#i really appreciate it!!! thank you i love spencer n talking about him!!

[komilys]

☕ w/ spencer? :33

tysm for the ask! i really do appreciate it! i’m sorry for the late reply !! i am just not having a good time :( i set this around s2, pre-established relationship bc im a sucker for it so it’s not exactly following the prompt but ahhh i thought it was cute!

☕ — morning routines! write about a typical morning with f/o and s/i! who wakes up first? do they eat breakfast together?

spencer thinks he might die, actually.

well, not literally of course, he would tell you that. he just feels overwhelmingly self-conscious, so much so it sends his brain into ‘panic mode’, he’ll say.

“you okay, spencer?” and he jumps, almost dropping his book bag on the pavement. “you don’t need to wait out here, i gave you the code, ‘member?”

oh, and he does, very well. he has an eidetic memory, he reminds ki often. he remembers it— nineteen days ago, 10:21 P.M. when he dropped him off at his apartment like he’d done for weeks now and in the most calm, as if it was nothing, voice he asked if spencer just wanted the code for the entrance door.

to come and go as he pleased. (“you can visit me whenever you want, haha…” it was a tease on ki’s end, but spencer was already struggling for a response.)

“i’m okay, good, great!” he says. “we should, uh, go, ki, we should get going…” spencer makes awkwardly points to the gated entrance. and ki smiles and spencer wonders how someone can be so handsome.

“coffee shop, like usual?” ki asks. “do you think we have time?”

of course there’s time. spencer knows he’s a natural early-riser— a habit from school, he assumes— and spencer, by now, has gotten used to waking up early. well… earlier.

“you woke up a little late, spencer, huh?” he sounds so sweet, spencer thinks. he never really liked being teased, it was always associated with something cruel— someone cruel.

ki isn’t cruel, though, he knows that. not with the way ki has his order memorised, ordering it without him even asking he just… wants to— (“i like doing it, spence.”)— and how he asks for spencer about that thing he was talking about earlier and how when spencer looks for even an ounce of annoyance on his face, he never finds it.

“we call them coffee beans, but technically speaking, they’re seeds.”

and ki responds, “oo-oh! ’cause they kinda resemble a bean?” and he hands him his coffee, just the way he likes it.

“yes, yes, actually!” they’re walking out of the shop and ki can’t help but look at spencer in wonder. but he always looks at him like that. morgan pointed it out to him once, but he vehemently denied it.

because ki asks him what else he knows about coffee— though they might’ve had this conversation twice before, (spencer knows and that’s why he searched more on coffee)— he knows he’s being genuine, and spencer can’t fathom himself getting any luckier than this.

[reidrum]

wine or wine not | s.r

spencer reid x bau!reader

a/n: i think i love writing buildup to smut than actual smut, but i hope you guys like this lmk what you think. this was requested with the prompts "look at me when you come on my fingers" and "muttering compliments kissing down their body" and it was so much fun to write aaaaahh, my requests are open so please send more!!! guidelines in pinned <3

summary: you're hopelessly pining after spencer at a rossi party, and when you run into him in the kitchen when you're getting a refill and he asks if you want to explore the mansion with him, who are you to say no?

cw: 18+ minors dni pls, fingering, p in v, nipple play, soft!dom!spence, spencer being ridiculously hot its criminal, ooc penelope but it was for the plot, pining idiots, wine cellar sex wine cellar sex wine cellar sex, public sex, morgan and prentiss being dumb, rossi being a smug lil shit, a dumb ass title sorry i didn't know what else to name it lol

wc: 4.1k

★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★

these days rossi was always finding some reason to throw a party at his mansion. you’re not exactly sure what it was tonight, a birthday? an anniversary? regardless, you and the team appreciated the excuse to unwind, dress up, and have non murder related fun.

the sun is setting over the rolling hills the mansion is perched on, and you’re sat at a table with the girls— penelope, jj, and emily discussing penelope’s latest dating escapade. you’re trying hard to pay attention, you really are, but it proves to be difficult when you’re focused on the man showing magic tricks to the kids across the room.

you look on yearnfully as spencer pulls a coin from jack’s ear, all the kids are laughing and cheering and he has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hellooo?” penelope waves a hand in front of you dramatically, “i’m getting to the good part and you’re off in space!”

you jolt back to the present, “sorry pen, i’m listening i promise. so he shows up to your door with maple syrup and feathers?”

“YES, anyways so then he’s like i have a proposition for you…” penelope continues her story but you can’t help but zone out again. your eyes drift back to boy genius as he finishes another trick for little henry before rising up to his full height. it’s in that moment his eyes meet yours and softens as he offers you a small wave. 

you return the gesture back which causes the girls at your table to look in the same direction and they come to a glaring conclusion too quickly.

“ah, that’s why you’re not paying attention. too busy ogling mr. houdini over there.” jj remarks.

“i am not!” you scoff.

“oh you so are,” emily says, “when are you going to let yourself feel your heart’s full content.”

“first of all, i can’t stand you. second of all, it’s not worth it. he would never feel the same about me.” you say as emily rolls her eyes.

this time penelope interjected, “oh don’t be so cynical. you haven’t even tried how could you even know?”

but you did know. it’s not that spencer didn’t like you, he treated you the same as any team member, but that was just it. you wanted him to see you as more. during cases you would try to impress him or make breakthroughs in the hopes he would tell you ‘good job’. a couple times you brought him coffee when you got yours, just to hear him say your name and thanks. work conversations rarely seemed to move past small talk, but you’re a little sure that’s on your part because he just made you so nervous. and like, he’s a profiler. so you’re sure to some degree he knows how you feel, and it just makes you regress into your safe hole even further because you think he’s being nice by not acknowledging it and saving you the embarrassment.

the girls knew about your harbored crush for a month now, since the last bau drinks night you got a little too truthful during truth or dare. you were much younger in comparison to your colleagues, so they offered their sympathies at your unrequited love and tried to get you to come out more and let loose.

which is one of the reasons you’re sitting in rossi’s living room, wine glass in hand, as morgan recounts the craziest date hes ever been on. the other reason, which you wouldn’t admit to anyone, was so you could admire your (not) lover from an acceptable distance and not risk embarrassing yourself.

so here you are, two glasses deep, rising up from your spot on the floor telling everyone you’re going to get a refill. your heels click against the hardwood floors all the way to the kitchen where you just so luckily run into the (your) man of the hour.

“hi.”

you were looking down at your feet as you walked to the kitchen, your head snapping up to meet the voice, “hi spencer.” you said softly.

“if you’re looking for more wine, i think emily just grabbed the last bottle,” you must have outwardly deflated as he continued, “that bad out there?”

“only so much wine can get me through penelope’s sexcapades and derek’s crazy one night stands.” you joke.

he chuckles back, “oh i know, why do you think i’m hiding out in here?”

you laugh again before an uncomfortable yet strangely comfortable silence falls between you both. unknowingly you both take turns gazing at each other, indexing the others features as if this moment would be the only chance you got.

you’re about to take your loss and leave when spencer speaks up again, “you know, i wouldn’t put it past rossi to have a secret wine cellar somewhere.”

“honestly, you’re probably right. what kind of italian just runs out of wine.”

spencer pauses slightly before saying, “do you want to see if we can find it?”

you look at his eyes again and catch a glint of mischief? concern that you’re wine-less? whatever it is, you take the bait.

“i’m game.”

—

rossi’s mansion was humongous. it was well known that he was loaded from his years in the bureau and multiple book deals, but holy shit, the rooms just seemed never ending, and none of them were a wine cellar.

“i don’t know spence, i'm starting to lose hope, and debating to revoke rossi’s italian card.”

you’re both in one of the many studies and are about to leave to find another room, when spencer notices a smaller door next to the study. he slowly opens it and peaks inside to find a descending wooden staircase. he looks at you with a smirk, “i think we just found it.”

he holds the door open and gestures you to enter first, following shortly behind you as he shuts the door. he makes sure to check that it’ll still open even after it’s shut, and you both relax a little seeing it still unlock. you move down the stairs, gripping the handrail and praying you don’t trip over your heels and fall to an embarrassing demise.

spencer descends a step behind you, trying so hard not to let his eyes wander down your bare back to the curve of your hips. once he steps off you both go in opposite directions to explore. you take in the vast amount of shelves and wine racks, taking note of how it seems to be separated by year and by type. running your fingers over the labels, you’re intrigued by a shelf with the year you were born, and pause in front of it. you reach up to a shelf that is just a smidge taller than you, hoping to grab the neck of an old wine bottle.

even in your heels you’re struggling, attempting little hops to try and reach. you’re about to give up when you feel a warm hand on your right hip, while an outstretched arm on your left seamlessly grabs the bottle and brings it down to you, “careful sweetheart, don’t wanna break that pretty head of yours.” spencer says lowly.

excuse me, what the fuck did he just say.

you inspect the bottle he so kindly brought down for you, but it’s a futile effort. you can’t even remember why you wanted to see it. all you can think about is your hands clamming up, sending threats to the wine bottle it’s holding. your mind is fogging up fast, and you’re trying to order your brain to say something instead of going mute while he’s still an inch behind you. with his hand on your hip still.

“oh god,” you start shakily, “you scared me spence.” you angle your body to the left so you can attempt to show how unbothered you are and look at his face.

good save (not).

he’s staring down at you with a hint of a smirk on his lips, like he’s keeping a secret from you. his eyes are intently focused on you when he speaks again, “just didn’t want you to get hurt. s’all.”

with his close proximity, you’re sure he can hear your heart beating through both of your chests, hell it was so loud they could probably hear it upstairs. he’s still got you caged in front of him when he continues, “any particular reason for this bottle?”

“yeah no, i just, wanted to see what bottles of wine he had from the year i was born.” you answer, watching as spencer moves back to give you space when you turn to face him.

he nods, “did you know that wine is associated with the greek god dionysus?”

“no i didn’t, actually.”

“it’s really interesting,” he moves forward a tiny inch, “they call him the patron god of wine, but a lot of people often forget that he’s also the god of fertility and ecstasy.”

oh. “ecstasy?” you whisper confusingly.

“yes, he believes when you drink wine it gives you emotional and physical pleasure.”

“how does that even work?” you nervously laugh.

spencer reaches his arm above your head, never breaking eye contact, and grabs two wine glasses by their stems, “you wanna find out?”

with only so many words, you give another nod. he uncorks the bottle with ease and pours out two glasses, with his having a little less than yours, most likely due to his slow but steady return to drinking casually. clinking your glasses, you take a big gulp hoping it’ll satiate the building nerves. but you’re watching the way his fingers wrap around the glass, his veiny hand showing prominently and you’re unable to focus on anything else.

“you know, i’ve been running something of an observation the last few months.”

you take another small sip, starting to feel less nervous, “oh yeah, what about?”

“you.”

it took everything in you not to spit your drink out all over his suit. 

“me?”

he nods after another sip, “i’ve been watching you, and not in a creepy way i swear. but i’ve been keeping track of your habits; how you take your coffee, your tells when a case gets too much, things like that,”

that didn’t seem overtly terrible to you, you knew spencer was an observer of his environment, always seeking out patterns to aid his predictions. you’re about to speak when he cuts you off.

“i’ve also been noticing how you seem to change, when i’m in your presence.”

you feel like the sweat and nerves are just oozing out of you at this point, and he continues his verbal taunt.

“i’ve seen your breathing rate get faster,” he moves a step forward, “how your cheeks rise with the faintest red, kind of like right now,” another step forward, “and how you try to avoid looking directly at me because you think i’ll find out everything if you do.”

the room has to be at least a thousand degrees at this point, heart beating so fast it’s probably gone to the moon, and your brain just unable to have any coherent thoughts at the realization that maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought.

he takes one final step to close the gap between you and delicately places two fingers on the pulse point of your neck, “i couldn’t figure out your heart rate from afar,” he pauses to count, “but now that i know it, i can come to my conclusion.”

the air in your lungs has all but escaped, nowhere to be found. “and wh- what is your conclusion d- doctor reid?” your voice betraying you by dripping with anticipation.

“that i make you nervous. do you agree? do i make you nervous?” he says while you feel the hot breath of his whispers ghosting on your lips.

your mouth opens to say something and then shuts, because what the hell are you supposed to say? any and all logic has left the room, but the last working neuron works to make an unthinkable conclusion of your own. there is no way.

spencer moves his fingers to grip your chin between them, guiding your face to look directly into his copper eyes, “i asked you a question angel, do i make you nervous?”

you’re cornered, “y- yes.”

“why’s that?”

“spencer..”

“is it because you’re thinking of me the same way i think i about you?” his thumb starts tracing the outline of your lower jaw. he’s pressed right up against your chest, his other arm covertly moving to snake around your waist. the way you lean in subconsciously towards him, paired with your silence is all the confirmation he needs.

the pad of his thumb traces your lower lip, dragging it downwards a little. there’s a hitch in his breath when his eyes flicker from your lips back up to meet your eyes again. he quietly mumbles, “can i?”

your eyes widen slightly, relishing in the way his arms are holding you firm and steady. this was about to really happen. you’d been pining after him all this time, believing you were destined for unrequited love. but as spencer stands in front of you, looking at you as if he’d been poisoned and the only antidote is your lips, you can’t help but wonder if there’s been a similar weight on his side that’s been holding him back too.

so you nod once again, and trust your voice this time, 

“yes.”

you’re fully expecting him to go into it full force, and kiss you like a man starved. but he lets the premonition bubble for a little longer as he so agonizingly leans down and closes the gap, teasing you with the ghost of his lips on yours without making contact. he waits a moment, and just as he predicted your subconscious betrays you again and you impatiently lean up in an attempt to meet your lips together. spencer can’t help but smile before he softly pressed himself against you.

the feeling of his mouth on yours is something you can only describe as cosmic, like a star exploding into a supernova, emitting a powerful and luminous show of energy. it’s all consuming, the light reaching every neuronal end of your body and electrifying it ten times over. your hands reach up to tangle in his curly hair and he lets out the faintest whimper, spurring you on to grab it more earnestly.

spencer loses all restraint. his hands begin furiously mapping out your body, running up and down your back, reaching down to grasp a handful of your ass. he moves his hands down further to grip your thighs, effortlessly lifting you to sit on the counter behind you. spencer slots himself between your legs and continues kissing you, his mouth marking a hot trail to your neck as he mutters between, “is this okay?”

“please don’t stop.” you moan softly.

his fingers move to deftly slide the straps of your dress off your shoulder, mirroring the movement on the other side while continuing to work his down your neck. he slides the dress far enough down to expose your chest, immediately taking the swollen nub into mouth and running circles around it with his tongue. you let out a sharp gasp at the sudden warmth, whimpers leaving your throat. he repeats the motion to the other one as you cradle his head closer in an attempt to keep him there, as if spencer had any plans of leaving.

he moves his mouth back up to meet yours again, in a lust filled attack sending shock waves straight to your core. you move your fingers to work the buttons of his dress shirt and spencer moves his hand further south and under the hem of your dress, something you don’t notice until his thumbs are rubbing circles onto the plush of your inner thighs. it makes you falter on his last button as he pushes your legs farther apart,  inches closer to where you desperately need him.

spencer looks directly into your eyes as his thumbs reach up to hook onto the side of your panties and slowly move them down your legs. he groans outwardly at the resistance caused by your slickness, “all this for me, baby?”

you’re rendered speechless watching spencer and his ministrations but he continues, “you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?” his fingers are less than an inch away from your cunt, “i see you walk around the office in those tight pants, your hair and makeup all done, and those blouses jesus,” he reaches your entrance and dives in to collect your wetness, you brokenly moan as he begins to spread it all over. “couldn’t tell if you hated me for the longest time.”

“c- could never hate you.” you whine.

“i know baby,” he slides his middle finger into your hole, “just imagine the fun we could’ve had if we figured this out earlier. but it’s okay, we have all the time now.” he sets a steady rhythm before inserting his ring finger, actively working you towards a barreling orgasm.

“spencer, fuck, oh god.”

“you’re so fucking wet, bet you’re gonna come soon, right? gonna make a mess on my hand?” he baited.

you’re in shambles, one hand deathly squeezing onto one shoulder the other turning white from the grip you held on the counter. the moans won’t stop falling out of you, he works his fingers so skillfully within you it’s impossible to hold any resolve when he curves upwards and hits that spot.

your head tilts back, reeling from the intense pressure coil building inside you, the peak about to hit you any moment now. spencer uses his free hand to move your head back down, “look at me when you come on my fingers.”

that was all it took for the white hot to ravage through you, engulfing every sense and leaving you breathless. he continues moving his fingers through your orgasm, watching as you come back down to him. you don’t waste a second reaching for his belt to unfasten it, slipping your hand down to palm him through his boxers. he moans in your ear as he feels you slip inside, your small hand moving up and down, and getting impossibly harder when you take your hand back up to spit on it to then return to your movements.

you take the moment to lean into his neck and leave bites of your own, finding his sweet spot right behind his ear and sucking hard. spencer’s hands have taken a spot on your lower back beneath your dress, pressing so hard with his fingertips you know there’ll be evidence of this night tomorrow.

“spence..” you mutter in the crook in the neck.

“yeah baby?” he whispers back.

“can you fuck me now?”

he preens at your boldness, and wastes no time pulling his pants and boxers down enough to fully free himself. he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter before pulling his length out and giving it a few strokes. he lets it glide between your folds, gathering your wetness as lubricant as it hits your clit. both of you are panting hard realizing the anticipation has led to this moment. spencer positions himself at your entrance, never breaking eye contact with you, and watches your face drop into a perfect ‘oh’ as he pushes in.

spencer is absolutely wrecked as he hears your breathing pick up, reveling in the vice grip your cunt has on him. you’re no better above him as you’ve broken eye contact to stare at where the two of you connect, watching as he disappears into you and the feeling of being so full overtakes you and you’re letting out soft expletives. he bottoms out and stalls for a minute, waiting for you to signal that you’re okay for him to move. in the time he’s waiting, he takes a moment to really look at your face, how absolutely ruined you look, your cheeks are deeply flushed, hair flying in every direction, and he can’t help but tell you, “you look so pretty.”

your eyes soften as you gaze back at him and nod slightly, and he pulls back all the way to ease in again experimentally. once he hears you moan out loud at the movement, and feels you tighten even more around his cock, he loses any and all restraint he’d been holding onto this entire night.

his hips pick up the pace in harsh snaps to your core, sending ripples of pleasure all over you. your arms are wrapped around his neck attempting to pull him impossibly closer to you, “spencer…fuck…” you drawl with a whine.

