice wavering.
Tobias's face stiffened, his brows furrowing instantly.
"Lie is a sin. And she's a sinner, like you, and she will be punished for that. I'm honored to do what will make God proud."
Rage flared in Spencerâs eyes, and he struggled against his restraints, his voice rising in desperation.
"Shut up! Shut up!" His voice cracked with the force of his emotion, the words torn from his throat.
The smile across Tobias face widened, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. He leaned closer, his voice a low, taunting whisper.
"I hope you kissed Mrs. Reid goodbye and told her how much you love her before you came here, because you wonât get the chance to do it ever again."
His fingers tightened around the gun, and without a warning, he aimed upwards and fired, the gunshot echoing through the barn. The sound was like a detonator in Y/Nâs mind, snapping something inside her.
Y/Nâs heart pounded in her ears, her thoughts a chaotic swirl. She had to understand. She had to believe that Spencer didn't say all of that for nothing. She had to figure out what he was trying to tell them. Without another thought, she turned and ran from the room, her footsteps echoing in the silence.
"Y/N!" Morgan called after her, his voice filled with worry. But Y/N didnât stop. She couldnât stop. She needed to find the answer.
Her mind raced as she sprinted down the hallway, the words of the verse running through her head. Tombs. Chains. It was a clue. Spencer was trying to tell them where he was. He was giving them a way to find him.
She burst into the small library, her eyes scanning the shelves frantically. There had to be a Bible here. Tobias was religious, his entire psyche built around his warped interpretation of scripture.
Her fingers brushed against a worn leather cover, and she pulled the Bible from the shelf, flipping it open with trembling hands. She scanned the pages, her eyes darting over the lines until she found the passage Spencer had recited. Her breath caught as she read the words again, her heart pounding with realization.
"The tombs." Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "Heâs in a cemetery."
Behind her, the rest of the team had followed, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.
"Y/N, you know he didn't... Wait, what?" Emily started, interrupting her train of thoughts after understanding what Y/N was saying.
Y/N turned to face them, her eyes wide, the Bible clutched in her hands.
"Heâs in a cemetery." She repeated, her voice filled with certainty. "Spencer said tombs. Heâs telling us heâs in a cemetery."
Hotchâs eyes shined with recognition, understanding dawning on his face. He turned to Penelope, who was already typing furiously at her laptop, her fingers flying over the keys.
"Garcia." He said sharply, his voice filled with command. "Search for cemeteries in the area. Any place that fits the description. We need to find him. Go."
Penelope nodded, her face set with determination.
"Iâm on it." She replied, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.
Y/N muted all of their talking after that, standing in the back of the room and looking at her feet, absorving the surge of hope that washed over her, her heart lifting for the first time since this nightmare had begun.
They were close. Spencer had given them a clue, a lifeline. They just had to find him before it was too late.
As the team kept trying to find the exact place, Y/N clutched the Bible to her chest, silently praying that they would reach Spencer in time.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid criminal minds#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x yn#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid x self insert#bau!reader#bau team#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds#criminal minds x yn#cm x reader#cm#tobias hankel#reid!reader#wife!reader#husband!spencer#angst#spencer reid angst#criminal minds angst#spencer reid x reader angst#reid x reader
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Pingping is very cute, I wished we got more scene with the "real" her. In chapter 5 she hides and clings onto the Destined One few times and also calls him 弽ĺĽĺĽ (litereally transaltion good big brother).
In my head, with Oz she is the one who freed Pingping in her fox form fangling from the tree while the Destined One was battling. And seeing as there is another girl there, Pingping clings onto Oz and calls her 弽ĺ§ĺ§ (big sister), despite Pingping being 500+ years older than Oz.
The Destined One is having none of that :d and that's how the Red Boy figured out his weakness
me too, Pingping, me too
also love how couple seconds before that when Pingping turns around to talk to the Destined One he visibly jumped back LMFAO
#szynkART#I was having major doubts about whether the DO really might be 189 cm tall but seeing those screenshots that might actually be the case#if Pingping was average height idk maybe 155-160cm#then the height difference in the screenshot track#ANYWAY YALL WE GOT A TALL MONKEY KING#in jttw source he is 4 feet tall#normal monkey size I guess#cepheus baskerville#black myth wukong#sun wukong#sun wukong x oc#sun wukong x reader#me crying writing in chinese while I listen to mom's voice memo telling me my chinese is getting worse and worse
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his soft spot. ೨ৠa. hotchner x reader
đË aaron hotchner x fem!reader. fluff. 0.7k words.
⌠the team had been working a grueling case in a small town for days. the stress was palpable in the air as leads turned cold and everyoneâs exhaustion began to creep in. aaron hotchner, ever the stoic leader, kept his composure as always, guiding the team with a calm authority. but even hotch wasnât immune to the strain that lingered around them.
you stood by the whiteboard, reviewing the profile aloud to the team, trying to pinpoint the unsubâs next move. the room was filled with the sound of scribbling, the clacking of keyboards, and the hum of conversation as everyone worked through theories. but amidst the controlled chaos, you could feel his gaze on you.
aaronâs eyes had a way of softening whenever he looked at you. a subtle difference that only you seemed to notice. while he was all business with the rest of the team, with you, there was a gentleness that spoke volumes in the smallest gestures. his stoicism melted slightly when you were around.
as you spoke, hotch stood nearby, arms crossed, but his attention was entirely on you. his gaze lingered on your face a little longer than necessary, his expression not the usual hardened one he wore during cases. when your eyes met, he didnât look away immediately like he might with anyone else. instead, he held your gaze, a quiet acknowledgment passing between you, an unspoken connection.
you finished explaining your theory, feeling a little self conscious under his watchful eyes. âwhat do you think, hotch?â you asked, turning toward him.
he nodded slowly, his eyes softening further. âgood work. that makes sense,â he said, his voice low and reassuring. and then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he placed a hand on your shoulder, just for a moment, but the touch lingered long enough to make your heart skip a beat.
it wasnât overt, nothing anyone else would even notice, but to you, it meant everything. his touches were always like thatâsmall, fleeting, but filled with unspoken affection. whether it was a hand on your lower back guiding you out of a room, or a gentle brush of your arm when he passed by, his touch was reserved solely for you. it was a reminder that, even amidst the darkness of their work, you were his soft spot.
later, as the day dragged on and the weight of the case settled on everyoneâs shoulders, you sat down at a table with the rest of the team, discussing next steps. hotch took a seat beside you, closer than he usually sat with others. his knee brushed against yours under the table, and though it could have been accidental, you knew better. he didnât move away.
throughout the meeting, you felt the subtle press of his knee against yours, grounding you in the moment. It was a small gesture, barely noticeable to anyone else, but it was enough to remind you that he was there with you. his attention would occasionally drift away from the case files to you, just for a second, but long enough for you to catch the softness in his eyes that was reserved only for you.
when the meeting concluded, the room emptied out, and you stayed behind for a moment, still processing everything. hotch lingered too, standing at the edge of the room, watching you with that same quiet intensity.
âyou okay?â he asked, his voice soft, almost tender.
you smiled at him, nodding. âyeah, just... a lot to think about.â
he stepped closer, and for a moment, you thought he might reach out again, offer another comforting touch, but instead, he simply stood beside you, his presence enough to provide comfort. he didnât need words or grand gestures, the unspoken connection between you was enough.