“i got you baby, gonna take good care of you, promise,” he says back in between grunts. the sentiment causes you to squeeze on his cock again as he attempts to continue, “if you keep…fuck…keep squeezing me like that i’m n- not gonna last long.”

one hand in his hair and the other leaving dark red scratches on his back, you feel your second orgasm of the night hastily creep up on you. he can tell you’re close and quickens his pace as he thumbs your clit. you moan his name out once more before reaching your peak, feeling like your body is on fire as he continues to fuck you through it. 

spencer feels his own release building up, “wh- where should i..?”

“inside, i’m on the pill just please come inside me.”

it was more than enough for spencer’s movements to stutter as he released his hot load in you, groaning out loud as he finished.

he slows to a half, still hilted inside of you but softening post orgasm. you’re both breathing heavily as you look up at each other and take in the other’s fucked out faces. spencer presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before resting his own on it, “that was..”

“intense,” he quirks his eyebrows at you, “in a really really good way.” you add quickly.

he smiles down at you, “i wasn’t kidding, what i said earlier. i think about you an embarrassingly high amount each day. i’d love to take you out and make this a real thing.”

“yeah?” you gape incredulously, “thought i was the one embarrassing myself if you were able to notice all those things i did when you were near me.”

he laughs, “no, no it was endearing, definitely made it easier to be as forward as i was tonight knowing you wouldn’t freak out.”

you’re about to respond when you hear the door to the cellar open, you’re both hidden from view but know it’s only a matter of seconds before someone catches you. you both look at each other in panic as spencer pulls out of you, tucking himself back in and zipping up his pants. you grab your panties from the floor and begin to pull them up your legs when he notices his come dripping down your thighs. he swiftly gathers the release on his fingers and shoves it back inside you, causing you to let out a near pornographic moan as he pulls up your underwear all the way.

“did you guys hear that?” a voice sounding like emily said.

“see this is why i don’t do big houses like this, too many creepy ass noises.” morgan.

“mansion,” rossi corrects, “and for a couple of profilers, you both are stupid if you don’t know what that sound was.”

your eyes widen to match spencer’s, you’ve been caught.

“was it a mouse or something?”

“no more like, bunnies,” he joked with an innuendo, “come on, i found the bottle i was looking for, let the bunnies do their thing so they can leave and go home to do whatever it is bunnies do.”

“you’re a weird old man david…” emily muttered.

the door closes and you both let out a big breath, and burst into a fit of laughter, “how the hell are we gonna show our faces to him on monday?” you whine.

“that is a monday us problem,” he starts, “but right now, i think it’s time for me to take you home.” he winks.

two stuffed bunnies show up on yours and spencer’s desk on monday. you’re both redder than a tomato as rossi chuckles when he walks by. prentiss and morgan are still confused.

[eideticmemory]

SNAP OUT OF IT | SPENCER REID

Spencer knows he’s just a coworker. He knows he’s just a friend. He knows you’ve got a boyfriend. He just doesn’t really give a fuck!

Word Count: 5.5k

Warning/Includes: Taken!Reader, DownBad!Spencer, a little angst and a little smut.

Dedicated to wifetthew + future mrs stewart (and sidepiece) who inspire me everyday and don’t even realize it.

Spencer vividly remembers the moment he realized he was in love with you. Spencer remembers everything about you but this moment in particular, he recounts in his mind a lot. You had just joined the unit. He could tell you - you'd only been there three months, two weeks, and five days. You were flying across time zones so by the time you landed, it would be six days. Everyone else had fallen asleep or was nearly there. Save for you two. You tried your hand in a round of chess but you're shit at it so you'd taken to a game of cards. Spencer remembers thinking it was the easiest conversation he's ever had in his life. He could talk and talk and talk until he lost his breath and when he was done, you'd do the same until there was no air left in your lungs either. He shuffled the cards between his fingertips, hanging onto your every word, watching the sparkle in your eye as you spoke. He kept firing out subtle agreements between your words like, 'yeah...oh, I know...absolutely,’ not just because it's impossible to disagree with your pretty face but because you’re so smart. You get it. He actually had the thought: she gets it.

Finally, he thought, someone gets it.

And you felt just the same. You said to him, "Thank you for agreeing. No one ever gives a shit about my foreign film analysis."

"I...I give a shit."

You chuckled at the gentleness with which he swore and although his voice was soft, it was genuine. "I appreciate it. My boyfriend's unreasonably against the horror genre as a whole. I think it's his biggest flaw. I like being scared."

Because you were too busy counting up your cards, you couldn’t see the bright smile instantly drop from Spencer's face. He could feel the shift in his muscles, the way his eyes stretched wide. He promptly shifted his gaze down and cleared his throat, “B-boyfriend?"

"Yeah..." you shrugged. Very casual, very nonchalant. "Three years next month."

"Oh, wow," he replied and it sounded kind of snide but you didn't think much of it. “That's nice."

He had realized he was in love with you three years too late.

Spencer could have accepted defeat, yeah. Absolutely. If there's one thing the boy genius can do, it's compartmentalize. This is work. This is [y/n]. This is my coworker. This is our job. This is our jet. These are the cards we've been dealt. The best thing to do would be to play them as they fall. Yet, he keeps himself awake for six hour flights just to hold your undivided attention, to talk about things nobody else cares about. His eyes linger on you as you deliver a profile and he thinks: That's [y / n]. That's her face. That's her voice. That's the sweater that matches her eyes just right and the boots she wears when we travel down south. If there's one thing the boy genius can't do when it comes to you, it's compartmentalize. How could he?

He finds himself standing by the elevator at four in the morning. There is nothing exciting about being called in at four in the morning, save for the prospect of seeing you. The elevator dings and he stands up straight, poses his satchel just perfectly on his hip. He wants to be picture perfect ready. Like a model directly out of a Backup Boyfriend catalog. Although, when you step out, you don't even notice he's there. You storm through the bullpen, your phone held up to your ear and your head ducked down. You sequester yourself in an awkward corner, far enough that you feel secluded but not enough so that Spencer can't see you. He sways in place, an attempt to look casual, his hair tucked behind his ear so he can hear you better. He picks up strained words like, 'please...I don't know...okay...fine...bye!' It all comes to a sudden end, your thumb landing on the screen with such force that it could crack.

You seamlessly join the rest of the team, shoving your phone in your back pocket. Try as you might to shift your focus, the edge hasn't quite left your body so when Spencer asks, "You okay?" You respond with a curt, "Yeah. I'm fine.”

He thinks: That's fine. That's okay. I can take it. On the jet, you bury your nose in a case file and when your phone won't stop vibrating, you silence it completely. Spencer brings you a cup of coffee and you hardly even process it.

"Cream and extra sugar," he pips because he knows that's how you like it.

"Thanks.”

That's it. Spencer waits for more but it never comes. He sits on the opposite side of the jet, watching you pick up your phone, huff, and type, type, type in a rage. He thinks: I cannot take this.

The case is a good distraction. A relief for him to know that even when you are not yourself, you're still brilliant. You just can't help it. There's a moment where he just finishes the geographical profile and you stand at his side, arms crossed as you look it over. Your gasp cuts through the air like a knife and his eyes land on you instantaneously.

"Spencer Reid." You put your hand on his shoulder and oh, he almost drops to his knees. “You're a fucking genius."

You race out of the room and he exhales a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He grips onto his shoulder and his skin is still red hot.

A win is good. You needed a win. You all needed a win. Makes you feel good for something. Makes the flight home much less suffocating than its departure. On top of solving murders in a rush, the mental gymnastics your brain has endured over the week leaves you exhausted. You pull a blanket over your body and snuggle against the solid walls of the jet. You let out this big, heavy sigh just as Spencer sits down across from you.

“Close call today, huh?” he says.

“Yeah,” you nod. You look up at him with these bleary eyes and they’re so beautiful that he doesn’t think he’ll be able to talk.

But he does, “All thanks to you.”

You smile. You want to be bashful, to deny the praise, but you don’t have the energy. “Thanks for the pat on the back.”

“Oh, anytime.”

He watches you take another deep breath, your body lulling into further peace by the second. He hates to disrupt it. “You, uh…” he stutters. “You wanna share what’s been bothering you now?”

You glance over at him from the corner of your eye, “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to a profiler.”

You chuckle. He loves to make you laugh. “It’s nothing,” you shake your head.

“You…you know I’m the profiler, right?”

You sit up, another laugh escaping your throat without much thought. It feels nice. “Yeah. Right.”

“So?”

“I’m just…stressed…” you finally admit, though that part was evident.

“Blackjack?” He sets an array of cards in front of you.

You nod, “I have a stressful job. Hit me.”

He flips another card, “Five. Yeah, you do.”

“And…it’s hard when…when things at home are stressful, too. Makes it worse. Hit me.”

Another card, “Ooh, six. That makes sense.”

“Sometimes, I…I don’t know…I let myself get pulled in too many different directions,” you look over your cards, dangerously close to 21, and you take a leap of faith. “Hit me.”

He turns the final card over and it brings you right to 21. The way it unfolds shocks you, pulls you from your brain fog and you break out in a grin. “21? That’s 21, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods. He bites down on the smile on his lip and it’s a look on him you’ve never seen before. You can’t stop staring at it. “All you, money bags.”

You giggle, “Did you rig that?”

“Me? No,” he shakes his head, casually clearing the pile. “There’s no rigging in blackjack.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ve heard that before.”

“Everything should be that easy for you,” he whispers. There’s a slight change in his tone that even an untrained profiler could pick up. He glances up to meet your gaze, “I’d rig it all for you if I could.”

Now, he thinks because he’s resetting the table that you’re not focused on the subliminal message in his voice. But you notice. You look down at your cards, look back at him, “Hit me.”

When the boyfriend is a concept, an idea trapped inside your phone, a mirage that you only mention in passing conversation, Spencer doesn’t think much of him. Spencer doesn’t think of the motherfucker at all. You clock into work and he’s determined to take the time he can get with you, any way he can, the only way he knows how.

You get back into DC one night and the sun hasn’t even set yet. Emily and JJ invite you out for drinks and it’s with an anxious nod that you accept. So Spencer super graciously accepts. He strides beside you on the walk from the bureau, keeping you tucked in on the safety of the sidewalk because he doesn’t know how to not shield you. From anything. You order a wine and a glass of water. Spencer sits right beside you and orders himself a shirley temple.

You gasp, “Ohhh my god, I should’ve got that.”

“Here,” he slides the glass over to you.

“Oh, no, no. It’s okay.”

“No, take it.”

“I can’t.”

“But I’m offering. I don’t even want it. Maraschino cherries, yuck, gross. You have it.”

You chuckle and shyly grab the drink, sticking a straw in. “Thank you.”

“Mhm,” he nods. And he means that mhm in the way of it’s really no big deal. He’d give you a kidney if he was a match.

He trades you for your water though he doesn’t pay much attention to it. He watches you fall into loud conversation with the other ladies, yours being the only laugh to match Penelope’s in pitch.

You lean into him, cackling, “She’s insane. Oh my god, she’s ridiculous.”

His skin buzzes where your shoulders make contact and his face is bright red from how wide he smiles at you. “Oh, yeah. I could’ve told you that.”

Spencer’s absolutely obsessed with the joy in your eyes, the way you nearly choke on your second shirley temple. The way you’re so close to him. He cannot look away. So when your smile suddenly drops and that joy’s promptly replaced with anxiety, he’s the first to notice.

“Hey,” you whisper to the figure behind him. He turns around and looks the man up and down. “You’re early.”

The Boyfriend shrugs, “Sorry. Hi, everyone.”

He’s not at all like Spencer imagined him. He’s taller. Not as much of a little bitch.

You rise from your seat and wrap your hand around Boyfriend’s bicep. “Uh, this is just some of the team. That’s Emily, Penelope, JJ and, uh, Spencer. This is my boyfriend.”

They all dole out polite waves and smiles. Except for Spencer. He stands up tall and ha, just as he thought, they’re the same height. He gives Boyfriend a stern handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too. Spencer? Heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Haven’t heard that much about you.”

The ladies exchange confused glances and you exhale a quick breath to cut the tension.

“Well, we’ve been together a while. Too much there to sum up in words, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Spencer nods and here is another smile you’ve never seen on his face before. It’s not genuine. That, you know.

“You ready to go?” Boyfriend asks and you nod.

“Mhm. Bye, you guys!” you wave, falling into the grip of the possessive hand around your waist.

Emily glares at Spencer as he lowers back onto his stool, his eyes not leaving the door even when you’re long out of sight. “You done swinging that thing around?” she mutters.

“Hm?” he hums. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Mhm.”

As Boyfriend opens the car door for you, he can’t help but comment, “So that’s Spencer, huh?”

“Yeah?” you buckle yourself in and it’s an anxious few seconds before he’s buckled in beside you.

“Well, it makes sense now.”

“What?”

“The little toothpick’s in love with you.”

Spencer doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that the time you spend on your phone at work becomes more frequent after that. That you come in looking drained and pale even at ten o’clock in the morning. That, carefully, you distance yourself from him. It’s not a coincidence. It just hurts.

As he reads over a case file, he builds a tower of cards. You can’t help but admire the way his brain splits in two, one side reading and the other stacking each piece just right. It’s cool. You think it’s cool, but there’s not a kind bone in your body today and you snip, “Got nothing better to do?” as you sit across from him. “People are dying.”

“People are always dying. Kind of how we get a paycheck.”

“Mm. How altruistic of you.”

“I’m just passing the time,” he continues to stack. He’s very near the top of the pyramid. “People do all sorts of things to pass time.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you know. They spend hours, days, weeks, years…building something. And you know, you would think that would ensure some type of stability or longevity or…anything, right?”

“I guess.”

“But sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes no matter how much time passes or…how much effort you put in,” he places the final two cards on top. “It’s just not meant to last.”

And with a tiny flick of his finger, the whole pyramid comes tumbling down. You can’t help but watch the picturesque scene, the way they float down onto the table in a big mess.

Spencer doesn’t think there’s a chance in hell that you don’t know what he’s talking about. You’re smart. You get it.

You don’t acknowledge it, though.

That night, you can’t sleep. For some reason, you’ve got this idea in your head that if you force your eyes open for a few hours longer, you can make yourself useful on a case that, so far, has no end in sight. The hotel accommodating the team is a nice one. There’s a library on the first floor that they leave open 24/7, perfect for a profiler on the hunt. You flip through the files in the near pitch black, curled up in a chair beside the tiniest lamp in the world. Despite your eye for detail, you don’t even notice when Spencer walks in. Not until he clears his throat.

You look up at him, startled, until you see his face, “Oh,” not the reaction he was hoping for. “Should’ve known you’d find me here.”

“I like to think I’d find you anywhere,” he shrugs. He sits down in the chair beside you and looks over your shoulder. You can smell him from just a foot away but it doesn't affect you. It can’t affect you. “Any luck?”

“No. Care to help?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh, great.”

“[y/n], it’s late. Nothing you can do without brain power.”

“I just hate…” you start, the exclamation coming out before you can hold yourself back. Spencer watches you intently, hanging onto your voice. “T-the detergent they use on the linens. Gives me a headache.”

He sighs, “Yeah. Me too. I swiped some extra pillow mints. Want one?”

“Mhm,” you hold your hand out and unwrap the candy instantly. It helps your anxiety.

Enough so that you open up just a bit more, you tell Spencer about the headache that’s been bashing against your skull all day. “But maybe I’ve just had too much coffee.”

“Or not enough.”

You laugh, “Yeah, no, that must be it.”

Your phone pings in your lap and you check the message very quickly, the small smile that once sat on your lips dissipating in thin air. Just when he wrangled a laugh out of you, Spencer thinks. Of course. He watches your entire mood change in the blink of an eye and he fucking hates it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Yeah…tired. Should probably head to bed.”

“But the detergent?”

You chuckle, “I’ll survive.”

On the elevator ride up to your floor, you rest your back against the wall, Spencer perched right beside you. You keep your eyes closed, your hands gripping the bar for balance. The motion doesn’t help your headache. You gulp, clear your throat, and when you open your eyes, Spencer is staring at you. Shamelessly. You furrow your eyebrows at him, tracking his eyes as they focus in on your mouth.

“Are you looking at my lips?”

He nods, “Mhm.”

“Can you read them?”

“Mhm.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” that snaps him out of his trance and he stands up straight, shaking his head. The elevator dings and he walks off, exasperated, exhausted, exclaiming, “[y/n], who cares?”

Your jaw drops in shock and by the time you step out to follow him, he’s already marched into his room. You scoff as you burst into your own suite. You crash in bed and you lay there tossing and turning for what feels like hours. In reality, it’s only thirty minutes but it’s long enough. Long enough for this unbridle, illogical rage to build within you. Long enough for your mind to fill with thoughts like: who the fuck does he think he is? What the fuck does he know? Oh, I’ll tell him what he doesn’t know. And you hop out of bed. You storm down the hall in your slippers, knocking on Spencer’s door like, ironically, the feds.

Lucky for you, he was nowhere near asleep yet. He swings the door open and he opens his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“Listen, Einstein.”

“I’m listening.”

“Just…just because you don't get it doesn’t mean you have the right to shit on my relationship.”

“Who was shitting on your relationship?”

“Stop it.”

“Fine, I was shitting on your relationship.”