âyouâre doing great,â he said quietly, his voice low so only you could hear. âi donât tell you that enough.â
you looked up at him, surprised by the rare compliment. âthank you, hotch.â
and there it was again. the soft, lingering gaze he gave only you, the slight shift in his posture as if he wanted to be closer to you but was holding himself back. he glanced around, making sure no one else was nearby, before letting his hand brush lightly against yours on the table. it was fleeting, but the warmth of his touch stayed with you long after.
âiâm always here if you need anything,â he added softly, his voice laced with sincerity. âdonât hesitate.â
you nodded, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. In the middle of the chaos, the pressure, and the darkness of the cases you faced, aaron hotchner was your anchor. and somehow, despite everything, you were his.
#wallowslistener#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#fluff#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner x oc#aaron hotchner x reader#cm#criminal minds x reader#aaron hotchner cm
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"i fell for another loser." | spencer reid
in my feelings. - lana del rey
âšââ synopsis: it didn't take a genius to detect when something was wrong with spencer...
fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden @emma-e-a @bellasprettywords
âšââ pairing: bau!female!reader x spencer
âšââ word count: 651
âšââ contents: nervous spencer, slight tension, a little fluff
you quietly placed a hot, coffee-filled cup beside the two empty ones on spencerâs desk, the slight click sound it made as it hit the hardwood making his head jerk up. this was the third time he has dozed off like this, and it was only 11 in the morning.
he rubbed his eyes, his hair falling in disheveled tufts over his face as you leaned against his desk.Â
âthanks⌠again.â
you nodded. âanytime.â
he picked up the cup, looking up at you. âblonde espresso with two teaspoons of sugar, right?â
you rolled your eyes. âthis is my third delivery of the day. i even opted adding a quart of sugar.â
he mustered a little laugh, taking a long sip with a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair as he set the cup back down, starting to fidget with his thumbs like a nervous child. you were still standing there, confused at his unkempt disposition.
âsomething keeping you up at night, spence? iâve never seen you this⌠disordered before.â
he locked eyes with you, hastily trying to fix his hair as he shook his head. ân-no, iâve justâŚâ he hesitated. âitâs nothing.â
your mouth nearly curled into an amused smile. on a normal day, you wouldnât even need to ask spencer before he began telling you all the things he dreamt of and all the ways he would spend his evening. you wanted to pry, but didnât want to strain him any further.
âwell, you know where i am if you wanna talk.â
you smiled and gave him a half wave, heading to the exit door of his office. as you began to turn the handle, he blurted out quickly. âdo you have any idea why i canât get a date?â
you turned around slowly, raising an eyebrow. âmaybe because iâve never seen you ask a girl out, casanova.â
his cheeks flushed a little as his head angled downward, staring intensely at the ground. the realization suddenly hit you like a freight train.
âoh⌠is that whatâs been keeping you up at night? you⌠like a girl..?â
spencer swallowed hard, nodding just a little. âi guess you could put it that way.â
you two fell silent for a moment, spencer not even being able to look you in the eye. he was blushing like an embarrassed school boy and could barely formulate a single sentence.Â
you cleared your throat to break the silence.Â
âso⌠you got any plans for her?â
spencer nodded, shuffling around a few papers on his desk. ây-yeah. i got her and i tickets to a ball game, reservations to her favourite restaurant, and⌠i was gonna ask her to be my girlfriend.â
your heart wouldâve warmed up if the lump growing in your throat hadnât appeared first. âwow, it looks like youâve got the whole night planned.â it was your turn to fidget with your thumbs. âi-is she pretty..?â
spencer finally loosens up at that question, a full smile breaking out on his face. âthat doesnât begin to cover it.â
you nodded, feeling a stab of insecurity in your chest, but you masked it with an endearing smile. âwell to the looks of it, youâve got a plan, youâve set everything up, and it seems that you really like her. so go ahead and ask. i promise that no girl could ever say no to you. and if she does, youâre way out of her league.â
spencerâs eyes grew a little misty, along with yours. your hand fell to the door handle once again, turning it slowly.
âgood luck, spenceâŚâ
god, that nickname, the one that no one else in the world ever used. the butterflies in spencerâs stomach had increased significantly. he knew that it was now or never.
his voice coming out shakier than ever stopped you in your tracks as you began to leave the room.
âso, uh, a-are you free this saturday..?â
author's note: ugh.
#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#dr spencer reid#bau team#spencer reid#doctor spencer reid#spencer ried#spencer reid criminal minds#criminal minds#cm#spence reid#bau bau#bau x male reader#bau x reader#bau imagine#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#whoisspence#dr spencer reid x reader#dr spencer reid smut#matthew gray gubler#matthew gubler#matthew gray gubler imagine#matthewgraygubler#mgg smut#mgg fanfiction
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CRIMINAL MINDS OC WEEK ⣠day one. i am calm and itâs doctor
Clementine Cameron!
taglist: @richitozier, @foxesandmagic, @lizziesxltzmxn, @phoebestarks, @lovehermioneforever, @jewelswrites-ish, @kiara-carrera, @heavenlysurf, @decennia, @stanshollaand. @ocfairygodmother, @raith-way, @maddies-buckley, @starlit-ocs
#cmocweek22#my edit#clementine cameron#fic: correlation and causation#cm ocs#criminal minds ocs#kei this is specifically for you skdkkd#some clem content at last#fyeahcriminalmindsocs
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WINTER HOLIDAYS EVENT 2022. day thirty-two - january 1st. HAPPY NEW YEAR! RESOLUTION.
Amelia Rowe + Quotes. I really wanna continue on her fic in the new year!
One of the most well-known traditions of new year celebration is to make resolutions. A New Yearâs resolution is when someone makes a promise or sets an expectation for the new year that they are determined to live up too. Although these resolutions donât always stay resolute, letâs get a good start on our attempts by making something on the first day of the year for an oc you want to appreciate and work on more throughout 2023.
taglist: @lilac-lemonade @witchofinterestâ @veetlegeuse @arrthurpendragon @sentineljedi @stanshollaand @foxesandmagic @edshopper @eddiemunscns @carmens-garden @dancingsunflowers-ocs @raith-way @ginevrastilinski @wordspin-shares @oneirataxia-girl
Send an ask/message if you wish to be added or removed!
#owhc2022#fyeahcriminalmindsocs#ocappreciation#ocapp#cm oc#cm ocs#criminal minds ocs#allaboutocs#my edits#oc: amelia rowe
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sick love pt2
spencer reid x fem! reader
pt1!!
summary;
after catching your best friend spencer in a compromised situation, the two of you leave behind the âfriendâ status to become a couple. if only you knew there was much more under the surfaceâŚ
cw;
really perv!spencer, dark themes, somnophilia, breeding kink, daddy kink, praise kink, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squiring, oral sex (f & m receiving), dom spencer, p in v sex, double penetration, use of toys, unprotected sex, edging, slapping, orgasm denial, cum eating, cream pie, masturbation (m & f), voyeurism, dacryphilia, dirty talking, hair pulling, knife kink (mentioned), blood⌠MINORS DNI OR IâLL COME FOR YOU!
If Spencer was absolutely and sickly obsessed with youâŚ, it sure wasnât the worse it could get.
His mind was in haze since the first time he made you his. I had been before, but now? It was just fog all over his brain, a fog under your name.
He could only think about you, dream about you, talk about you⌠It was all you.