“And that’s not fair.”

“But you’re…” and he enunciates this next word very clearly. “Not happy.”

“Don’t tell me what I am. You don’t know anything. You don’t know me or my life. You don’t get to cast judgement.”

“Oh, okay. Okay. Well, then, I’m so happy for you, [y/n]. I am.”

You’ve said all you need to say and you have no interest in hearing any more. You turn around and march away but he persists, “Hey, I really am. I’ll be the first one to buy something off your wedding registry!”

There are no more card games on the jet for a while.

And that sucks, but you’re trying to prove a point here. Spencer knows nothing. Maybe no one’s ever told him that before and maybe that’s why it stings. Maybe that’s why he can hardly look you in the eye, but you’re trying to prove a point here.

You’ve drawn a boundary that should’ve been drawn long ago. Not even because you wanted to but out of spite. Spite can carry you a long way. It has before. The nature of your work makes it easy to clock in and think of nothing else. Focus on nothing other than getting the job done. It’s the moments in between that are hard.

Like tonight, as you’re typing up case notes at your desk. It’s too quiet. It leaves too much room for opportunity. Taking full advantage, Spencer sets a small gift bag in front of you. You tilt your head as you look up at him, your face etched with inhibition.

“I…” he stutters. “I got it a while ago. Thought it’d be a nice birthday present and I won’t see you tomorrow, so…”

You give him a small smile. The ice doesn’t just thaw, it melts. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you dive into the bag, pulling out the hardcover book and holding it flat between your palms. You release a small gust of air from your nose. You touch the textured font of the lettering along the cover. “Oh, Spencer.”

He has to act like the tone in your voice doesn’t have the biggest effect on him. Hearing his name in such a gentle whisper. He just shrugs, “I recognized the limited edition cover while I was in this library near the art museum. It’s a nice library, you’d like it.”

“I love it,” you breathe before you can censor it. “The book. I love the book. It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

“I’m glad.”

There’s so much more to be said. The weight of it all vibrates behind your teeth and you grind them together as you gaze at Spencer. He can see your mouth aching to open but he knows it won’t.

“Well…happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope it’s a great one.”

“Thank you.”

And you watch him disappear. You feel your heart sink to the barrel of your stomach, like all the words you’re destined to scream out to him are making you sick.

This nausea lasts well into your birthday. No matter the sheer amount of fuss. No matter the amount of texts or calls or gifts that arrive at your door. You’re sick. Even when you put on your fanciest dress for dinner, you curl up in your office with your new book, finally and for no reason, gathering the courage to open its pages and read the quote recounted on the first page.

“And here you come

with a shield for a heart

and a sword for a tongue”

Happy Birthday, [y/n]

Spencer

You slam the book shut and trap it in the drawer of your desk. You’re sick.

You still eat at your birthday dinner. The love and affection reserved for a day like today helps settle your stomach. You think: I am [y/n]. It’s my birthday. These are my gifts. They are from people who love me. This is my boyfriend. This is my birthday cake. It works, it’s working.

Then he pulls out that fucking ring.

The angle at which he kneels in front of you catches the light just right and the diamond blinds you in the eye. Your mind, along with the entire room, falls silent. For the first time in what feels like a lifetime - silence. When his voice cuts through the thick air, you can see his lips moving, you can hear the vibrations going wah wah wah wah wah. But nothing is as loud as the sound of your own breathing, heavy and rapid. Your hands are over your heart but just to keep it from forcing its way out of your chest. You’re sick.

You’re sick.

Spencer had just gotten in bed. He made it the entire day without allowing himself to call you and now he figures he can force himself to sleep. That is until there’s a booming knock at his door. Now he’s wired. He springs into action like it’s not a potential threat and he throws his body against the door to glance out the peephole.

When he opens it, you are still out of breath. Your chest is heaving and you wheeze with every exhale. His eyes travel down your body, the pretty dress and your beaten and bare feet, the heels dangling from your fingers. The look in your eyes is a mystery to him. It’s laced with exasperation and desperation and he furrows his brows trying to figure it all out. Nonetheless, when he sees you moving towards him, he wraps his arms tight around your waist, opens his mouth and gasps as you kiss him.

He’s quick to close the door behind you, stumbling when you drop your shoes to the ground, but only for a moment. No time for stumbling here. He moans at the sudden grip you take of his hair and his body pushes into yours even more, directing you to his bedroom with just the pressure of his chest.

Never expecting this to happen, let alone tonight, Spencer is quick to swipe away all the books that have piled up on his bed. He promptly takes their place and grabs your waist to pull you back into the kiss. You have to hike your dress up your thighs to properly straddle him but once you, he swears he can feel the warmth all the way to his toes.

Your eyes roll back as he licks all over your neck, attacking your chest with sloppy kisses and sudden bites. You feel his erection raise between your legs and the pressure of it has you moaning directly in his ear. The vibration scratches just the right spot in his brain and he bunches your dress up in his hands, the veins along his arm straining through his skin.

You huff, pull back to look at his face, his eyes hooded and hungry. “What…” you pant. “What am I doing?”

Caught off guard, Spencer can’t do much but blink. And shrug. “What…are you doing?”

You stumble over your words, if that’s what you could even call them. It’s more a collection of whines and one short whimper before you simply carry on. Grab his face, catch his mouth and let it go. Perfect for Spencer, because he didn’t really need an answer.

He follows your lead as you undo the tie on his sweatpants. He pushes and you pull until his throbbing cock is free. You don’t mean to gasp, but you do. It just all feels so unreal, like a dream, like a fantasy. Except it’s not, it’s tangible. You can feel it. You can touch him - and you do. You wrap your hand around him and shudder as he grips onto your forearms. His teeth are clenched tight so it makes it harder for him to kiss you, harder for him to breathe but he keeps you locked in place. If he could talk, he’d beg please don't stop, please. Please, please, please.

And it’s like you can read his mind. Through the ferocity with which he pushes his face into yours, the way his hips buck underneath you, you get it. You’ll give it to him. You pull your panties to the side and just the tip pressing against you sends a visual jolt through your body.

“Yeah?” You whisper. More like - right? This is right? Right?

Almost immediately, Spencer grunts, “Yes. Yes. Yeah,” he could say it in a million other languages if it would get the point across but english is good enough. You lower yourself down on him and thoughtless, he yelps, “Yes!” as he falls back on the bed.

Even though he’s transcended his own body, Spencer keeps his eyes locked on you. His gaze follows your jaw as it drops wide open and both of your moans fall in sync as you start to roll your hips. Spencer’s hand clamps down on your thigh, the other reaching up to touch your face. The tender contact makes your vision blurry but you can still see the way he’s looking at you.

He touches your hair and your jaw and takes a soft sweep over your cheekbone. His thumb runs over your bottom lip. He can feel your breath coming out hot and quiet each time you land on him, the rhythm of your body taking the air out of both of you.

Is this really happening? he thinks. This can’t be happening. But you increase your speed, lower your inhibition, send a shock of pleasure through him so good that he has no choice but to believe it’s real. You catch his thumb between your lips and he grunts, whines out for you, “[y/n]…”

“Mm, yes?” you lay your body flat against his, your hands intertwining with his amongst the bedsheets and he clenches his fist tight, tight, tight, tight. It’s all so much. Stimulation coming from everywhere at once. From your chest rubbing against his, from your pussy tightening around him like you’re nearly swallowing him whole. From the messy kiss your lips tangle in and the ever increasing volume from you both.

Spencer bends his knees behind you, supporting your body when your movements become rushed and uncontrollable. With your hand pressed to his chest and your head thrown back, he’s emboldened enough to grope your breasts, losely place his hands around your throat.

“Oh…” you whimper. “G-god…” and Spencer hangs onto the broken sound of your voice, enamored by the way your eyes cross over one another. He feels like he’s not doing much, like his body is still in shock and most focused on keeping himself grounded. As you crash down on him, he bends underneath the pressure, overwhelmed as each bounce grows more deliberate than the last. Each collision accompanied by a throaty, “Mm…mm…hmm.” Until your thighs come to a grinding halt and latch onto him, the orgasm radiating from your belly to your chest and directly to your head. He responds to your boisterous moan with a breathless gasp, catching you in his arms when you land on his chest.

He peppers your shoulder with tiny kisses, licking his way to your neck, biting your throat because he absolutely has to. Your hips continue in this mindless rhythm, draining every last twitch from your body as he whispers, “[y/n]…”

“Hm?”

“[y/n]…I, mm,” you catch his voice in your mouth, pushing your tongue between his lips. You attack his neck. You push his shirt up his torso just to move down his body and kiss his stomach.

“[y/n]…ah!” and though you love the sound of your name on his lips, you love to hear him scream even more and after you suck his cock into your mouth, he can’t stop screaming. Mouth open, body trembling, ear ringing moans. He reaches down to keep your hair out of your face and his hips jolt a bit rougher than he means to. He wants to look at you but his body is too taut. He wants to hold you in the palm of his hand, to call out your name one last time to make sure this is real. But he shoots into your mouth, his legs flailing around your frame, and all he can do, still, is scream.

You hum. You swallow. You slide off of him with a sharp pop. You crawl off of his body and drop as soon as your head hits the pillow. Spencer’s hand keep track of you, grazing your thigh, sad to feel you leave, begging to keep you close. Even as he struggles to breath, he balls up the edge of your dress in his fist. You lean back against the headboard, looking up at his ceiling fan, your body finally exerting all its energy and unable to move any further. The room has settled into nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and catharsis.

Spencer looks up at you and when you make eye contact with him, there are so many more complicated thoughts you could have. But the only thing that swims in your mind is the slow bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. You rest your knuckles on his cheekbone and he promptly grabs your wrist, peppers soft kisses all over your hand.

You owe him something. He has every right to ask. As he opens his mouth, you’re prepared to tell the truth. You will give him nothing but the truth.

“Did you see they’re adapting another Stephen King novel into a movie?”

You exhale a small laugh. Partially because you weren’t expecting it and partially because you had been dying to talk to him about it. “Yes. And I think it’s stupid.”

“Me too! I mean, the premise is promising, I think it can be done, but it’s the…”

“Supernatural element.”

“Yeah!”

“It’s hard to pull off. Major chances of it turning out cheesy and robotic.”

“Yes! Thank you! I’m still going to see it.”

“Oh, me too,” you laugh and his laughter blends in just perfectly.

It can wait. There’s a lot to catch up on. A lot of questions to ask and answer but for now, it’s easy. This, Spencer thinks. This is it. This is actually the easiest conversation he’s ever had in his life. And he’s not gonna fuck it up now.

Author’s note:

Ahh 😝 thanks for reading!!! Like, reblog, comment, all the things!! Just wanted an excuse to post this meme. Stay safe out here 😚

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

-

part five

[longlivejemily]

After Office Hours

Part 2 here

Pairing: Professor! Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Reader goes to her favorite professor hoping to find ways to improve her grade. He has some unconventional extra credit opportunities in mind...

WC: 1.3k

Warning: Student/teacher relationship, slight sub/dom dynamics, semi public sex, thigh riding, use of y/n, use of “baby’ and “little girl” plz let me know if i’m missing any!

You’re running down the hallway of the law building at your university silently begging that your professor is still there. As you approach the door, he’s exiting, keys in hand. “Wait, Professor Reid! I’m here! Don’t go!” You call out to him closing the last yards of space between you. “Miss y/l/n you’re late, office hours are over.” “No Dr. Reid you don’t understand! My statistics professor wouldn’t let us leave until we finished the lesson on probability distributions! I told him I had office hours to get to and he didn’t care. Please Dr. Reid I really need to talk to you about my grade!” He puts his hands in his pockets and sighs while gears are turning in his head. “Fine, for you I’ll make an exception.” “Thank you thank you.” You try not to read too much into his comment as he opens the door, “after you.” You don’t notice that he locks the door after following you in. 

As he sits across from you at the desk, you pull out your physical midterm paper all marked up in red ink. “I thought I grasped this concept so well! I don’t understand how I got a C-.” “Y/N, you got a stressor and trigger backward. You failed to accurately explain the concept. The points you did get were from the passion in your writing. I appreciated the way you wrote, but I couldn’t give you a higher grade. I’m sorry.” 

“Professor, I have a 3.5 GPA and I can’t have that drop, especially not from my favorite class!” He clasps his hands under his chin with his elbows below him. “Miss y/l/n, it seems you have been struggling in this class for a while now. I see how hard you work but you have narrowly maintained a B-. If this is your favorite class, why didn’t you come to office hours sooner?” “I-” Your mind is moving too fast to form an answer. You look down at the ground and can’t help but press your thighs together. You’ve only had a few moments in such close proximity to Professor Reid before, and definitely not alone. His eyes seem to darken, “Do I make you nervous?” You just press your legs further together “Umm..” “Come here.” He says in a soft yet demanding tone while scooting his chair back. When you walk over to him he gestures towards his lap. “Sit.” You comply. You put your right hand on his shoulder as his left-hand reaches around you and grips your side. He can probably hear your heart beating out of your chest.

“You know how I knew you wanted this? When I guest lectured in your physics class you were wearing sweatpants. Out of anything you could have worn, sweatpants. You tried to hide it, but I saw your eyes widen when you saw me. You never dared to be caught dead in front of me clad from one of your tiny little skirts you love wearing to my class.” He takes the hand not at your side and squeezes above your knee. “Do you wear those skirts just for me? Tell me the truth.” You turn to him but avoid eye contact. In the quietest voice you say “Yes, just for you professor.” Knowing you were coming straight to his office hours after stats, you wore one of your shortest skirts and knee-high black boots. You hoped being alone in office hours on a dark fall night he wouldn’t be able to resist you. It was worth a shot, anyway. He smirks and before he has a chance to reply you say, “Now back to my grade, is there anything I can do to improve the grade I got on my midterm? Can I resubmit it with your notes taken into account?” “I’m sorry miss y/l/n but there's nothing I can do. The university policy states that once midterm grades are locked, any work done before can not be revised. My apologies.” 

“Is there anything I can do? Any extra credit opportunities this term?  I can help you grade papers or clean your classroom! Please I’ll do anything! I need to improve my grade, please!” He just stares at you while you beg. “Anything?” He says with a devilish smirk. “Yes sir.” You say back to him, smiling and batting your eyelashes. He takes a deep breath with his eyes closed and once he opens them he locks eyes with you and says, “Ride my thigh.” “Excuse me, Doctor?” His dick jumps at the honorific. “You said you’d do anything to improve your grade. I know you heard me, ride my thigh.” You cannot believe Dr. Reid just asked you for this. Since the first day of class, he has been the sole object of your fantasies. You’ve fallen asleep many nights imagining him bending you over his desk and fucking you until you scream.

 Without a second thought, you stand up to resituate yourself on his lap, straddling his left thigh. The moment you stand up he reaches for your wrist, “What are you doing?” You smile on the inside, those four simple words have shown you he wants this as badly as you do. “Don’t worry professor, I’m just turning around, I need something to grab onto.” You say as you sink down onto him. You put both hands on either side of his shoulders and begin to rock back and forth finding your rhythm. The roughness of his khakis against your ass and your thong pushed against your clit has you stifling your moans quickly. He grabs your chin to make you look at him, “I want to hear you, baby.” You let the moans leave your lips, still mindful of volume. He puts one hand on the small of your back and the other on your hip, gently guiding you. When he touches you, you are on cloud nine. Here you are, in your professor's office after hours riding his thigh as he speaks sweet praises to you. You swear you’ve died and gone to heaven. “That’s it baby keep going.” You are eyeing the member in his pants start to grow. Every time he speaks you get closer and closer to the edge. He can tell by the way you’re speeding up. “Come for me little girl, I want to hear how good you’re feeling.” The use of little girl sends you over the edge. 

Tightly gripping his shoulders as you ride out the rest of your orgasm, leaving dents in his shoulders through his dress shirt. Once you’re done cumming, you collapse onto his chest breathing heavily. Staring down at his lap you see his dick straining against his pants, and he’s huge. He gently rubs your back as you come down from your high. He kisses your head and lifts you by your shoulders facing him. You’re staring deep into his eyes. “You did so good for me, but it's getting late, you should get home.” “Right right, sorry. I’ll head out now.” As you stand up and adjust your skirt you notice the wet spot you left on his pants.

 He sees you staring and interrupts your thoughts, “Don’t worry about it. Can I plan to see you next week at office hours?” “Yes!” You say a little too enthusiastically. “Um I mean yeah, I’ll be here.” You say in a chiller tone. “Good, I have more extra credit opportunities in mind, I hope to see you in class on Monday. Next week, come to office hours once they're done, okay? Don’t show up before 7.” “Yes Dr. Reid, I look forward to improving my grade however you see fit.” You say with a wink heading towards the door. When you go to turn the knob it's locked. You unlock it and glance back at him. He’s still staring at you with a hungry look in his eyes. You have the biggest smile on your face walking back towards your dorm, next week's office hours can’t come soon enough.

a/n: this is the first fic I’ve written in about 10 years! Should I turn this into a mini series? I have more ideas for how this story could go! Any feedback is greatly appreciated <3

[slut4sugu]

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃 𝐇𝐂𝐒 (𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.)

a/n: im back my loves! I’ve been rewatching criminal minds and omg I love how soft Spencer is he’s just adorable bro. Also JJ with bangs? (She can get it too honestly) Mentions; of sub!spencer, dry humping, cunnilingus, sweet but nasty Spence <33

isn’t the best with explaining his feelings for you not in a nerdy way but is a poet when it comes to words of affirmation; ever time Spencer sees you look so beautiful, so ethereal he just randomly pouts out a poem that can barely come close to describe the amount of love he has for you in that moment <33

I’m a strong believer in the fact that Reid has a little decor around his apartment for when Halloween rolls around; and is beyond happy when he comes home from a case to find that you’ve went a the extra mile and decorating it a bit more for him <33

Memorizes your cafe orders; so on his off days he’ll wake up before you to surprise you with a muffin and your favorite tea/coffee

is usually the big spoon in bed; however if he’s had a challenging week he’ll just silently curl into your side pressing kisses to you neck as he murmurs a “thank you love.”

whines into kisses & grinds his hips into yours while doing so; Spence is weak for you that much is certain. Your voice is as smooth as silk and your touch never fails to ignite a fire on his skin. But your kisses are pure aphrodisiac, you effortlessly pull moans from him like it’s nothing. “You’re so cute Spence, so you want me to touch you?” “Please angel.”

cannot leave without his goodbye kiss and an I love you; one time you decided to mess with him and kiss him goodbye without saying I love you. After not hearing you say it back he poked his head back in your shared bedroom and loooked at you confused. “I love you?” “Mhm, have a good day sweetheart.” Now he’s pouting, “..did I do something wrong?” Now you have to pepper his face with kisses and tell him you love him multiple times so he can leave.

whenever he’s gone for a couple days for a particular hard case he’ll send you flowers, and sends you text messages; to check the new book you’ve read. Which leads you to find a sweet love letter. Promising his safe return and that he’ll make up for lost time <33

loves baking and cooking with you; know we all know Spencer can’t cook worth a damn, so his job in the kitchen is maintaining the mess you tend to create while making brownies and ofc pressing kisses to your shoulder as you mix the batter

eats you out slowly when he’s sleepy but horny; it’s so hot but so agonizingly slow. Even the way his tongue flicks against your clit feels slow, once he hears your begs and whines he’ll speed up a bit. Slowly starting to get more into it than you are, pulling you by your thighs to get close to his tongue. Lapping up your cunt is an art form to Spence, and all art deserves to be appreciated <33

tells Garcia and Morgan about you; he intends not to rant but once he pictures your sweet smile in his head he’s a goner. Now he talking about your mannerisms and how you always cover your smile with your hand because your self conicous about it, but he finds your smile so beautiful..

when he gets jealous he pouts slightly; he manages it relatively well but the initial time a guy looks at you too long or has that look on his face, Spence does that little confused pouty thing slightly before making it clear your happily taken.

Spence is HELLA touchy; cannot go 2 minutes without touching you. In the car? Hand on your thigh, sitting on the couch together? Your thighs gotta be on his lap. One way or the other

Happily spends his money on you; spence absolutely loves spoiling you, and every anniversary he makes a habit of buying you a dress. Not overly pricey but just enough in the 200-300 range. each anniversary he goes a little bit higher and higher or if you found a dress you really like hell buy you jewelry. But once you guys hit one year? He goes all out <33

uses your lotions and shampoo on occasion; being away from you for hours on end can be tough at some times so Spencer makes a habit of buying smaller samples of your vanilla or strawberry scented products. Smell of sweet candy and cookies like helps ease his mind when he’s away at work.

Honorable mentions

princess twirl/hugs when he comes back from a long case

loves going on library dates with you

says I love you every time before doing down on you <33

[nachrosas]

AUTUMN MEMOIRS | s.reid x reader

summary: in which Spencer decided to take you to a cozy weekend in the countryside to relax after a difficult case. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: mentions of past case, brief childhood mentions, a little bit of angst, teasing, praising (i think), oral sex (f receiving), dirty talking (one sentence tho), fingering (r receiving), nipple sucking, unprotected p in v sex (tap it before you do it), +18 MDNI! (i think this is all) word count: 4.4k a/n: hello hello! this is the first one-shot for the “nachrosas season” with the theme being autumn/fall! also this is the first time i wrote a long fic (+ 1.5k) and smut in a very long time (i think it’s almost 10 years), so please let me know if ends up good (still self-conscious posting this tho)! i had fun writing this and i really hope you guys like it! feedback is always appreciated! also, my inbox is always open to chat! till the next one! (also, want to thank @mggslover for encouraging me to write the smut of this fics!!)

For a few weeks now, all the houses in the quiet neighborhood — a very small number, by the way — had been decorated with orange and brown leaves falling from the surrounding trees. The few children and young people walking along the streets took the opportunity to play with the huge piles of leaves made by the residents of those houses — in a failed attempt to keep their yards clean and organized.

Spencer slowed the car as the trees opened up, revealing the cottage in front of them. Small but inviting, it looked like it had been taken out of an autumn painting, with its dark wooden façade framed by dried vines and surrounded by fallen leaves in shades of gold, copper, and red. The engine turned off with a soft roar, and a welcoming silence took over the room, broken only by the sound of the wind blowing lightly, swaying the bare branches of the surrounding trees.

You climbed down from the old but cozy car with a tired gesture and leaned on the door. You closed your eyes and a few memories still danced through your mind in flashes that you tried to forget in the past. Recalling them was never pleasant, especially about things that hurt you in some way and that you had no control over.

You opened your eyes and realized that Spencer had repeated your movements, stopping right next to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “It's prettier than it looks in the photos, don't you think?” he commented with a serene smile lighting up his face, his eyes shining with a mixture of excitement and relief.

“Yes, it's perfect,” you replied, your voice almost a whisper, as if something in that place called for silence, for respect.

In the background, the sound of children's laughter reached both of them. They were a few meters away, but their voices echoed amid the stillness of the field. From a distance, you could see a little girl in a red scarf, who you guessed was no more than six years old, run up to a particularly high pile and dive into it, scattering leaves everywhere, while a little boy tried to catch up with her, laughing.

Spencer hugged your waist a little tighter and took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as if to record the smell of the air. “Smells like fall... dry leaves and wet earth... oh, and probably the fire in the cabin. Do you feel it?” he looked at you, with that enthusiasm you loved, a gleam of genuine curiosity that made everything seem more interesting.

“Yes, I do. And it's delicious.” you replied, with a small smile on your face, as you pulled on your jacket to protect yourself from the wind.

He let go of your waist and walked around the car to open the trunk, but not before looking at the cottage again, as if analyzing every detail. “The woodwork on the façade is well preserved. It's probably been restored recently… It's an interesting project, using rustic materials, but…”

“Babe.” you interrupted him with a laugh. “We came here to relax, not to do an architectural study.”

He laughed, a soft, relaxed sound, and closed the trunk, balancing two backpacks in his arms. “Okay, okay, you're right. I bet the inside is even cozier.”

You walked to the door, the sound of leaves crunching underfoot marking every step. The key turned in the lock with ease, and when Spencer pushed the door open, a pleasant warmth enveloped you, accompanied by the faint scent of burning wood and something sweet, which you quickly recognized as cinnamon.

“Welcome to our weekend getaway.” he said, placing the backpacks next to the door and looking at you with a satisfied smile. “Ready to start relaxing?”

You looked at him, at the delicately prepared fireplace in the corner of the room and at the strategically positioned sofa near the window that offered a perfect view of the golden countryside outside.

“Ready.” you replied, already feeling your shoulders relax as you closed the door behind you.

The crackling of the fireplace filled the silence of the cottage, casting dancing shadows on the living room walls, its comforting sound blending with the subtle howl of the wind outside. But you couldn't feel completely warm. You were sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace, your back against the sofa, wrapped in a soft blanket, your legs folded under your body. In your hands, she held a mug of tea that Spencer had insisted on making for you. The warmth of the fire and the steam rising in slow spirals seemed to ease the tension that had settled permanently in your shoulders since the last case, but the promised comfort seemed distant.

Spencer was sitting next to you, his legs stretched out on the floor, and one of his hands holding your thigh. He hadn't said much since you arrived, just enough to make sure you knew he was there. And now, in the silence of the cottage, it was impossible not to think about the case.

“I can't stop hearing that poor girl's voice,” you said, finally breaking the silence. Your voice sounded low, almost fragile, but firm enough to show that you were trying to confront your own thoughts.

Spencer turned to look at you but didn't interrupt. He knew you needed to get everything you were feeling out in the open.

“She looked… so scared, Spencer. So lost. And I… I told her everything would be okay. I promised her she'd be safe.”

“You did what anyone would do,” he replied softly. “And you did the best you could. Promises like that are… difficult, but they have a purpose. They give people a reason to fight, a hope to hold on to.

You shook your head, your hand squeezing his. “But she wasn't well! We couldn't get there in time. And the worst thing… was seeing her die like that and seeing how it hit me in a way I hadn't expected. That little girl could have been me. I saw so much of myself in her…” Your voice faltered, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears that insisted on escaping.

Spencer moved closer to you, lightly squeezing your thigh in an attempt to convey comfort and support. “You're absolutely right. It was personal. And that's why it hurts so much. But it also means that you care. You empathize with her because you have a huge heart, and that's not a weakness.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the security that his close presence conveyed, but the words still came, as if a dam had been opened. “I just… I can't deal with it for long. It's too heavy. And when it's personal like this, it feels like I'm carrying the whole world on my back.”

“Then you're not carrying it alone.” he said, his voice firm now, but full of tenderness. “That's what I'm here for. I always will be, even if you don't realize it. Even if you don't ask. And… you know that, don't you?”

You turned your head, meeting his eyes. There was an unwavering sincerity there, something that almost made your chest ache with how comforting it was. You nodded, finally allowing the tears to fall, because you knew that there, in the safety of that cottage and in Spencer's presence, you could be vulnerable.”

He smiled softly, wiping away a tear that ran down his cheek. “Now, how about we make a deal? The next two days are for you to heal. No pressure, no judgment. We'll go for a walk, cook, look at the stars... and if, in between, you need to talk more about the case, about her, or whatever you want, I'll be here, listening. Always.”

You took a deep breath and leaned against his body, feeling the weight of the moment begin to ease, even if just a little. “Thank you, Spencer.”

“No need to thank me,” he replied, squeezing your thigh a little harder. “You did the same thing for me when I was arrested, I'm just returning the favor.”

A few hours had passed since that conversation, and you couldn't tell if the weather was mild or cold. You knew it was 18°C, but you couldn't decide if it was really cold for you, since Spencer had re-lit the fireplace and the heat from the flames was taking over the room.

You could hear music coming from a few houses down the block. The area had few people and plenty of space. And you mentally thanked the cottage for being so far from the city.

Spencer was in the small kitchen, stirring something in a small pot with his usual precision. The scent of hot chocolate and cinnamon filled the air, bringing a soft nostalgia that warmed as much as the fireplace. He hummed softly, an almost imperceptible sound, but enough to draw a smile from you. 

“It's ready!” he announced, bringing two mugs to the coffee table. He placed one in front of you before sitting down next to you. “I know I've said this before, but let me make it clear again: this is officially a worry-free weekend. No work, no answering messages from Garcia, no worrying about the team, nothing. It's just us, the fire, and maybe some cookies, if you ask nicely.”

You can't help the laugh that escapes. “So you kidnapped me to fill me up with sugar and keep me from thinking too much?” 

“Basically.” he replied with a satisfied smile. “It's a foolproof plan.”

His smile was infectious, and for the first time in days, you felt the weight of the last case finally dissipate completely. You plopped down on the sofa, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you held the warm mug between your hands. On the opposite side, Spencer was relaxed, with his legs folded under him and his head slightly tilted, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Did you know that in some cultures, autumn is considered a time for reflection and gratitude?” he began, his tone calm but charged with that peculiar enthusiasm that appeared whenever he shared something new. “In ancient China, for example, the Mid-Autumn Festival was a celebration of the harvest, but also a time to gather the family and enjoy the full moon.”

You arched an eyebrow, a smile appearing. “Let me guess, you know why the full moon is important?”

“Of course!” he replied, leaning forward excitedly. “In Chinese mythology, there's a legend about the moon goddess, Chang'e, who drank the elixir of immortality and went to live on the moon. During the Festival, people make offerings to the moon as a way of honoring her and celebrating the connection between heaven and earth.”

“You really know everything, don't you?” you joked, but there was genuine admiration in your voice.

Spencer shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “Not everything, but I like learning about traditions. It's fascinating how different cultures interpret the changing seasons. If you look at Europe, fall was seen as a period of transition, as if it were a moment between life and death. It's because of this that many transitions, such as Halloween, have their roots in rituals to honor the dead.”

You smiled and took a sip of your hot chocolate, letting the warmth soothe your throat before answering. “It's funny how something as simple as falling leaves can have so much meaning. I've never given it much thought, to be honest. I've always seen fall as… a reminder that the year is ending.”

Spencer tilted his head thoughtfully. “That makes sense. It's a period of closure, but also of preparation. Trees lose their leaves to conserve energy during the winter so that they can bloom again in the spring. A necessary cycle, you know?”

You watched him for a moment, admiring the way he saw meaning in everything. “You can turn anything into a life lesson, can't you?”

He laughed softly, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe. But I think fall is special to me because it reminds me that change can be beautiful. Even when it seems like something is ending, there's always room for a new beginning.”

There was a comfortable silence after that, as you let his words echo through your mind. Then, leaning forward, you asked. “And what's your favorite memory of autumn?”

Spencer smiled, his eyes wandering as if searching through the archives of his mind. “When I was a child, my mother and I used to walk through the park near our house. She loved to quote romantic poets as the leaves fell. One time the wind was so strong that it lifted the leaves everywhere. She told me that it was as if the world was dancing to entertain us. I will never forget that.”

Your chest warmed at its memory, and you reached out for Spencer's hand to hold, giving it a gentle squeeze as soon as you found it. “It's a beautiful memory, Spencer. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

He smiled, squeezing your hand back. “And you? Any fall memories you like to recall?”

You paused to think, letting the moment linger. “I think mine is something simpler. I remember playing with leaves as a child, throwing them up in the air, and running through the trees. It wasn't anything big, but there was something magical about it, you know? And it ended up annoying my parents a bit,” you laughed.

Spencer nodded, his eyes fixed on yours. “That's what I like about fall. Little moments, full of meaning, even if they seem simple.”

You stood there, the warmth of the fireplace and each other's company filling the cottage with a rare and welcome tranquility. The comfortable silence continued for a few more minutes, with the sound of the wind outside and the warmth of the fire creating an almost hypnotic atmosphere. You stretched out your legs, letting the blanket slip off slightly as you watched the soft light from the fireplace illuminate the rustic walls of the cottage.

Spencer moved next to him, leaning over to pick up the mug he had left on the table. He took a sip, his distracted gaze lost for a moment in the movement of the flames. When he looked back at you, his eyes were filled with a serene calm, but also with something else - a closeness that went far beyond the words you exchanged.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, his tone almost casual, but the slight smile on his lips gave away that the question had more meaning than it conveyed.

“More than comfortable.” you replied, pulling the blanket over your feet again. “I can't remember the last time I felt so at ease.”

He nodded, his smile softening. “That's all I wanted for us. A place where we could just… exist. Without rushing. No worries.”

For a moment, you just stared at each other, and then you pointed to the rug in front of the fireplace. “I think I'll go closer to the fire. It's so cozy in there.”

Spencer smiled, watching as you got up and walked over to the rug, taking the blanket with you. He didn't take long to follow, bringing another cushion to settle down next to you.

As you settled in, the conversation dwindled, but each other's presence seemed to say enough. Spencer propped himself up on one elbow, watching you as the fire reflected in his eyes. You, for your part, remained mesmerized by the flames, allowing the calm of the moment to envelop you completely.

It was as if the world outside had disappeared, leaving just the two of you, the warmth of the fire, and the promise of a night that seemed to have something more in store.

Spencer held out his hand, his fingers gently brushing yours. The touch was so delicate that it almost seemed accidental, but when you looked at him, the look in his eyes said something else. He smiled sideways, a little shy but determined, before entwining your fingers in his.

“Come here.” he murmured, pulling you slightly closer.

You let yourself be guided until you were so close that you could feel the warmth of his body rivaling that of the fireplace. He slipped an arm around your waist, enveloping you in a hug that, although it started innocently enough, soon changed a few seconds later.

His hand gently pulled your waist, making you sit on his lap. You felt his breathing change, slower, deeper, as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart soar.

“You look so beautiful…” he whispered, almost as if he were talking to himself.

Heat rose to your face, but you didn't look away. It was impossible to ignore the way the glow from the fire danced in his eyes, making the moment almost magical. He leaned in slightly, their faces so close now that you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

“Spencer…” you murmured, but anything else you could have said was forgotten when he finally ended the distance between you.

The kiss began slowly, hesitantly, as if he was savoring every second. But soon, the intensity grew, a fire that seemed to reflect the flames in the fireplace. His hands gripped your waist more firmly, pulling you even closer.

You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, your eyes fixed on his. He smiled, that shy, adorable smile, but there was something else there now — a desire you'd never seen so clear before.

“If at any point you want to stop…” he began, but you quickly interrupted him, smiling as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“I don't want to stop, Spencer.”

And with that, you leaned in again, your movements surer now, as if you knew exactly where this would lead. You narrowed the space between the two of you, gluing your lips more fiercely to his. Spencer stood still in shock, since you had never kissed him so fiercely, and you closed your hand in his hair, running your tongue like a demand against his lips. Let me in. When Spencer came back to reality, he murmured something against your lips, his cold hand slipping under your sweater and dragging up your skin, higher and higher. 

Your kiss was interrupted as shortness of breath overtook you both. Spencer's breath Your breathing faltered when his hands stopped at your breasts, above your bra, gently caressing them. A restrained moan escaped your lips, causing Spencer to press his hand harder.

fueled your feelings, the taste of hot chocolate now a ghost between the two of you. You inhaled the scent of Spencer's perfume sharply, his heartbeat vibrating in your ears.

 “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured into your skin and you finally feel his cool hand sliding across your skin.

“Spencer!” you shouted, pulling away from him.

He smiled. “I'm sorry, my love.”

He got up and sat back against the sofa, watching the way you undressed in front of him. Your jeans slid down your smooth legs, stopping calmly at your ankles as you bent down to take them off, and you quickly took off your sweater, revealing the lilac lingerie that Spencer loved so much.

You moved your hands to your bra, intending to take it off, but he stopped you. “Leave it on, you look even more beautiful with it on.”