And now that you were his, his whole heart seemed to have been ripped out of his chest. He would love to make a necklace out of it for you, so you and anyone who would try and approach you would know that he was as much yours as you were his.
But because he could not do that, he had made his personal mission to found other ways to do the same with no⌠Hanging hearts. So he had to conform with just marking you everywhere. Hickeys on your neck and chest, fingertip bruises on your thighs and hips, bites on your shoulders⌠Heâll put them everywhere and do them anywhere too, whenever and wherever he had a chance.
At first, he thought that youâd be scared by his possessiveness, but you surprised him yet once again when youâd just let him, loving his lips and marks on your skin as much as he did. Heâd drag you to the closest empty classroom in free period just to pin you against the wall and attack your neck in mouth open wet kisses that had you rocking your hips against the leg that he had pushed in between your own, his cold fingertips against the warm skin of your thighs and ass, squeezing . âLooking so pretty today, baby.â heâd say, his breath against the wet of your skin making you shiver. âFuck, I love it when you wear this little skirts of yours, got me all hard on my pants.â youâd moan when his hand would leave your skin just to fell harshly against it in a spank. âLove to see all those fuckers watching you, drooling over you yet still unable to get closer to you because they know youâre all mine...â his mouth was intoxicating, his tongue inside your mouth making your eyes roll and pussy throb. âWear anything you want baby, anything you want.â heâd whisper, his fingertips trailing along your lower stomach just to bump against the hem of your panties and snuck under them, rolling your clit and making your head fall backwards and against the wall he had pinned you to. âIâll make sure to mark you all up and pretty for them to know that they will never have what they so want.â and then, heâd choke you to stay quiet as heâd eat you out on top of the teacherâs table, sneaking your wet panties in his back pocket for him to fuck his fist later.
His obsession enhanced. Now that you were a couple, he didnât have to hold it in anymore âat least that muchâŚâ. Heâd sneak in your bedroom in the middle of the night to wake you up with his cock deep inside of you. Youâd end up crying on his bare chest as he would fuck you dumb, filling you up with his cum for hours on end and using you as he would use his toy. Then, heâd stay inside, keeping his cock warm and your pussy full for the rest of the night. Heâd even use the soft spot you had on him to make you sit on it in your stupid study dates, while napping, watching filmsâŚ, saying that he wouldnât concentrate if you didnât.
He was a sucker for you, always tying up your shoes when the laces would come undone âtaking the chance to stare at your clothed pussyâ, braiding your hair for you âso he could get a sniff of your sweet shampooâ, putting on your makeup first thing in the morning when you were still half asleep âwhen he could steal some chapsticks for him to use and taste when heâd miss youâ and softly taking it off for you when night time came⌠âsometimes heâd make you cry it out, fucking it out of youâ. Anything he could do for you he would do, that and more.
He would often find himself in your room after telling you that he had to take a quick trip to the bathroom, looking for some new panties and little trinkets for his sweet collection and to touch himself buried in your sheets. Heâd dry hump your pillow too, leaving it damp in cum for it to dry. The thought of you sleeping on it that night would have him whimpering in his own bedroom, fucking his fleshlight while watching a bad porn in where the girlâs moans sounded like your own, groans falling from his broken and bleeding lips, for constantly biting down on them. âOh god, baby, so good⌠shit, you like that? Shit, just like that, fuck, you drive me insaneâŚâ
His photo collection had grown⌠Really grown. His favorite new acquisitions were the ones in which he had captured your perfectly used cunt, âhis cum dripping out of it and onto your pink sheetsâ or the ones in which he could see his cock thrusting in your pussy, drool dripping down your chin, since his fingers where down your throat, and chest, neck and tits full of his marks. âYeah, baby. Look at me. Just like that. Stuck your tongue out for me.â
He could not imagine himself nor his cock being away from you for even just a day. And who is it that you want to trick? You couldnât either. Not when he sounded so fucking pretty every time you rode him, his usually soft groans becoming loud whimpers and moans, hips thrusting upwards in seek of more. âFuck, ah, ah baby, please, please baby harder. Just like that, fuck, yes yes, shit, I love you. Love you so much⌠Iâd do anything for you, baby, fuck, anything. Just let me stay like this, fuck! Iâm gonna cum baby, fuck, fuck, fuckâŚâ
Something he loved to do every chance he could get was taste you after cheer practice âsomething youâve decided try as of late, and Spencer was all for itâ. You had whined about it, saying that you were all sweaty and disgusting and that it wouldnât taste good, but he wasnât having it. He had been watching you turn, jump and shake your hips for almost two hours in that fucking little cheer skirt that actually drove him crazy. And he had to say that the splits that youâd do every now and then really didnât help the tent in between his thighs. So, after your head leader had announced the end of the session, youâd find yourself holding for dear life to his hair as he kneeled in front of you, pulling up one of your legs for it to rest on his shoulder as his tongue leaped at your soaked pussy, eating you out against the lockers of the girlsâ changing room. The scent was stronger after your night practices. The taste? Mind blowing. Additionally, you had to admit that the shower sex after that was enough to make you fall asleep on your way back home. Not that he found it a problem, he loved to carry you to his bed just to kiss your forehead and hug you tighter in your slumber. Watching you sleep would get him so hard that he couldnât help himself by dry humping against your ass, hands on your tits as he kissed your neck. He loved it when you would yell at him the morning after about the new hickeys all over your skin âsince he always seemed to push it too far those nightsâ, but he wouldnât care less, not when your tits bounced like that and your pretty lips called his name over and over again. At the end of the day, heâd have you screaming his name in another type of scenario, and you wouldnât be that pissed about love bites on your neck.
He also loved to tease you. Pushing your panties aside and fucking you with his fingers while in a gathering with your best friends. Your squirming and tries to not show having him rocking against your ass. Sometimes heâd even drop something under the dinerâs table where youâd be eating together to get a taste of your dripping juices, making you almost cum in the spot. Or those movie nights with your group, where heâd have you crying in the nook of his shoulder due to the amount of times he had already made you cum with his fingers, deliciously overstimulating you. âIs she okay?â Youâd hear one of your friends ask, and Spencer would just say that you were too sensitive or too scared depending on what type of movie yâall were watching that night.
The best sex came later, when you would follow him to the bathroom and he would fuck you so harsh your cheek would end up pressed against the sink mirror, fingers down your throat to make you shut up, since your cries were so loud it almost got the two of you caught⌠Not that heâd care, just the thought of someone stepping in to him fucking you senseless had him filling your cunt in cum⌠Cum that heâd push inside with his fingers as he pushed your panties back up for it to stay there.
âBe a good girl and Iâll eat it out of you once we are alone, hm?â and he actually would, making you come two more times with just his tongue, leaving you clean.
Something he had started to look into was a little bit moreâŚ, darker. He had feared himself when the thought of you bleeding with his initials carved on your skin almost made him faint. Just thinking about you completely to his mercy, all tied up and open for him unable to move, got him unable to sleep for almost a week. He could almost hear your pleads and cries as he fucked into you with already a little vibrator bullet inside.
But the dream you both where living in had to end someday. He just wished it never had to.