Pulling you by the waist back towards him, one of his hands ran down and rested on your ass before giving it a spank. You stayed still, looking at him sitting on the floor.

“Have I mentioned that I love it when you wear this lingerie?” he says to you, running his fingers along the lilac lace.

“I know,” you smile.

Spencer pulled you down to lie on the floor again, this time sitting between your legs, one on each side of his body. You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. Spencer pulled your pants aside, his gaze fixed on your pussy and, without warning, he slipped two fingers into you. The moan that came out of your mouth was like music to his ear.

His fingers curved upwards, and his back arched with an enormous sensation of pleasure that consumed his entire body. Your hand reaches down to grasp his wrist, but he gently pulls it away, using his free hand to pull your two hands together and rest them on top of your head.

“Behave yourself.” he tells you, adding a third finger.

You unconsciously spread your legs wider, giving him more room to get on top of you. Spencer's cheek touched the inside of your thigh, and he watched as your face contorted with pleasure and he smiled, 

Spencer felt your eyes on him, taking the lilac panties that were still on his body and gently pulling them down his legs, letting them fall to the floor with the rest of his clothes. He wants you to look at him. Your hips jerked when you felt his tongue against your clitoris, and you used your free hand to grab his hair.

He knew you like the back of his hand, so when you closed your thighs around his head, he held them in place while his tongue attacked your clitoris again.

Three fingers inside you and Spencer looked up, watching as you threw your head back, your eyes closed, and his hand, which he had previously held above your head, groping your breasts. Between the magic of his fingers and tongue, your orgasm was close to coming, and he knew it.

Spencer withdrew his fingers carefully and a groan of disapproval left his lips.

“Come here.” He stood up and patted his lap.

With his help, you managed to stand up. Your legs seemed to have turned to jelly as you climbed into his lap. Spencer's hands stopped on your ass, his fingers roaming up and down the curve of it. It was only then that he realized: you had already removed your bra.

Spencer brought his hands down to your stomach and sneaked his fingers up your skin until he reached your breasts again. He hummed, totally focused on your breasts and oblivious to everything that was going on around you. Holding his chin between your fingers, you pulled his face towards you.

“Please fuck me!” you murmured, a hint of desperation hanging in your voice. Spencer smiled, nodding with a look you'd seen on his face many times before.

Your hands went straight to the zipper of his pants and he helped you, pulling them down enough for you to get his cock out of his underwear. One of your hands rested on his shoulders, giving you physical support as you sank down onto him.

You went back to watching Spencer, watching as he spread kisses over your chest, lightly brushing over your breasts until he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, running his tongue over it. Your hand tangled in his hair again and a moan of his name escaped your lips.

His other hand passed over your hip until it reached your other breast, his fingers twisting and rolling your nipple gently between your thumb and forefinger.

“Spence.” you breathed, rocking your hips forward in response to all the stimulation you were receiving.

“Fuck, you're so perfect,” he said, closing his eyes. “Your pussy looks like it was made just for me.” His hand slapped down hard on your ass. Your lips found his neck, leaving a trail of marks and sloppy kisses all over the end of it. “Come on, Baby, come for me.” Spencer pleaded, knowing he wouldn't be able to hold off much longer.

Between the movements he made with his lips and the fact that his cock was hitting all the right spots inside you, he pushed you over the edge. The knot in your stomach loosened and Spencer watched as you came. The mixture of your come and a few more quick, sloppy thrusts, he came right after you.

The dim light from the almost extinguished embers still cast a few soft shadows across the cottage room as you stood entwined in front of the fireplace. The remaining warmth of the fire, combined with the heat emanating from Spencer's body against yours, created a delicious bubble of coziness that seemed to isolate you from everything that was happening outside. You could feel Spencer's calm breathing against your hair, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, and this, for you, made the situation even more perfect than it already was.

“I should have made more hot chocolate.” he commented suddenly, his voice slightly husky and a little sleepy, which made it all the more adorable.

You lifted your face to look at him, the corners of your lips curving up in an amused smile. “Hot chocolate?”

“Yes.” he continued, his eyes half-closed as he stroked your back in an unpretentious way. “Hot chocolate is practically obligatory on nights like this. The two of us together, fireplace on... it's definitely a classic.”

You laughed, leaning in to place a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I think you've just found the only flaw in this weekend.”

Spencer opened his eyes, feigning an expression of indignation as he tried to hold back his laughter. “Flaw? I think we've just made it even more perfect.”

The laugh that escaped your lips was like music to his ears, and he smiled in satisfaction as if it was the reaction he'd been waiting for. Spencer pulled you closer, kissing your forehead and murmuring against your skin. “I promise to make it up to you next time. With marshmallows and everything.”

“Oh, right,” you joked, giving him a smile. “I'll charge you.”

His smile softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes shining with something that seemed like pure affection. “Are you happy?”

It was a simple question, but full of meaning, making your heart squeeze at the way he cared. You nodded, pulling the previously forgotten blanket over you both. “Very much. Thank you for that, Spencer. For knowing exactly what I needed, even when I didn't know it myself.”

He closed his eyes again, a satisfied smile on his face. “I'll always know. You're my favorite spot in any season, anywhere.”

With those words, the comfortable silence took over again. Little by little, Spencer's breathing became slower, and you realized that he was starting to fall asleep.

You smiled to yourself, snuggling further into his arms, while also letting the weight of tiredness carry you off to dreamland.

[reidmania]

STILL | spencer reid

summary ; loosing based off still by niall horan. You and spencer broke up and when you see him at a bar a month later everything comes back.

warnings; this is long pure angst with a (?) happy (?) hopeful ending. imma say female reader because there so many little things that indicate that. hella miscommunication, arguing, drinking, jealous spencer, i think its a happy ending idk tbh, let me know if i missed anything

a/n ; this is 4k words. i did not intend that at all, i honestly got so insanely carried away. im so sorry.

You regretted everything, in this moment more than any other. You didn't know how you were possibly stupid enough to be dragged into going out tonight. When your coworkers approached you with the idea of going out for drinks after work as a way to celebrate your promotion, you shouldn't of let yourself get sucked in. It took some convincing till you eventually gave in, but you did -- give in.

Going home to change may not have been the best idea, since it gave you enough time to realise what you were doing and how much you really didn't want to go but you knew your coworkers wouldn't accept your cancelation. So instead you made yourself look presentable, good even.

Things had been difficult to say the least over the last month, while things at work were great, mentally everything was horribly. It had been a month since you and Spencer broke up. A month since the last time the two of you talked.

He had called a few times, but you could never bring yourself to answer despite how badly you wanted to talk to him, some night you would spend hours unable to sleep, staring at his contact, although you never went through will calling him, too scared he wouldn't answer.

Once dressed you left, calling an uber because you knew it was a bad idea to even take your car -- the whole point was to drink, and you would need to drink. As much as you loved your coworkers, you could only handle so much social interaction without liquor in your system.

Arriving, you noticed the group of your coworkers waiting for you outside. You pushed a smile to your lips as you approached them. You had many coworkers of course, but you had your bunch who you worked with closely, the ones here with you now.

Elise was your work best friend, you and her worked side by side everyday. She was the one who convinced you to come out. Ethan was another one who you worked with closely, but weren't nearly as close with. Frank was older, he was almost like the father of your job, and then there was Chelsea who was literally franks daughter, she was nice, easy to get along with.

"Theres they are!!" Elise said excitedly, you appreciated the way they all dressed up. You were met with a bundle of flowers, being held out by Ethan. "We got you these, as a congrats present" He smile.

You're entire face warmed as your chest did too. You were lucky to be surrounded by a group of people who cared as much as they did. "Aw, Thank you guys." You smiled widely as you took the flowers, not knowing what you were going to do with them inside the bar -- but you figured you'd worry about that later.

You followed them inside the bar, instantly finding a table. Everything sunk into place, everyone talking and chatty after ordering drinks and a round of shots, -- it was great.

But there was something missing.

You tried not to think about it as you swirled your straw around your glass, filled with alcohol. "You look bored" You turned your head to face Elise. You pushed a soft chuckle pass your lips, shaking your head.

"Im not bored" You denied, because you weren't. You were just waiting and hoping that the pit of empitiness in your stomach would disapear so you could enjoy yourself. She frowned, "Come on, Lets go get shots" She said, offering her hand which you took gracefully.

As you walked over to the table where your coworkers were sitting at to find out if they also wanted another round of shots or not, Elise grew sidetracked, helping Chelsea out with the zipper of her dress that was breaking.

"Ill come with you" Ethan opted, making you smile gratefully as you thanked him. The two of you wandered through the bar, through the crowd of people before you finally reached the bar.

You and ethan made small talk as you waited for the bartender. When he finally came, Ethan ordered. A round of tequila shots. The bartender nodded, it was busy -- so he was doing everything fast. "I am not drinking tequila!!" You gasped as you looked at Ethan.

"Yeah you are" He smiled back.

The smile stayed on your face, "Tequila makes me sad" You said honestly. He pouted dramatically, although you can tell it was sarcastic. "Well we cant have that" He sighed just as dramatically, "I promise if you do get sad, we will make sure to cheer you up"

You smiled but couldn't help but doubt his words -- you knew what you'd get sad about, and you weren't sure anything he did would cheer you up from a sadness like that. The one you could feel in your whole body, every movement.

"Important night?" The bartender asked, as he poured the shots. You went to deny it, not wanting the attention but Ethan spoke before you could. "Yep" He said popping the P, "Pretty girl here got a promotion" He said, squeezing your shoulder softly.

You forced out a chuckle as the bartender congratulated you. Pretty girl was the nickname your coworkers had given you -- it was teasing at first and it started from Elise, but it kind of just stuck.

You got your shots and walked back through the bar holding the tray carefully, as you returned to the table you immediantly got a bad feeling in your stomach, something was off, something was wrong. You could see it in Elise's face as she looked at you.

"What?" You chuckled, furrowing your eyebrows as you placed the tray down on the table. She looked almost guilty, as she shook her head, brushing it off. "Nothing" She said, reaching out for a shot.

Your concern and confusion only grew. "What?" You asked again, there was obviously something wrong. You noticed Chelsea looking in a certain direction, the same direction Elise's eyes kept drifting over to.

Your eyebrows furrowed deeper as you turned your head to look in the direction they were, despite Elise' protests. You almost wish you listened. You felt your entire heart sink.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you locked eyes with him -- Spencer Reid. He was already looking at you when you turned your head. You stomach dropped so far you swore you could feel in in your pinky toe.

You heard your name, but you could hardly pull your eyes away from him. He looked good. So good it made your head spin in a million different directions at once. Hearing your name again you finally pulled your eyes away from his, turning your head to face Elise who had concern lacing her features.

"Oh- Gosh- Are you okay?" She rushed.

You felt like your chest had been stepped on. You didn't say anything, instead reaching for the shot glass that remained, and downing it instantly. "I need to get drunk." You muttered.

"Whos that?" Ethan asked, he wasn't quite as caught up in your love life as Elise and Chelsea were. Chelsea scoffed. "Her ex, He is an ass" She said, Elise was quick to nod in agreement. Frank stood minding his own business, but you knew he was listening, he was always listening.

"He's not" You defened, because he wasn't. If there was an ass in the breakup, it was you. You weren't sure what sucked more.

Before Chelsea or Elise could say anything you spoke first, "Can we go get more drinks-- and move closer to the bar, I think ill be going there a lot" You muttered, grabbing the boquet of flowers you had been given.

Everyone was quick to agree, taking their stuff before finding an empty table closer to the bar.

You did exactly as you thought you would -- 4 drinks later, you were a lot mor tipsy but nothing seemed to take the pressure off your chest or cool the heat that Spencer eyes left on you everytime you looked over to see him already looking.

When everyone was engrossed in coversation you excused yourself to the bar, feeling the need for another drink or ten. When you literally asked for the most alcoholic drink possible, the bartender laughed but agreed.

"Congraulations" You swore your heart dropped at the voice. Your hands froze in place and you could feel the sweat building on the back of your neck. You turned your head, finally facing him.

Your eyes ran over his features -- his hair had grown out, it looked good. You wanted to tell him that but you couldn't. "H-How do you.." You wondered how he knew about your promotion, you were sure it hadn't been posted anywhere.

He rolled his eyes, nudging his head towards the table where your coworkers sat, you turned you head to look at them, noticing Ethan's and Elise's eyes on you and Spencer. "Your boyfriend isn't exactly quiet." He muttered, there was something spiteful about the way he spoke.

You whipped your head around to face Spencer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before the realistion dawned on you -- He had heard Ethan tell the bartender about your promotion earlier. "He isn't my boyfriend--Why do you even care." You huffed.

Spencer scoffed quietly, "Yeah Im sure, The flowers and 'pretty girl' really prove that" His tone was laced with jealously. He was jealous. You shook your head as you pulled your eyes away from his face. "It's been a month" He muttered, quieter.

You frowned at the mention at how long it had been since the two of you broke up. "I am well aware of how long its been" You held back from calling him Spence, it was like muscle memory. "The flowers were from all of them" You defended, although there was no reason you needed to defend nor explain yourself to him. "And pretty girl- its a joke-- they all call me that." You muttered.

"I called you that."

His tone still held so much jealously but sounded so much sadder. It made your stomach clench on nothing but the alcohol you had consumed, you turned your head to face him before looking away again, unable to handle the way his expression pulled on your heartstrings.

"I know" You said just as quietly.

The bartender handed you your drink with an apology of how long it took -- you hadn't even noticed. Drink now in your hands yet you couldn't find it in yourself to move. You could smell Spencer's cologne and it was consuming your senses and making your mind fog.

Spencer ordered his own drink after the bartender asked, before he turned to look at you again. "I called." He said.

You wanted to cry-- you wanted to sink into the pit in your stomach and stay there forever. You felt yourself grow dizzy -- he made you dizzy. "I know" You said quietly, scared if you spoke any louder your voice would give out on you. it broke your heart to be standing here next to him, when he had no idea you loved him, when you had no idea if he ever loved you-- let alone if he still did.

He didn't say anything, you assumed it was because he didn't know what to say. He knew you were actively ignoring his calls-- What was there to say to that.

Spencer got handed his drink, he muttered a quiet thanks, but made no movement to leave his place next to you, you didn't either. Neither of you said anything. You felt as if your feet were glued in place -- although you weren't sure if you wanted to move either. It had been a month since you had seen him, and as much as it gutted you to think about, you didn't want to leave yet just incase this really was the last time.

"He isn't my boyfriend, he- he isn't anything more than a friend." You said again, although you didn't look at him, keeping your head down as you sipped your drink through your straw. You didn't need to push so hard for him to understand -- but the last thing you wanted was for Spencer to think you had moved on that quick, it almost offended you that he genuinely believed you did.

He opened his mouth to reply, but felt a hand on his back, cutting him off. He looked behind him to see Derek. "What's taking so long, Reid" He asked, a teasing smile on his face. You looked behind you at the sound of his voice, meeting his eyes his smile fell slightly as he realised what was taking Spencer so long.

"Hi derek" You pushed a smile to his lips - of course Spencer was here with his team, you should've realised that. They probably just got back from a case, which explained Spencer's business attire, but he wore that more often then not anyways.

"Hey!! How are you doing!" He smiled back, opening his arms to hug you gently. It was friendly a simple. You were close with a lot of Spencer's friends and team, being his plus one to everything for months. Penelope had reached out after you and Spencer broke up, but just like with Spencer you couldn't bring yourself to reply.

"Im okay, how are you?" You asked. You could feel Spencer's eyes on your face and it left a burning sensation where his eyes laid as you pulled away from Derek's hug. "Im good! We've missed you around shortcake" It was a nickname, because of a strawberry shortcake shirt you had worn one time when out with Spencer.

You just smiled in response. You missed them too, a lot. They were your friends, and you hated how you lost that and Spencer all at once, but they were his friends first. "I'll leave you guys be." You muttered, forcing a smile to your lips as you avoided Spencer's gaze, pushing off the bar.

Spencer said your name and it made your head spin, it felt so natural falling from his lips, like it belonged there. If you had to pick only one person to say your name for the rest of your life, it would be Spencer.

You kept walking none the less, holding your drink in your hand as you approached the table. You put it down gently as Chelsea and Elise were instantly at your side, asking what happened or if you were okay.

"I think Im going to go home" You muttered as you felt the all familiar tingle in the bridge of your nose, matching the lump in your throat and burn in the back of your eyes. It was too much.

"Do you want me to drive you?" Frank asked, the fatherily instincts coming into play when he noticed the look on your face -- there was no convincing you to stay. You just shook your head, "Im okay, Thank you" You muttered, as you began grabbing your stuff.

"I'll walk you out" Ethan offered, but you were quick to shake your head. You didn't need to look to know Spencer's eyes were on you from across the bar, the last thing you wanted was to only deepen his concern by leaving with Ethan. "I really just want to be alone." You said, pushing a half hearted smile to your lips, he frowned but nodded.

You said your goodbyes before pushing through the people in the bar towards the door. Once outside, it dawned on you how hot you were, the cold air giving your flushed cheeks a cooling sensation. You dragged your hand over your face as you tried to process what had just happened without bursting into tears.

You opened the uber app on your phone, wanting to get home to wallow in every emotion you had been pushing down for the last month. You should've known tonight was going to end badly.

"Theres been over 3,900 cases of sexual assult or physical violence from ubers"

You turned your head to see Spencer standing at the door to the bar, not far from you but not close. The street wasn't busy, it was dark and only lit by the streetlights.

"Thats less than one percent" You muttered, pulling your gaze away from him. "Who said I was getting an uber?" You asked, despite the fact that you were, it baffled you how he seemed to know everything all the time.

"You're alone, I cant see your car anywhere and the app is open on your phone" He said as if it was nothing. He was a profiler for godsake, of course he picked up on the tiniest things.

You sighed, closing your phone you placed it in your bag, "So what?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest - now that the heat had somewhat worn off the cold air was leaving goosebumps over your arms.

"So, let me drive you home." He said.

Your eyes widened as you turned to look at him, shaking your head. "No. Its fine. I think I can handle less than one percent" You muttered, turning away from him again when the heat began rising to your cheeks again under his gaze.

You could hardly handle standing a foot away from him, you doubted you would be able to last a ten minute drive back to your house in the car next to him, you were sure the tension would suffocate you within seconds.

"Why do you do that" He asked taking a step closer to you. You were already resting with your back against the wall, there was no where for you to back away to even if you wanted to. You furrowed your eyebrows as you met his eyes, he looked sad.

"Do what?" You asked as your voice hitched, the pit in your stomach only deepening the more you looked at him, the closer he got the tighter your chest grew, the more he spoke the more your cheeks heated.

He sighed, "Push me away!" He raised his voice slightly, not in a way of anger but pure frustration. He was so frustrated.

"I don- We broke up Spencer" You reminded.

He rolled his eyes, "I know that. Trust me I know that." He muttered under his breath as he got closer to you. "You did it our entire relationship, pushed me away, held back, and then you broke up with me, why do you do that?" He said, brows furrowed as he genuinely tried to understand.

"You know why we broke up" You muttered quietly.

He threw his arms up in distress. "No- I really don't-" He said, before dragging his hand through his hair, only making it messy. You frowned, shaking your head as you reminded him. "We were both busy -- we hardly saw each other, our heads were in different places" your voice raised to the same level as his

"My head was with you!" He shook his head, "My head was always with you!" He sighed, he wasn't shouting, not really, but it was loud enough to match your level.

Your lips parted but you didn't have anything to say. Your head was spinning at the intensity of the coversation, at him -- so close, his cologne and after shave making your stomach feel sickly.

"I thought-" You ran your hand over your face as tears brimmed your eyes.

"You thought, you didn't ask me-- you just- broke up with me" He was shouting now. You genuinely thought your heart had fallen out of your chest. "You pushed me away, and then left like it meant nothing, like it all meant nothing." His voice was breaking with every word as his voice rasied

"It didn't- i didn't think it meant nothing" You were shouting too, and tears ran down your face -- you were unable to help it, each drop hotter and heavier than the last.

"Just be honest, I just- I just need you to be honest, please" He was on the verge of tears himself, and you hated it. You hated the way his voice was breaking, the way his hand was grabbing his shirt, pressing against his chest as if this conversation was bringing him physical pain-- like it was to you.

"You want me to be honest?" You asked, you were now the one stepping closer to him, you were the one shouting -- not out of anger, but you couldn't better express the way this conversation was all consuming every part of your body, your mind, your stomach, your chest.

"I love you Spencer" Your voice cracked as the words came out, "I love you so much, it hurts. It physically hurts when you are gone, when I was spending everyday worrying you weren't going to come home, I love you so much that I thought me worrying about you was unfair because you love what you do, and I was constantly in the way of that. I love you so much that i thought if i broke up with you, you'd be happier -- I thought the how much I loved you would stop hurting." you were practiclly sobbing, you would have been embarassed if you mind was able to focus on anything other than the boy in front of you.

"It didn't, its actually gotten worse because everyday I wake up and your not there, and I still worry about you just as much -- more, i worry about you more. Everyday I wake up and im completely heartbroken. God everyday I wake up and Im still inlove with you, " You continued on your tangent, "I love you so much Spencer"

You didn't even have time to breath before you felt cold hands on either side of your face and the feeling of his lips on yours, you could taste the alcohol on his lips. It was familiar and safe and warm. Your hands found their way to his face, pulling him in closer to you. The kiss was messy and passionate and everything you had missed so much, it was the sort of kiss that made every thought in your brain disapear, it made your knees feel weak and your toes curl in your way to uncomfortable shoes.

You tried to pull away but his lips chased yours, bring you back into him and you didn't make any movement, only kissing him back until you ran out of air, feeling lightheaded. You stepped out of his grasp as you tried to regain balance.

"Ill teach, its not an issue i've wanted to teach, god ill stop working all together if it means you'll come back" He said out of breath, eyes never leaving yours. You opened your mouth but he cut you off. "I love you, I've loved you since the day that I met you." he was huffing out words as he stepped back closer to you, invading your space and you couldn't complain.

"I don't- I don't want you to have to do that, you love working." you said breathlessly, shaking your head. You didn't want your relationship to mean him stop doing what he loved.

"I want you" He said, voice cracking. "I love my job but I love you." He said it like he couldn't get enough of finally saying it. "I'll work it out so you can come everytime we have a case, please I love you" He was begging.

"What does this mean Spence" You said, heart beating out of your chest. He just shook his head. "Who cares! I love you, You love me. I will do anything, just.. stay - let me stay." He said, grabbing your hand.

"I love you" You repeated.

"I love you" He said back.

"Where do we go from here?" You ask, looking up at him with squinted eyes, you were sure your makeup was a mess, and you looked horrible but there was so much love and hope in Spencer's eyes you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

"Let me drive you home." He said. You knew that meant it was the beggining. You knew he meant that he didn't know but he wanted to try. He was begging and there was no way you were going to let him go again.

"Okay."

[gf2bellamy]

hiiii hun💗💗 i love your spencer fics so much i literally get giddy when i open tumblr and i see you’ve put up new ones 🥰🥰

can i request a spencer x neighbour!reader like maybe one of them knocks on their door to complain about noise or accidentally closes the elevator door on them and initially don’t like each other and then they run into each other again and get talking and invite them in for a drink or dinner?

idk if you’ve written something like this already if u have then nvm haha thanksss take careeeee

-🍓

neighbours — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer sort of being dry / cold ( only in the beginning ) , mention of reader having a bad day a/n: thank you so much that makes me so happy :( <3333 - i hope you like this !! also i had to mention of mice and men i love that book so so much

You were having a terrible day. The kind of day where nothing seemed to go right. Your morning coffee had spilled all over your favorite sweater, your boss had dumped an unreasonable amount of work on your desk, and to top it all off, you’d gotten stuck in the rain on your way home. By the time you walked through your front door, you were soaked, frustrated, and in desperate need of some comfort. 

That’s why you had your music turned up loud, the bass thumping through your small apartment as you stood in the kitchen, staring at the oven.

The scent of chocolate chip cookies wafted through the air, but they weren’t baking fast enough for your liking. You crossed your arms and leaned against the counter, tapping your foot impatiently. If you stared hard enough, maybe they’d bake faster.

You were so lost in your thoughts that the knock on your door startled you. You straightened up, frowning. You weren’t expecting anyone, and your friends usually texted before showing up.

Wiping your hands on your apron, you walked to the door and peered through the peephole. Standing on the other side was your neighbor—the tall, lanky guy from across the hall. You were pretty sure his name was Spencer. You’d seen him around a few times, always carrying a stack of books or muttering to himself as he fumbled with his keys.

Your friends had heard you refer to him as “the cute neighbour” more than once, and you never felt the need to correct them.

You opened the door slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Hi?” you said, your voice tinged with confusion. 

He stood there, looking slightly awkward and not particularly happy. His hair was a little messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he was wearing a sweater that looked like it had seen better days.

“Hi,” he replied, his tone flat. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding direct eye contact. “Could you, um, lower your music? It’s… kind of loud.” 

You blinked, caught off guard. Of all the things you’d expected him to say, that wasn’t it. You crossed your arms over your chest, your frustration from the day bubbling to the surface. “It’s not that loud,” you said defensively, your voice sharper than you intended. “I’m just trying to unwind after a really crappy day.” 

Spencer’s eyes flicked up to meet yours for a brief moment before darting away again. He looked uncomfortable, like he wasn’t sure how to handle the situation.

“I understand that,” he said slowly, his voice softer now, “but it’s… it’s really distracting. I’m trying to work, and I can’t focus with the bass vibrating through the walls.” 

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Part of you wanted to argue, to tell him that you had every right to blast your music in your own apartment, but the look on his face stopped you.

He didn’t seem angry—just tired and a little stressed. Still, you weren’t ready to back down completely. “Fine,” you said, your tone clipped. “I’ll turn it down. But just so you know, it’s not like I do this every day.” 

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I appreciate it.” 

You didn’t respond, just closed the door a little harder than necessary and leaned against it, letting out a frustrated groan.

Great. Now you were the bad guy. You stomped back to the kitchen and turned the music down, the sudden silence making the apartment feel eerily empty.

The timer on the oven dinged, and you pulled out the cookies, setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was heavenly, but it did little to improve your mood. 

In the days that followed , things between you and Spencer were… awkward. Not hostile, but not exactly friendly either. You’d pass each other in the hallway, exchanging the briefest of glances before quickly looking away.

There were no greetings, no small talk—just a dry, unspoken tension that hung in the air.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. He was just your neighbor, after all. Sure, he was cute in a nerdy, endearing kind of way, but that didn’t mean you had to be friends.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed every time you saw him and he didn’t so much as smile in your direction. 

A week later, you found yourself in the cozy little bookstore across the street from your apartment. It was one of your favorite places to escape to.

You’d been searching for a specific book for ages—Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. You’d read it before, years ago, but something about the story had stuck with you, and you’d been itching to revisit it.

As you wandered through the fiction section, your eyes scanned the spines of the books until you finally spotted it. There it was, sitting on the shelf like it had been waiting for you.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you reached for it, but just as your fingers brushed the spine, another hand reached for it at the same time.

You froze, your eyes darting up to meet Spencer’s. He looked just as surprised as you were, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“Sorry,” you mumbled finally, dropping your hand and taking a step back. “You can have it.”

Spencer blinked, his expression softening. “No, no, it’s okay,” he said quickly, his voice quiet. “You were here first. I can find another copy.”

You shook your head, gesturing toward the book. “Really, it’s fine. I’ve read it before. I was just… in the mood to read it again.”

He hesitated, his fingers brushing the edge of the book. “It’s a good one,” he said after a moment, his tone thoughtful. “The themes of friendship and sacrifice are really compelling. And the ending…” He trailed off, his gaze distant, as if he were reliving the story in his mind.

You couldn’t help but smile, surprised by how easily he’d opened up about it.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice softer now. “It’s heartbreaking, but in a way that makes you think. I remember finishing it and just sitting there for a while, trying to process everything.”

Spencer nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Exactly. It’s one of those books that stays with you long after you’ve read it.”

The tension between you seemed to melt away as you talked, the conversation flowing more naturally than you’d expected.

You found yourself leaning against the bookshelf, your arms crossed as you debated the symbolism of the rabbits and the dream of owning a farm. Spencer, for his part, seemed to relax too, his gestures becoming more animated as he spoke.

At one point, he paused, his expression turning slightly sheepish. “I, um, I wanted to apologize for the other day,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t mean to come off as rude when I asked you to turn the music down. I was just… stressed, and I didn’t handle it well.”

You shook your head, feeling a pang of guilt. “No, I’m the one who should apologize,” you said quickly. “I was having a bad day, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

The conversation lulled for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Spencer shifted his weight, his fingers tapping lightly against the book he was still holding. “So, um,” he began, his voice hesitant, “if you’re not in a rush, there’s a coffee shop next door. I was going to grab a cup, and… well, if you’d like to join me, we could keep talking about the book. Or, you know, whatever.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the invitation.. “Yeah,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that.”

His smile widened, and you could’ve sworn you saw a faint blush creep across his cheeks. “Great,” he said, his voice a little brighter now. “Let me just, uh, pay for this first.”

He turned and walked toward the register, leaving you standing there, slightly stunned. You watched as he handed the cashier the book. When he turned back to you, he held the book out, his expression soft.

“Here,” he said, offering it to you. “You should have it. You were looking for it, after all.”

You stared at him, surprised. “But… you paid for it,” you said, your voice tinged with confusion. “I can’t just take it.”

He shrugged, his smile shy but persistent. “Consider it a peace offering.”

You hesitated for a moment before taking the book, your fingers brushing against his briefly. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your cheeks warming. “That’s… really sweet of you.”

He nodded, his hands slipping into his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. “So, coffee?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

“Coffee,” you agreed smiling, tucking the book under your arm.

[etclouie]

can i get 50 and 51 with spencer from the 100 list and its likd he’s embarrassed about constantly talking on and on but his girlfriend just listens

˚୨୧⋆｡ prompt/s; 50) “has anybody else ever made you feel like this?” and 51) “it feels like we were made for each other” — from 100 dialogue prompts

˚୨୧⋆｡ warnings; spencer x girlfriend!reader, reader listens and spencer talks, just domestic fluff really

˚୨୧⋆｡ a/n; there’s a real similar piece to this one i did for this event, and you can find it here

— thank you for celebrating 600 with me || submissions are now closed

neither you or Spencer could sleep, laying on the couch together while some movie played on tv. 

every so often Spencer would rhyme off a fact, which earned him a hum in response. 

but he’d began to stop sharing his facts, which made you frown. 

because you genuinely found them interesting, and you loved listening to him. 

wether it be about an actor in the film, or the location it was filmed at. you loved it all. 

“hey Spence?”

you called softly, turning to lay facing him as he did the same. his eyes tired and his hair messy, but it brought a smile to your face. 

he hummed in response to your call of his name, the blanket over both of you slipping before he tugged it back over you as you spoke. 

“how come you stopped sharing your facts?”

his eyes flicked from the tv and back to your face, and he could see the genuine interest in his facts as well as the disappointment from his sudden quietness. 

he sighed, eyes fluttering shut as you lifted a hand to cradle his face. thumb soothing across his cheek as he nestled into your touch, his skin warm against your palm. 

“don’t want to bore you”

he admitted in a whisper, almost embarrassed to have said the words aloud. 

you couldn’t help the frown that tugged at your lips, shaking your head with a sigh of your own. 

whispering back just as softly to him, thumb continuing across his cheek. 

“your facts could never bore me”

his skin warmed and a pink hue painted his cheeks, he was shyer now. closer to embarrassment from making assumptions. 

when his eyes met yours again they were full of love, a longing and warmth for the love you held for him. 

it felt strange almost. 

how loved you actually made him feel, even when he had a tendency to talk on and on sometimes. 

you knew how he felt about his ability to over share, and the few times people he worked with had pointed it out to him made him self conscious—so the warmth in his cheeks and his new shyness to you made it a lot clearer. 

no one had made him feel loved how you did. no one had ever loved him how you did. 

“has anybody else ever made you feel like this?”

you asked, wanting to clarify your suspicions. 

he could only muster a nod in response, and your heart ached at the admission. 

leaning in you kissed him softly, feeling him smile against your lips. he rolled onto his back and held you against his side, your head on his shoulder. 

he tilted his head to press a kiss to your forehead before he whispered out to you. 

“thank you for loving me”

your eyes flicked up to his, finding nothing but love in his gaze. 

leaning up to capture his lips again in a soft kiss, his lips soft against yours as you whispered out to him. 

“it feels like we were made for each other”

you seen the way one of his eyebrows raised at your words, the gesture a silent request for you to continue. 

“you talk and i listen, you tell interesting facts and i fall more in love with you each second”

he shook his head at your words but leaned in to kiss you again, his hands falling to your hips as he pulled you to lay on top of him. 

breaking the kiss pulled a reluctant noise from his throat before he was whispering out against your lips. 

“thank you for always listening, and loving me”

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[pedriache]

spencer blurb where he’s reading a book whilst resting his hand on your lap and it’s just fluff, feel free to add in whatever! (hands in his hair, soft but subtle kisses, maybe you doze off?) love u!

Eyes in the sun — Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your favorite moments with your boyfriend were the one’s where you were alone together. His head in your lap, your fingers in his hair, you loved him like the sun loves the earth.

Word count: 589

Disclaimer/s: fluff , established relationship !

A/N: i luh yuh spencer reid

The soft crackling of Spencer’s vintage record player switching tracks was the only sound disturbing the silence that engulfed the two of you, other than the turning of pages every few seconds.

Spencer’s head rested in your lap with your fingers playing with his curls. He was reading a new book, one he’d picked up from the library on the way home from work. You’d smiled when he told you, watching the way his eyes lit up as he talked about how excited he was to read it.

You’d had a long day at work, exhaustion rippling throughout you even as you sat with him. Leaning down, you press a tender kiss to Spencer’s forehead, tiredly meeting his eyes when they flickered up at you.

Spencer always complained about germs, he hated touching people for the simple fact that he didn’t know where they’d put their hands. But with you? He craved it. He craved your gentle touches and the feeling of your lips on his flesh.

Your boyfriend’s lips pull into a small smile. “What?” He examines your face, eyebrows scrunching when he notices your sleepy look. “You should take a nap, you look tired.”

Chuckling lightly, you thread your fingers through his hair. “I can stay awake for a little while longer. Still have to make dinner for us.” You graze his cheek with your knuckles, tracing his defined cheekbone up to his temple.

Spencer’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, and he sets his book aside, making sure to save the page first. “I can make dinner.” He offers, eyes opening to look up at you in the way they do.

He’d always been hard to read. You weren’t a profiler, you were a doctor, but you weren’t trained to understand facial expressions like he was. The only exception being when he looked at you, the love was so evident in every single glance.

“It’s no big deal, I can get up now—“

Spencer shakes his head, “no, no, i’ll make it. Close your eyes.” You weren’t going to argue, you really did want to get a quick nap.

So, while Spencer went back to finishing the chapter, you rest your eyes. Soft exhales leaving your lips while you slipped into a light slumber.

An hour later, you’re woken with a soft shake of your shoulder. You’re instantly alert, head snapping up to look at Spencer. “What—did I fall asleep? How long—“

“Dinner is ready.” The brunette says through a breathy laugh, “come on!” He says, holding out his hands for you to take, which you do with a tired smile.

He pulls you up and flush against him. Spencer’s head dips down to hover an inch above your lips, “do you feel rested?” He asks quietly, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

“Sort of.” You shrug, “y’know what would really wake me up?” A hint of mischief in your eyes as you speak.