That night, the two of you were returning from a day on the pool with your group, your hair still wet since you had been begging him to stay for a little longer, having to pull you out of the water when the sun had gone down and you were shivering, fingers all wrinkled due to just how many hours you had spent in there. The skin of your cheeks, chest and shoulders was sun kissed, flushed even if Spencer had made sure that you had sunscreen applied every hour. âWoah! Careful babe.â he smiled when you had slipped against wooden tiles, giggles leaving your lips when his warm arms pressed you against his bare chest to avoid you falling and hurting yourself.
âSorry, I guess I canât help falling for you, Reid.â he chuckled, your burning skin against his colder one making him slightly dizzy, his dick throbbing inside his blue short jeans when your nails scratched his chest, doe eyes looking up at him as you bit your bottom lip.
âThatâs my line, baby.â he muttered, leaning in âtill your breaths met, lips brushing and hips pressing against each other. You moaned when his tongue pushed inside your mouth in a hot yet lazy kiss, the hands on your hips sliding down, to your ass, where his fingers hardly dug, squeezing and pressing you against his hardening cock.
The temperature of the room quickly changed, gasps filling the air with every new kiss that you shared, his fingers tugging on the towel that surrounded you and getting it to fall to your feet. You let out a chuckle that quickly tuned into a moan when his mouth latched to your neck, bitting down hard on the flesh and leaving marks. âSpencerâŚâ you called out for him, hearing him hum against your skin as one of his legs pushed in between your thighs. âWe need to shower.â
âIâll clean you up baby.â your cheeks flushed when his tongue made a long strip up your neck and towards your ear. âYou know Iâm good at that.â and you knew what he meant, but you still wouldnât give in, hearing him groan when you pulled him away from your neck by his hair. âBabyâŚâ his lips tried and go back to yours, but you shook your head.
âI need to go wash up.â his hands pulled on your hips to keep you closer.
âI could wash up with you.â he suggested and you chuckled, shaking your head, to what he whined, almost in pain to have to be away from you for⌠10 minutes.
âIâll be back.â you promised, giving him a little peck on the lips, leaning on his ear so only he could listen to what you whispered. âKeep this warm for me, alright?â he whimpered when one of your hands came down to the crotch of his jeans, giving a light squeeze to his hard dick, quickly leaving downstairs and scaping his hands.
Normally, Spencer was pretty patient. Hell, he had been patient with you for years on end, hoping for the day that he got to finally fuck you. But there was something about you after that first taste that had him all hot and bothered. You were like a drug. Heâd always want more and more after each overdose. He couldnât help it, you were all he had ever dreamed of. Thatâs why he found himself silently sneaking up stairs and straight to his room âwhich was connected to his private bathroom, where you had eventually brought little bottles of your own shampoos and conditioners for this little occasions where you had to shower at his houseâ. He had hoped to catch you stripping, maybe even looking for some of his clothes to change into, but never in a thousand years he had imagined thisâŚ
You were frozen, completely frozen. Standing in the middle of his room and beside his desk, whichâs last drawer was fully open and exposed. He felt his blood run cold. That was supposed to be locked. You werenât supposed to see what was inside, werenât supposed to be eyeing his little collection of your naked pictures nor porn magazines with your face glued on top of the modelâs. You had seen it all. All the little trinkets he has stolen from youâŚ, all the panties that had misteriously disappeared from your drawers, the new and untouched toys he had bought in hopes to someday using in you: mouth gags, dildos, vibratos, handcuffsâŚEverything.
âBabyâŚâ he stuttered, your eyes still fixated on the little polaroids and sticky pages of the magazine. It hadnât been long since the last time he had masturbated to them. Maybe thatâs why in a little slip he had forgotten to lock the drawer, the magazine sticking out far enough to catch your attention and leaving you out of words when youâd found his little dirty secret. âShit.â You had even found his fucking diary, in which he described the dirty things he dreamed of you, that heâd love to do to you⌠Fucking hell.
He didnât know what to say to not seem like the creep he was. He had fucked up big time. And now you were going to leave him, you were going to probably call the police and get him in jail with a little restraining order as a welcome gift. âIâm sorry, Iâm so sorry, fuck, you werenât supposed to see any of this, you werenât supposed toâŚâ he was trailing off as his feet quickly approached you, trying so hard not to cry that his heart fell to the pit of his stomach when a little whimper came out of your rosy and fully lips. His eyes widened when he saw the look on your face and state you were in: half-lided and glossy eyes looking up at him, cheeks and ears fully blushed and thighs squeezing and pushing flush against each other. You were supposed to feel disgusted, terrified. And yet there you were, wetter and needier than ever. âLook at me.â the low of his voice almost made you cum, walls clenching and breath hitching.
âSpencerâŚâ you whined when his thumb and index finger harshly took your chin, making your head turn towards him. Your voice was a mere whisper, but it still had his dick jumping in his jeans and blood rushing to his head.
âLook at me.â he repeated, this time taking his time with every word to make sure you heard the warning on them. It was not a plead, it was an order. You gasped when your eyes met his, completely fucked out of your brain and feeling dizzy, Spencer made you feel dizzy, the words on his diary had. It was just so much need in them, so many promises of tears and pleasure⌠His eyes were just two black holes, pupils blown and breathing slow. âLook at you.â he chuckled, unable to believe any of this. You whimpered when his hand left your chin to grip your neck, pulling you against his bare chest and caging you against the wall on your back. You were boiling up, almost evaporating when his lips brushed against the conch of your ear. âDid my little secret turn you on, baby? Did that little pussy of yours got all wet while reading my diary?â you moaned when his leg pressed in between your thighs, he could feel the heat of your core against his bare thigh. âAw of course you did, you love it, donât you? Love to know just how much I crave you. How much I want to hurt you and make you cry on my cock. Make you bleed⌠Fuck you all up and pretty for me until youâre nothing more than a hole for me to fuck into, hm?â you nodded, your head falling backwards in a whimper when he pushed upwards and against your clit, making you rut on him. His lips were all over your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot that got you begging him for more. âIs that what you want, baby? Want me to fill you up on my cum? Use you? Cut you?â
âFuck, Spencer, yessyesyes please, anything you want. Anything.â he groaned against the skin of your shoulder, biting hard enough for blood to flow in his mouth. It hurt, badly, but it only made you crave him more. Crave it more. Your hands tangled on his air, his half-lidded eyes on yours, which were fixated on his crimson stained lips.
âWhat is it baby? Want a taste?â he leaned in, a smirk on his face. You whined at his teasing, pushing him against you when his lips brushed against yours, still not giving in. He clicked his tongue, the hand on your neck pining you harshly against the wall, making your head bump slightly against it. âIf you want something⌠You just need to ask.â your back arched when his free hand snuck down to your chest, tugging on your upper part of your bikini, making your tits pop out. You gasped at his harsh grip on one of them.
âPlease Spencer, kiss me, kiss meâŚâ you craved it so bad it hurt.
âPoor thing. Why donât you open your mouth for me, hm?â you didnât wait to follow his words, moaning when his tongue entered your mouth, the metallic taste of your blood making your eyes roll to the back of your head, hips stuttering as you dry humped his thigh. He kissed you to the verge of tears. It felt so good, the taste of your blood on his mouth, his right hand on your neck and his left leaving your nipples to slowly stumble down your stomach and slip inside the bottoms of your bikini, which laces he quickly unmade, throwing the piece of clothing aside. Your mouth fell open in a cry when his fingers bumped against your clit, a harsh slap being given to your cunt when his name fell from your lips. Your hips buckled against his hand, the sting bringing new tears to your eyes. âBe good baby, you know thatâs not my name, is it?â you shook your head.
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry daddyâŚâ a smirk tugged on his lips, and he rewarded you with his fingertips back on that sensitive spot, when your mouth fell open in a whimper taking the chance and spitting inside of it.
âNow swallow.â you gratefully did, gasping for air when the hand on your neck pushed in your mouth, fingers making you whimper. âWhat a beautiful mouth you haveâŚâ you moaned when he thrusted his fingers in your throat. And you took it, tongue swirling and sucking on them as you rocked your hips against his fingers and thigh. âYet no one has yet showed you how to properly use it.â you felt like crying when he took a step back, leaving you squirming and in need of his touch, which came back, harshly than ever to make you sink to your knees, fingers in between your locks. âYou know your safe word, right?â you nodded as you heard the ruffling of his jeans and underwear, zipper and button unbuckled leading the denim to fall and pool around his ankles, his soaked underwear came shortly after. âGood⌠If itâs too much just let me know, okay sweetheart?â You moaned affirmatively when the tip of his cock pressed against your cheek, precum staining the curve of your lips when he outlined them. âOpen.â he didnât have to ask twice, lips parting ready to receive him in your mouth, which was watering at the thought of choking on his cock, of swallowing his cum. He cursed when you kitten licked his tip, the salty of the white beads on his slit making your eyes roll to the back of your head and your hands eagerly push his hips closer, head leaning in to completely take him, just to whimper when he tugged harder on your hair, not letting you get any closer. âSuch a fucking slut hungry for cock.â he chuckled, loving just how needy you looked to have him in your mouth. âI bet thatâs what youâve always wanted, isnât that right? Want me to fuck that little and tight throat of yours, hm?â you nodded, a âyes, please daddy, want your cock so badâŚâ, leaving your lips, what made him click his tongue, tip pressing against your wet tongue when you pushed it out of your mouth. âThen fucking take it.â you were gagging when he thrusted inside your mouth, the hand in your hair pushing you against his dick so he could reach the back part of your throat, nose buried in his pubic hair as your nails dug on his thighs. âWhat is it, baby? Isnât this what you wanted?â you whimpered when he pulled out just to ram back in, picking up a pace that had you short on air. But the feeling of his big cock fucking your mouth had you only begging for more of that harsh treatment, making you impossibly wet. You were crying due to the constant chocking and gagging, tears running down your cheeks as you took him in your mouth. âAw, you crying?â the sight of your tears only made him buck his hips harder and faster against your face. âI couldnât care less.â you moaned around his cock, feeling it twitching in your mouth every time you deep throated him. âYeah, baby, fuck, take my cock, shit, just like that⌠What a dirty girlâŚâ one of the hands that stood on his thighs travelled down in between your legs, fingers circling your clit in search of a release that you so desperately wanted. âAre you touching yourself?â you nod around his cock, a whimper leaving your lips when his tip hit the back of your throat after giving you a harsh slap. âSuch a desperate little bitch⌠Who told you you could make yourself cum, huh?â his dick came out of your mouth and you gasped for air, which didnât actually last long since there was already a hand around your neck as he kneeled with you.
âIâm sorryâ Iâm sorry daddy!â you quickly apologized, taking your hand away from your soaking pussy.
âYeah, youâll be.â next thing you knew? Your back was making impact with his bedsheets, getting a moan out of your lips when his body pressed against yours, lips latched to your neck.
âFuck!â you screamed when two of his fingers harshly pushed inside of you, fucking you as he sucked on your nipples, fully erect.
âIs this what you wanted, hm? Tell me baby, is this what you wanted? My fingers fucking your brains out and making you cum? Iâm sure you do, you dirty whoreâŚâ you thighs trembled when he hit that sweet spot in your gummy walls, thumb circling your clit.
Tears rolled down your cheeks as you nodded, unable to talk, unable to fucking open your mouth. All you could focus on was on Spencer, on his pretty fingers fucking in and out of you, of his teeth on your tits, on his cock fully pressed against one of your thighs, leaking and ready to cum.
âFuck Spencer, i-iâm gonna cum, iâm gonnaâŚâ and as your walls clenched, you cried out when he left you with nothing. Making your high never reach its peak as he pulled his fingers out of you. Your whole body was trembling due to the denial of your orgasm, hands quickly reaching out for him, but he pressed them against the duvet, finger digging in your wrists. âPlease, Spencer, daddy, shit, I was so closeâŚâ
âI didnât say you could come yet, sweetheart. Only good girls get to cum.â oh, he was playing you. You knew this was his little vengeance for that day you had caught him touching himself. His eyes shone with lust when you whimpered due to the spank his hand gave to your soaked cunt. âLook at that. You really want it, hm? So needy for cockâŚâ your back arched when his thumb was back to your clit, toying with the little nub enough to edge you but not to make you cum. He relished in the little pleads that left your lips. âPlease daddy, ah let me cum, please? Iâll doâ Iâll do anything, anything. Spencer, shit, pleaseâŚâ âAnything?â you nodded, too lost in that sickening pleasure your body succumbed to to even notice the subtle change in his gaze. âOkay, then donât regret it laterâŚâ
And then he was gone, leaving you completely alone in his bed as he stood up, looking for something before he would come back to you. Your half-lided eyes could get a glance of what he was holding in between his wet fingers: a dildo.
You moaned when his lips found yours, teeth clashing and tongues brushing each other as he sucked on your bottom lip. âIf youâre so desperateâŚ, why donât you show me how much you want it?â he said once he had pulled away, tongue outlining his swollen lips as his hand âthe one that hold the toyâ rose up to your eyes, you whined when you understood what he was doing; swapping places.
âSpencerâŚâ you whimpered, your cries being shut out when one of his hands cupped your face, making your lips pout out a little bit, brushing against his own.
âCome on, you said youâd do anything.â he was smirking when his thumbed pressed against your bottom lip, dragging it backwards and then sticking it in your mouth. âGood girls get to cum, and maybe, if you put up a good show for me⌠Iâll fuck your just how you need it, hm?â he clicked his tongue when you nodded, tongue swirling around his finger. âThen go ahead, let me see you use the toy, sweetheart.â
He leaned backwards, letting you have your own space as he handed you the dildo. It was heavy in your hands, and pink, with just the perfect girth and length âthereâs no need to say that Spencerâs cock was bigger in both ways, and much more beautifulâŚâ with even veins on its sides.
His eyes never left you as you neared it to your gushing cunt, letting your soaked lips surround it to lube it up. You sighed at the feeling of its tip pushing against your clit, using its head to tease yourself up and down, sometimes slightly pushing around your hole. âYeah, thatâs right. Touch yourself for me⌠Thatâs a good girl.â you moaned as you saw his fist hold his hard cock, sliding up and down, slowly, as he observed you. It only made you want him more. Your back arched as you slowly pushed it inside you, eyes falling shut when you felt the burning stretch, gasping for air when you finally bottomed out with a raspy moan. He had fucked your throat for good. âFuck, baby, just like that⌠So pretty.â his praising made your walls clench around the silicone as you slowly started to fuck yourself with it. âLook at youâŚâ he chuckled when you started to pick up pace. âNeedy, honey?â your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you hit that hidden spot, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip when a scream tried to leave your chest. âDonât silence yourself, baby. Let me hear you.â his hand matched your pace, a groan leaving his lips at the sight of the toy disappearing in between your sticky folds.
âSpencer, fuck, please, need you so bad, need your cock Spencer, shit, right there, ah!â
âFuck, youâre such a fucking slutâŚâ he moaned, getting on top of your body once again, hand meeting yours at the base of the toy to harshly push it inside of you, making you scream. âYou like that, hm? Like fucking yourself while I watch, yeah? Fucking whore, you love the attention, donât you?â you were a babbling mess, drooling all over the sheets as the tip of the toy mercilessly pushed against your g spot, making you see stars behind your close eyes. âYou want my cock, hm? Want my cock, sweetheart?â
âYes please, Spencer, pleasepleaseplease, fuck me pleaseâŚâ your hips were bucking against his hand, begging for more. You were burning up, craving him in ways youâve never craved anyone before. Craving for him to use you, destroy you. You moaned when the top of his leaking cock pressed against your clit, making your head spin as he continued to pound inside of you with the dildo. âThen take it, take my cock, baby.â your eyes widened when you felt him push against your hole, still filled up by the toy. You hands quickly tried and push on his chest, but you moaned when his tip went in, tears pricking at your eyes when you felt him start to push inside of you. You were so painfully full and stretched that your nails dug on his shoulder, making him moan against your neck. âFuck. So tight. Shit.â you were sobbing by the time he was halfway in, where he stopped momentarily to let you breath. âShhh, itâs okay baby, itâs okay, you can do it.â he was hushing you, his hands on your cheeks as he kissed the tears away. âYou want me to stop? Just say the word baby, just say the word and I willâŚâ his eyes were sweet âalthough lust glossed themâ when he stared at you, promise on the hazel of his irises. You knew he would do it, that he would shut everything down and forget all about this. But you wanted it. Wanted it as badly as him. Craved it even. So you simply shook your head, giving him the green flag to continue. âFuck, I love you.â he said, kissing your lips. âI love you so muchâŚâ you both moaned in each otherâs mouth as his hips pushed further, slowly bottoming out and gasping when he was completely in. âWhat a good girlâŚâ you were crying on his hands as he praised you, trying to breath through your nose and get the slightest used to the filling of not just one, but two cocks inside of you. âSo tight for me.â your back arched when he started to move. It was slow at first, trying to get you accustomed to the feeling while making your mind drift off from the pain to the stimulation of your clit and nipples âwhich he sucked and bit down ontoâ.
âShit, SpencerâŚâ he smirked when your frown smoothed out, mouth falling open when he hit your g spot, legs surrounding his hips and fingers digging in his messy and silky hair. âJust like that, donât stop, pleaseâŚâ
âLook at you⌠You love the feeling of two cocks inside you, donât you? Filling you up so good you canât even breath, hm? What a whoreâŚâ you moaned, exposing your neck to his lips. âCanât get enough with just one so you must have two. So greedyâŚâ
âSpencer!â you screamed when his thrust became harder, relentless and merciless, hands tugging on your nipples.
âDo you feel it baby? Feel your pussy all stretched out for me?â he almost came in the spot when his eyes connected with the bulge on your stomach. âFuck, look at that. So full of meâŚâ you didnât mean to, but you were cumming all over his cock and the toy when his fingers pushed against it, making a scream rip out your throat as your walls clenched around him, making him groan. Everything was white and the world went absolutely quiet as you dissolved in his arms, unable to even breath at the intensity of your orgasm. âShit, that was so fucking hotâŚâ his hips stuttered when your walls fluttered around him. âDonât clench on me that hard baby, feels like you are trying to milk my cock dryâŚâ he chuckled just to curse moments after.
You were drooling on your shoulder as he thrusted inside of you. You were feeling so good by having that goddamn dildo inside of you that he felt that tightening feeling of jealousy string around his heart. âFuck this.â he wanted you all for himself. Wanted to fuck you all by himself âtill you couldnât even remember you own fucking name.
You whined when he pulled out of you the toy, your walls quickly molding to his size just how he liked it. Still so fucking tight. You felt loss at the little emptiness that the toy left behind, but it quickly got pushed outside of your mind when Spencer started to fuck your brains out of you, hands on your hips as he slightly sat up, bringing you down on his cock with each new thrust. âSpencer, ah, shit, so goodâŚ, fuck, daddy, more!â he moaned when he felt your walls clench around him, the muscles below the skin of his arms flexing as he pushed you harshly down his dick, making the tip torture that spot that always made you cum in a matter of seconds. âFuck, Iâm gonnaâ Iâm gonnaâŚâ
âGo ahead baby, cum all over my cock. Want to see it drip down your thighs.â he said, changing positions so one of his hands would be free to circle your clit.
âShit, Spencer, fuck Iâm coming!â you screamed when you felt your climax wash over you, making your body go rigid just to go limp after a couple of seconds.
Spencer continued to fuck you through it, cursing at the tightness of your soaked and swollen cunt. Fuck, he couldnât stop. He couldnât get enough.
âSpencer, âs tooâ too much, fuck, Iâm gonna cum again!â new tears travelled down your cheeks at the constant stimulation, fingers never stoping overstimulating your clit and dick harshly fucking into you, your nails dug on his back, drawing blood as you gushed all over his cock, squirting so hard you dampened your thighs and the sheets below you. âS-Spencer, s-stopâŚâ you were crying so hard, unable to stop squirting at his constant fucking, unable to form an actual goddamn sentence, babbling in between sobs.
âFuck, fuck, fuckâŚâ Spencer couldnât stop his hips, fucking you so good you swore you were fucking dying. The feeling of your pussy around him was like stepping in heaven, the dirty wet sounds of his cock pounding into you and the splashing of your juices making him lose his mind. âIâm gonna cum, shit!â he moaned when he spilled inside your abused walls, making your eyes roll to the back of your head, whimpering at the sticky and warm feeling. âFuck, baby, so goodâŚâ he muttered against your neck as he fucked himself down his climax, hips stopping while he was still buried deep inside of you and arms failing to keep him up right, making him fall on top of you.
The two of you tried to pace out your breathing, you moaning when little pecks were given to your neck, chest and shoulder before his lips found yours, tongue entering your mouth in a lazy kiss. You fingers lazed on his locks, pulling and playing with his hair as his teeth slightly bit down on your jaw, and then your neck, and your collarbones, and your chest, andâŚ
You hissed when he pulled out of you, cum dripping and meeting your juices on the sheets as his lips trailed down your stomach.
âHurts?â he questioned, to what you nodded, making a slow smirk appear on his face. âWant me to kiss it better?â you let out a little gasp when he nibbled on your hip bone, lips extremely close to your heat.
He took the tugging on his hair as a âyesâ, positioning himself better and raising your legs up on his shoulders as he left open mouth kisses on your inner thighs, little sighs leaving your lips as he neared closed and closer⌠âPoor baby, fucked so good itâs all sore and swollen now.â You moaned when he finally got lost in between your thighs, humming at the taste of the two of you dripping out of your cunt. Your head felt backwards as you gave into the pleasure, into his lips, into his name and fingers.
Into his sick love. Into Spencer Reid.
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i need some air-
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid x oc#nerdy spencer reid#spencer reid angst#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid cm#spencer reid comfort#spencer reid core#criminal minds x you#criminal minds moodboard#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds imagine#and can i get some#derek morgan criminal minds#criminal minds fic
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a moment | s. reid
summary: two times there was a âmomentâ between you and spencer, and one time he did something about it.
warnings; best friends to lovers, fem reader, pinning, this based off a lorelai and luke edit i saw, idk if its edited or makes any sense tbh!! sorry! longing, kinda self doubt idk, happy ending yay!!
an; this is for lia. And was written in like an hour so i really dont want the hate guys. If it sucks i cannot be held responsible.
You walk into the bullpen, scanning the usual chaos of the bullpen The dayâs already running long, and itâs barely even noon.
"Look who finally decided to join us," Spencer says, glancing up from his desk. His eyes are sharp behind his glasses, but thereâs a smirk tugging at his lips. Heâs half-hidden behind a wall of case files, as always, but somehow manages to throw his snark with precision.
you and spencer had been best friends since you started together, you got along with anyone but gravitated towards Spencer more than anyone else. Him and Penelope were the easiest for you to be around, you loved everyone but you had your favourites.
While Penelope had been bugging you to either kick up the courage to do something about your friendship with Spencer, or move on, you did neither.
"Oh, save it,," you fire back, tossing your bag on your desk. "Iâm fashionably late. Itâs a thing."
"Yeah, fashionably late in a profession like this. Very chic. Theres other ways to get here you know â from your house-â
âDonât evenâ you cut him off.
âIm just saying if you keep missing the same turn off every time maybe itâs a sign you should be going a different way.â He muttered.
âI didnât miss the turn off.â You argued. You lied.
âYou did.â
âNoâ
He said your name and you huffed.
You roll your eyes, biting back a grin as you sink into your chair. "Can we pretend, just for today, that youâre not right?"
"Well," Spencer says, leaning back in his chair, "Iâm only right about ninety-seven percent of the time. So, technically, youâve got a three percent chance of being right today. Want to take a gamble?"
You throw a crumpled paper at him. "Your math is annoying."
He catches it, eyes twinkling, and throws it back at you. "Annoying?"
âYes, annoying. It hurts my headâ
Itâs easy between the two of youâthis banter, this back-and-forth. It always has been, ever since the first case you worked together. Over time, itâs become second nature to tease him, push his buttons, and he always gives it right back. The tension slips away with every joke, but today, thereâs something different about the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long, like heâs waiting for you to catch on.
You ignore it. You have to.
"So, what do we have?" you ask, holding out your hand for the file in his lap.
He passes it to you, fingers brushing against yours. Itâs brief, but the touch sends a spark up your arm. Your eyes meet for a second longer than necessary, and for the first time in a long time, you donât know what to say.
Spencer clears his throat, looking back down at the file. "This unsubâs a real charmer. I think he's using manipulation tactics to lure his victims. Heâs got a pattern, but itâs subtle. Took me a while to piece it together."
"Took you a while? So, like... five minutes?" You grin, but the edge in your voice is gone, replaced by something softer.
He laughs, a sound that always surprises you because itâs rare, but so genuine. "Try thirty. It was a real struggle."
"Wow. I almost feel bad for you."
His smile fades just a little, and when he looks at you again, thereâs that shift. Something hovers between you, just under the surface, where the teasing usually stays. His eyes flicker over your face, and suddenly, you wonder if heâs about to say something else, something that would cross the line youâve never acknowledged before.
Your heart skips, and before you can stop yourself, you lean forward a little. Your breath catches.
"So..." Spencer starts, but before the sentence can land, your phone buzzes on your desk. The sharp sound breaks the moment like a snapped thread. You jerk back, grabbing your phone.
"Hotch needs us in the conference room," you mutter, more to yourself than him, trying to get a grip on the swirling thoughts in your head. "Weâve got a lead."
Spencer blinks, clearly shaken out of whatever that was, and you stand up quickly, focusing hard on the case and not on the fact that you were about two seconds away from⌠what? Leaning in? Kissing him?
No. Thatâs not what this is. This is Spencer.
"Race you to the conference room?" he asks suddenly, the playful lilt back in his voice, but thereâs still something lingering behind his eyes, a question neither of you seems ready to ask.
"Race? Youâre literally taller than me, thatâs cheating. Iâm wearing heels!!"
"You can run in heels, canât you?" He shoots you a smirk, the tension easing just enough for you to relax, even if your heart is still racing.
"Could. But i don't want to damage my gorgeous shoes," you huffed, yet already heading for the door.
"Gorgeous shoes?" He repeated, raising his eyebrow.
"Yeah that was actually the name of the shoes when i bought them. They had 'gorgeous shoes' written in big letters across the box." You smiled, tilting your head.
"Really?"
"No."
You make it halfway to the conference room before he catches up, the two of you slipping back into your usual rhythm. But as you walk into the room side by side, the unspoken thing still hangs between you. You donât talk about it, and maybe you never will, but itâs there.
âAre you still coming over tonight?â He asked, looking down at you, eyes lingering on yours. You nod.
âItâs pizza night. Of course I am.â
And once again, youâre reminded that with Spencer, things have never been as simple as just best friends.
Youâre standing in Spencerâs tiny kitchen, flour everywhere. And when you say everywhere, you mean itâon the counters, in your hair, smeared on his cheek where you definitely didnât mean to slap him with dough earlier.
âThis is going really well,â you deadpan, holding up the limp, misshapen pizza dough.
âUm.â He squints as he looks at the mess.
âWell.. youâre the genius who can outsmart anyone but apparently canât figure out yeast,â you argue, pinning the blame on him. âIs it supposed to look like this?â You muttered, tilting your head.
âI think itâs fighting back. Maybe weâre the victims now.â
You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. This was supposed to be simple. Homemade pizza sounded like a cute idea, something easy to do on a night off, but itâs turned into chaos. The doughâs not cooperating, the sauce might be too watery, and youâre pretty sure you added way too much garlic. But thatâs what makes it fun.
"Okay," Spencer says, hands raised in surrender. "I officially give up. This dough has outsmarted me."
"Youâre giving up? Dr Spencer Reid, defeated by pizza dough?" You snatch the rolling pin from him, trying to take over, but the second you press down, the dough tears. "Okay, maybe itâs smarter than both of us."
Spencer steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the mess you've made. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and for just a second, everything feels different. The banter pauses. His breath is soft on your neck, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches to touch the dough. Your heart stutters, and you freeze, unsure of what to do next.
But then, with no warning, Spencer flicks flour at you.
"Hey!" you squeal, spinning around to face him, eyes wide. He looks so pleased with himself, a mischievous grin on his face.
"What? You had flour in your hair. I was just trying to help.â
"Sure, you were." You reach for the bag of flour, holding it up threateningly. "I will not hesitate to make this a war, Spencer."
He grins widely, almost daringly.
You grab a handful of flour and toss it at him in retaliation. "You are such a child."
âIâm just helping!â he protests, dodging your attack and grabbing the rolling pin like a shield. His laughter is contagious, and soon youâre both caught up in it, the tension slipping away into something lighter, easier.
You try to swipe more flour at him, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you mid-throw. His fingers wrap around your wrist gently, but the touch sends an unexpected shiver up your arm. You both freeze, the room suddenly too quiet again, his hand lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary.
His gaze flickers down to where his fingers rest against your skin, and then back up to meet your eyes. Thereâs a pause, just long enough for the air between you to thicken, something unspoken hanging between you. His thumb brushes your wrist lightly, and you wonder if he feels it tooâthe tension thatâs been simmering all night, just beneath the surface.
You swallow hard, pulling your hand away, but not before you catch the briefest flicker of something in his expression. Itâs gone as quickly as it appeared, and just like that, the moment slips away.
His eyes narrow playfully, and for a second, you think he might call your bluff. But instead, he just chuckles and steps back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Letâs not escalate this. Weâre adults, after all."
"Adults who canât make pizza," you mutter, dumping the ruined dough into the trash. "Guess weâll have to order in. Again."
Spencer wipes his hands on a towel, still smiling. "Iâll let you pick the place this time. As long as itâs not that one with the weird crust you made us try last month."
"Oh come on, that was a bold choice! You just have no sense of adventure."
"I have a very good sense of adventure," he says, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes sparkling in that way that makes you feel like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. "I just like my pizza to taste like pizza."
You roll your eyes, but youâre grinning, too. "Fine. Weâll get the boring pizza this time."
As you both settle into the living room, waiting for the pizza to arrive, you can't help but feel that lingering tension again. The kind that sneaks up on you when things get quiet, when the laughter dies down, and itâs just the two of you sitting side by side, closer than necessary.
You smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Who knew you were such a terrible cook, though?"
"I think we share equal blame here."
"Maybe," you admit, glancing at him. His eyes catch yours, and for just a moment, the playful air between you shifts. Itâs small, like the brush of his hand earlier, like the way heâs looking at you now. Your heart skips again, and you wonderâjust for a secondâif maybe, possibly, you werenât imagining it. You ignore it, there was too much that could go wrong if you didnât.
Itâs late in the afternoon when you hear the knock at your door. The sun's still out, casting a soft golden light through your living room windows, but itâs the last thing on your mind.
Youâre dressed in something more put together than usual because, of course, Penelope had insisted on setting you up on this date tonight. It wasnât exactly what you wanted, but sheâd been so enthusiastic that youâd caved. Youâd said yes to humor her, to get her off your back.
She had insisted that you needed something to get your mind off Spencer. You wondered if that was actually possible.
So when the knock comes, your stomach churns, thinking it might be the guy arriving too early. But when you open the door, it's not your date.
Itâs Spencer.
Heâs standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly disheveled, and thereâs a look on his face you canât quite place. Itâs tight, maybe a little frustrated, though he's trying hard to keep his expression neutral.
âSpence?â You lean against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow. âEverything okay?â
He doesnât answer right away, eyes scanning you briefly before he looks down, then back up again. Thereâs tension in his posture, the kind you recognize when heâs overthinking something. âYeah. Yeah, everythingâs fine.â
You donât buy it for a second. âUh-huh.â
His face tightens even more, though he tries to hide it with a half-hearted shrug. âDid Penelope set you up with some guy?â
âYeah?â You squinted trying to figure out how he knew that. You hadnât mentioned it, you didnât want to talk about what had caused your sudden date or have to lie to him about why Penelope suddenly set you up when you have shown no intention of being interested in dating.
âPenelope told me. Why didnât you tell me?â He asked, running his hand through his hair as if he was stressed. You didnât understand, not really. You told Spencer everything so you could understand why he would be annoyed that you didnât tell him this, but it seemed as if he took it personally.
You squint at him, crossing your arms. âWhat is your issue? You look like you want to strangle someone.â
He lets out a huff, avoiding your eyes again. âItâs nothing.â
You tilt your head, studying him. Thereâs something under the surface, and youâre not about to let it go. âWell youâre here so, obviously its not nothing ⌠Whatâs going on?â
He finally looks up at you, his eyes sharp and filled with something you havenât seen before. It catches you off guard for a moment. âItâs justâthere was a moment.â
You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. âA moment?â
His voice drops, a little rougher now, a little more real. âLast week. When we were making pizza, and the week before thatâ and during- there was a moment.â
Your heart skips. You know exactly what heâs talking about, but you stay silent, letting him continue.
âI thought there was a moment,â he says, his frustration starting to leak through his words now. âI thought maybe something was⌠happening.â
Your chest tightens, the air in the room shifting as you meet his eyes. âThere was.â
The confession comes out of your mouth before you even realize it, and the tension between you two spikes instantly, filling the space with an electric charge. You can feel it, the way everything has changed with those two words.
Spencer just stares at you, his brow furrowing slightly, like he hadnât expected you to admit it. He takes a step forward, you step back almost unconsciously, and your heart beats faster in your chest.
âWhat are you doing?â you ask, your voice low, unsure.
He doesnât stop moving, closing the gap between you even more, and his voice is soft but firm when he speaks. âWill you just stand still for a minute?â
Before you can say anything, before you can even process whatâs happening, his hand comes up to cup the side of your face, and his lips are on yours.
The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but itâs full of all the unspoken things that have been building between you for so long. You feel the world tilt, your hands instinctively moving to grip the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. For a second, everything else fades awayâyour date, the case, everything.
When you finally pull back, breathless, you just stare at each other. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, and his eyes search yours, full of something that feels too big to name.
Neither of you says anything for a long moment, the silence thick and heavy with everything thatâs just shifted between you.
Then, as if in slow motion, you take a small step forward. Itâs your turn now, the tables flipped, and you can see the surprise flicker in his eyes as he instinctively steps back.
âWhat are you doing?â he asks, echoing your earlier words, his voice low and a little breathless
You give him a small smile, feeling the tension twist tighter in your chest. âWill you just stand still for a minute?â You mirrored his words
His eyes widen slightly, but he doesnât move, and before he can say another word, you close the space between you and kiss him again.
This time, itâs different. Thereâs no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss is deeper, more insistent, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. Itâs like everything youâve both been holding back is finally breaking free, all the tension and the unspoken feelings rushing to the surface.
When you finally break apart, youâre both breathing heavily, faces inches from each other. Your hands are still gripping the front of his jacket, his fingers still digging into your sides like heâs afraid to let go.
You donât move, neither of you do. You just stay there, staring at each other, and for the first time in a long time, youâre not thinking about the job, or the cases, or anything else. Itâs just him.
Heâs the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and almost disbelieving, He exhales, a long, relieved breath, his hand still resting on your waist. âI thought maybe I was imagining it.â
You shake your head, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. âNo. You werenât imagining it.â
Another beat of silence passes, and then his lips quirk up into that small, crooked smile youâve always liked so much. âWell, I guess we have Penelope to thank for this.â
You roll your eyes but canât help smiling back. âYeah, and she doesnât even know it.â
His thumb brushes your side, a subtle touch, but enough to send a shiver up your spine. âAre you⌠still going on that date?â
The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you almost laugh. The idea of leaving now, of going out with some guy Penelope set you up with, feels absurd.
âNo,â you say, your voice steady and certain. âIâm not.â
His smile widens, just a little. âGood.â
You grin up at him, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. âYeah? Whyâs that good?â
Spencerâs gaze softens, and for the first time, you see the real reason for his frustration, for all of this. He steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his voice low and sincere.
âBecause, there was a moment.â
Your heart stutters in your chest, and you meet his eyes, that familiar warmth spreading through you again. âYeah?â
âYeah,â he says, his lips ghosting yours, and the last bit of tension thatâs been sitting between you melts away completely. He smiles, and before either of you can say anything else, he closes the gap and kisses you again.
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