Spencer rolls his eyes playfully, “let me think…” Huffing with impatience, you bring your hands up to his cheeks and connect your lips in a slow, love filled kiss.

The man smiles into the kiss, breathing in your scent. Everything about you intoxicated him. “I made your favorite, called Rossi for the recipe.” He’d broken away from the kiss, still within kissing distance, though.

Gasping, you place a quick peck to his lips. “Thank you! Oh, I love you so much.” You pull away from him and eagerly make your way into the kitchen with Spencer closely in tow.

Let me know if you want tagged in any Criminal minds fics I post. Like’s , comments , reblog’s are always appreciated <3

DTS , @halfwayhearted !

[gublerryswift]

Am I allowed to cry? pt. 1 | Spencer Reid x Reader

In which you're in love with Spence, but never told him.

angst! (but don't worry, part two will be fluff)

warnings: Some light swearing and that's it i think (??)

content: Mutual pining (although spencer's side isn't really shown in this part)

a/n: I've been writing this one for 2 weeks and even deleted it once, but finally got to it and finished this!! Hope you guys like it <3

You had joined the BAU only 2 years after Spencer, and you two quickly became friends and only grew closer with time. Now, 5 years after meeting, you two we’re best friends, joined at the hip. Spencer was the greatest friend you could have, understanding and loving. Maybe that’s why your stupid brain decided to complicate things, at some point you started to see Spencer in a different light. 

One day, when you were having the worst cramps ever during a case, Spencer went out of the precinct the team was at, when he came back he had bought you chocolates and heating pads to help with the pain. You felt like you could cry, and after he gave you one of his beautiful smiles, you realized. 

Oh fuck… I'm in love with Spencer Reid.

That day, you also swore you would never tell him, there’s no way he felt the same, and you would not ruin the perfect friendship you both had. 

What you seemed to forget about was that, at some point, Spencer was going to get a date, a girlfriend or whatever, and you didn’t even stop to think how you would feel when that day arrived. 

Well... You don’t need to imagine it anymore, because it finally happened. The day before, Spencer had told you how he finally gathered the courage to ask a girl that he’d been on a few dates to be his girlfriend. Your heart sank when he delivered the news to you, though you did your best to seem enthusiastic for him. 

“Really, spence, that’s great. I'm super happy for you!” You told him, before quickly excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

You felt so dumb, you knew Spencer was not in love with you, you thought you had accepted that, so why the fuck are you feeling like the floor has been taken off your feet every time you think about him loving someone that isn’t you? God, you might be going crazy.  

You knew you wouldn't be able to keep your "omg I'm so happy for you!" facade for long. Your genius solution was to avoid him, only for some time, while you dealt with your feelings. 

You decided to talk with the only person that knew about your feelings besides you, Penelope.

You open the door to her office, “Pen, help me. I’m so stupid, my brain is broken or something” 

Penelope turns around on her chair, pulling another one for you to sit 

“Oh no honey, whatever it is you're not stupid, now, what’s happening?” 

“Spence has a date… God, I’m 27 years old, why the fuck do I care about this”  

“Ohh you’re in love, baby. Of course, you’re going to feel bad, that’s normal. Trust me, I’ve been there.” 

“Maybe… It doesn't matter anyway. I'm going to avoid him for this week, process all this shit and then everything will be back to normal” You force a smile, that was meant to pass a positivity you didn't even really feel, but it just made Penelope feel bad for you. 

“Maybe don’t do that. You know Spencer is going to notice, it’s best if you talk to him.” She says, repeating an advice she has lost count how many times she’s given you. Penelope has always been sure Spencer was into you, and always encouraged you to confess. Needless to say, you never heard her advice. 

“No, I can't. I would ruin our friendship, he would hate me. And, it would be so unfair of me, I mean… I only confess now that he has a chance with someone?” You take a deep breath, and get up from the chair  “Thanks for the chat pen, love you” You say, placing a kiss on her cheek and leaving her office. 

You really did appreciate her advice, but there’s no way you would confess to Spencer, not only would it seem petty, but you were deadly afraid to ruin your friendship… not that avoiding him was doing any good, but fuck that you’re not in the mood to be rational right now. 

You head to your desk, avoiding eye contact with Spencer and just focusing on your work when Hotch calls the team. You guys have a new case. 

“Great”  You mumble under your breath, even if being in the office would be hard to avoid Reid, having to be out on a case with him will make it impossible. That doesn't mean you're not going to try. "Im an adult and a professional, this shit should not get in the way of my work." You think to yourself as if it's a mantra to keep you focused. 

You enter the room, taking a seat between Emily and Rossi, as Hotch and Penelope brief the team you can see in your peripheral vision how Spencer's gaze shift to you, making avoiding it somehow more difficult. You're used to giving him small smiles, being beside him and always being in contact with each other somehow, he even would be fine with letting you hug him beside his germophobia, so you're sure he already noticed how distant you were being. 

"Alright, wheels up in 30, We'll get more details on the jet" 

— 

On the jet, hotch distributes the tasks, as always, he paired you up with Reid to do the geoprofiling. 

After a couple of hours, you and the team arrive at the precinct. As the rest of the team goes out to the field, you and Reid stay back doing the reading, and geoprofiling. You only speak to him when it's something regarding the case. Luckily, after a day, you guys finally makes the arrest, and soon you are back on the jet.

As soon as you arrive back to the BAU office, you just pass by Garcia's office to give her a quick goodbye and head to the elevator, ready to go home, and finally process your feelings - or better yet, force yourself to get over Spencer.

If this was under normal circumstances, you and Reid would be standing together in front of the elevator discussing which food you two would order as you watched some weird indie movie. The memory of those times brings a sharp pain to your chest, how could you be so naive? Yes, you told yourself he was not interested, but deep down between all those moments you two shared you hoped one day he would see you as something more than just a friend. 

"Hey, is everything alright? You seemed off today" Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice when Spencer stood beside you, his voice pulling you off your thoughts. 

"I'm great spence, just have a headache"

"Are you sure? You know, lying to a profiler has a very small percentage of working" 

"I'm sure, don't worry… So, is it today?" You ask, as you two step in the elevator and press the button to the garage level

"Yeah, I'm really nervous." 

"That's normal, but it'll be fine, don't worry" The elevator gets to the floor your car is at, you hold the door open and turn to him "hey, be yourself ok? She'll be lucky to have you." You say, before shooting him a small smile and getting out the elevator. 

As you walk towards your car, a few tears start streaming down your face, you've known you love him for a long time, and you now realize that you might never know what could have been between you two. Maybe Garcia was right, but now it's too late to say anything. 

[smoshyourheadin]

yay!!!!!! mother is back!!!!!!

could i request a spencer agnew x reader where they meet at a bar and spencer ends up taking the reader home and it ends however you want

Butterflies That Flutter By

pairing: spencer agnew x f!reader

a/n: I. LOVE. THIS. anon u cooked w this. i went CRAZAAAAY!! two posts in one night who am i!! also sorry if u wanted smut i don’t feel comfortable writing it for real ppl!! charachters i can consider it tho ;)

warnings: if u don’t like mentions of alcohol or just a bar setting then this probably isn’t for u!! i’m sure ill catch you at another time tho <3

requests r open <33

saturdays are when you thrive. going out with all your college friends was just tradition at this point.

sitting at the bar in between anna and courtney, you complain about another failed date you had recently.

“ugh, he was just the worst! he was talking about his podcast the whole time, and then asked me to go back to his place? what do men expect me to say after that. ‘oh yes you talking about your alpha male, gym, i hate women podcast really made me so attracted to you’ like come on!” you turn to anna who’s laughing at you, with a sad stare, and she then is quick to put a hand on your shoulder.

“it’s okay! im sure you’ll find your man soon. isn’t court trying to set you up with that guy from her work?” she says to you, cocking her head to the side slightly.

courtney then chimes in, “yes! oh my gosh, her and spencer are literally perfect for each other! you need to meet him soon, you’ll love him!” she says with a wide smile.

“i mean, he is pretty cute…” you trail off.

courtney had been trying to set you and her friend spencer up for weeks now, and as she continued to gush about how spencer would appreciate your nerdiness and how you would adore his, you feel a tug of curiosity. ignoring the conversation for a moment, you make your way to the old street fighter arcade machine at the end of the bar. the familiar sounds of the game fill your ears as you slip a coin into the slot, your fingers itching to take control of your favorite character - ryu.

as you focus on the game, your mind drifts to the idea of meeting spencer. would he really be as perfect for you as courtney says? The thought lingers in your mind a bit as you unleash a flurry of moves on the joystick, losing yourself in the focus.

as you're deeply engrossed in the game, spencer enters the bar, scanning the room for courtney. spotting her animatedly chatting with anna, he makes his way over, a small smile playing on his lips. courtney notices him approaching and waves him over eagerly.

"hey, spencer! glad you could make it," she greets him with enthusiasm, nudging anna to make space for him between them.

"hey, court, thanks for inviting me!" spencer replies, returning her smile. his eyes then wander around the bar, landing on you as you fiercely battle your way through the arcade game.

courtney follows his gaze and grins mischievously. "oh, hey, look who's here! it's the girl i've been telling you about," she says, motioning towards you.

spencer's interest piques, and he watches you play for a moment, impressed by your technique. he can't help but notice how focused you are, your determination evident in every move you make. with a newfound curiosity, he watches in awe as you skillfully defeat everyone you fight with ease.

“hey…” you whip your head around and stand up straight from your practically bent over pose, as you hear courtney’s voice from behind you.

there, stood next to her, is possibly the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

he’s got beautiful brown eyes, and dark curly hair. with glasses. oh my. he’s dressed in slacks, tattered old vans, a flannel, and an old work jacket.

“um, hi court.” is all you can muster up to say to her.

“this is spencer, spencer this is the woman of your dreams!” she giggles.

spencer glares at her, but then smiles sincerely at you.

“so, street fighter, huh? you've got some serious skills," spencer remarked, impressed by your gameplay.

you glanced over at him, offering a small smile in return. "thanks! it's one of my favorite games. i've been playing since i was a kid. i think it’s one of the main reasons i decided to be a game developer."

courtney takes this opportunity to slip away from you both, leaving you to geek out together, and she rushes over to anna

“i told you! twenty bucks says they leave together!” she grins.

“you are so on!” anna replies.

across the bar, you and spencer are chatting it up, both leant against the wall near the machine.

spencer takes a sip of his drink before leaning in. "so, who's your main in street fighter?"

you grin, a rush of excitement at the chance to talk about your favorite character. "call me basic, but definitely ryu! i love his playstyle, and his hadoukens! they’re pretty gnarly."

"classic choice," spencer replied with a nod of approval. "i’m more of a ken guy myself. gotta respect the fiery spirit, you know?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. "yeah, ken's cool. those shoryukens can really mess up the game though.”

he smiles at your reply, and the conversation flows on. you find yourself talking to him for the better part of an hour, eventually sitting at the bar with him.

“um, you don’t have to say yes,” he says, turning to you. “but, would you want to come back to my place?”

you smile at him, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear “i’d like that.”

and so, you find yourself walking back to spencer’s apartment and talking to him about how much you love zelda.

stepping into his apartment, you’re immediately greeted by an array of nerdy decorations that cover every corner. posters of classic video game characters lined the walls, and shelves filled with action figures and memorabilia from various fandoms.

"wow, you have quite the collection!" you exclaimed, taking in the sight with wide eyes.

spencer chuckles nervously with a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head. "yeah, i might have gone a little overboard."

but to you, it’s like stepping into a treasure trove of nostalgia, and honestly? you were jealous. you eagerly made your way around the room, pointing out your favorite pieces and telling him about the games and shows you loved most.

"that's a limited edition link figurine, right?" you ask, pointing to a display on one of the shelves.

spencer nodded, a hint of pride in his voice. "yeah, it's one of my prized possessions! i also have a few special edition zelda figures."

as you continue to explore, spencer watches you with a mixture of awe and admiration. he had never met someone who shared his passion for all things nerdy quite like you did. It felt surreal to have someone in his space who not only appreciated but genuinely enjoyed his interests.

before long, the initial awkwardness of the invitation fades away, replaced by a comfortable ease as you bond over your shared love for video games, movies, and everything in between.

the night continues, and you end up making him watch your favourite film - perfect blue, which you watch in comfortable silence.

as the credits roll, you stretch out comfortably on spencer's couch, feeling the pleasant weight of sleep pulling at your eyelids. the movie is intense, and you’re exhausted from the day's excitement.

spencer glances over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he noticed your drooping eyelids. he gently reached for the remote and turned off the playstation you were using to watch it, casting the room into a soothing darkness.

"you tired?" he asks, his voice low and gentle.

you nod sleepily, snuggling into the cushions. "yeah, it's been a long day. sorry for almost falling asleep on you."

spencer chuckles softly, shaking his head. "don't apologize. it's actually kind of nice having someone to watch movies with, even if they fall asleep halfway through."

you smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. despite only meeting him tonight, you already feel a sense of comfort in his presence.

with a contented sigh, you let yourself drift off, the steady rhythm of spencer's heartbeat beneath you lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

later that night, as you sleep soundly against him, spencer can’t resist taking a picture of you, your peaceful expression illuminated by the soft glow of the tv’s ‘no signal’ screen. he texts it to courtney with a simple message: "she isn't too bad."

as he presses send, a smile tuggs at the corners of his lips.

courtney opens the message to see your face, her jaw dropping. she closes the messages from spencer, and immediatley texts anna,

‘u owe me 20 ;)’

[beelmons]

cw: i dont even know, cock sucking!!!!, slight exhibitionism, kind of dom!spencer but not completely, he teaches!!!

A/N: as a gift for my lovely adorable wife @ihavemanyhusbands i have written this, again pure filth like i know she likes &lt;3 (coulda be more puerco tbh)

“...and now, Dr. Reid will explain a bit more about the course content to the board, this with the purpose of seeking the approval for it to become a curricular class. Dr. Reid, you have our attention.” the head of the psychology department offered the floor to Spencer. 

“Right, hello, my name is Dr. Spencer Reid, I hold various credentials in psychology and sociology and I’m what’s commonly known as a profiler with the FBI.” he cleared his throat slightly, his voice being oddly coarse “Please excuse my turned-off camera, I’m feeling a tad ill.” 

Whenever he had online meetings with the school staff he was always so proper, that’s why it was so amusing, to you, to see him sitting there lying his ass off. Granted, he was not all that well, his body had woken up with painful stiffness, or rather, it was a specific part of him, and you were already taking care of it. 

You felt him twitch in your mouth when he began explaining, his voice having trouble keeping a steady, professional tone as he normally did. Something about the curriculum of the class, you couldn’t care less, especially when his delicious precum had begun to leak against your tongue; his hands were moving as they usually did when he talked, even when the rest of the members couldn’t see him. 

Every couple seconds he would fall silent to contain a moan, take a deep breath, fake a cough, and excuse himself before he continued talking. You decided to give him a small break, your lips leaving his shaft free to interrupt the stimuli; he seemed to relax when he noticed the lack of contact, regardless of how much he was enjoying it, and that didn’t sit right with you. Your mouth changed targets instead, and so it latched onto one of his testicles. It was a wet, hungry, and messy suck, and once you were satisfied with the moisture your tongue left on it, you let go with a loud pop. 

You were able to appreciate his ears reddening in shyness, unsure if the sound could be heard by the rest of the people involved in the call. You sort of guessed he would look down at you disapprovingly, so you placed your face right below his cock and wore your most innocent, merry-go-lucky smile. He stole a glance, as expected, underneath the desk where his laptop was laying, and in between his legs, the place you had made a nest for yourself in, could see the vivid image of your angelic face tainted by the lewdness of his hardened dick, the perfect contrast he adored so much. The sight made his member pulse up, and it tapped at your cheek when it landed back down. 

He continued to talk and leave you neglected, much to your disapproval, so you decided to continue with your little game. Your head went back to bobbing itself, sloppily, onto his cock, tongue pressed firmly to taste every bit of flesh available to it. 

“...and that’s the overall impact we expect it to have on psychology graduates. Thank you.” he finally wrapped up his speech. 

“Thank you, Dr. Reid. Now, the board will present arguments in favor or against adding the class to the regular curriculum…” the chairman prompted the continuation of the meeting. 

You heard a small click of a button, and that’s when you realized he had muted the mic, and it was your turn to receive a fraction of his attention. He pushed his chair back, forcing you to let go of your preferred suck treat, so he could properly look at you. His hand grabbed at your chin to have you staring at his face. 

“Are you insane? Do you want me to lose my job?” he asked with seriousness, but the rapid breathing told you he was more than enjoying the little service. 

“A little.” you said halfheartedly “It kinda interferes with my job.” 

he raised his eyebrows in disbelief “Really? And what job is that, exactly?” he said in a sarcastic tone. 

“I’m a professional cock sucker, of course.” the twinkle in your eye as you joked made his heart flutter in ways only you could achieve. 

“Come on, up.” he said, slightly pulling on your chin to drag you out “Up, up.” he continued to command. 

You grumbled in complaint as you crawled from underneath the wooden furniture and got up. Maybe you had done it this time, you finally tested his endless patience. You had begun thinking how to apologize to him, after all you really didn’t mean any harm. Your train of thought was interrupted, however, by a grip on your hips that directed you to his lap, not quite letting you take a seat but rather hover over him with your back facing his front. 

Without being able to fully process what was going on, one of his fingers pushed the fabric of your panties aside; the previous night had been a hot one, so you had slept in your underwear. He grabbed his cock by the base to align his tip with your entrance, and with an abrupt movement he pushed you down, filling you up immediately. 

Your hands landed on the desk to give you something to grip on and keep yourself steady as his hips bounced you up and down. You almost immediately began to moan in pleasure, head thrown back in ecstasy. In front of you, you could see the laptop laying about, with the people of the meeting still talking about something you didn’t understand, and didn’t care to understand; your hands wandered to the mouse pad on the machine, dangerously moving the cursor over the camera toggle button, if you were to, say, accidentally press on it, everyone would see who the respected Dr. Reid really was, the cunt addict that hid behind the professional facade of a genius. 

“Don’t even think about it.” as if he could read your mind, his arms left your hips to grab yours instead. 

The grip was slightly painful as he pulled them behind your back, swiftly keeping them behind you, away from the device, with some force. He couldn’t see the mischievous grin on your face, having been caught made you feel the best type of naughty. His thrusts had gotten rougher, his pretend anger showing in his movements, his groans were a delight to your ears, head shoved against the fabric of your pajama top trying to contain his sounds. He had long forgotten about whatever the board was saying, too lost in the velvet sensation of your walls clenching around him, and praying to tesla that he could fuck you a bit longer before he eventually bursted with the orgasm he had been wanting to experience for the last twenty minutes. 

“Then, that concludes our meeting, the board’s resolution will be given the day after tomorrow. Now, as it’s pertinent we need to take a picture to commemorate the board reunion, so I’ll ask you to open your cameras for a little bit, that includes you, Dr. Reid, I promise it will be quick.” the man on the screen said. 

“Shit-” Spencer emitted as the mention of his name suddenly snapped him to the reality of his event. He tried to push you off his cock, but you childishly pressed yourself further down. “Come on!” he complained “At least hide!” 

He began to panic seeing that everyone else was waiting for him to open the camera lens for the picture. In the rush, he pushed you down by the head, forcing you to get under the desk, or rather only half of your body under the desk. In the process, he hit your forehead lightly with one of the corners. 

“Spencer!” you yelled at him in complaint, and he muttered a quick ‘sorry’

Your position ended up completely awkward, his cock still in your cunt, your feet firmly on the ground, and your body bent forward underneath the desk, your hands managed to press themselves on the floor as well to keep the balance, but you huffed offendedly at how he had left you. 

“Excuse me, I was just freshening up a bit.” he said, and you could deduce he had toggled the camera and the mic on “I’m ready.” 

You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of manhandling you like that, he had to suffer for it a little bit. Your hips began to rock in a circular motion as you rocked back and forth, fucking yourself to his dick. Soft moans left your lips even when your arms were beginning to get tired, your walls clenching around his member with the speed of an approaching orgasm. 

You couldn’t see him, but the blush on his ears had spread to his entire face, his entire lower body began to spasm; his hand gripped tightly onto your buttock trying to stop your movement, but you were not to be contained anymore, your hips continued their rhythm, and you could feel his fingers getting more desperate to stop you. No wonder, since seconds later you could feel yourself being filled up with his cum. 

He tried to keep his apparent composure on camera, even when you heard his pleasured whine echo throughout his studio room, accompanied with your moan of pleasure as you came undone against his cock. 

“Thank you, everyone, for your time and attention, oh, and Dr. Reid.” the chairman spoke again “Please take something for your fever, you look awfully flushed.” 

“Will do.” he simply answered with his signature awkward smile and a nod to go along. 

Once you had ridden your climax down, you attempted to crawl from under the desk to set his member free. Naive movement on your part, since the second he began to slide out of you his hands roughly pulled your hips back again, having himself fully covered by your pussy once more. 

“Not so fast.” 

You couldn’t see his face, but the tone of his voice sent shivers down your spine. It was time for punishment, time for retaliation.

[moon-river-me]

Hii

A recommendation would be that the reader flirts with Spencer and he is very blushing because of it. The team would have fun with it haha.

Have a nice day!! 💖

ok so this is my first fanfic so i would really appreciate feedback(good and bad).

Ties.

fem! BAUreader, awkward spencer reid, sfw. I imagined early seasons spencer but it is non specified.

551 words.

“Did you know that wearing a tie can reduce blood flow to the brain by 7.5 percent?” Ties. That was how this exceedingly embarrassing rant began, you did that thing you do were you randomly compliment spencer; he loves it and hates it at the same time. Which for someone like himself, a logical man who values concrete answers, does not appreciate. Spencer loves problem solving, he has always been an amazing problem solver, when there was an equation, there was an answer, when there was a question, there was an answer, but the random comments that never fail to tinge his cheeks a rose hue, Spencer Reid did not have an answer for that.

By now Spencer realized he has been spitting useless facts about ties for over 3 minutes, which resulted in his face turning an even brighter shade of red.

“Pretty boy, all she said was nice tie,” Derek’s belly laugh could certainly be heard through the entire bullpen. Great, and even bigger crowd for his humiliation.

You giggle, keeping your eyes directly on his, “no no I love your facts spence, as long as you don’t give me a statistic on coffee and its correlation to some unheard-of disease, I will happily listen to you talk.” You add a subtle wink when you finish talking. Spencer’s bashful expression morphed into one of shock.

“You do?” The pure confusion in his voice added to your melodic laugh.

“Of course Spence, it’s the best part of working here.” While light-hearted, he picked up on the truth behind your words, making a shy grin appear on his face. He pushed his glasses up before realising his hair had now fallen Infront of his eyes.

“Here let me,” and before he knew it, your hand was directly in front of his eyes, pushing his hair out of his view. Spencer couldn’t take his gaze away from you. You keep the silent staring contest between you going. You know you will win; you always do.

“Boy genius, you look like a tomato” Penelope states are she strolls past to Derek’s desk.

“Red? I- I am not red its just hot in here.” His voice goes up at least an octave, his hand automatically travels to his cheeks.

“Okay keep telling yourself that Dr Reid,” you whisper the last part so only he could hear. You hand goes and taps his shoulder, keeping it there for a second longer than what could be considered normal, before moving to your desk, which coincidently is directly opposite his.

“I wasn’t lying by the way. Your tie is really nice. Suits you.” You state nonchalantly, as if that sentence didn’t make Spencers stomach swirl and form knots.

“I like yours too! Wait no.” You were not wearing a tie. Great. His utter screw up made you throw your head back laughing, increasing greatly when you looked at his horrified face.

“Thank you, Spence.” Your laugh slowly morphing back into your staple giggle, “maybe I will wear one tomorrow, and then you can mean it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer felt like a puddle on the floor, but the look of admiration in your face made that feeling run for the hills.

“Don’t apologise, it was very cute. you are very cute” You promise him, nodding your head to accentuate your point.

oh. oh.

a/n

ok so sorry this is so bad but feedback would be very very great thanks!! I have some Aaron Hotchner x readers' coming up <3

I did NOT proof read lets pray this makes sense :)

[thir10th]

2x20- Honor among thieves

Summary: Emily is scared to tell her mother about her relationship. This is a one-shot inspired by 2x20 because I love this kind of dynamic. It's a whole episode insert. TW: some suggestive content, fluff, coming out, I really can't think of anything else but let me know if I'm missing something A/N: I love making these, and I've realized there's almost no episode inserts for Emily in a one-shot format and why is that??? i love these sm please people write more like this. English it's not my first language and it's 4am so sorry for any mistakes. Enjoy, any feedback is appreciated, please like and reblog if you like it.

“Excuse me, agent. I need to speak to agent Prentiss and one of her superiors” a commanding voice can be heard from outside the room. You don’t recognize it, so you look at Emily, sitting next to you, her almost horrified face tells you she does know who the woman speaking is. She shoots up from her seat, and looking down you can hear her asking “Mother?” You had never meet Emily’s mom, but you had heard some conversations with her daughter over the phone. You could always tell she wasn’t in a good mood because her mom had called. In a way it reminded you of your own relationship with your mom. Emily and you were open about your relationship, everyone on the team knew and they supported you. Once you had promised to limit the PDA, even Hotch had let you share hotel rooms during cases, and change desks with Spencer so you could be next to each other. However, families were always a different area. You knew how strict Emily’s mom had been with her, and still was. She hadn’t told her about you yet, so to her mother’s eyes, Emily was still single, and hadn’t been in a relationship for a long time now. You didn’t mind it, Emily wasn’t close to her family, or any other relatives. The BAU was like your family, it was her choice after all.

•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*

Whatever happened inside Hotch’s office convinced him to take the case. You kept an eye on Emily the whole time you were discussing the case. She stays by the poor woman’s side who can’t stop crying over her husband’s chopped off finger, Emily keeps trying to calm her talking to her in Russian. Hotch divides the team, sends Reid, Morgan and Gideon were sent to Baltimore, and you stayed there along with Emily and Hotch.

You knew your girlfriend and her mom weren’t exactly close, what you weren’t expecting was how her presence would affect Emily. You want to comfort her but you can’t do it in front of her mom, so you just keep sneaking to rest your hand on her thigh behind the table, maybe to caress her shoulder when no one is looking, she leans on your touch accepting it. Emily and you both walk up to Hotch when he gets out of his office “Your mother’s got feelers out. She’s confident she can get results” he tells Emily “Well, if anybody can, it’s Ambassador Prentiss” she answers “How is she doing?” Hotch asks referring to the victim’s wife, who is still crying in the chair Emily just left her “How would you be?” She answers JJ finally arrives accompanied by the translator, who she has already briefed, and takes her to talk with the family. “Thank god. I’m really not very good at Russian” Emily tells us, and even Hotch smiles “If it would be all right, I would like to go help my mother” Hotch accepts, but she just stands there, looking at you, almost as if trying to say something she doesn’t dare to say. You know she wants you to come with her, but doesn’t know if you’re ok with it, and won’t ask the question. “Hotch, may I-“ “Yes, go” you don’t even have to finish asking, he accepts and you see Emily’s expression change and relax “Thank you, sir” you say, but he has already turned around and you follow Emily

•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*

“Hey you” you say with a soft voice, entering the rest room, you were dying for some alone time with your girlfriend and it seemed like that was the only place you would find it “how are you coping?” You ask, as you stepped closer to her. She was standing in the mirror, looking at her reflection grabbing her hair with her hands “I’m great!” She says sarcastically, and made you chuckle, you wrap your arm around her waits, pulling her close to you, leaving a soft kiss on her cheek, she smiles weakly in approval.

"I know this is being hard for you Em" you tell her, running your hand through her back soothingly.

"It´s just... when I'm with my mom... It doesn't matter if it's at work, or at home, I could be anywhere and still feel like I'm 16 again" she lets out, resting her head on your shoulder and pulling you closer. "I can't be who i really am... i mean, we have to hide in the bathroom to even touch" she says referring to the current situation

"Wait, -be who you really are?- Em, you haven't come out?" you ask, feeling a mix of surprise and sadness, telling her mother about her relationship is one thing, but not telling her she was gay at all, it's a completely different business.

"No, I'm sorry.... it never felt like the right time to do it, and you saw her, I mean how am I even supposed to do it? Does this...change anything?" You would obviously never pressure Emily into comin out, you knew very well yourself how hard it could be, and everyone's case is different, even tho this only confirmed your previous worry on not being able to have a relationship of any kind with Emily's mother, you could also feel how frustrating everything was for her, how much she needed this.

"Hey, no, of course it doesn't, how could it? mph?" you tighten your grip around her waist to avoid her letting go, resting your other hand on her cheek, caressing her face with your thumb, she closes her eyes relying on the touch, moving her lips to kiss the palm of your hand, you bring her face close to kiss her. Her lips grazing yours softly, you caress her face with your hand, she touches your face with her hand, pulling you closer, deeper.

The sudden noise of the door opening surprises you, you quickly pull away from each other, you turn around to see her mom just entered the restroom. She mutters a soft "hello" mostly for Emily, more than for you. You try to play it cool as well as you can, finish washing your hands as fast as you can and leave, praying that she hasn't seen anything.

•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*

You try to keep quiet as you overhear a conversation between Emily and her mom on the other room. Emily seems upset at how her mom is -turning the conversation into an interrogation- as she just said, and you casually walk in which shuts them up suddenly. A call comes in for Ambassador Prentiss and she picks up right after the first tone.

"Gregor! My daughter Em's in the room with me" she greets the man on the other line "Ah! little Emily" he says. you can't contain the smile that forms on your lips, looking at Emily and mouthing the nickname to mess with her, she smiles back, mouthing you to keep it down, but she can't contain the smile that forms on her lips as well. Unfortunately, the man can't give us any new information, so he says goodbye to Emily, and she hangs up the phone in defeat.

"We should head back to the office and let them know" Emily says, and you rush to go with her, her mom makes you stay, she insists she needs to ask you a few questions about the list of names you had called Garcia to run earlier, and you tell Emily you'll meet her outside.

Your whole body tenses as you see the d¡way Emily's mom is looking at you, you can tell she's trying to decipher you, maybe she saw something when she entered the restroom earlier, maybe she'll tell you she wants wyou away from her daughter.

"Agent y/l/n, are you by any chance close to my daughter?" she asks, you can tell she's genuinely curious, it's not a rethorical question, so you try to answer with as much sincerity as you can.

"well, yes, almost since the first time we met, I mean, you could tell we are pretty close" it's the most honest you can be without saying -actually, we spend a lot of time together, mostly in bed-

"and would you say she's happy?" this one takes you by surprise, you can hear the concern in her voice, she's just a worried mother.

"from what i know Emily, and i believe i can say it's a lot, i would say she is very happy, but with all due respect, if you really wanna know maybe you should ask her yourself, just like that" she takes a couple of seconds to look at you, analysing what your answer and yourself, then, dismissing you with a "Thank you" you leave.

"what did she want from you?" she asked, you could read the worry in her eyes

"she wanted to know if we were close, and if you were happy" you tell her straight away. "and what did you tell her?" she asks, confused. "i said we were quite close, and from what i could tell, you were pretty content" she nods, accepting your answer. "She seemed pretty defeated, maybe she isn't infallible after all"

•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*

It didn't take much longer to solve this case. The victim's daughter being involved in the kidnapping came as a surprise to all of you, but as always, you let it go, and finished for the day.

You and Emily went back to her apartment, there were very few nights you spent apart, and this was no other. You were specially happy tonight to have some alone time to spend with one another.

Emily was quick to flop on the couch as soon as you entered the apartment, it made you happy to see her as her usual self in the confort of her apartment.

"I'm so glad this one's over" she breathes out as she struggles to take her shoes off. You headed towards the kitchen to grab something to drink for the both of you, looking at Emily and chuckling at her efforts. "Need a hand with that?" you said suggestively as you grab two wine glasses of the counter.

She gets up the couch and heads your direction "Here you go" you say offering her a glass of red wine. She takes a sip and smiles, turning her head to look at you.

"I'm sorry if i was a bit frisky today" she says "It's ok, you had a rough one, we all do, you were also under a lot of pressure" you added, trying to take it off her mind, and taking another sip of your glass. "Well, I think i know how to make it up for you" she smirks and rises her eyebrows, taking your glass and leaving it along with hers on the counter again, she grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer and kissing you deeply.

You breath out in release, thankful to finally be this close after the stressful day. She grabs you with both her hands, leaving you on the countertop, moving to your neck, leaving wet, soft kisses all over the sensitive skin there, you wrap your arms around her neck and hers find their way underneath your shirt.

You pull your head back, allowing your girlfriend a better access to your neck, which she uses to cover all your neck in kisses, nipping at your skin there which would for sure leave purple marks by tomorrow. You moan when she finds your pulse-point, and run your hands through her body, getting rid of her shirt as fast as you can, going back to kissing her lips.

She starts unbuttoning your shirt, not wanting to waste any second. She pushes you further onto the countertop where she has a better access to your body, you wrap your legs around her waist, running your hands over her back, trying to reach every square inch of skin you can get to.

She's right about to start unbuttoning your pants when a knock on the door surprises the both of you

"Did you order dinner?" You ask her, she shooks her head. She grabs her shirt and rushes to get it on, when you hear the knock again, you start buttoning yours too.

"I'll go check it out" You say, as you get to the door and open it in a hurry. You were ready to make go away whoever was trying to interrupt your night, but instead your mouth just flew open as you saw who was knocking on your girlfriend's door. "Ambasador Prentiss?"

"Hello? Agent y/l/n I thought this was my daughter's adress" she says in confusion, you can't even respond, you've siemply freezed.

"Mom?!" Emily chokes out behind you "What are you even doing here?" she rushes towalk next to you, when you look at her you notice how she hasn't placed her shirt right yet.

"Well, i thought now that I'm here, i could pay my daughter a visit, but I didn't think you had guests, what is she doing here?" she asks, almost ignoring the fact that you're also there, and asking her daughter directly. However, and considering Emily's shocked face, you take it upon yourself to answer.

"I came in because i needed to return a blender i borrowed form Emily last week, i was almost in my way out tho, so don't worry" you say trying to save the situation.

"No, y/n, wait" Emily started, as she took a step closer to you

"Wait, Em, you don't have to" you say, trying to stop her from making a mistake

"I actually do" she says looking at you, her eyes full of fear and excitment reflecting on yours

"Mom, Y/n is, well, she is my grilfriend, we've been daiting over a year now, I'm gay" she grabs your hand, and you hold her tight, trying to clam her down, and showing her your support.

"And I am telling you because I don't want to hide, not anymore" she adds, and you can feel how her hand tights around yours.

"well... i don't know what to say" you both wait for an answer, but it takes a long time for it to come. "I mean, I can't say I'm surprised" she finally says, and Emily can't contain her impatience "how- i mean- what do you mean?"

"Well you really thought you could wonder around all these years without your mother knowing a thing?" nether of you could hide your surprise. "I don't care that your gay, Emily, could i please come in now? I could really use a glass of wine, I hope I'm interrupting something now, of course".

Your girlfriend and you look at each other in awe "No, not at all" you both say at unison, and you can feel yourself blushing when you realize your shirt was still open this whole time.

You let the woman in, and Emily and her move to sit on the couch as you go to the kitchen to serve her another glass of wine, and grab yours.

"Here, Ambassador" you say, offering her a glass

"Oh please, call me Elisabeth" she says to your surprise, accepting the wine. You and Emily smile at each other as you move to sit next to her.

You knew you were in for a long night, just not the kind you had expected.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*: