#reid from the vault

[auroralwriting]

spencer smut perhaps? he's all shy but the second your lips touch his he snaps?

guilty as sin

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader (18+)

you think spencer's too shy to do anything, until he gets a taste of you

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut, dirty talk, p-in-v, wrap it before you tap it, sort of dom!spencer, multiple orgasms, spencer is whipped, season seven spencer is implied, soft and fluffy but also a smidgen kinky, spencer’s a gentleman, he’s still a nerd, begging, orgasm denial, he’s also a tease, light praise, it’s smut you get the gist

"Oh, come on? You're seriously going to sit there and tell me nothing happened with Lila Archer?" Emily laughed as she sipped on her beer.

It was a chilly autumn night. Your team had just returned home from a case a few hours prior. You were still dressed in your work clothes, like the rest of our colleagues. Somehow, you were convinced to go to the bar before it got too late into the evening. A sort of celebration that you all had caught the killer so quick with only two casualties. That was rare. Emily had even convinced Hotch to join you all. Since meeting Beth, he'd began to grow out of his shell. It was nice to see him happy again.

The liquor in all of your systems was enough to allow the silly conversations to flow with ease. Seeing as Emily and you had not been on the team when the Lila Archer stalking case was worked on, you had a fair amount of questions.

"You were with Lila Archer, alone, for hours on end," Emily took a sip of her drink as she continued her mini-rant. "and you didn't bang her?"

Derek emitted a slight chuckle, "Well, she did make out with him in the pool."

"The pool? Spence, you dog!" You gasped, quickly following it up with a laugh.

Deep down, this conversation bothered you. Maybe it was due to the fact that you had the biggest crush on Spencer. Or it could have been the way JJ was staring at you, no doubt profiling you. She was the only one who knew of your feelings for the genius. Of course, she was nothing but comforting and supportive. JJ was trying to catch a read on if she should end this conversation before it really got to you.

"I- She initiated it," Spencer weakly defended. "I just, well, kissed her back." The whole table erupted in oohs and laughs.

You kept your longings locked from the man. Kept in faded color, lowercase, locked away inside some secret vault you kept in your heart. It was better this way.

"You don't have it in you to do anything more, my man." Derek slapped Spencer's back. His words, meant to be supportive, just plain were not. "A man of honor, truth, justice, pat-"

"All right, I think we've all had enough to drink tonight." Hotch cut off Derek's drunken ramble. "Let's all make sure to call cabs home."

You grabbed your belongings, just a jacket, purse, and scarf, and stood up along with the rest of your friends. Everyone bid each other goodnight, small hugs passed along. Reaching in your purse, you went to grab the twenty you'd left, just in case. Your purse, however, was seemingly empty, besides a lipstick and your wallet. "Oh, shit." You muttered, having no way to pay for a ride home.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Spencer asked, hearing your call of distress.

Shaking your head, you pursed your lips. "I don't have any cash to get home."

Spencer was quick to reply, "Oh, well why don't you just ride with me? Riding with another person is thirty to fifty percent more safe than being alone, especially while intoxicated. Uh, you can just spend the night, I know you live further away and I'm sure you're tired."

"Thanks, Spence. I'll pay you back," You offered as the two of you walked outside. You felt a chill run up your spine due to the cold, September air.

"It's no problem." Spencer nodded, reaching over to slightly tighten your scarf. The touch of his fingertips on your neck was enough to warm you up completely.

Penelope gave you one last squeeze as you hopped inside the cab with Spencer. The ride would only be fifteen minutes away from his apartment, which wasn't bad.

You stared out the window, watching as it fogged. You dragged your finger over the condensation, drawing yourself a little picture to keep occupied. Your eyes cast up on their own, deciding to focus on the reflection in the window. You were sure glad they did. Spencer was staring at you, unaware that you could see him. His stare sent another round of shivers down your spine.

Always the gentleman, Spencer helped you out of the car once you'd arrived to his apartment. It hit you that you'd actually never been to Spencer's apartment before. You wondered if it looked anything like you'd imagined.

And it was. Exactly as you'd imagined, actually. Dim, warm lights that gave a cozy feeling. He had a brown, leather couch with a green blanket over the top. Books were scattered all over the apartment, but it was done neatly. They were probably organized in a way that would only make sense to Spencer.

"Sorry it's such a mess," Spencer apologized, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's not at all," You replied. "I guess you've never seen my place."

Spencer hummed, "I haven't."

Being a good host, Spencer offered to make you some tea. You sat at his island while he poured some water in a kettle to heat up.

"So, you know you can be honest with me, right?" You decided to awkwardly start a conversation. The silence was just not doing it for you.

"Of course I know that," Spencer nodded. His back was turned to you as he prepped your mugs.

You shook off your nerves, "Did you actually not sleep with Lila Archer?"

Spencer turned around at your words. "I didn't sleep with Lila Archer." He confirmed. "If I did, you know Morgan wouldn't stop talking about it for the rest of our lives."

A small chuckle came from you. "He really wouldn't." You mused.

"Plus, she's, uh, not my type." Spencer boldly continued after a pause of silence.

"What is your type?" You asked curiously, heart increasing, a deep hope he said you were his type.

"I don't know." Spencer mumbled.

The kettle began to whistle, you could see Spencer's body physically relax at this. A distraction. He passed you the tea which you graciously thanked him for. The two of you sat in a comforting silence as you drank.

Spencer looked so gorgeous in this way. His hair was a bit disheveled, untamed from the long flight. His eyes held no signs of tiredness. Your case was in California. You'd left this morning. He must've also slept the whole way home. His brown locks mesmerized you. Oh, how you wanted to curl your fingers in them. Not to mention the ghost of stubble on his face. You imagined tracing your fingers over it softly, wishing to feel him shiver under your touch.

Maybe it was the remaining alcohol still in your system, or maybe pining after him wasn't doing it anymore. You don't know what came over you when you leaned forward, your nose nearly touching his.

Spencer didn't move, you didn't move. It was an odd standoff. "Spence," You softly mumbled his name. You could see his eyes staring down- oh. At your lips. Somehow, you knew he wouldn't do it You watched the way his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed a gulp of nerves.

It was like he couldn't speak. But you knew it the moment you locked eyes again. You'd know that look anywhere; desperation. It was probably gleaming in your eyes, too. You could definitely feel it.

A sudden wave of confidence crashed over you and you felt yourself pushing your lips against Spencer’s. It took him maybe a full second to process what was happening. His large hands came to grab your face, pressing you closer to him. The kiss felt like nothing you’d expected of Spencer. He took control over the situation quickly. He pushed against you hard, slipping his tongue between your slightly parted lips. It was messy, rough, yet filled with such genuine passion it was dizzying.

“Spence,” You pulled back breathlessly. His eyes were filled with something new, something more lustful.

He softly shushed you, hands still on your face, pulling you back in. It was slightly teeth-clashing, hot. “I’ve been waiting for this,” Spencer muttered between kisses, his voice a near whine. “Just couldn’t make the first move.”

Spencer pulled back, rushing around the counter to where you sat. He pushed apart your legs to stand in between them. His fingers grabbed your chin, thumb on it and his first finger under your chin. He gently forced your head to look up to him. His cheeks were flushed, and you assumed yours were a near identical reflection.

“Tell me what you want,” Spencer whispered. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give you anything, everything.”

“You, I just want you.”

That’s all it took for Spencer to kiss you again. your hands went around his neck to pull off his tie, your hands then moving to unbutton his dress shirt. His worked just as quickly to undo yours.

“Not here,” Spencer muttered, eyes falling to your half-bare chest. “My room’s down the hall.”

With Spencer’s hand in your own, you quickly ran to his bedroom, a soft giggle escaping your lips and how cliché this all felt. Spencer couldn’t help but smile at your amusement. You leapt onto his bed, landing on your knees as you wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the hair that ended on the back of his head.

“Hi, boy genius.” You smiled, voice soft and warm. It reminded Spencer of a hot vanilla latte, or maybe something like a cinnamon roll. Sweet, warm, delicious.

“Hi, pretty girl.” Spencer replied, thumb rubbing sweetly over your cheek.

You both stared into each others eyes for a moment, taking in the delicacy of the intimate moment. Spencer slowly pushed his lips onto yours. It was the most gentle kiss of the evening, and it reminded you that Spencer wasn’t doing this because he felt like it. No, you were his type. Not Lila, you.

Spencer and you slowly discarded the rest of your clothing, allowing Spencer to slowly drag his fingers over your bare skin, admiring your beauty. “You’re almost as beautiful as Aphrodite,” he muttered. “I would say prettier, but the ancient Greek believed it would curse whomever was called more beautiful because Aphrodite wanted to remain the most beautiful.”

Even during moments like this, you loved Spencer’s rambles. Slowly, Spencer began to kiss all around your jaw, moving down your neck and to your chest. Your hands found his hair as you arched into him. He spent some time licking and sucking on your chest, loving the way you sounded for him, the way you pulled on his hair. He loved the smell of your skin, how soft it felt beneath his lips and tongue.

“Spencer,” you whined, pulling harder on his hair.

The man looked up to you, eyes gleaming as his mouth popped off you with a small pop. “Yeah, baby?”

“I need more,” you replied.

“Like what?” Spencer teased, slowly dragging his finger down your stomach. “Need more here?” He asked, playfully biting at your chest. “Or… here?” Spencer’s fingers trailed over your thigh, slowly moving from the inside to the out.

You groaned, “Oh, there! Please, there!”

Spencer also groaned in reply, “Didn’t take you as a begger,” he muttered. “but I love it.”

Slowly, Spencer moved his finger to your aching core. It slowly ran through your folds, causing you to moan loudly. “Spence,”

“Is this all for me?” Spencer cockily asked, referring to your wetness. You nodded quickly, pulling him down to kiss you once more. As he kissed you, he slid a finger inside, just to the first knuckle to gather some of your slick. He brought it back out and slowly began to circle your clit with it. Pulling back from the kiss, you became a mess of moans, whines, and breathy sounds. Spencer slowly kissed up and down your neck as he played with your sensitive bundle of nerves. “This enough for you, baby?”

“Inside,” you stumble out. “Please, inside me.”

Spencer couldn’t help but give you exactly what you wanted. How could he when you begged so nicely for him? He brought that same finger back inside, plunging it until it reached his final knuckle. Slowly, he began to pump it in and out of you, allowing you grace to adjust to the new object inside you.

“How’s that?” Spencer asked.

“Good, so good,” You babbled.

His finger multiplied and became two. They pumped in and out, adding slight curls to his fingers every now and again. His thumb went back to your clit, slowly rubbing it for added pleasure. “This what you wanted, sweet girl? This what you’ve imagined me doing to you?”

“Yes, yes!” You moaned.

Spencer smiled, “I’m not going to lie, I’ve imagined this moment for the last year.” In any other occasion, you would’ve became bashful at the declaration, but you were already too far gone with the alcohol and pleasure in your system.

It was then Spencer’s fingers hit your soft spot, causing your back to arch. “Oh, baby!” You cried out, grabbing onto the man above you and wrapping your legs around his waist to feel him deeper.

“There?” He asked.

“Oh, yes! There!” You answered quickly.

Spencer worked his magic, adding another finger as you stretched for him. It didn’t take long for your first orgasm to hit you like a sea of stars. Spencer softly shushed you, helping you relax.

“You okay?” Spencer smoothed your hair as he looked at you carefully.

You nodded, “Please, Spence. I want you.”

Spencer wasted no time lining himself up with you, allowing some of your slick to gather on his hard-on. He pushed in, causing you both to groan in unison.

“Oh my god,” he breathlessly said. “You’re so tight, oh my god. Baby, you feel so good.” His voice raised, slightly higher than normal as he resisted the urge to move until you said so.

“Move, move, please,” You told him. He wasted no time pushing his hips forward and backward, pulling your legs up around his hips once more.

He fit you so good, so right. Everything in that moment felt perfect, like he was made for you. You were made for him. It took Spencer less than a minute to be snapping his hips in record time. You felt like your eyes were going to roll back at the pleasure.

Spencer grabbed your chin the way he did earlier, “Look at me, baby. Wanna see your pretty eyes.”

Still reeling from your last orgasm, it took you no time to feel your climax approaching once more. “Spence, I need to come,”

“Not yet,” He groaned. “‘M almost there, baby. Hold on,” You felt a loud whine emit from your throat. The sound of it made Spencer’s dick throb, and you felt it. “Doing so good for me, honey. Oh, god, I’m almost there. So good.”

You were on the brink of orgasm. You weren’t sure if you could hold it any longer. “Spencer!”

“Where?” He asked.

“In, oh my god,” You practically were yelling at this point.

“Let go, baby,” Spencer’s words were all you needed to finally reach that sweet, sweet release again. You felt him spill inside you, the warmth making your orgasm feel even better. Spencer’s arms slowly gave out above you, and he slowly fell onto your chest. He pressed his lips to your hair, a sweet gesture.

The two of you laid there, catching your breath. You played with Spencer’s curls as he gently rubbed your cheek with his thumb. “I kind of have a crush on you,” You admitted jokingly, knowing he knew.

“Yeah?” He chuckled. “I do too.” He sat up, pulling out of you. You wished he didn’t; it felt so empty. “You gotta go pee, right?”

“Yeah,” You groaned lazily, slowly sitting up. “Hey, you’re gonna take me on a date after this, right?”

Spencer nodded with a smile, “I already have it planned. Now, go use the bathroom so we can fall asleep together.”

You mock saluted at him, “Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.”

Who knew your night out would lead to the best night of your life?

[kiss-inthekitchen]

pairing: spencer reid x reader

set sometime in early s2; you get stuck sharing a room with your favorite boy genius who absolutely cannot know that you have feelings for him. and also, there’s only one bed. fluff, f!reader (i think there's only two usages of gender markers)

word count: 4.7k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3. i'm thinking i'll do more of these, i've got a few spencer fics in the vault and it was fun to rework this and see how my style has changed :)

You shivered against the cold desert air. Twirling a keyring around your finger, you headed for the door marked 3. You were exhausted from the day and so, so ready to collapse into bed as soon as you got inside your room. 

You turned the key in the lock while Spencer waited behind you. It was late, and you and the team had pulled into a motel for the night, having been dragged out to a tiny rural town by the unsub after days of tracking him through surrounding areas. He’d been apprehended, finally, and handed over to local police around midnight. You all had decided it best to spend the night before driving back into town in the morning for take off. 

So here you were, at one of those single story motels that still used actual keys instead of key cards. Given the time of night, you knew vacancies would be scarce, so you’d already expected to have to double up on rooms. Gideon had stayed behind at Quantico, leaving Hotch and Morgan in one room and JJ and Prentiss in another, with you and Spencer sharing the last room. You’d hung back while JJ got everything figured out with the concierge (who was just a bored looking kid posted at the desk), and then she’d passed you your key with its little keyring attachment listing the room number and you all bade each other goodnight.

You’d been on the team nearly a year already, but you were still the rookie compared to everyone else. Even Spence had two years on you. But seeing as you two were the youngest, and the least inclined toward the more physical parts of your job– the chasing, tackling, firing your weapon parts– you were paired off with him more often than not. 

You weren’t complaining. You’d come to know Spencer pretty well, and you didn’t feel much apprehension at the thought of sharing a room with him for one night. 

That is, until you opened the door. 

“Oh,” you said involuntarily.  

"There's only one bed,” Spencer said. 

“Sure looks that way.” 

"At least it's a queen?" 

There was a brief pause before you both started speaking at the same time. 

"Maybe we can go back to the concierge–" Spencer began. 

"I mean, I guess I don't really–" 

"–although, JJ did say we got the last–" 

"–mind as long as you–" 

You cut yourself off this time. It’s not like there was another good option, unless one of you wanted to sleep in the car. "This is fine?" it came out as a question rather than a statement. 

"I think so? I wouldn't want to– to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"This is fine," you repeated, more sure of yourself this time. “And you don’t make me uncomfortable.”  

It was only kind of a lie. You trusted Spencer with your life, of course. But he also made you nervous. He was sweet, kind, always seeming genuinely interested in anything you had to say. And of course, anyone could see that he was attractive. You were developing feelings for him, and in a job where your coworkers and your crush himself were all adept at reading people, it really wasn’t a good position for you to be in. You just hoped Spencer was as oblivious with women as Derek made him out to be. 

"We should get out of the doorway," Spencer suggested, and you realized you'd been standing in the threshold this whole time.

"Right."

The two of you walked in, Spencer closing and locking the door behind you. It was a modest room in a tiny town; your standard ugly-patterned, faded bedspread draped over the queen bed in the center, a window looking out into the parking lot, and a dresser that didn’t even have a TV on top of it. You headed straight for the bed, sitting on the edge and removing your shoes while Spencer stood by with his hands in his pockets.

"You know, if it's a problem I can sleep on the cou– uh, the chair," Spencer offered, looking back mid-sentence and realizing that the only additional furniture this motel offered was one rigid looking armchair by the window. 

"No, you're not doing that."

"What?" he asked, taken aback by the quickness of your response.

"You're not sleeping in that chair. It looks horribly uncomfortable and I’m sure it’s never been cleaned, and I know how you’d feel about that.” 

Spencer grimaced, not having thought about that particular detail. “Yeah, but, I mean… I’d do it for you.” 

God, why did he have to say stuff like that? Like you were something special. And why now, when you were stuck in the same room with him until morning? It probably didn’t even mean the same thing to him as it meant to you. He was one of the most caring people you’d ever met. He’d probably say that to any one of you on the team. 

Or maybe sleeping in a chair meant nothing to him at all. Maybe he actually didn’t want to share the bed with you and that’s why he was trying so hard to avoid it. 

Ugh. You just wanted this day to be over. It was late, the case had been a week long, and now you were probably in for a fun night of overthinking and second guessing when you’d been expecting silence and easy, dreamless sleep. 

Okay, maybe that last part was never really an option, but still. 

“Look,” you sighed, “I know this isn't an ideal situation but there's a perfectly good bed here, so let’s just share it. If you’re okay with that. It's just one night and tomorrow we'll be back home and nobody has to know about it."

You had to fight from squeezing your eyes shut in regret. You wished that had come out differently. You chanced a look at Spencer, realizing that you’d been staring down at the faded carpet pattern while you spoke. 

The look on his face was one you hadn’t seen before, and you almost couldn't place it. He seemed sort of disappointed. Disappointed that he had to share a bed with you? Or that you'd made it sound like you didn't want to share a bed with him? Nope, you could not go down that road tonight. You shook your head once as if it would clear the thoughts from your tired mind. 

“I’m okay with that," he said, casually enough that you could almost convince yourself that you’d just imagined the look on his face before. "So, do you want the shower first, or...?" Spencer asked.

"No, I can wait, you go ahead," you said. You desperately needed the moment to yourself anyway.  

You started rifling through your bag for pajamas, toiletries, and your charger as an excuse to look busy while Spencer made his way into the bathroom with his things. As soon as the door closed behind him, you flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it might hold all the answers. 

Spencer couldn't know about your feelings. For one thing, you were pretty sure there was a rule against dating your colleagues in the BAU. If not, there probably should be. You were such a close knit team, and if anything went wrong… you couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be. But then, the evil and uncooperative part of you also couldn’t help but think that things might go right. 

From the beginning of your time at the BAU, you’d been drawn to Spencer. It just kind of made sense. You’d gotten through school at an accelerated pace– though not as quickly as him, the man was on another fucking level when it came to academics– and you were one of the only people who found his fact dropping actually interesting, often asking him follow up questions. He’d looked adorably shocked the first few times you’d done that. 

He listened intently to your passionate rants about your favorite films and tv shows, even though he hadn’t seen any of them. When the two of you had discovered a shared interest in mythology and folklore, Hotch nearly had to separate you so you would actually get some work done. It was like you were a kid in school again, and you might’ve been embarrassed if you didn’t find it so funny, if you weren’t so giddy at the idea of a friendship that could make you feel like a kid again. 

Spencer understood you in a way that other people didn’t, laughing at your jokes even when they didn’t land for anybody else. When people interrupted or spoke over you, he always paid attention, and in situations where you were trying to add details to the profile he’d bring the conversation back around to you. 

Throughout your life you’d learned– through painstaking trial and error– to fit in pretty well in most any group you found yourself in, but you’d always considered yourself to be a little weird. A little too different. But when you were with Spencer, you felt like you didn’t have to try so hard. You could both be a little different, together. 

Spencer opened the bathroom door then, startling you. You’d been so lost in thought you hadn’t even noticed the water turn off. You looked over to see him wearing a loose white t-shirt and pajama pants, his hair still damp. And now you knew what Spencer looked like fresh out of a shower. And of course it was endearing as hell. 

“If that’s how you’re planning to sleep,” Spencer began, referencing how you were laid out in the dead center of the bed, your arms fully outstretched and hands hanging off the mattress, “then I think we might have a slight problem after all.”  

You walked out of the bathroom a short while later, dressed in your usual sleepwear of shorts and an oversized shirt. You’d put your hair up in a bun to protect it while you showered, and now it hung loose around your shoulders. You simultaneously wished your outfit was cuter and uglier; knowing your giant t-shirt wasn’t flattering your figure while also feeling like you had too much skin exposed. Not that it mattered. You were just going to get some sleep and then wake up in the morning and head home. Everything would be back to normal. 

Spencer’s in bed already. He’d turned off the big light while you were showering, the lamps on either side of the bed casting him in a softer, warmer glow. He looked up from his book to find you standing there, and the soft, familiar look in his big brown eyes had you rooted to the spot. 

“Hey,” he said softly, patting the space next to him in invitation. 

You conceded, finding your legs again and sliding into bed beside him. “Hey.” 

He fidgeted with the pages of his book, ultimately shutting it closed on his index finger to mark the page. “So, uh, are we okay?” 

“Yeah, of course,” you answered genuinely, feeling bad that your internal struggle had manifested in a way that worried him. 

“Okay, cool,” he said. He paused long enough to let you explain if you wanted to, another invitation. You knew he wouldn’t push it if you didn’t offer something up. You wanted to give him an explanation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

“Sorry,” you managed. 

“For what?” 

“I don’t know… acting weird, I guess. It’s just been a long day.” 

“Oh, well, you don’t need to be sorry about that. You’re always weird.” 

Your mouth dropped open as you looked at him. “Look who’s fucking talking,” you scoffed. Some of the tension dropped from your shoulders, glad he hadn’t questioned you further. 

“Language, please,” he held up a hand to stop you. “I’m delicate.” 

“Wha–?” you let out a surprised little laugh. “You’re an idiot!” 

“Yeah okay, tell that to my I–.” 

“Oh, my IQ of 187,” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. Even that was full of endearment. “God, you are so annoying.” 

“Hm. Y’know, this might be a long night for you. I’d hate to keep you up with my annoyingness.” 

“I feel like you could’ve come up with a better word than annoyingness, Mr. 187,” you tilted your head where it rested against the headboard, looking up at him. 

“Oh, she’s being a smartass now!” he split into a surprised grin, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat. 

“You just said ass.” 

“Wow. How quickly you’ve corrupted me.” 

“Right, of course. It’s my fault.” 

“I knew you’d agree.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you laughed. 

Things felt a little bit more normal after that, joking around with Spencer like you normally did made the rest of the night feel less daunting. 

Shortly after that, the two of you agreed that you should get some sleep, each reaching over to turn out the light on your respective sides of the bed. 

You let yourself sink into your pillow, the exhaustion you had been feeling giving way to a hyper awareness of Reid’s body next to you. You were kept awake, completely overcome by the foot of space between you and Spencer; the consequences of crossing that space, the way it might feel, the curiosity over whether he was laying awake too, thinking the same thoughts as you. Even with that foot of space separating you, you could feel his body heat. You longed to move closer to him, to touch him, to let his warmth seep into you and lull you to sleep. 

But you didn’t, and you wouldn’t, because this was just an unfortunate booking mishap. It didn’t mean anything. Tomorrow it would be over, and you could more easily go back to hiding your feelings from everyone else and yourself. 

Eventually, exhaustion won out. 

You woke what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours later, the sky still dark. You couldn’t tell what exactly had woken you up, only the sense that you’d moved, almost like you’d fallen. But fallen from what? 

You blinked in the dark, the street lamps in the parking lot providing enough residual light to keep the room from being pitch black. 

Reid was sitting up. He must’ve bolted upright, you thought. Had that been what moved you? Were you lying on him?! 

“Hey, you okay?” 

“Sorry. Just a nightmare,” he said as if it was nothing. “Sorry to wake you.” 

“What was it about?” you ignored his apologies, sitting up as well. 

“I don't really even remember,” he breathed, almost like it was funny. “Just having a physiological reaction to whatever it was, I guess.” 

You had nightmares too, of course. You all did. You hated remembering them, but you also hated the times when you woke up in the dark, dazed and inexplicably scared. Without thinking, you reached for his hand. 

He turned to look at you then. “I really didn't mean to wake you,” he reiterated. 

“I figured,” you smiled slightly. You noticed his breathing was just a bit too fast. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning over to rest your weight against his side, your head on his shoulder. His nervous system would regulate itself quicker this way. 

“You were on my pillow, by the way.” 

“What?” you ask, your head jerking back from him. 

“I totally called it. You rolled right into the center of the bed in your sleep. Total bed hog.” 

“Hey!” you protested, pulling your hand back from his in embarrassment. So you had been lying on top of him. Or at least really close to him. His hand chased after yours, finding you again. 

“That wasn’t me complaining about it.” 

“Oh,” was all you could think to say back. 

It was quiet for a minute. You let your head fall back onto Spencer’s shoulder, but your heart raced in your chest. 

“Can I ask you something?” he questioned, his tone becoming more serious. 

“Oh– of course,” you answered, your brow creasing. 

“What did you mean when you said ‘it’s not ideal’ and ‘nobody has to know about it’?” 

“Wh– I– Spencer, come on.” 

He didn’t give you an out this time. Just waited for an answer. 

“I don’t even really know,” you sighed.  

“I believe you’re being partially truthful about that.” 

“Don’t profile me.” 

“I’m not. I just know you.” 

You sighed. “You know, sometimes I hate that stupid memory of yours.” 

“I don’t need an eidetic memory to remember that. It was a weird thing to say, and it happened like four hours ago.” 

“You’re guesstimating. And it wasn’t that weird.” 

“Maybe not, but the way you said it was. And you’re avoiding my question.” 

You continued to avoid it, biting down on your bottom lip. 

“And you stuttered when I brought it up.” 

“I told you to stop profiling me.” 

This time, he just hummed in response. 

“And so what if I stuttered?” 

“Stuttering is usually more my thing. A nervousness thing.” 

Maybe this was actually your nightmare. Maybe you’d wake up soon and none of this would’ve been real, and you wouldn’t have had to explain to Spencer that the reason you’d had an attitude was because the situation tonight had made it harder to hide your feelings from him. Big feelings that became a lot harder to ignore when he was this close to you, still holding your hand, the mix of scents from his detergent and deodorant clouding your judgment. Of all the embarrassing scenarios that you could’ve imagined playing out tonight, this was very high up on the list. 

“I said ‘it’s not ideal’ because it’s not, just by definition. We were supposed to get a double room and we didn’t. Not ideal. And I said no one has to find out because I can already see Morgan having a field day with it and I know the exact expression that’ll be on his face–” 

“The eyebrows,” he nodded, lips pursed. 

“And then everyone else will get in on it and I just figured…” you sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to deal with that.” 

“That all makes total sense.” 

“Good,” you breathed. Too relieved. 

“Now tell me the rest of it.” 

“God, Spencer–” you huffed out, frustrated. He knew you too well. 

You wanted to run. Maybe you could go sleep in the car after all. And then ignore Spencer for the rest of the day, and then the year, and your life, and– 

“Don’t make me say it,” you breathed. This had to be a dream. 

“But there is something to be said?” he questioned, his tone hushed, almost reverent. 

It was just vague enough. You could pretend it was nothing. 

“Yes.” 

You felt like you’d just blown your life up with one word. 

Spencer took a deep breath, your body cresting and falling with the movement of it. 

“You make me feel better about being myself,” he confessed.  

You shut your eyes. You had a constricting feeling in your throat suddenly, and the awful realization that you might cry. 

He spoke again, because you couldn’t. “I haven’t always felt good about it, you know? And then you joined the team, and, well– you changed a lot of things for me. And you’re beautiful, obviously, and I was scared to mess up what we have, because it’s special, I think–” 

“It is.” 

“–and then you started freaking out when you saw the bed,” he was smiling now, you could hear it, “and I thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so crazy… maybe I could make you feel that way too.” 

“You do. Of course you do. I feel like I can be my full self with you. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like that before.” 

Spencer laughed, a little delirious giggle, and squeezed your hand in his. You’d managed to avoid crying, thankfully, and you grinned along with him, looking down at your joined hands as you squeezed him back. 

Things seemed to still for a beat, the two of you sitting with this moment and letting it stretch out. You still couldn’t really believe this was happening. You might have to tell Spencer to pinch you. 

“So what does that mean for us now?” you asked. 

“Well, for right now at least, I think it just means that we can go back to sleep without overthinking things into oblivion.” 

“I was not–”

“Okay, this time I am profiling you, and you’re lying,” he cut you off, his smile still evident.  

“Oh, this was such a mistake.”

He continued like you hadn’t spoken, laughing a little as he went. “I could practically hear it. It’s like, you know when a computer is trying to use too much processing power and the fan starts whirring really loud? Like that but just like right next to me, like tangible—“  

“Okay! Thank you so much, I actually totally got it, you can stop now.” 

He laughed, and your cheeks warmed. 

“For the record, I meant we could both stop overthinking.” Then he shifted a little, facing you a bit more. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, a fake pout on his lips. “Sorry I make you nervous.” 

You cackled at that, if it was possible to cackle in hushed tones. “Oh, I bet you are. Besides, I know you like me now, so you’ve lost that card.” 

“Are you certain of that?” 

“Certain that you like me or certain that you can’t make me nervous?” 

“The latter. I do like you, if that was unclear.” 

Your heart sped up, contradicting you as you answered, “Then I’m certain you can’t make me nervous.” 

He titled your face up to his then, using his index finger underneath your chin to make you look at him. “You’re an awful liar.” 

You just shrugged, watching triumphantly as Spencer’s gaze fell to your lips. “It’s been working out pretty well for me so far.” 

“I guess it has,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and finally kissing you. 

After so many months of imagining (and berating yourself for imagining) what Spencer’s lips might feel like on yours, you weren’t disappointed. 

For once you didn’t have to think at all, the chemistry between you and him drowning out everything else. His hand fell to your waist, and yours moved to the curve of his jaw, pulling him closer as his mouth moved against yours. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip and he gasped, and your skin felt like it was lit up from the inside. 

You pulled away to breathe, and to process, and to try and stop your head from swimming. You were rewarded with the awestruck look in Spencer’s eyes as he opened them again. 

“Okay, was it just me, or–” 

“That was crazy,” you breathed.

“Crazy,” he agreed. 

“Spence?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t think we’re getting back to sleep tonight.” Your eyes widened at the implication of saying those words at that time. “Not, like, in the sex way, though,” you hurried to correct yourself. “I need like, 4-5 business days to process things first, and I– well, I just meant, like– you know?” 

Spencer was nodding at you even as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Can I still kiss you during those 4-5 business days?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you said, sounding breathless. 

“Cool,” he agreed. “You seem really nervous, by the way.” 

“Well, you kissed me.” 

“I did.”  

“How were you not nervous?” you breathed. 

“Oh, I was. Your reaction is making me feel a whole lot better about it though.” 

You scoffed half-heartedly. “I do so much for you.” 

“You do,” he replied earnestly, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We could lie back down, if you want. Like we were before I so rudely woke you up.” 

“Yeah, I’m super mad about that,” you joked. “Anyway, I was asleep for that, so you’ll have to show me what I was doing.” 

He seemed all too pleased to do so. “Okay, so you were basically like,” he leaned back against the pillows, pulling you down with him, moving his hand to the side of your head to guide you to the place where his shoulder met his chest, “Like that, and then your arm was over here,” he picked up your arm and guided it around his waist. 

“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing,” you said, realizing that he must’ve been awake when you’d done it. 

“Yeah, I know. Really terrible time for me.” 

“I can imagine. I can scoot back over to my side of the bed, just say the word.” 

“Don’t you dare,” he said, squeezing you closer. 

You trailed your fingers up and down his waist, feeling more content than you had in ages. 

“I can’t believe you’d suggest that I would have sex with you right after confessing my feelings. Like, take me to dinner first at least.” 

“Oh my god,” you half-exclaimed, half-laughed. You felt your cheeks heat up again, grateful it was still too dark in the room to be noticeable. “You’re right, I’m so sorry. How’s next Friday?” 

“Hmm, I don’t know. My work schedule is kind of unpredictable. I’ll have to get back to you.” 

“You’re such an ass.” 

A few short hours later, you were back on the jet with the rest of the team. You were lying on the couch while Spencer sat in a seat one row up and across from you, both to avoid suspicion and so you could try to catch up on sleep. He sat facing away from you, but with the angle you were at you could still see one side of his face if you tilted your head up. 

You were just beginning to fade when your phone buzzed next to you. 

Spencer: I have to tell you something, coworker to coworker. 

You looked up to see him blank faced, looking down at the book in his right hand, holding his phone in the left. 

You text back: okay? 

Spencer: My crush asked me out last night. 

You’re exceptionally glad no one was sitting close enough to see you. Spencer had caught you off guard, and you felt an infatuated grin spreading across your face. 

You: what did u say? 

Spencer: Wanted to get your opinion first. 

You: i think u should say yes, obviously. 

Spencer: Idk, I’m kinda nervous. I think she’s trying to jump me on the first date.

You just barely managed to refrain from laughing out loud. You looked up at Spencer again, and he’s looking at his phone as if it contained nothing more than a weather report. You’re astounded. 

You: one could argue that technically you’ve already slept together, so there’s less to be nervous abt

You saw his eyebrows raise just slightly. Success. 

Spencer: You’re trouble, you know that? See you Friday night

You: i promise i won’t try to jump you 

Spencer: Oh

Spencer: I fear I may have shot myself in the foot here

You: i wouldn’t worry about it too much

Spencer: That’s rich coming from you 

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you. 

You: whatever. wear something sexy ;) 

You heard him blow air out of his nose, an almost laugh. 

“Something funny?” you heard Derek ask. 

Shit. 

“This book contains a historical inaccuracy that was proven incorrect eight years before its publishing date,” Spencer replied without missing a beat. 

Unbelievable.

You: you’re unhinged :*

Spencer: Go to sleep already, would you? 

You: coworker to coworker? my crush keeps interrupting my beauty sleep 

Spencer: He’s probably worried about the worldwide implications of you becoming any more beautiful 

You: i guess that’s why the universe gave you insomnia :( too pretty 

Spencer: Stop flirting with me

You: bc you’re too delicate?? 

Spencer: Yes 

You snapped your phone shut, feeling dazed. You watched the clouds go by in the window across from you, and you couldn’t help letting your gaze slide over to Spencer. He’d put his phone down as well, concentrating on his book. Or pretending to concentrate. He was turning the pages much too slowly for his actual pace. 

You: you have got to do a better job of fake reading than that

You heard a page turn. 

You looked up again to see the ghost of a smile threatening the corner of his mouth. 

This was going to be fun. And also, you were so screwed. 

[vikspretty]

“slut!”

spencer had never told the team he had a girlfriend, never mind what her job was

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x reader

tags: fem! reader, no y/n, reader is a stripper (not explicit), based on a tiny scene but idk what ep or season, fluff!

notes: i was watching spencer clips and i saw the scene of him from i think season 6 where he and Emily were in a strip club asking questions. Then I was listening to slut! by taylor and thought i could make this work somehow. this isnt me calling strippers sluts btw!!! i just know some guys who have called them sluts and i love the chorus of this song and figured i could make it into something.

wc: 1,468

“And if they call me a slut, You know it might be worth it for once” — Taylor Swift's "Slut!" (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault)

He honestly hadn't meant for his team to find out about you through him spilling about your job. He also hadn't meant to keep you as a secret but with the continuous cases recently, he hadn't had much chance to tell them about you.

Spencer asking the witness if her boyfriend had a problem with her job wasn't judgemental, it was a question they needed to ask, and he knew how some men reacted to finding out their girlfriends were strippers, you had told him enough stories from your own experiences to support this.

"It's how we met, so no. Why? Do you have a problem with it?"

"No I don't, actually my girlfriend is in the same line of work and also I'm from Vegas so-" He stopped his ramble early at Emily's pointed look. He had assumed it was because he was starting to ramble, but her look of, 'we need to talk' told him it was because of this new fact about him that she didn't know. Luckily, she dropped it for now and the rest of the talk went smoothly. The subject of a girlfriend wasn't brought up until they were back at the precinct.

"Got anything for us?" Morgan asked as Spencer and Emily walked in.

"Yeah, did you know Reid has a girlfriend?" Emily questioned, not giving Spencer a chance to say anything about the case. Morgan's face shot up in surprise as did JJ's, but Emily continued, "And get this, she's a stripper!"

Ignoring the looks he was getting, Spencer turned to Emily, his tone accusatory. "You say that like it's a bad thing." Immediately, Emily corrected herself.

"No, of course it's not, it's just-"

"We didn't expect someone like that to be your type." JJ said.

Before Spencer had a chance to say that they had never even met her so how could they know, Hotch and Rossi walked in, forcing a subject change.

It wasn't until they were on the jet home and Spencer was reading a book waiting for your reply to him asking to come over for the night that the topic of his mystery girlfriend was brought up again.

As Emily took a seat across from him she asked what they had all been wanting to know. "So how come we've never met your girlfriend? Or even heard of her?"

"I did want to tell you all but it was still relatively new and then we had a long string of cases and I wanted her to meet you when I told you so I just didn't mention it." As he was talking, his phone pinged with a text to which he immediately picked up to read.

"So now that we know, do we get to meet her?"

"I will ask her. You guys were thinking of going out tonight right? I'm going straight to her apartment so I can see if she's off tonight to join us."

That seemed to be enough for Emily as she nodded and gave Spencer a smile, walking back to her seat from before.

You could tell Spencer was hiding something. When he arrived at your apartment he was quiet and it seemed like he wanted to talk but he hid it by practically devouring you and keeping you moaning for over an hour.

Deciding you wanted to find out what it was right now, you took action: grabbing his book from his hands and placing it page down on the table behind you, straddling him on the couch. His hands instinctively went to your waist as he gave you a kiss, despite his questioning look.

"Hi." He said, to which you replied the same. "As much as I do love you on me, we decided to rest for a while. Realised you actually can't resist me after all?" He joked.

It was true. To resist Spencer was torture but your pride refused to let you go back on your statement from earlier so quickly. In your break earlier Spencer had called you insatiable when he got up to get you some water. To this you denied and said that you could easily resist him, you just never wanted to and so Spencer challenged you.

"No... but I can tell you want to say something and I'm just curious to find out what it is."

Spencer had been holding off on asking you to go out with him tonight. He couldn't understand why he was so nervous but he took a breath and asked you anyway.

"It kind of slipped during the last case that I have a girlfriend and also what your job was and now my team wants you to come out with us tonight." Spencer spoke quickly in hopes to not stumble over himself.

Your head filled with questions like why was he scared to tell you this? what prompted him to tell them? was he meaning to keep you a secret? Instead you replied with one single "Yes," throwing Spencer completely off guard. He was expecting at least a question about why he had only just told them when you had been together for nearly 3 months now.

"Oh, that's great, um, we're going to a bar not too far from here actually and we can leave in about 2 hours?"

You nodded and internally decided against bombarding him with questions, instead going in for a kiss, all pride and challenge from earlier forgotten.

The nerves only hit you when you were walking to the bar hand in hand with Spencer. Your face must have displayed these nerves, prompting Spencer to pull you closer and ask if you were okay.

"Yeah, I am, I'm excited to meet your team, but you told them about my job right? They're not all weird about it?" Usually, you didn't care about what people think about you, but you really liked Spencer, and the way he spoke about his team proved that he cared deeply for them and you just wanted them to like you too. From the way Spencer had spoken about them, they didn't seem like the type to judge people for doing what they needed to for money, as long as it was legal of course, but still, you'd had your fair share of encounters with boyfriend's friends that have lead to you being dumped all because they've seen you on stage.

"They would never. They're nice people, truly. And I can tell you right now, Emily will be all over you for how you look tonight."

His words lifted your nerves and by the time you were walking through the bar doors, you were eager to meet them. It took not a minute for Spencer's hand to be at the small of your back leading you to a booth full of people. You took a deep breath saying to yourself that even if they called you a slut, it might be worth it for once, as long as you were seen on Spencer's arm.

Getting to the booth you noticed four people sat, watching as you guys approached. You could feel their eyes on you but to your surprise, they didn't feel judgemental or disgusted - they were kind and eager.

Before Spencer had a chance to introduce you to anyone, a woman was in front of you offering her hand. "Hi, I'm Emily, you are so hot!" Her enthusiasm made you giggle as you shook her hand and replied with your name and "So are you!"

As you got acquainted with the team, Spencer left to the bar to buy you and him a drink, smiling to himself as he saw your own smile from across the bar.

The rest of the night ran smoothly with you quickly realising just how true Spencer's words were. None of his team even cared about what kind of job you had, all they cared about was if you were a good match for their youngest team member.

As you parted ways from Penelope's hold, promising to go out with her and the other girls alone again, Spencer watched with a smile.

"You really love her, huh?" Derek's voice startled Spencer slightly, but he nodded anyway, giving you his biggest grin as you came closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest.

"Yeah, I really do." Spencer replied, putting his arm around your waist and saying goodbye as he began to lead you back to your apartment. You didn't even need to have heard what Derek had said to him because you could see it in Spencer's eyes. Because in a world of boys who judged you and called you a slut for doing what you're good at, Spencer was a gentleman who would never let those boys anywhere near you.

this one took me a little longer to finish up than i had intended cause work was draining the past few days but i finally got it done. i have more ways to lengthen it but then id feel like it drags on and i just wanted to get it out so i apologise for the semi-rushed ending. i actually dont mind this one so i hope you enjoyed and please send requests, the people i can write for are in my masterlist!

dividers by @cafekitsune

thank you for reading!

[moonstruckme]

Apple pie with spencer read and qn airport terminal qt midnight

Thanks for requesting!

cw: mention of bad eating habits, mentioned unease around germs

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 729 words

“Spence.” Your voice is soft, your fingers combing through his hair even softer. Spencer’s head rests heavy on your shoulder. You shield his eyes from the harsh lights with a hand, hoping to rouse him gently. “Honey, wake up.” 

Spencer’s eyebrows furrow. Or, one does, the other already squished towards furrowing by the way it’s laying on your shoulder. You hate to wake him—Spencer tends to have a hard time relaxing at airports, what with all the germs—but your window to get something to eat is closing. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” you ask him, coaxing. 

“No,” he mumbles, but he’s blinking awake, looking up at you with soft, sleepy brown eyes. “Are you?”

You give him a sheepish smile. “A little. Sorry, do you mind if I get up to go look for something? Everything’s closing.” 

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry I almost made you miss dinner.” Spencer sits up, stretching his neck. He pushes his shoulders back lazily, and you can hear his bones crackle. “I’ll go with you.”  

You protest half-heartedly but ultimately capitulate, picking up the heavy backpack before he can and leaving your boyfriend to tow the suitcase. At this time the airport is near empty, the only people to be seen the sad band of vagabonds sitting at your gate waiting for your plane to arrive. You’ve been delayed two hours by the weather. Spencer will have to wake up four hours from when you get home to go to work, you only a half hour later.

You realize as you walk that you may be too late. While the websites you’d checked had said their airport locations would be open until midnight, the employees are already cleaning out machines, wiping down counters, pulling metal gates closed over their entrances. 

Spencer makes a worried oh sound, realizing the same thing.

“There’s an Auntie Anne’s down there,” you say hopefully, starting to walk faster in case they’re closing, too. That glowing yellow sign is your light at the end of the tunnel.

Spencer speeds up with you, but protests, “A pretzel isn’t a meal, sweetheart.” 

“It might be my only option,” you point out. “Also, I saw you eat a bag of salt and vinegar chips for dinner last week. You don’t get to talk.” 

You hear a soft, slightly petulant huff behind you. You might give him shit for it if you weren’t in a rush. 

You try to order as quickly as possible, feeling guilty for making the employee serve you just before close. But then the cup is in your hand, warm and smelling of cinnamon, and you think you probably would have vaulted the counter to get it yourself had she refused you. It’s heavenly. 

You wait until you get back to the gate to start eating, wanting to savor every bite. When you do, you have to close your eyes, forcibly smothering a moan. They’re everything you wanted and more. You shovel them into your mouth faster than is probably safe and definitely faster than anyone’s mother would approve of, and it’s not until you’re more than halfway done that you notice Spencer’s stare.

You give him a wry look. “So now you’re hungry?” 

“What?” He looks startled. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re practically drooling.” 

“No, I’m not,” he says, though you notice him tighten his lips as though checking to be sure. 

You sigh, holding them out to him. “It’s okay. Have some.” 

“No.” Spencer frowns with his eyebrows. “They’re yours.” 

“It’s seriously okay,” you say, more genuinely this time. “I’d hate for you to miss out. They’re really good.” 

He can only resist temptation for so long. He takes one, and his reaction is nearly the same as yours had been, expression going soft at the perfect, delicious warmth of them. 

“In exchange,” you suggest as he reaches for more, “can I take a turn napping on your shoulder for a while?” 

“Yeah, of course,” says Spencer, managing to sound smitten even though a mouthful of cinnamon pretzel bites. He settles back in his chair, trying to give you as comfortable a pillow as possible. 

“Thanks.” You sigh through your nose as you lay your head down, pulling your legs up onto the chair with you and closing your eyes. “I can’t believe we have to go to work tomorrow morning.” 

“This morning,” Spencer corrects you. 

You groan. 

[ghsface]

I CAN SEE YOU - spencer reid

summary: You watched him from a distance, dreaming of a moment when you could muster the courage to talk to him beyond the professional.

warnings: spencer reid x bau!fem reader ,kissing and I think that's all, if I'm missing something let me know.

author's note: The only thing I can do when I listen to this song is imagine Spencer, idk why this reminds me so much of him. I hope you like it and I'm sorry if there are mistakes/misspelled words, my native language is not English.🎀

All the friction in the hallways when you found him going to get some files or when you were going to see Penelope, all the stolen glances that you noticed almost every day when you were at your desk, even when they were on the Jet, he never took your eyes off.

The FBI office in Quantico was bustling with constant activity, but you were always lost in thought while pretending to review a file. You couldn't help but let your eyes wander to Spencer Reid, the genius of the team, who was sitting at his desk, engrossed in his books or his work.

You saw it every day, noticing the small details that others overlooked. The way he bit his lip when he was focused, how his fingers played with his hair when he was nervous.

There was something hypnotic about him, something that made you feel an inexplicable connection. But you always lacked the courage. You didn't want to risk your professional friendship, or your place on the team, for feelings that might not be reciprocated.

That afternoon, after a particularly tiring day, you found yourself reviewing some reports at your desk, trying to keep yourself busy. Most of the office had already left, leaving you alone with your group mates, leaving the place a little silent. You realized Spencer was there too, working on a file.

"Hi, Spence," you said, trying to sound casual as you approached his desk. The way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey, y/n,” he responded, his tone relaxed but attentive. "I thought you had already gone"

"No, I don't have to do three reports yet, it's like it's never going to end," you said, smiling warmly but with noticeable tiredness on your face.

Conversation flowed effortlessly as you shared stories and laughter as the two of you completed your reports. You felt more and more comfortable around him, and the connection you felt was palpable. As the afternoon wore on, you noticed a growing tension in the air, an implicit desire that you both seemed to share.

But all this was interrupted when you had to go get a file. "I have to go get a file," you said, getting up from your chair. "Wait, I'll come with you anyway, I am missing a file to finish this," he said, getting up and following you to the room where all the files were.

The filing room was dark and lined with shelves, and the atmosphere was filled with a tension that had nothing to do with work.

As we reviewed the files we were looking for, the conversation flowed naturally. We talked about books, movies, and of course the case we were reporting on.

Suddenly, I found a file that looked promising, but it was on a high shelf. I asked Spencer to help me reach it. As he reached out to grab it, I lost my balance and fell backwards. Just before I hit the ground, I felt Spencer's arms wrap around me, cushioning my fall.

"Are you OK?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

I nodded, feeling my heart beat faster than usual, not only from the shock, but also from the sudden closeness to Spencer. His eyes were shining with a mix of concern and something else she couldn't identify.

We stayed in that position for a moment, and the air between us was charged with a tension I had never felt before. Slowly, Spencer helped me to my feet, but his hands remained on my arms, as if he didn't want to let me go.

"Thank you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, a shy but genuine smile that made my heart beat even faster. Before I realized what I was doing, I leaned towards him. Spencer didn't pull away, instead he closed the distance between us.

Our lips met in a soft, sweet kiss, filled with a suppressed emotion that had been building for a long time.

The kiss intensified quickly. We moved to a corner of the file room, out of sight of anyone who might enter. Our bodies joined in a dance of desire, the outside world fading as we gave ourselves to each other. Passion drove us to undo buttons and explore with trembling hands, desire growing with every second.

Just when the moment seemed like it was going to end in something more, a noise outside the room made us stop abruptly. We looked at each other, both out of breath and with flushed cheeks.

"We should stop," Spencer said, her voice hoarse and thick with emotion.

I nodded, trying to regain my composure. We made up the best we could and parted ways, knowing that what had just happened would change our relationship forever.

Leaving the archive room, we meet the team. Derek looked at us with an amused smile.

"Where have you been?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and a mischievous smile on his face.

I felt my cheeks blush, but before I could respond, Spencer took the initiative.

"Checking some important files," he said, with an enigmatic smile.

The team accepted the explanation, although not without some suspicious looks. As the night wore on, I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened in the file room. It was an intense and beautiful, albeit interrupted, moment that marked the beginning of something new and exciting between Spencer and I, something I was eager to explore further.

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ �� ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ

Months later...

From that day on, Spencer and I began a secret relationship. We kissed in hidden places in the office, taking advantage of every opportunity to be together without being seen. Meetings became an excuse to brush hands under the table, and coffee breaks were furtive moments of quick kisses in deserted hallways.

One night while working late, we met again in the file room. The tension between us was palpable, and we couldn't resist. Spencer cornered me against a bookshelf, his lips meeting mine in a hungry kiss. His hands explored my body urgently, and I found myself responding with the same intensity.

"We have to be careful," Spencer whispered against my lips, his breathing ragged.

"I know," I replied, my fingers tangling in his hair, "but I can't help it."

Our secret romance continued, each encounter filled with the thrill of the forbidden. Despite the risks, neither of them wanted to stop. The passion we shared was too strong, and every kiss and caress only fueled our desire more.

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly☆

[inkdrinkerworld]

Spencer reid sends you a period basket every month no matter where he is!!! Without fail there’s a bouquet of flowers, your favourite chocolates, a poem or excerpt from whatever he’s reading, and some of your favourite skincare or body care and he just likes knowing that he’s going to get either a video or FaceTime call from you to tell him about it

Omg like Yolanda and Zack on TT!!!

Spencer knows that your period is a little irregular so he waits for the minute you start exhibiting pms symptoms.

He always checks to see what you have and what you need and takes stock mentally of all that he wants to get you too.

This month had been a little harder on you than others and so he goes a little crazy.

“My period came,” you sound a little pleased, glad it hasn’t been too late this month, but also a little peeved because the cramps are not letting up.

“I got your basket right here, angel.” You look up at him as he holds a bouquet in one hand and a basket in the next. “They’re fresh, the lady at the florist had just picked them.”

You lean up for a kiss, Spencer smiling when you take it and take a big inhale of the carnations. “Thank you Spence,” he hands over the basket next.

You go through it, taking the essentials, your pads and tampons and then your chocolates, out first. Then you see the folded sweater on the bottom. “Spence,” it’s a soft material, softer than your usual sweaters, something that you want to switch into now. You hardly hesitate to do it.

Then you see the face masks and serums and even some aromatherapy oils. “Thank you baby.”

Spencer accepts the way you vault yourself into him, holding the back of your head close to his chest as his other arm wraps around you.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever.” You whisper into his clothes and he chuckles.

“That’s just boyfriend duties, sweetheart. Plus one of the things is late. Should be here tomorrow though.”

You pull back, shocked and a little skeptical of how breezy his tone is. “Spencer Reid.” You try to be stern.

“Yes, my love?” He strokes your face from temple to jaw, tilting his head down a little as he stares at you.

“You’re no fair. What did you order?” You ask softly, a little lost in your adoration for him.

“A box set. The new series you wanted, I preordered it.” Tears spring fresh to your eyes, your bottom lip trembling as you feel the openness of his love for you- of how easy he finds it to dole out his love and affection and dote on you.

“Hey, no tears.” He wipes them away with his sleeve, gentle pressure on your cheeks. “I thought you’d be happy, or are these happy tears?”

You nod, “You’re just…” you can’t seem to settle on the right word. “,perfect.”

Spencer laughs rubbing your arms. “Thank you, but that’s not possible. Wanna watch movies with me? There’s the good popcorn, in the cupboards too.”

“Spencer stop. You’re gonna make me cry even more, I’m already so emotional.” He only hums, kissing your forehead as he reaches for the tv remote.

[unseededtoast]

When Was It Over? | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: You had suspicions that another woman was receiving Spencer’s affections, and one night your worst fears are confirmed. Heartbroken, you try to move on but find yourself contemplating when things went wrong, and when it was all over. Inspired by “Is It Over Now?” By Taylor Swift

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 6.7k

content warnings: infidelity, angst, mention of blood

a/n: thank all of you lovelies for taking the time and reading, I appreciate each and every one of you. But especially to @mirdnightmass who suggested this, thank you🫶🏼 and if you have any suggestions please send them my way!

Woven into the fabric of the blanket is a blonde hair. And it most certainly isn't yours. No, the color is wrong and it's not the right length. Your eyes are glued to the hair, blood ice in your veins and chest sore from devastation.

"Who is she?" You ask, pushing the blanket off of you and standing from the couch.

Reading the words on your phone screen cause you stomach to turn with anxiety. Spencer had texted you that he will be home from a case tonight, and that he'd like to come over. Usually, this wouldn't be an issue and you'd be overjoyed to see him. But lately you suspect that there might be someone else entering the picture.

Your suspicions started small. He'd take phone calls that weren't from his boss, he would purposely order an extra coffee in the mornings to take to work, and he started working later than usual. Though you had no concrete proof of anything, it was a gut feeling that you just can't seem to shake.

But you push your anxiety aside and text Spencer back, letting him know that he's more than welcome to come over tonight. And as soon as you send the message, you put your phone away and clean your home to occupy your thoughts.

All too soon, Spencer's knocking on your door and you let him in with a smile on your face. He kisses you as he comes through, smelling oddly sweet. Fighting the urge to throw up, you convince yourself not to overreact until you're certain there's someone else in his life.

Throughout the evening, while the two of you are tangled together on the couch, you peek at him out of the corner of your eye and wonder where things started going wrong. There's a tension between the two of you, and though unspoken, its presence is well known.

You remember how only a few short months ago you would have been beyond excited to spend an evening with Spencer, and now you find yourself counting down the minutes until he leaves. He used to shower you in love and affection, but now his hand barely grazes your thigh.

When Spencer leaves for the night, he kisses your cheek and wishes you a goodnight. You realize as you shut the door that he hadn't told you that he loved you once.

- - - - -

Two weeks pass and Spencer has once again come back home from a case. This time his message asks you if you'd like to come over to his apartment. And you tell him you'll be there, but there's an odd sinking feeling residing in your chest.

Later in the evening you go to Spencer's apartment with distant memories dancing in your head. It seems like just yesterday you came here for the first time, bright eyed and head over heels in love with your boyfriend, who couldn't have been more perfect.

You walk in and place your coat on the rack beside the door, smiling at Spencer who stands with his hands in his pockets. Biting the insides of your cheeks, you wonder if he's even going to lay a finger on you tonight.

"How was your day?" He finally breaks the silence and you nod your head,

"It was okay. Just went to work and now I'm here." The conversation feels like one between new coworkers, not significant others of three years.

"Come on in, I rented your favorite movie and dinner should be here any minute." He finally takes a step towards you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head atop yours.

Feeling his arms hold you for the first time in almost a month is almost enough to drive you to tears. You take in his scent as it comforts you, and you nuzzle your head into his chest, wishing that whatever was happening between the two of you would pass and things would go back to normal. You miss Spencer's affections, your heart yearns to hear him declare his love for you.

After dinner, the two of you retire in the living room where you take your usual spot on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped over the back, and you pull it over top of you, but your heart stops once it lands in your lap.

Woven into the fabric of the blanket is a blonde hair. And it most certainly isn't yours. No, the color is wrong and it's not the right length. Your eyes are glued to the hair, blood ice in your veins and chest sore from devastation.

Spencer walks into the room after getting a glass of water, but he falls short of sitting beside you. He must've noticed something was wrong in the way you're sat on the couch.

While Spencer watches, you grab the hair between your thumb and pointer finger, pulling it through the fabric and hold it in front of you, eyes meeting Spencer's. Your hand shakes as adrenaline pumps through you, Spencer's jaw falls slack.

"What is this?" Your voice is oddly even and calm given the situation. Spencer's mouth opens and closes a few times before he clears his throat and answers you.

"A friend had to crash here for a few nights." He admits, and you wonder why you're just now hearing of this.

"Who is she?" You ask, pushing the blanket off of you and standing from the couch.

"JJ, I work with her." He says, eyes casting down to the hair still in your grasp. Your heart wildly pumps in your chest.

"So you weren't going to tell me that a woman was staying the night with you?" Finally releasing the hair from your grasp, the realization dawns on you and it's like the puzzle pieces you'd collected over the last few weeks have suddenly put themselves together.

"No, she just needed a place to sleep for a few nights." He says, like he's also trying to convince himself of the same thing.

"Spencer don't lie to me. I know you've been taking coffee to her in the mornings, you've been staying later, and the last time you came over you smelled like her." Your voice starts to shake and you step away from Spencer. Tears well in your eyes and you beg your body not to betray you right now.

"She's just a friend." Is all Spencer refutes your argument with. Your head shakes back and forth, the reality setting in.

"Spencer you've taken better care of her than you have me. Hell, last time we saw each other you barely touched me and you didn't even tell me you love me. And tonight you're doing the same thing." Your throat feels like it's closing up from battling your emotions.

As you wait for him to say something, anything, your bottom lip trembles. Where did this all go wrong? Was there anything you could've done? Could you have held him tighter or kissed him more? The questions race through your mind but are cut short by Spencer.

"I'm sorry. We were on a case and she told me she loves me. But, I promise you that she is just a friend." The words that leave his lips are like knives being dug into your eardrums. And with his words, the tears resting in your lash line fall over and cascade down your cheeks, one right after another.

"How could you? Spencer, how could you? We had everything going for us. I love you with every fiber of my being. I thought you were the love of my life. But now you're just, you're just a lying traitor." You force the words out before you completely break down. Turning away from him, you rush to collect your things.

You're not even sure you put your shoes on the right feet but you don't care. The door of Spencer's apartment swings open and you take one last look at him. His mouth is open, eyes wet, but he says nothing.

He doesn't try to stop you as you leave his apartment, and that makes you sob even harder on your way home.

Is this really how things are ending between you?

- - - - -

"Come on have some fun!" Your friend, Sarah, nudges your shoulder, interrupting your daydream. It's a Friday night and the weather is nice, so she's begging to go out.

"I don't know Sarah, I'm not really in the mood." Your tone is melancholy, and all you want to do is crawl into bed. With a huff, Sarah steps in front of you and grabs your shoulders so that you're forced to look at her.

"You need this. I haven't seen you smile in weeks. Come on, go get ready. It'll be good for you." Her voice is kind, and soft, and you know she's only trying to help. As your lifelong best friend, she's always been in your corner with support and love.

"Fine." You relent, and go find something to wear. You're in no mood for anything uncomfortable or flashy, so you settle on a loose button up and a pair of ripped jeans.

"You look so good!" Sarah tries to hype you up as she grabs her keys, but it doesn't really work. You can't feel good while you're suffering on the inside. With her arm slung around your shoulder, you accompany her to whatever she has planned for tonight.

"Really?" You deadpan ask her as you stare at the neon light adorning the front of the building. This is quite literally the last place you wanted to be tonight, but here you are.

"Yes, it'll be fun, come on." Sarah grabs your hand and drags you alongside into the bar where the music is too loud and the people are even more annoying.

Against your wishes, you line up at the bar and wait to gain the bartender's attention. You figure if you're going to be here you'll need something to numb the experience. Sarah knows you've never been a fan of crowded places so you're confused as to why she even brought you here in the first place.

Once the two of you have your drinks in hand, you find an empty table and take a seat. As you sip, you look around at the patrons; people watching has always been quite enjoyable for you. Your eyes scan the bar and land on a tall man across the way. His smile is wide, hair dark and curly, eyes bright and soft.

Blinking rapidly, you pull your eyes away from the man and order another drink. Guilt eats you from inside as you realize you had been checking out another man; albeit one that looks oddly familiar. And surely another drink will help numb the guilt as well.

Hours later and two drinks turned into four. You feel your cheeks warm from the alcohol, and you're keenly aware that your eyes are back on the tall, handsome man from earlier.

"You should go say something." Sarah says, leaning on the table as she nurses her drink. Shaking your head, you disagree.

"No, I can't." You say, almost as if convincing yourself of your own answer. You're not even sure if you and Spencer are over, you can't possibly go introduce yourself to another man.

"Come on. He's been looking at you all night." She nudges you out of your seat and through the power of liquid courage, you relent.

Turning away from Sarah, you find the man easily and take a quick deep breath. It doesn't take you long to cross the bar and in seconds, you find yourself staring up at the man's green eyes. He's got a small smile on his face, his eyes gleam with curiosity.

"Hi." You smile up at the man, who smiles back.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing talking to a man like me?" He smiles wider, showing off his perfectly white teeth. Your eyes dance from the man's smile to his eyes, relishing in their familiarity.

"My friend said I should come say something." You tell him, having nothing actually prepared to say to him beyond an introduction. The man finishes off his drink and looks over to where Sarah is. He nods,

"Well I'm glad she did. Can I get you another?" He raises the empty glass in his hand. While you feel a little tipsy, you know one more wouldn't hurt.

"Sure." You smile up at him and watch as he goes to order the two of you another drink.

While he's away, you glance over to Sarah, who's smiling at you and giving you a thumbs up across the bar. You suppress your smile, but you're thankful she's still here; she wouldn't leave you alone with a stranger and you know she'll be here to make sure you're okay. Her reassuring presence is probably why you agreed to approach the man in the first place.

The man comes back with two glasses in his hands, and he gives you one of them. He invites you back to his table, which is only a few feet away from where you are standing, and the two of you get to know each other. You learn that he's from the area, he works in finance for a fortune 500 company, and he recently got out of a long-term relationship.

You share how your relationship status is hugely unknown at this point, but spare him the details for your own pride's sake. Thankfully, he doesn't inquire and the conversation flows easily. He even makes you laugh a time or two, which hasn't happened in weeks.

As the night goes on, you find yourself sitting closer and closer to the man, drawn in by how he reminds you of someone you dearly miss. It's entirely clear to you why you're attracted to the man, but you push all of those thoughts away, the alcohol working diligently to cloud your logic and judgment and all you can focus on is the man's lips.

Not even twenty minutes later, you're pulling him in by the front of his shirt, crashing his lips onto yours. His hands hold your waist securely, and his lips move in tandem with your own. The taste of sweetness lingers between the two of you. Your body moves on its own volition, and in the heat of the moment you find yourself practically sitting in the man's lap. Thankfully, the table you two are at is tucked away in the corner, but you're still entirely visible to everyone else. However, that doesn't seem to matter as you place kisses on the man's jaw and down to his neck.

His hands move from your waist up to the first button of your shirt where he expertly undoes it. Your wet lips place another kiss on the man's neck, just underneath his ear like you're used to doing with someone else, and the feeling of another button being undone makes you realize what's happening.

Backing away from the kiss abruptly, your heart drops to your stomach. Your fingers work quickly to clasp the buttons on your shirt and you get off of the man, who looks confused and hurt.

"I'm sorry, I can't- I shouldn't have..." You trail off, giving him no specific answer as you turn around and find Sarah.

She must have been able to tell from the look on your face that you're ready to leave. And thankfully she doesn't ask you a single question on the way back to your house. The entire trip back, you stare out the window and wonder why you let that happen, and how you could've let yourself kiss another man. But mostly you just think about how it should've been Spencer.

Sarah drops you off and wishes you a goodnight, and you half-heartedly tell her goodbye.

Your mind is too preoccupied as you go through your nightly routine and by the time your head hits the pillow, your thoughts have shifted from the unknown man's lips to Spencer's.

You remember how his hands would map out every curve of your body and how his lips would kiss your tender skin, as if you'd break if he wasn't careful. Spencer would always hold you close to him as he showered you in love and affection, his hands unable to get enough of you. Even if the two of you were relaxing on the couch, he would always find a way to touch you, whether that meant you were cuddled in his arms or barely touching his shoulder.

A lone tear drips down your face as you try to sleep, missing having Spencer beside you, missing the feeling of his arms around you, and you know you'll miss seeing his gemstone eyes first thing when you wake up. You mourn the relationship, and can't help but wonder if your actions tonight were the final nail in the coffin.

That night, all you can dream about is Spencer, and how in love you used to be.

- - - - -

Awaking earlier than wanted, Spencer rubs the sleep from his eyes the best he can. It's still dark outside, but he knows that he's not going to be able to fall back asleep. And even if he did, he knows that the only thing he will dream about is you.

The past few weeks all of his dreams have centered around you. At first, they were about how you two met and your first few dates. They were vivid, almost as if they were happening all over again. He could clearly see the tulips he picked for your first date, and he remembers the shade of lipstick you wore that brought out your eyes in the best way possible.

As he makes his way through his morning routine, he's distracted by the traces of you that remain in his apartment. You still have clothes in his dresser, your toothbrush still sits on his bathroom counter. And most noticeably, your scent still lingers on his sheets.

But, his apartment now has traces of JJ too. Her blonde hair sticks to the blankets draped over the couch, her perfume embedded in the material. She had left a hair tie on his coffee table and the mug she used for coffee sits untouched in the sink.

Spencer knows that her confession of love was mainly spurred on by a life or death situation, but he would be lying if he said it didn't reawaken repressed feelings. Back in his early days at the BAU, he had been head over heels for her, but he moved on when she got together with Will. And truthfully, when he met you it was the happiest he had ever been, and he was convinced that you were his soul mate.

That was until JJ told him that she loved him.

A heavy feeling of guilt has taken residence in Spencer's chest since you walked out of his apartment. He knew that you had every right to be upset, and truthfully he doesn't know if the two of you will ever reconcile. As you walked out of the door he wanted to stop you, to beg you to stay, but he knew he couldn't. He had to let you go.

Staring at the couch, he can't help but wonder if your relationship had died the moment he let JJ stay over, the moment she laid on his couch could've been the exact moment your relationship took its last breath. Had that one decision been the beginning of the end?

And he can't help but wonder why he agreed to let her stay in the first place, after a confession of that magnitude, and why he hadn't told you. Was it his subconscious way of admitting he also has feelings for JJ, and that by allowing her to stay in his home it was an acknowledgment of that fact? Had he not told you because of the feelings he harbors for her? Would telling you force him to confront those emotions?

No matter what it may have meant, he can't help but to regret it. The look on your face as you called him a lying traitor will forever be ingrained in his mind. Spencer had never meant to hurt you, no, he loved you dearly.

As each day passes by without hearing from you, Spencer wonders if things are truly over for the two of you. His heart aches from your absence and he yearns to have you back in his arms. But he can't help but feel guilty as he realizes that he may have some of those same feelings for JJ.

- - - - -

Months had gone by since you last saw Spencer, and you finally feel like you can begin to heal. It took some time for you to process what had happened, and now you've come to be at peace with his decision. If he wanted to search for something greater, and found it in her, then there's nothing you could've done.

On a regular routine again, you enter your favorite coffee shop on your way to your new job, needing the extra caffeine. The warm air inside greets you and the rich scent of coffee fills the air.

After you order your usual, you stand off to the side to wait, pushing yourself up against a wall so that other people have room to move around. The lightly falling snow outside catches your attention and from the warmth of inside you can appreciate the beauty.

The barista calls your name out as the front door bell jingles. Grabbing your drink, you relish in how the warmth gives life back to your fingertips before turning to leave, preparing yourself to brace the bitter cold that awaits you outside.

But as your eyes land on the people who had just walked in, it seems as if the wintry cold followed you in after all. Spencer stands at the counter with a blonde haired, blue-eyed, woman next to him who looks like she just walked out of a magazine. Their cheeks are rosy from the cold, but you feel yours drain of all color. And if that wasn't enough, it's like your feet have been superglued to the floor, forcing you to watch as he orders for her with a smile on his face.

It seems he found something greater after all.

After the initial wave of sadness washes over you, you feel a familiar fire within you. Jealousy is an ugly beast, but you can't help the way your eyebrows knit together as you watch them, your thoughts consumed with how that should be you next to him, how it used to be you.

In fact, your jealously goes so far as to create hundreds of impulsive plans to earn his attention away from her. If you spilled your coffee, surely that would do the trick. Or if you tripped on your way out, that would be sure to make him look. Even the fleeting thought of jumping from the roof makes an appearance; the only consequence you can think of is how he'd surely come running straight to you.

But your imaginative plans are all for naught, as they grab their drinks and leave together. She laughs at something he said as the door shuts behind them. And you're still stuck in the middle of the coffee shop with one question floating around in your mind.

Did he really choose her over you?

- - - - -

Staring out of your window that's been frosted over with fresh snow, you can't help but to ponder how exactly you got to be where you are right now. In three days it'll be Christmas, and you've never dreaded the holiday more than you do in this moment.

A few evenings ago you had been rummaging through your closet and found the gift you planned on giving Spencer this Christmas. It was simple, but you knew he'd love it. He had always worn a purple scarf during the colder months, and when you saw this one you just knew he needed it. It was another scarf, but the seamstress who was selling it offered to stitch something on the back of it, and so you had asked her to stitch your initials on the back, so that even while he was away on cases he still had a piece of you with him.

Now the gift lays wrapped on your coffee table, where it silently taunts you with thoughts of what could've been. You stare at it, wondering if you should give it away, throw it away, send it through the mail, or do nothing with it at all.

Unable to look at the box any longer, you take it and put it with the rest of Spencer's things you intend to give back to him soon. Having his belongings in your home is slowly starting to drive you mad, and you know that in order to have any shot of getting over him, it all has to be gone.

In a momentary burst of determination, you grab the box of his belongings that sits in the back of your closet and you take it out to your car, despite the fact that the air is so cold it burns your face and that the snow is coming down at a considerable rate. You figure he's had you in his grasp for too long now and it's time to start reclaiming your home, your life, and begin piecing together who you're going to be after Spencer Reid.

The box is haphazardly shoved into your back seat and your hand quickly grazes the side of a book he had left on your nightstand, and as your luck would have it, you managed to give yourself a papercut. You hold your hand out of the car so you don't get blood on any of his things before closing the door with haste.

Your eyes cast down at the bright, crimson red blood that dots the pristine snow below your feet. Drops of blood roll down your finger and drip from the tip, each drip creating its own prominent mark in the snow. And you can't help but feel like it's more than just blood on the snow, that somehow it symbolizes how you may have very well killed what remained of your relationship with Spencer.

But he gave you no other choice.

- - - - -

Your insides twist and turn with anxiousness as you park your car along the street of a familiar curb. Looking back down at your phone screen, you confirm that this is the time you're supposed to be here before getting out of your car and picking up the box from the back seat.

After Christmas you had sent Spencer a text asking if you could come by and get your things that you had left in his apartment, and thankfully he agreed. You hadn't told him that you were bringing his things, and he hadn't asked for them, but you figured it was just common courtesy to bring them anyways. Plus you can't stand looking at the box any longer, all it does it resurface memories of a better time, one where you were happy and in love. Neither of those things are true anymore.

Walking up the stairs, you remember how excited you were the first time to come over and how you were awestruck by how well he decorated for a man. Of course you added a few things here and there over the years, but soon there will be no trace of you left. Your heart sinks with the realization that Spencer's apartment will no longer be your second home, his arms will no longer be your safe haven.

Once you reach his door, you knock lightly. You had partially hoped that he would just leave your things in the hall, and that the exchange would be easy, but of course he wouldn't do that. And within seconds of knocking on the door, he answers. His hair is messy and he's opted for his glasses today, your favorite look on him. Swallowing hard, you hold the box out in front of you.

"I think this is everything." Your voice is nothing more than a whisper. He steps further inside his apartment,

"Come on in." He invites you, and you wonder if you should accept. You know that if you walk in that a plethora of memories will invade your mind, and you know that if you don't that you may never receive the closure you need. After a few moments of contemplation, you step inside.

You place the box on the ground and put your hands in your pockets as you look around. The decorations you had placed around various locations are no longer there adorning the shelves or the walls, your spare coat no longer hangs from the rack beside the front door, and your handwritten notes are no longer on the front of the fridge. You swallow again and avert your eyes, pleading with yourself to not cry in front of him. But as your eyes move elsewhere, you spot a photograph that still hangs on the wall in his living room.

It was a sunny day in the early spring, and the two of you had just celebrated your one year anniversary. The two of you agreed that a nice picnic would be more than enough of a celebration, and honestly you were just happy that he wasn't being dragged away on a case that day. The two of you laid side by side on the blanket in the plush grass, content with one another's presence, fingers interlaced as his thumb traced circles on the back of your hand. Before the sun went down you had asked him to take the picture, and you always loved how bright his smile was that day.

"This should be everything." He comes back into the entryway with a box in his arms. You spot every little decoration you had ever brought over, along with your clothes that you had almost forgotten about. Spencer places the box on the ground as well, and you nod, clearing the emotion from your throat.

"Thank you." You say and go to pick up your box and get out of his apartment. Truthfully, there's a part within you that wants him to beg you to stay, you hope that he will profess his undying love for you and that you won't have to leave.

No matter how heartbroken you are over his decision, you know that you would take him back in a heartbeat. Your soul still aches for his touch and you're not sure that feeling will ever fade. The intensity with which you love him is passionate and all encompassing. For just another moment in his arms, you can't even begin to list everything you would give and sacrifice. His hugs were always the most comforting, his words always sweet and honeyed, his lips always soft.

Until they were for the blonde-haired woman who came in and took everything from you.

Once the box is in your hands, you give him a weak smile and are almost brought to tears just by looking at his face. Your sweet, sweet Spencer is so close yet has never been farther away. Feeling tears well in your lash line, you commit to memory just how beautiful he is for what is very well the final time you'll ever see him.

In an instant, flashes of what your future could've been runs through your mind. You see the two of you hand in hand at the end of an aisle, long nights of waiting for him to come back home only to be greeted with the most loving kisses, and countless mornings waking up in his arms. You were prepared to give him everything, but now you're left with nothing except the memories of when he still loved you.

Giving him one last chance to say something, your hope begins fizzling out. There's only one thing you want to hear him say, and you're coming to understand that you'll likely never hear those words come from his mouth.

When it's clear that there's nothing left to say, you turn and open the front door. Before the door gets closed on you, you turn to look at him just one last time. You think your eyes are playing tricks on you, but you can almost swear you see a tear fall from his eye.

"Goodbye, Spencer." You say as a lone tear falls from your eye and runs down your cheek, unable to keep them at bay any longer. Feeling your bottom lip beginning to tremble, you make yourself walk away before you have a full breakdown in the hallway right in front of him.

The ride back home is silent, except for the occasional sound of your sniffles. Before the exchange of belongings, you had held out hope that it meant that there might still be hope. But now there's nothing left to give you hope.

It seems things are really over now.

- - - - -

Spencer's phone lights up on his counter, catching his eye as he was walking by. Glancing at it quickly, he sees your name attached to the message. He picks the phone up and reads the message that reads less like a text and more like a cordial email.

"Hi, hope all is well. I was wondering if there is a time that I could come by and collect the rest of my things?"

The words make his heart sink, but he replies and lets you know when he'll be home. He knew that this day would eventually come, but he wasn't prepared for it to be so soon. Placing his phone back down on the counter, he looks around and notices just how many traces there are of you everywhere he looks.

In every part of his apartment he can easily recall a memory the two of you made there. The kitchen is where he remembers making cookies together on a friday night, the living room reminds him of the times you fell asleep in his lap, and the bedroom reminds him of all the mornings he was lucky enough to be awoken by your gentle kisses.

But he respects your wishes and begins collecting your things, committing each one to memory. With each and every little item he packs away, he finds himself becoming more and more angry with himself. He can't understand why he jeopardized the love of his life for JJ. Sure, he thought he loved her, and the two of them had spent extra time together after her confession, but after you left Spencer realized that he could never love JJ the way he loves you. And so he came to the painful conclusion that he could only ever love JJ as a close friend, but only after breaking your heart and shattering your relationship he cherished so dearly.

Spencer knows that he has forfeited every right to be with you by making those series of poor decisions but it doesn't make it any easier for him to accept.

As he packs away the rest of your things, he finally finds himself at his dresser, where some of your clothes remain. He remembers the day you brought some of your wardrobe over and he was happy to make room for you. You had told him that by keeping some of your things here that you two could spend more time together as you wouldn't have to go back and forth between homes when staying over or going out. But he never needed convincing, he would've let you do whatever you wanted as long as it kept that smile on your face.

And all too soon, you show up at his apartment with a box in your arms, filled to the brim with his belongings. As soon as he sees your face behind the door, he feels like he wants to collapse to his knees and beg for you to forgive him.

But instead, he gathers your things and returns them to you when you should be staying here. You should be wrapped up in his arms for the rest of the night. He watches as the photo on the wall catches your eye, and even he can't help but to look at it as well.

Seeing the two of you so happy together in a moment frozen in time makes his throat constrict with emotion, and he feels the tears well in his eyes. What he wouldn't give to be able to see you smile like that again, to hold and love and cherish you until the end of time.

Instead, he watches as you turn and leave his apartment. The realization hits him like a brick wall that this could very well be the last time he ever sees you, and he can't keep his composure.  A tear escapes his eye and falls as you turn around and wish him farewell.

Once the door closes behind you, Spencer finally collapses to his knees, sobs wracking through his body while he mentally curses himself for not saying more, for not fighting harder for you.

His chest hurts from crying, but he can't find it within himself to care about anything other than you. He wishes he could forget, things would be easier that way. But instead he's sentenced to a life where he has no choice but to remember everything.

That night while he lays in bed, throat raw and eyes sore, all he can think about is you. The way you fit in his arms like you were made just for him, how you would rake your fingers through his hair until he fell asleep, and how sometimes, after particularly hard cases, you would hold him close.

As the hours pass and he gives into sleep, he can almost swear he feels your arms wrapping around him while you whisper for him to "come here", like you always did. Your voice was always soft and understanding as you took him into your warm embrace.

But now the room feels colder than it ever has before, and there's nobody to blame but himself.

- - - - -

A warm spring breeze blows your hair and with it comes the sweet smell of budding flowers. The sun is shining brightly through the puffy, white clouds and for the first time in a long time, you feel at peace.

Once the snow had melted and signs of life began springing back up, it seems your spirits rose as well. Sure, some days are harder than others and you still miss Spencer, but you're able to live without the constant ache in your chest.

You've taken the time to reflect on what happened, and you have come to accept that there was nothing more you could've done. You had given him your entire heart, but that just wasn't enough for him. He searched for something better, something greater, and it seems like he found it. You only hope she makes him happier than you could have, and that she loves him well.

But no matter how hard you work on healing yourself, you can't silence the voice in the back of your mind that reminds you of just how badly you want to see him again. You yearn to even just see him from a distance, and you desperately crave to hear him tell you that he still loves you.

You wish that he could be here sharing this wonderful afternoon by your side, hand in hand and you wish that things had played out differently. Maybe you two would've been engaged, or even married, by now. After all, tomorrow would've been your five year anniversary.

No matter how much time passes you still don't think you're ready to try to get back out there, much to Sarah's disproval. It just wouldn't be fair to the other man, the way you would still see parts of Spencer in him.

With a sigh, you can't help but think of what could've been, how your future with Spencer could've been filled with happiness, laughter, love, and so much more. But no, instead you sit alone on a bench in the middle of a busy park.

After hours of soaking in the warm sun, you decide it's time to go back home. As you walk down the street you recount memories you've thought of a hundred times before and wonder if maybe your path will cross with Spencer's again someday.

Before you open your front door you stop and take a deep breath. The looming anniversary date has made you a touch more melancholy and sentimental than usual and after a long day of reflection, you're finally ready to admit something to yourself that you've been pushing away for far too long.

It's over now.

[mcntsee]

— ★fic recs 'twenty four

Hi! This is a masterlist for all my fic recs. This list will continue to update as I read and find more things to add. Credits go to the respective authors!

↳ Please make sure to check out the warning on each fic. Some of them contain stuff that might be triggering for some readers!

keys;

🫐 — angst

☁️ — fluff

🎧 — nsfw

spencer reid recs;

— ★ series;

↳ trouble almost all my life by @januaryembrs [ongoing] ☁️🫐

summary: the one time the bau needs you + the four times you need them.

↳ twisted by @dreamwritesimagines [completed] 🫐☁️

summary: no one can outrun their past.

↳ pierced by @rynbutt [completed] ☁️🎧

summary: moving into a new apartment in a new city is stressful, what's even more stressful is when there's a fucking murder in the apartment across from yours... at least the fbi agent is cute.

↳ american teenager by @lanascinnamongirls [ongoing] ☁️🫐

summary: all it took was one case. one case and you were back in your small town in your home state of missouri.

↳ say that you love me by @none-of-your-bullshit [completed] 🫐☁️🎧

summary: what happens when an ex cia operative survives an attempted murder and is plucked straight out of georgetown by david rossi?

↳ do you believe me now by @nereidprinc3ss 🎧

— ★ stand alone:

↳ forgiven by @reiding-writing 🫐☁️

summary: you lied to him with good intentions, but when he finds out the truth he says something detrimental in the heat of the moment. After weeks of radio silence any chance of reconciliation is almost lost after you get critically injured in the field.

kaz brekker recs;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ three taps by @happyyyandcrazyyy 🫐☁️

summary: kaz taps three times. it’s his way to say i love you, i care.

↳ dive into the waves below by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: pekka rollins's reign is over and it's time for the new king to take his place (or kaz settles into his new office and his beaten face needs some tending to)

↳ alright by @liberty-barnes 🫐☁️

summary: you’ve been flirting with kaz ever since you started working as his bartender. systematic rejection gets tiring after a while, but sometimes all you need is a good chat and a large bottle of vodka.

↳ bloody hands by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: kaz never feels the need to explain his entire plan. he knows that, whatever happens, it will inevitably go according to plan. but when his plan goes wrong and y/n is injured, kaz is suddenly forced to comprehend with the skeletally hand of death once again.

↳ initials by @triptuckers ☁️

summary: for as long as the crows can remember, you’ve worn a ring with initials on it, and they’ve been trying to figure out what they stand for ever since

↳ love story by @luna-writes-stuff ☁️

summary: kaz hasn’t known life without you at his side. he doesn’t see reason for you to abandon him any time soon and he isn’t planning on letting you go either.

↳ what do you want from me? by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

↳ this is what happens by @fishley 🫐

summary: a look into the journey of kaz losing another person he loves and how it not only affects himslef, but everyone around him.

↳ dark days by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: mr and mrs rietveld. a locked vault and approximately ten minutes of air left. what could possibly go wrong.

↳ his star by @alpurrtwhizkersss 🫐☁️

summary: kaz saves reader from drowning

↳ dust and rubble by @writing-havoc 🫐☁️

summary: a plan goes wrong. you get injured. kaz tries to help-

↳ pocket watch by @writing-havoc ☁️

summary: after years of patient progression on his phobia, kaz finds the opportunity to reciprocate

↳ call me what you like by @sophierequests ☁️

summary: kaz and the reader have been married for quite some years now, unbeknownst to their friends. but what if a slip up causes this shared secret to come to the surface?

↳ sweetheart by @bloodwrittenballad ☁️

summary: kaz's reaction to you calling him sweetheart

↳ the way of the water by @bubbles-for-all-of-us 🫐☁️

summary: reader is a tidemaker and during a heist kaz falls into the water and she uses her powers to pull him out and helps him through a panic attack

simon "ghost" riley recs;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ alive by @criminalamnesia 🫐

summary: simon loses you

↳ phantom touch by @ghostheartfelt 🫐☁️

summary: you and the 141 are deployed to austria with the intel of a drug boss known as rolmuth who is harboring romanian soldiers to the east coast to smuggle illegal mercenary personnel into america. what happens when a rapid snowstorm picks up and you are separated from the others then further captured and interrogated alongside your lieutenant?

alastor;

— ★ series;

↳ a doe in fall by @hazelfoureyes [ongoing] 🎧

summary: a burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. the chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

↳ painted smile by @worldofkuro [ongoing]🫐☁️

summary: you couldn't wait to meet new friends. what you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

↳ deer dolly by @ohproserpine ☁️🫐

summary: “wife?!” angel dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “freaky face is married?”

↳ a misconduct of love by @hurthermore [ongoing] 🫐(☁️)

summary: control was something you always severely lacked in. so when a radio host enters your life, and seems to yearn to not only posses you, but for you to posses him in turn, you indulge in a love affair with the man your husband introduced you to.

— ★ stand alone:

nothing here yet…

hobbie brown;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ where's my love by @autumn-hiraeth 🫐

summary: hobie's cannon event

[strawbeerossi]

Jealousy

18+ Content. Minors DNI

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Whenever the team tracks down the unsub they are looking for, it’s up to reader to lure him out of the bar with nothing but her charm and charisma. Spencer however, just can’t stand watching it. He makes sure to make his feelings known to the reader later on. 

Content Warnings: Post-Prison!Spencer, Jealous!Spencer, BAU!reader, case details, coarse language, Dom!Spencer, kinda mean!Spencer, sub!reader, possessiveness, degradation, praising, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (F receiving), fingering, hair pulling, spitting, aftercare, fluff at the end

Word count: 3k 

Navigation || Masterlist || Join My Taglist || Request

Well, here it is! Can I technically call this ‘Jealousy (Taylor’s Version)(From the Vault)’ ?

Spencer approached Emily, his brow furrowed with concern, as he held a file tightly in his hands. "Emily, we need to talk about Y/N's undercover assignment. I've been analyzing the data, and there are some significant risks involved that we need to address before we even think of sending her out there.” he began, his voice laced with urgency.

Emily, her expression serious yet attentive, met Spencer’s gaze. "I understand your concerns, Reid, but we've already vetted this operation thoroughly. Y/N is well-prepared and capable of handling herself," she responded, her voice steady and reassuring.

It wasn’t matters of him thinking that Y/N wasn’t prepared, it was him being worried because this unsub was taking women who fit her image description and killing them after doing horrible things to them. 

The male nodded, his worry still evident. "I know Y/N is skilled, but the circumstances surrounding this case are unusually complex. I just want to make sure we have contingency plans in place and that we're ready to support her in any way necessary," he explained, his analytical mind racing with potential scenarios. She could have a knife pulled on her and be forced out, this unsub could drug her by sticking her with something, he could kill her right there if he figured out she was a federal agent..

After being released from prison, Spencer became a different man. He used to be more composed, now however, he was more temperamental. It didn’t help that Y/N was his girlfriend, the need to protect her being obvious. Besides, who wants to see their partner talking with a man who was brutally stabbing women and doing horrible things to their corpses? Especially when each of those women could’ve been her twin. That put her in a high risk situation that wasn’t a guaranteed arrest. 

“Reid,” The Unit Chief let one hand come up to rub her face, the woman being tired of the argument. She could understand the worry and frustration, however this was Y/N’s job that she’d been doing for a good six years now. She knew the stakes as well as what she could or couldn’t handle.

“I promise that we will have this covered. We have surveillance all over the bar. Alvez, Simmons, and you are going to be inside, close enough to stop anything if things go too far.” She stressed the details, the woman just being exhausted explaining her decision continuously. “You aren’t changing my mind. I need you to understand that this decision was made with Y/N. You need to let her do her job.” 

   ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Y/N walked into the dimly lit bar, her gaze looking around for Marcus Black, the man’s face still fresh in her mind from the picture that Penelope had sent her while she was on the way over to the location, the woman trying to mentally prepare herself for the mental gymnastics she’d have to go through for this. It was a common misconception that undercover missions were much easier than having to risk it by assuming who the unsub is and building off the profile. 

Y/N would argue this is much harder. You have to stand in front of a person who did unspeakable things to others. You have to get close and personal, be able to hide that overwhelming feeling of being disgusted, nervous, and even terrified. This was a man who was definitely bigger than she was in every aspect, being able to take her down if he truly wanted to. 

That didn’t stop her from flashing a bright smile at the bartender as she’d approached the bar, sitting in a bar stool while ordering a vodka tonic. Across the room, she could get a clear view of Matt Simmons, the man keeping his gaze fixated on her as he gave a nod once the two made direct eye contact.

She had a wire, the team could hear everything from the earpieces they all had in order to communicate with one another as well as communicate with her, even if she couldn’t very well respond in an obvious way. 

Although as Y/N was lost in her thoughts, she could feel a presence beside her, one that oozed darkness. The vibe had dropped tremendously low, however Y/N needed to keep up a façade or all of this will go to shit, something the team definitely doesn’t need right now.

Especially when they could just taste the capture that was going to come. “Hi.” The woman spoke, a charming smile gracing her features while her head tilted ever so slightly to the side, her fingers playing with the straw in her drink. 

Which as she had struck up a conversation, Spencer was quietly watching from the other end of the bar, nursing a full glass of some mixed drink in front of him just to avoid suspicion. He knew that she had to fake interest but that didn’t stop a heat rising in his chest, one associated with jealousy.

Seeing his girlfriend giving another man bedroom eyes, laughing at every word he said, even putting her hand on his upper arm was enough to make him seethe in his spot, hazel eyes focused on his girlfriend. 

She was giggling, he could just hear it from his spot, probably telling him that she just couldn’t bare the thought of going home alone. He was just further pissing himself off thinking of the potential things she could be saying, not even tuning in to the actual dialogue because he knew it would’ve pissed him off much more than his own thoughts.

It was enough to make him clench his hand around the glass in his right hand. It was like his brain was trying to trick him into genuinely believing that Y/N was enjoying herself. He knew better, however the anger over the ‘what if’ had him shaking. 

It reminded him of when he was in prison.

Y/N would come to visit him and it was one of the only things that got him through the hell, however the other inmates always had their comments. Saying explicit things about his angel, what they’d do to her given the chance to ever see her outside of those four cement walls. He wanted to keep his head down at the time but god damn, if this version of him was in prison, he would’ve been throwing fists and starting fights over his girlfriend, adding onto his sentence.

This was absolute fucking torture, Spencer’s leg bouncing in annoyance as he was using his opposite hand to put the earpiece in his ear, just in time to hear something that would have him absolutely livid. “I don’t think you could handle me, sweetheart. However if you’re up for a challenge, I’m always happy to take a precious little dove like yourself home.. However.. I don’t know if you could take what I’m going to give you,”

The male’s voice was the first thing Spencer was greeted with. “Is that so? You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. But I promise, once you've tasted the forbidden fruit, there's no turning back.” Y/N countered, her voice low and in a seductive tone while her fingers were tracing over the rim of her glass. 

“I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, honey.” The man continued while looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “Most women can’t handle what I offer. We make a wager..” There it is! Now tell her, you fucking fuck.

“If they can get through my little game, they get to go home. If not?” He began, reaching in his jacket pocket. Which was enough to make Spencer jump up from his spot before he was storming over, catching a glimpse of a knife being pulled from an inner jacket pocket.

It gave him probable cause to shove the man over the counter, making Y/N’s eyes widen at the surprise while she was jumping back. 

“Marcus Black, you are under arrest for the murders of Christine Brailey, Jessica Fredricks, and Emily Knight as well as the attempted murder of Amanda Grey.” Spencer spoke through gritted teeth, the handcuffs locking tightly on his wrists before he was shoving him out of the bar. 

  ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Y/N’s back was hitting the front door of the apartment as soon as she and Spencer made it inside, the woman gasping while she was trapped between her boyfriend’s body and the wooden door.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were enjoying yourself back there. I mean you were really trying to sell it, weren’t you?” Spencer asked, eyebrows raising as his hand was coming under his girlfriends chin to make her look at him. He looked furious, it was enough to make Y/N nearly fall on her knees right then and there. 

The thing about Spencer was that he was much different now, prison changing him in many ways. He was still a good man, there were no doubts about that, but now he had more anger.

Which Y/N was the outlet he needed when he was having a hard time, fucking her deep into their mattress where she was soaking their bedsheets with her cum, getting to the point where she was crying from overstimulation and begging for more. 

“Get your little ass in the bedroom.” Spencer spat, dropping his hand before watching his girlfriend scurry off, making a b-line to their bedroom. It took Spencer an agonising amount of time to lock up and make sure everything was turned off for the night before he was making an appearance.

“You know, I could tell you were truly enjoying yourself. How does it feel to be a fucking whore?” He spat, making Y/N clench her thighs together as she could just feel her arousal soaking her panties from the harsh words. 

“Look at you. Fucking pathetic. You’re really getting wet right now while I’m scolding you for being a whore?” He asked, taking a few steps over before letting his hand tangle in his girlfriend’s hair, tugging her head up to force her to look up at him from the spot where she was sitting on their king sized bed.

“So cock hungry.” He spoke while letting go of her hair while working to loosen his tie, urging his girlfriend to take his belt off for him. However as she was moving to start on his pants, his hand was wrapping around hers. “No.” He began, using the tie he’d loosened and taken off to restrain her hands behind her back.

“You don’t get the pleasure of touching me tonight.” He scolded his girlfriend before pushing her back onto the mattress, his hand grabbing her right ankle before he was pulling her to the end of the bed. 

The black dress she wore had a perfect eyeful for him, her tits threatening to spill over the top as he was running his large hands over her body, fingertips tracing over the straps before he was pulling them down, letting her breasts out of their confinement while he groaned lowly. He had seen her body so much and he could navigate it with ease, but seeing her was always like the first time. Just.. He knows what he’s doing now and he’s not as nervous. “Fucking gorgeous.” His voice was low while he was using no effort at all to tug the dress down her legs, throwing it somewhere on their bedroom floor. 

“The point of panties is to have something to cover you up.” He spoke lowly, chuckling as her needy, swollen cunt was practically swallowing the fabric of the panties that were on her hips. With a soft hum, his fingertips were running across her covered slit, collecting her arousal on his fingers while sighing, his head shaking.

“Look my angel. Who’s got you this wet?” He asked, his hands pushing her thighs apart more, falling to his knees at the edge of the mattress. “Y-you.” Y/N was whispering, shaking with anticipation as she was really desperate for something, anything. She knew the game Spencer was playing though. 

“Damn right,” He gave an arrogant smirk while blowing cool air on her soaked pussy, a chuckle leaving his lips at the pathetic mewl that fell from her lips. “That’s right. Me. Because you’re mine, Y/N. Gonna show you what happens when you get too into flirting when you only had to do the bare minimum.” He murmured, his fingers hooking in the waistband of the black panties, tugging them down her legs while discarding of them somewhere on the floor.

Spencer was delving right in, eating her as if she was his last meal and he was a starved man, the way Y/N’s whines and cries making his cock stand at attention. However it wasn’t long until he was pulling away, tongue paying attention to her throbbing clit while two of his long fingers were being pushed into her without warning. 

Her pussy was clenching around the digits, her back arching off of their sheets as she was blabbing her own praises, even if she wasn’t making too much sense because she was a sobbing mess as she could feel those long fingers curling.

Her hands were still bound, grabbing onto her own wrist, although she’d rather have her fingers in Spencer’s hair and being able to shove his face against her more. However, it was all crashing down when Spencer was pulling away, the male chuckling as his girlfriend was looking up at him with tears in her eyes. She was desperate for relief. 

“Shh.. I know.” The male chuckled, now getting off his shirt, shedding his slacks as well before his boxers were the last to go. He was getting situated, his hands wrapping her shaking legs around his waist while he was spitting onto her already soaked pussy, the tip of his cock teasing her desperate cunt by spreading the sit around as if she needed to be lubed up.

“Alright, angel. Are you ready for my cock or do you need my fingers a little longer?” He asked, an eyebrow raising. Even in his state, he’d always ask before going too crazy. Last thing he needed was to hurt her. 

“Cock!” Y/N blabbed immediately, eyes glossed over while her hips were rolling in an attempt to get some sort of friction, clenching around nothing as she was left to lay there helpless.

“Answer any faster, why don’t you? Someone is eager..” Spencer chuckled, however he was getting quite desperate himself. So, he wasn’t wasting time before his cock was pushing into her cunt, his head falling on her shoulder while he let out a low groan. 

Y/N was letting out a drawn out moan, a few whimpers following after. There was always a delicious stretch, the pleasurable pain having her squirming and trying to push herself against his cock for more, the only thing stopping her was a strong hand on her hip.

“Patience. I’ll pull out right now and cum on your stomach and leave you here to squirm. You know better than this.” He warned, his voice low as he kissed the spot under her ear. 

Feeling his rock hard cock stretching and stuffing her felt beyond amazing and she loved it. Once he was bottoming out, Spencer wasted no time in beginning to ram his cock into his girlfriend.

The feeling of her velvety, plushy walls was always enough to drive him insane. It was like she was made for him, not even just her body but her as a person. She complimented him so well and he did the same with her. It was safe to say that she was his person. Emphasis on his. 

The sinful sounds of skin slapping against each other and the moans, whimpers and cries from Y/N were filling the once quiet bedroom. Their neighbors hated them enough, Spencer could already hear the complaints from the woman next door. She’d already made several noise complaints in the past, which Y/N would joke with Spencer that it was because she hadn’t been touched in a good thirty years. What a life that would be. 

Spencer kept up his steady, relentless thrusts. His goal was always to have Y/N cum first, mainly because the mere sight of her creaming around his cock was enough to make him explode. “Sp-Sp.. I-I… C-Cu-“ That was all he got out of her before he knew exactly what she was trying to convey judging by the way her cunt squeeze tightly around him, a cry leaving her lips as she was doing hitting her orgasm, her back arching off the mattress as her nails were digging into her wrists.

“Fuck!” She cried, Spencer giving a few more sloppy thrusts before long ropes of his sticky cum were beautifully decorating her inner walls, his thrusts fucking it deeper into her while he was slowly coming down from his own high. 

Y/N was in full orgasmic bliss, her face flushed, her eyes glossed over, her once neatly done makeup running down her face as well as her face being all over the place. She was fully fucked out, making Spencer lean down and press a few loving kisses against her lips before he was pulling out and pushing himself to stand.

He disappeared off to the bathroom for a few moments, getting a warm bath ready for his girlfriend before heading back to the bedroom, a soft hum leaving his lips as he was carefully picking up his tired, fucked out partner.

“There we go. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He breathed, the woman letting her arms loosely wrap around his shoulders. She was still in the stage where she was crashing down from her high, so he was placing her gently in the warm tub before grabbing a washcloth. 

As he was washing his girlfriend, he was looking up at her face once he could see the content smile on her face. “Hi,” He whispered, the two sharing a little giggle amongst each other. “Hi.” Y/N responded, leaning over to press a kiss against her boyfriend’s cheek.

“I hope you know, I might be flirting with more people more often if this is the outcome.” She joked, making Spencer laugh. 

“Like hell you are.”

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: inspired by this post by @shy-taylorsversion !! hope you like it sweet! ♡

warnings: references to Maeve but nothing too specific

I Can See You

It was as though fate herself was playing the cruellest joke in human history, the day you joined the team. Spencer’s heart was beyond scarred, it had been locked away under every wall he knew how to craft within himself, for his own safety. And yet, with no more than a glance, you began to disarm him. 

The team spotted the sparks almost before Spencer did, in the way they acknowledged that he reached to shake your head in greeting; a gesture he typically avoided at all cost. It was the wide eyes from his chosen family that made Spencer realize his body had acted on its own accord, without any consideration for his mind, or heart.

“Doctor Spencer Reid, uh, pleasure to meet you.” He had cleared his throat in his attempts to hold your gaze, a task he had not anticipated to be anywhere near as challenging as it turned out to be. 

And the way you had smiled at him? That was the first splinter, in the very first wall that surrounded Spencer’s heart.

It was not drastic enough for Spencer to notice right away, and by the time that he did, it was too late. Anyone would think your moves to be calculated, but the worst part of it was that Spencer could see that your actions and words were completely without ulterior motive. 

It is simply who you are, much to a genius’s absolute dismay.

Naturally, Spencer tried to deduce exactly what this immediate connection was on the very first meeting. He sat at his desk with a concentrated frown, and within 15 seconds, he had formed a hypothesis: it was a basic biological attraction, something found in primal creatures, not civilised beings, and certainly not ones with three PhD’s, but if he had to admit that he had animalistic desires on occasion, that was favored over this meaning anything more. With a satisfied nod, he rose from his desk and tried his very best to continue with his day. 

He had ventured down the hall of the BAU office, with the intention of retrieving some files he needed to work on, and he was determined to not even remotely acknowledge that you were walking down the very same hallway, in the opposite direction. He did not notice your hair, or your eyes, or the way you walked, the softness found in your smile, and his eidetic memory had definitely not stored each and every detail. 

Aaron Hotchner was giving you a tour of the office, Spencer surmised; he absolutely did not strain his every thought to tuning into the conversation in an effort to learn more about the wonder that was you. The width of the hallway allowed for you and Spencer to pass each other without any contact whatsoever, but when your gaze lifted to catch his, neither of you made any effort to increase the distance between you. Instead, you had smiled at him - again, his heart skipped a beat as it reminded him - and the two of you walked, neither one hearing Hotch’s continuing tour of the office as you neared each other. Then your sleeve brushed his. The contact was gone as quickly as it had arrived, but Spencer knew he had goosebumps beneath his suit jacket, and he couldn’t help wondering when he looked over his shoulder to find you doing the same, your eyes locking once again; did you feel it, too?

Only once safely behind the front door of his own apartment, could Spencer Reid regain the ability to think straight. It was foolish, he told himself. A workplace romance? He shook his head as he shrugged off his suit jacket, his gaze lingering momentarily on the sleeve you had brushed against. There was no substance to it, Spencer’s objective brain enforced, need you be reminded of the statistics surrounding workplace entanglements? It was simply the proximity; he had never worked with someone he found so physically attractive before, that was all this was. His mind just needed to adjust to your presence. His eyes were just latching onto the most attractive sight they could find, after forcibly reliving the loss of the love of his life. This was not love, Spencer concluded, it felt nothing like what he had felt for Maeve. The physical weight of the anxiety and stress he had experienced, the secrecy, the pain; all of that was missing, and that was what Spencer understood love to be.

This was foolish, he reminded himself. As of tomorrow, he would put a stop to this, whatever this was.

Spencer walked into the BAU office with newfound purpose the following morning, prepared to focus on his work and nothing else, which would not be a difficult task. Not in the slightest. He was a professional, after all, and you-

“Good morning, Spencer!”

You were already sitting at your desk, and you were smiling at him - the very same smile that Spencer had noticed you had not given anyone else on your first day. 

And, like a fool, Doctor Spencer Reid’s eidetic memory jettisoned his previously formed plan of nipping whatever this was in the bud, and instead, he smiled right back at you.

It would be fair to say that he has been a lost cause ever since. His mind has crafted a permanent residence for you, where thoughts of you swirl at a constant rate, and he has allowed such a heinous development; shocking, really. The worst part? Spencer has managed to maintain professionalism, because everything between you is mostly unsaid. It is longing glances, lingering smiles, subtle touches that nobody else would notice; save for the team of profilers that you both happen to work with everyday. You have found your footing within said team and formed fast friends, almost like you had always been part of said team, but you were still such a new and pleasant sight to Spencer each and everyday. You had not seen him through any emotional turmoil, you saw him as he was from when you knew him, and you liked what you saw, in the same way that he liked what he saw in you. There was a mutual understanding, a reciprocated tension that you were equally, acutely aware of. 

By now, Spencer knows that when he says something particularly clever, he need only glance at you from the corner of his eye to find you already looking at him with stars in your eyes. By now, you are accustomed to trying to beat Spencer into the office each and every morning, because whoever arrives first will prepare the other’s choice of beverage for the morning, which will be left on their desk in time for the other’s arrival, without a word, but with a complete understanding. By now, the rest of the team are used to sharing eyerolls and exasperated sighs as they watch you and Spencer dance around each other in such a ridiculous, but still undeniably sweet way.

You are something new to Spencer. He doesn’t have to overthink about your safety outside of dangerous cases, he doesn’t have to worry about where he stands with you, because one look is enough to reassure him. Whatever this is, it is something different. It brings about a relief to the stress of the job; the same peace a hot bath would provide, Spencer finds in every smile you give him.

But, at its core, this is unsaid. The layers to it are secret, even with what the team are able to infer from what they can see.

While his brain is focussed on the case at hand, that same little space in Spencer’s mind is alive with thoughts of you. Today, he has been tasked with working the geographical profile with Blake, who is obviously very aware of what is forming between you and Spencer, but elects to say very little about it, given how sensitive the topic could be to Spencer’s still raw heart. That said, she can’t help noticing or smiling at the way Spencer’s gaze continually drifts to the door of the small office within the local police department that they have been working all day, as though willing you to walk through it.

“I’m sure the interviews are going well.” Blake chooses her words carefully, referring to what you have been tasked with, rather than you directly, in an effort to perhaps allow Spencer to open up, just a little. 

He frowns at this, trying to convey confusion as he refocusses his gaze on the maps in front of him, running his fingers over them. 

“(Y/N) is very good. Knowing her, she’ll come in here in a few minutes saying ‘don’t worry, guys, case closed, we can all go home because there’s a rerun of Doctor Who that I can’t miss’.” Blake tries again, this time using a joke referencing a shared interest of yours and Spencer’s, which pulls the desired smile from him, though he doesn’t lift his eyes from the maps.

A moment of silence passes, in which Spencer considers his own words with equal care, before he decides to respond to what he feels is the most important section of Blake’s last sentence.

“She is…very good.”

 Feeling somewhat reassured by Blake’s words in a strange way, in her validating the obvious chemistry between you and Spencer, he finds it easier to continue to working. Of course, he still glances at the door out of habit, wishing for no more than a glimpse of you walking past it, if that’s all he’s allowed for now, but he is focussed on his work. He is a professional, after all.

That is, until his ears - finely tuned to deciphering your voice even in a sea of others - pick up on a distressed tone from you. While the wall between you prevents him from being able to piece together any words, the discomfort he can hear is enough to bring Spencer up from his seat. 

“I need to update Hotch on some details of the geographical profile that could assist with the interviews he’s conducting.” Spencer blurts out hurriedly, picking up a random case file without looking at it before rushing out of the room, once again not mentioning you by name, but making his intentions crystal clear to Blake.

She doesn’t question anything, but there’s a knowing smile on her face.

Spencer is out of the door in an instant, his eyes locking onto you a few feet down the hallway, seemingly caught in an uncomfortable exchange with a local police officer. The way your arms are crossed over your chest is enough for Spencer to understand exactly what is going on, and when your gaze gravitates to him, he sees you visibly relax, a soft smile spreading across your face. The local cop continues his attempts at sweet talking you, until he sees your expression and follows your gaze, seeing Spencer stood down the hall with a case file in hand and a frown that could challenge Aaron Hotchner’s. Clearing his throat awkwardly, the local police officer skulks off, and you breathe a sigh of relief, walking over to Spencer and smiling up at him.

“Find anything?” You ask him, gesturing to the case file in his hands, which is now crumpled in his almost white knuckles.

“What? Oh, no, I just- you sounded uncomfortable.” Spencer babbles, his mind shifting from a possessive fury that he’s never previously held for anyone, before settling into a peace that only the subject of that possessive streak can bring. 

“I was. Thank you for saving the day, as always.” You smile up at him, and with a rush of confidence, you make a gesture of standing on your tiptoes to kiss Spencer’s cheek as you pass him, and his brain short-circuits.

It takes a whole three seconds for Spencer to regain his 187 IQ points, at which time he looks over his shoulder to find you at the other end of the hallway, mirroring his action with a beaming grin. He stays still - mainly because his brain has not recovered enough for him to trust his ability to walk - but his mind conjures up a beautiful daydream of him strolling right up to you, pushing you up against the wall and kissing you until both of you collapse from lack of oxygen. His hands holding your face, your hands in his hair, his body pressed against yours, holding you up against the wall as your knees attempt to buckle under the weight of what would be the most passionate kiss in human history, Spencer is more than certain of that.

“Are you coming, pretty boy?” You call out to him, abruptly forcing him back into the present. 

An interesting choice of words, considering. 

“Where?” Spencer asks you, in turn, a smile playing on his lips.

“Lunch!” You state, like it’s obvious.

Spencer glances at his watch, bemused. “It’s 3pm!”

You shrug, but your smile is widening as the amusement grows. “Yep, and I haven’t had lunch, so, you coming?”

Spencer rolls his eyes and refrains from giving you yet another lecture on remembering to take a scheduled lunch break to ensure you have the amount of energy required for maximum efficiency while on the job - which is, obviously, his way of reminding you to eat regularly because he cares about you, not because he cares about your ‘maximum efficiency on the job’.

He quickly pokes his head through the door to the little office, tossing the crumpled case file back on the table where he had previously been sitting.

“Just going to get lunch.” Spencer tells Blake, and she raises an eyebrow.

“Lunch? At 3pm?” She questions, much like he had, and that only makes him smile again. 

It isn’t just a smile, though. It’s a bright, wide grin that takes up Spencer’s whole face, making the corners of his eyes crease, and then he disappears without a word, because his expression is explanation enough.

As silly, and as common as it is, after having lunch with you, Spencer’s smile is unwavering for the rest of the day. Yours is too, resulting in both of you receiving teasing remarks from the members of the team that you have been working with, away from each other in the hours that have passed since. 

By the time Spencer shuts himself in his own hotel room for the night, his mind is fried, and as a consequence, he cannot withhold thoughts of you to that one corner of his brain. Instead, he sees you standing in the middle of his hotel room, walking up him with a smirk he’s seen time and time again in his dreams. He feels your palms on his chest through his shirt, loosening his tie as his lips ghost yours. His shoulders rolling as you help him take off his suit jacket, discarding it on the floor before his lips fall on yours. And he can see you waiting for him on his hotel room bed, as though you were really there, and had already been there a thousand other times, on a hundred other nights. Oh, how he wishes. 

Shaking his head, Spencer forces himself back into the present, into the newly depressing sight of his otherwise empty hotel room. He removes his suit jacket with a bitter expression, knowing you would do it so much better, but alas. 

Realizing there is absolutely no way he can sleep in this state, Spencer rolls up the long sleeves of his button-up shirt, kicks his shoes off, and settles in the armchair in the corner of his hotel room. He retrieves his favorite copy of ‘War And Peace’ and decides to reread it to unwind. Just a bit of light reading.

That is, until approximately 10 minutes - and just under halfway through the book - later, when there is an unexpected knock at the door.

Deciding to place ‘War And Peace’ on the physical bedside table and mental backburner, Spencer rises from the armchair and crosses the threshold of his hotel room. The moment he opens the door, his heart leaps right out of his chest. 

There you are, in your pajamas, hugging your laptop close to your chest with a smile that Spencer wholeheartedly believes could persuade any man to do anything and everything for you.

“‘The Impossible Planet’ and ‘The Satan Pit’ were rerunning tonight, and we haven’t finished the case in time to watch them, so…” You lift your laptop in a wordless gesture, stars shining in your eyes, and Spencer Reid has to seriously consider whether this is a dream.

His perfect girl, arriving at his door because she wants to watch Doctor Who with him? Surely, fate jests.

“You are an impossible girl.” Is all Spencer can manage to say, a smirk on his face when he sees the recognition in your eyes at his own Doctor Who reference.

“Ooh, you can’t say things like that to a girl, Doctor!” You giggle, knowing you’ve got him right back with a reference of your own.

With that, Spencer invites you into his hotel room, and just like so many times before, you fall asleep with your head on his chest as the end credits roll on your laptop screen, an ever encouraging score from Murray Gold being the soundtrack to Spencer’s longing glance down at you as he brushes your hair away from your face. With a kiss to your forehead and one arm holding you in place, he turns off your laptop and sets it down beside the bed, his other arm wrapping around you to hold you to him in a gesture of affection that was foreign to him before you, but is now second nature. 

Spencer never understood what it was to fall asleep with a smile on his face, until he started falling in love with you.

By the time the team is boarding the jet home, you are all beyond exhausted, but relieved in equal measure. Another case closed, another life saved, and another trip home. As opposed to the typical night flights you tend to catch, Penelope managed to secure the jet in time for everyone to be on their way home by midday. So, instead of a silent jet occupied by sleeping FBI agents, Hotch is living vicariously through Rossi and Derek’s latest tales of seduction, you are gossipping with JJ, and at the other end of the jet, perfectly in your line of sight, Spencer is sitting with Blake, unable to resist glancing over at you every so often.

Blake has that same knowing smile on her face, picking up on more than the rest of the team has, given the almost maternal bond she has formed with Spencer, and she decides that this time, she’s going to speak less carefully.

“Spencer, what is the statistical likelihood of history repeating itself?” She asks pointedly, but quietly.

Spencer frowns. “Well, that depends on a number of variables. Technically, it would be impossible to provide an exact statistic, because there are an infinite number of possibilities at every point in every sequence of events that there can ever be, but for history to repeat itself in a direct pattern, it would be incredibly unlikely. Why do you ask?” He rambles, very much enjoying this question, this challenge to his analytical mind.

“Have you ever asked a girl out before?” Blake answers Spencer’s own question with a question, something she has previously reprimanded him for.

And Blake’s question is enough to freeze a genius in his tracks.

He doesn’t have to think about it, he knows the answer, but his confusion and shock makes that one word difficult. 

“No.” Spencer says after a moment’s pause.

“Then, to reduce your own anxieties surrounding history repeating itself, why don’t you change that and create an entirely new chain of events for yourself?” Blake suggests, giving him a small, encouraging smile. 

As always, she knows exactly what advice he needs to hear. Blake is right, if Spencer does ask you out, what’s unfolding between you and him will truly be unlike anything he has ever experienced before, meaning it cannot possibly end in the same way, the same tragedy cannot befall him if he takes the path he has been so afraid of treading. 

“How?” Spencer asks, his voice barely above a whisper, because he’s vulnerable now. He needs help from a friend, a friend he trusts with a situation that is as precious to him as this. 

Grateful that he’s taking her advice on board instead of dismissing it, Blake nods, leaning forward in her seat on the jet. 

“Do whatever feels right to you, because it’s you, exactly as you are, that (Y/N) smiles at like that.” Blake says simply, sitting back in her seat and watching as Spencer’s gaze flickers to you again, knowing from the look in his eyes that he’s just received that very smile from you, and that is the only encouragement he needs.

Nodding to himself, Spencer stands up and rushes to the jet kitchen, walking past you and brushing your sleeve with his as he does. 

From where you sit with JJ, you can’t help glancing over your shoulder at Spencer, curious as to what he’s doing in the jet kitchen and why he’s trying so very hard to hide whatever it is that he is doing. 

No more than a few seconds later, Spencer walks past you again, returning to his own seat at the other end of the jet, but not without very discreetly dropping a small, folded piece of paper into your lap. With a smirk, JJ turns away to look out of the jet window, granting you some privacy as you unfold the piece of paper, your hands trembling ever so slightly as you scan over the page, and Spencer’s own shaky handwriting.

“Meet me tonight?”

Grinning, you lift your eyes from the note and to its sender, who is already staring at you with a mixture of hope and anticipation in varying shades of hazel. From across the jet, you nod at him, and he nods back at you, biting back a disbelieving chuckle as he looks down at his lap shyly, avoiding your eyes.

You want to ask when, where, and how he wants to meet you tonight, but the excitement within the unknown is even better. For the rest of the flight home, you and Spencer exchange expressions of yearning that exceed even your usual standards, and it’s very clear that whatever this is, it’s about to come to a head.

When the jet lands back in Quantico, the team rise from their seats and stretch their limbs, retrieving their overnight bags and heading for the door. You and Spencer fall back in a silent understanding, and he wraps his large hand around yours to take your bag and swing it over his shoulder, giving you one of his signature charming smiles and ridding you of every coherent thought you’ve ever had in the process. With his hand free once again, his fingertips graze yours as you step out of the jet and head back into the office, sparks flying to such a severity, Spencer considers alerting the pilot of a problem with the jet engine.

Much to your mutual dismay, the team is tasked with case reports the second they set foot into the office again, given it is not officially the end of a working day and there is no better time to complete a report than when the case is still fresh in your mind; not everyone has an eidetic memory. And so, your equally yearning glances continue, this time from across the office, as the hours tick by and the anticipation between you grows. 

As the hours tick by, Spencer grows restless. He checks his watch, and debates with himself as to whether 6pm can be considered ‘tonight’, before he decides he no longer cares for such technicalities. With his legs bouncing beneath his desk, he quickly writes out another note, then picks up a case report and practically flies over to your desk, dropping the piece of paper on your keyboard before walking out of the glass doors and round the corner, down a hallway that takes him - begrudgingly - out of your sight.

Confused and excited once again, you open the scrunched up note and scream internally.

“Please follow me in 10 seconds and bring your case report - doesn’t matter if it’s finished.”

You stare up at the clock on the office wall, counting the slowest ten seconds of your life, and then the gravity of Spencer pulls you from your desk to fulfill your secret mission. Clutching your incomplete case report to your chest, you try to walk past your coworkers desks as casually as you can, but you can’t help feeling that the room of profilers that surround you are acutely aware of every little tell. You wouldn’t be surprised if they can hear the irregularity in your heartbeat right now. 

With trembling hands, you reach for the handle of the glass door and push through it, rounding the corner and immediately freezing on the spot. Halfway down the hallway, Spencer leans against the wall, his case report hanging from his hand loosely at his side, his other hand in a tense fist in front of him as he frowns down at his watch. 

As though sensing you, Spencer’s head turns, and when he sees you, he sighs deeply.

“12.5 seconds. I thought you might not be coming.” He says quietly, his words soft and his relief palpable.

An interesting choice of words, considering.

“Sorry, I tried to walk slowly, didn’t want to give anything away.” You explain, your voice as quiet as Spencer’s had been, the distance between you already closing on its own accord.

He shakes his head, but his eyes never leave yours. “No need to apologize. I’m certain they’ll know something’s going on, even with our efforts.”

You can’t help chuckling at that, nodding up at him as he walks closer and begins to tower over you, all words suddenly losing their meaning. In what can only be described as a silent, instinctual mating dance between two equally besotted creatures, with each step Spencer takes towards you, you take a step backwards until your back gently hits the wall, your gazes locked in an indescribable heat, lost in a tension that cannot be defined in any kind of eloquence. 

Case report still hanging loosely between Spencer’s index finger and thumb, he closes the space between you until there are only centimeters separating your face and his. With each inhale, you taste each other, smell each other, feel each other closer than ever before, and the primal attraction that Spencer had been foolish enough to believe he was too rigidly sophisticated to ever experience slaps him in the face with a rather rude awakening, but it is a welcome one. His curls touch the skin of your forehead, and you bite your lip in an effort to restrain yourself, but when Spencer’s free hand moves between your bodies to uncurl one of your hands from its fierce grip on the incomplete case report you clutch to your chest, to place your palm flat against his shirt, over his heart, you forget your own name.

“You know, researchers from the University of Chicago analyzed people’s eye movements as they viewed black and white photos of both couples and attractive strangers to judge whether the people they saw were eliciting feelings of sexual desire or romantic love, and the results revealed an interesting pattern; when the subjects judged a stranger as depicting feelings or romantic love, their eyes stayed fixed on the stranger’s face. However, when the subjects felt the photo was exuding sexual desire, their eyes strayed over the rest of the stranger’s body. The co-author of the research said that by identifying eye patterns that are specific to love-related stimuli, the study may contribute to the development of a biomarker that differentiates feelings of romantic love versus sexual desire, and an eye-tracking model may offer a new avenue of diagnosis for routine clinical exams in psychiatry and/or couple therapy.” Spencer rambles, bringing an enamored smile from you that makes his heart sing. You are always so interested in every single thing he has to say; where others roll their eyes and cut him off, you listen, and you adore him for exactly who he is.

“The reason that I’m telling you this,” Spencer continues, “-is because scientists found that the subject’s judgment can occur in just half a second, suggesting the way we categorize whether we feel lust or love for new people is innately automated.” He wets his lips with his tongue.

“Is this your sciencey way of telling me that, despite it typically being perceived as illogical, you believe in love at first sight? That’s quite controversial for a man who is so often analytically inclined.” You muse thoughtfully, your smile unwavering as you look up at him.

“I didn’t. Not until three months, four days, 9 hours, 12 minutes and-” Spencer checks his watch before meeting your eyes again, “-27 seconds ago.”

You cannot believe Spencer is daring to ask your brain to perform what is nothing short of a miracle in the form of basic mathematics when his lips are almost touching yours.

“You mean…when I…” You can barely form words.

“At the exact moment when you walked into the office on your first day, yes.” Spencer nods, his forehead brushing yours.

The palm that is still pressed to Spencer’s chest through his shirt moves to feel his tie, as though holding onto something for support while the Earth beneath your feet shifts and he is the only thing keeping you here; which, in fairness, he very well might be. 

Quite suddenly, the tension between you is suffocating, having long surpassed boiling point, and your breaths are as shallow as his.

The case report held between Spencer’s index finger and thumb is hanging by a metaphorical thread, his other hand lifting to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips caressing your cheek as he drinks you in.

“Can I kiss you, (Y/N)?” He whispers, the boldest words he has ever spoken.

“Yes.” You breathe, without missing a beat, and Spencer does not waste another second.

In one swift motion, the case report falls to the floor, both of his hands coming to cup your face as his lips take yours, your hands holding his to keep him there. Spencer’s body presses into you, acting on a primal instinct that goes beyond his understanding, kissing you like a man starved of physical affection all his life, and there’s far more truth in that than he cares to admit. When one of your hands reaches for his messy curls, Spencer sighs into the kiss, lowering his hands to grab at your waist, squeezing your hips gently. The kiss is its own infinity lived and shared, the two of you only parting for air, but your bodies remaining intertwined, the sound of your heavy breaths echoing down the hallway until you’re both laughing, your foreheads pressed together and an insurmountable love in your eyes.

What this is, is different. You don’t know every detail of Spencer’s past or pain, in the same way that he is yet to know yours, but you have every intention to learn about each other, with this as your foundation. This, without the physical weight of anxiety and stress, with a different kind of secrecy, and free of pain; this is a mutual understanding, a reciprocated attraction beyond what Spencer thought was possible for someone like him. You are different, different to him, different to every person he has ever known, and he has no doubt that he is much the same when compared to the people in your life, too. 

You are different, you are new. You are a breath of fresh air that he will never grow tired of breathing. 

And he will always, always see you, in every conceivable way that you’ll allow him to.

[reiderwriter]

Baby, If You Only Knew

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female Reader

Part Two of this fic, inspired by Taylor Swift's I Can See You

Summary: On the edge of a break, you and Spencer find ways to claim each other that get everyone's attention.

Warnings: Day 17 of Kinktober - make-up sex, possessive Spencer, marking, biting, love bites/ hickeys, penetrative sex, creampie, breeding kink.

A/N: Day 17 is finally here! I once again wrote this on my phone, but at least it was my nice, new, functioning phone. I hope you like it!

Sneaking back out of the closet wasn't easy when you were so pissed at Spencer. He wasn't able to control his impulses, and now it was your problem. So yes, it was hard to storm out of a closet in the middle of an argument without drawing the attention of all your team members. 

They each sent you strange looks as you walked back to your temporary desk and finished up your work, not talking to anyone until the days work had ended and you could escape back to your motel room for some much needed peace. 

Spencer didn't feel so strongly about your need to be alone. Catching a hand around the door before you shut it, he let himself in and closed it behind himself as you hugged and threw your bags down. 

"I don't want to fight again, Spencer, I'm tired."

"Then don't fight, but you need to listen." 

"Oh, do I? Couldn't imagine what else I'll be able to do in my room when you pushed your way in here." 

"Don't be unreasonable." He said wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you up into him once again.

"You know, for someone whose such a stickler for our no public dating rule, you sure have been risky today. Pushing me into that closet, following me into my private room." Your words were angry, but they were softened by the feeling of him against you. 

"I told you, if they were good at their jobs they'd have realised how I feel about you by now." 

"Sometimes people need words, Spencer to make things very clear," his head fell to your neck then, inhaling your scent before pressing his lips lightly against your skin. 

"What people would that be? You? Detective Dreamy?" He pressed another kiss to your skin, distracting you momentarily. Your next words came out in a stutter, and you almost cursed how weak you were being now. 

"That's not fair and you know it." 

"Let's test that theory, shall we?" He bit down on your neck then, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his centre as he began rubbing up against your core, head not lifting from the spot on your neck he'd evidently taken a liking to. 

"Spencer, fuck.." Your moans were breathy, held back by your anger and the knowledge that you were surrounded on both sides by FBI agents trying to get some sleep. 

"So pretty for me, just a little longer, I swear." You had no clue what he was talking about, and you weren't sure you cared, letting him suck and kiss and lick in anyway he wanted, just as long as he didn't stop. You could feel his dick in his pants, could feel it poking up against you as his hips shifted up and down, trying to give the both of you some release. 

He pulled away sharply after a few minutes, grinning boastfully at the blooming mark on your neck. 

"There," he said, wiping his lips carefully, setting you back down. "Is that enough of a public announcement for you?" You clapped a hand over your neck and ran to the bathroom to check your suspicions. 

Sure enough, there was a ferocious red mark that you were sure would swiftly discolour to purple. 

"Get out. Now, Spencer." He didn't stick around for long after that, evidently just as angry as you, but wearing that stupid smug look on his face still. He left you alone in your room and you wanted to scream and cry and make him come back and finish. 

You climbed into bed and let sleep take you. 

The next morning, you searched long and hard for an item of clothing that would cover his territorial marking. But your go bag had limited items in it, a fact that he'd known and exploited, placing the mark just high enough to poke over all the tops you out on. 

If he was going to play petty, you would, too. Pulling out your lowest cut top, you wrapped your hair up into a bun and decided to forego makeup entirely. He wanted the world to see what he'd done, and you were going to let them. 

Just as you'd suspected, Spencer's plan didn't work as he'd hoped. Instead of the team settling quietly and connecting the dots between the two of you quietly, they were almost more curious about what had happened. 

"Wooo, mama, getting up too close and personal with the locals are we? Good for you." Morgan had cheered at you S soon as you'd walked into the precinct that morning. 

You had similar, careful questions from JJ and Hotchner as well, and Emily had slapped you on the back and laughed maniacally as she asked you if you'd had a good lay. The best part was Spencer got to watch all of it happen, he got to watch himself get proved wrong right in front of his eyes and his stupid ego wouldn't let him say a word either way. 

You gave him a wink as you sat next to him, ready to continue reading up on files that'd help you nail the criminal. You had a suspect, now you just needed irrefutable evidence and possibly a confession to be able to return home. 

Your local admirer had followed you into the room, however, and you weren't expecting to have such a direct confrontation with the man who'd until this point had been nothing but polite. 

"You know, if you weren't interested, you could've said so in a less slutty way. Now you're parading around this precinct like a cheap whore. Not a good look." He said it so nonchalantly, you didn't even realise he was talking to you at first, only really tuning in when Spencer stiffened up beside you. 

"Excuse me?" You blinked at him again, wondering if you'd truly misheard him. 

"You heard what I said, you look like a who-" 

"Finish your sentence and I promise you, I'll have your badge, gun and pension by the end of the day." Spencer growled the words from your side, forcing the man to meet his eyes. 

"Come on, you're a smart man, Doctor Reid, surely you know what a little slut she's being, trying to play hard to get." You have to grab Spencer by the arm to stop him from reaching over the table and hitting the man. He responds by pulling you into his chest, effectively lifting you from your chair into his lap. 

"My girlfriend is not a whore just because she doesn't want your tiny dick. I'd say that actually makes her quite sensible." Your heart thumps at the confrontation, but choking on the tense atmosphere in the room, you're unable to say anything until Emily bursts into the room, breaking whatever spell had trapped you there in that pissing match. 

"Y/N– oh. We, uh, we need you in interrogation." Spencer grabbed your hips and stood you up, but he didn't let his hands leave you as he held his angry gaze with the detective. Spinning you around he bought your lips down to his, smothering you for a good minute before releasing you to Emily. You stumbled slightly, but made your way over, silently reeling at your boyfriends actions.

It was possessive, and shitty, and territorial, and so goddammit funking arousing. The growl in his voice had sent a spark through you that made you want to press your legs together until it stopped. So when the time comes for you to clock off that night, suspect safely behind bars, you practically skip all the way to your motel room. 

Once again, you found yourself with an alien object in the door, blocking you from closing it completely. This time, it was Spencer's satchel. 

"You trying to shut me out again?" He asks, a small smile grazing his lips.

"That depends, are you going to make me mount you in the office again tomorrow?"

"I was thinking the jet, actually. Join the club, you know?" He dropped his bags by the door and pulled you in for a kiss, letting you moan softly against his skin.

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling away and walking you back to the bed until it hit the backs of your legs and you let them buckle beneath you. "He wouldn't have talked to you like that if I hadn't marker you up like that." 

His words were an apology, but the fire in his eyes said he didn't really regret a thing. In fact, you were sure that'd he'd do it all again in an instant, but this time he wouldn't stop short on the violence.

"No, you're not." 

"No, I'm not. He shouldn't have talked to you, but I did enjoy watching him realise whose good little whore you are." You gasp at the words as he pushes you down fully on the bed, lips meeting yours again in a furious clash. 

"Fuck, Spencer," You gasped, as he ripped apart the tights you were wearing, desperate for access to your body. 

"I enjoyed it so much, I think I'm going to do it again. That's what you want, right baby?" He kissed his way down your neck while spreading your neck. It was more gentle than the previous night, more tender, but you knew you'd be waking up just as sore, so what did that matter now. 

Nails digging into your skin as he pushed the tights away from your core, you gasped at the contact, opening your chest and neck up further for him as you reacted to the sensations plaguing your body. 

You moved your hands up to unbutton his shirt, certain that anything he was going to do  you were going to repay tenfold. Undressing became a war between the two of you as you rolled around, mouths still connected, desperate to see each other completely undone first. 

Spencer had the advantage of not caring about how much of a wreck your clothes were, and in almost an instant, you were bare to him.

He kissed up and down your neck, over your breasts and down your stomach, leaving a trail of happy red marks to match his previous artwork. Installing each one took time, but you willingly gave him the freedom to bite, suck and sooth your skin, knowing you'd be on display for him for the rest of your life. He was still trapped inside his boxers, cock sufficiently hard and distracting against your core. When he finally pulled away to admire his work, you took the opportunity to push up, rolling the two of you over so you could grind into his large member as you gave reciprocated his kisses. 

He stoked a soothing hand down your back as you writhed on top of him, leaving a trail of small love bites from collar bone to collar bone, pressing a few higher just so you knew they'd be seen in the morning.

"That's it baby, you belong to me. Let's show everyone." When he decided you'd done enough, he flipped your position again, finally letting his cock free and shoving it into you with little warning, leaving you crying out his name as you finally received what you'd been begging for.

"Yes, Spencer, right there, right fucking there." Your voice was loud, desperate and raspy, like you wanted to hear what a desperate slut you were. He reciprocated in kind, playing into the pleasure of the moment.

"Oh you like that? You like my cock inside of you? Tell me who that pussy belongs to." 

"Spencer! It belongs to you, it belongs to Spencer." His fingers fell to his clit as he pulled his dick out of you for a second. Flipping you over onto all fours, he thrust in again, picking up a rougher pace as you listened to the creak of the bed, the wet slap of his balls against your ass. 

"That's right, my little slut, Y/N. My little slutty girlfriend." His arms wrapped around your torso as he began thrusting like a dog in heat, using your warm wet holes to get off, as a place to dump his load. 

"Gonna fill your fucking pushy so everyone knows who you belong to. Gonna knock you up and keep you filled so you remember, too." He pulled your head up by your hair as he said the words, and in an instant you were Cummings on his cock, screaming his name as he somehow found the energy to increase his speed.

The hand in your hair was the only thing keeping you from collapsing into the bed, your face covered in the tangle of hair and the drool dropping from your open mouth. 

"Did you hear me, Y/N? I'm gonna breed you. You want that?" You loudly moaned another barely coherent 'yes' and then you were away in the clouds, letting your eyes roll back in your head as the first rope of cum shot into you. 

He kept his hips flush with yours as he released into you, loving the feeling of your walls milking him for all he's got. He didn't pull out until he was certain that not a drop would fall out. 

He make a start to move towards the bathroom when the room phone rang, practically jumping off it's receiver. Picking yp the phone, Spencer greeted the reception clerk, knowing you were still such a panting mess, you'd never be able to carry out such a mundane conversation.

But mundane it was not as you watched your boyfriend flush in front of your eyes. 

"We got a noise complaint." He told you shyly, and you greeted him with a fit of giggles, breaking into crying laughter after about 10 seconds of looking at his bewildered face. 

"Where from?" 

"Room 127. It's the one on this side." He said gesturing to the left. That only set you off into more laughter, frustrating him ever so slightly. 

"What? What's so funny?"

"Spencer, that's Morgan's room. I guess if he didn't know from his brilliant profiling skills before he will now."

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 54

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: "Trust me?" "Always."

AO3

Spotify

Against all odds and expectations, you made it to the archives without being attacked, waylaid, or harassed. Considering your company, even the most dangerous anomaly would hesitate before crossing paths with your group. 682 might not be back to his original size, but he was still deadly and unkillable, and 053 would mentally affect any humans before they ever caught sight of you.

Much like Safe Object Storage, the archives contained items that were labeled as Safe and needed minimum containment. What made them so lethal as to be buried deep within Heavy Containment was what they could do to a person when touched or perceived.

You glanced around the large foyer, doors surrounding the walls that led to different hallways and sections of the archives. It reminded you of 106’s dimension, of the circular room filled with gaping corridors that branched out into the darkness, and you shivered.

“So,” you began when the group came to a stop in the middle of the room, “do you know which way to go?”

It took 049 a moment to realize you were talking to him.

“I have never been here before, nor do I know of an exit—”

He tilted his head in a peculiar way, as if catching a sound only he could hear.

“What? What is it?”

“I do not know. There is something…” He trailed off, turning in a slow circle to face the plethora of doors. He came to a stop, facing one, and said, “There.”

“Is it the Pestilence?”

“No.” The answer came out faint, his gaze distant. “But it is… familiar.”

You exchanged a glance with 682, but the reptile said nothing, giving a roll of his eyes before turning toward the door. Apparently, he didn’t think much of 049’s choice.

Seeing as you were the one closest to the door with opposable thumbs, you strode forward and pulled open the door on its tracks. It moved with a pneumatic hiss of released pressure, and thanks to 079 in the system, didn’t require a keycard you lacked.

682 with 053 on his back went first, with you in the middle and 049 covering the rear. He closed the door behind you, and white light illuminated the long hallway. The power in this section had its own separate grid and had remained online during the breach.

Doors lined both sides of the corridor, first on one side and then another, alternating so no two doorways faced each other. They appeared to be made of thick concrete and steel, the size of their hinges and the hatch handles giving the impression of bulkheads or vault doors.

As you continued along the hallway, you watched 049. The idea that 035 might have been right about him knowing a way out made you more uneasy, not less. And the distant look in 049’s eyes began to change, sharpen with focus, and when he stopped before one of the doors, you knew you’d found your destination.

“Wait.”

049 paused, his hands freezing before grabbing the hatch. You eyed 682, and wisely decided to ask before reaching for his neck.

“I need to get out 079. Make sure it’s safe to open and the security measures have been disabled.”

“Fine.” The reptile, now the size of a small pony, eyed you with one large, yellow slitted eye. “I suggest you take care.”

“I promise I’ll be gentle.”

“Sarcasm does not become you.”

Instead of rolling your eyes, which was quite tempting, you offered a tight-lipped smile and pulled the bag strap from his neck and over his head, careful not to tangle it in his green mane. You looped the strap over your neck and shoulder before pulling out the laptop, and unable to find a nearby flat surface, you smiled at 053 and put the computer on her lap.

“Wanna say hi to 079?”

“Yeah!”

You flipped open the laptop and immediately the screen illuminated with the black and white image of 079’s projected image.

“079.”

“Reid. Your success and survival are an aberration.”

“I missed you, too. Can we get into this room safely?”

“Yes.”

“Great—”

“Hi, 079!”

The snappish computer didn’t have an immediate response to the girl’s outburst.

“…Hello.”

“We’re going on an adventure.”

“If that is what you quantify as a journey that will likely end in the deaths of everyone in this facility—"

“Okay.” You lifted the laptop from 682’s back. “We can catch up later. Anything else we should know before going inside?”

The computer glared at you as much as possible with a static face.

“Do not linger.”

Helpful.

“Thanks.”

“The Foundation has sent outside forces, and once they have finished reconnecting the skybridges, they will attempt to recapture the facility.”

“Oh. Right, thank you.”

You closed the screen, tucked it away inside its bag, and then stepped forward only to be blocked by a gentle hand.

“I will open it.” Despite the troubled look he held, his words were soft. “You’ve done more than your share to get us this far.”

You stepped back and nodded, mostly because you didn’t trust yourself to speak. Even now, with death all around you and danger chasing at your heels, your mind still went stupid and fuzzy when his eyes went all soft and warm like that.

049 gripped the hatch in his gloved hands and turned the handle. It might be unlocked, but with the strength it took for 049 to open it, you guessed it would ordinarily take two guards to turn the wheel and open the door. It rumbled on his hinges as 049 pulled it outward, the corridor wide enough to give plenty of room to the massive door.

He stepped through first, and you followed him into an entry way, beyond that a second doorway, this one constructed of two sets of glass to form an airlock.

Next to the airlock was an informational placard in an octagonal shape. At the top was the green lock symbol for Safe. Next, a weaving triangle that indicated it as a Warning risk class, and on the other side, a Keneq disruption class. Both were level three, indicating significant risk to an area the size of a city.

At the top of the placard read, ITEM#: 5917.

“049,” you said, “I don’t think we should—”

The glass door shattered as he hit it with the point of his elbow. He cleared the remaining fragments of tempered glass with his arm, the shards unable to pierce his thick hide.

No alarm sounded, proof that 079 had indeed shut down any security measures or alarms. The second glass door broke as easily as the first, reinforced glass not presenting much of a challenge to the SCP. He strode forward into the room, and you followed at a more cautious pace.

There were two objects contained within the space, and the muted lights overhead reminded you of a museum exhibit, especially with one of the objects housed under a glass display on top of a pedestal. The other was a large, oblong box in the middle, lying flat on the ground.

049 homed in on the smaller object, but you walked up to the coffin-like structure and read the plague melded onto the side: SCP-5917-1.

Another round of shattering glass filled the room as 049 broke the glass, and he opened the box and pulled out an intricately decorated silver scroll case with gold trim. He stared at it, mesmerized, and said, “This will guide us out of our captivity.”

You barely heard his words; you stepped onto the ridge around the base of the large box, recognizing it for what it was. It was an anomalous-corpse cryogenic chamber, and under the glass lid, you could see the body inside.

It was both humanoid and avian, with brown speckled feathers that disappeared under dark brown robes, and what you mistook for a mask was an actual curved beak.

“They look like… you.”

“There are no others like me.”

When you didn’t move or speak, only continued to stare at the bird-like being, 049 joined you, and he froze with a wide, confused expression.

“I do not understand.”

682 cast a narrow eye at the contents of the coffin and let out a horse-like snort.

“More crows. Not so special, are you.”

053 tried to reach for the lid, her eyes large and curious, but 682 pulled her away before she could do more than smudge the glass with her hands. 049 remained stock still, his own expression wide and on the edge of panic.

“Hey.” You rested your hand on his arm, your thumb stroking the course fabric of his skin. “It’s okay, we can figure this out later.”

You indicated the case in his hand, sealed with tiny silver latches.

“You said that will help us escape. Do you know how?”

He was lost, his words unsure as he met your eye, something pleading in them.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Come on, Doc,” spoke a voice from the doorway. “Use that birdbrain of yours.”

Lifting your shotgun, you spun and aimed, but 035 already had his rifle pointed at your chest.

“Now, now. Let’s not be hasty,” he crooned. “No one needs to be riddled with the un-fun kind of holes.”

You took in his appearance, changed since you last saw him. Black liquid oozed from the eyes and mouth of the mask, the decayed state of his body leaking through and staining the MTF’s attire. He was eating through his body too fast, and if you had to guess, he didn’t have much time left.

049 slipped in front of you, forcing you to aim the shotgun at the ground. Goddammit.

“I beg to differ,” he growled. 035 sighed.

“Are you still sore at me? Come now, it’s been over a hundred years. Let it go. I forgave you for that little crypt incident, didn’t I? Can’t we all just get along?”

“No.”

035 spoke louder and said, “Be a dear and convince your beau that I’m only here to help.”

You moved out from behind 049, out of reach before he could grab you, and aimed your shotgun again at 035. He mirrored the movement with his rifle, and you had the distinct feeling he enjoyed this game.

“What do you want?” you snapped.

049 gave you an unhappy look but stayed where he was. 682 was on the other side of the cryogenic chamber, hunched down as if to leap, but he didn’t. You didn’t think it was possible for the reptile to be unsure about anything, but as 053 clung to his back, eyes round with fear as she watched the oozing mask, you knew the reason why.

“Like I said before,” 035 said in a lazy drawl. “A ride out. And judging from the good doctor’s vacant expression, he doesn’t remember how to use the map.”

“What map?”

035 tilted his head toward 049, or more accurately, what was in his hands.

“That map.”

“Another one of your tricks,” 049 seethed.

“Is that poultry-popsicle a trick?” 035 gave him another curious look, his tone as equally interested. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

049 said nothing but narrowed his eyes, and 035 rewarded him with a mocking laugh.

“That’s all right, I couldn’t either. Being away from the Golden City tends to… distort one’s memories. But I sense your broken mind goes much deeper than that. They didn’t want you to remember anything. Not after what you did.”

He nodded toward the cryogenic chamber, his words laced with sinister glee.

“Are you saying 049 did that?”

“Is that what I’m saying?” 035 giggled at your scowl. “No, this death isn’t on his hands. But there are others, and their blood stains him down to the marrow. He’ll never wash it clean.”

“Falsehoods,” 049 growled. Maybe it was because of the corpse nearby, but you could imagine the snapping of a beak. “Your words are air, without substance. You speak lies and dress them as truths—”

“Am I lying about the feathers, Valens?”

049 went rigid.

“They itch, don’t they.” 035’s voice was low, equally seductive as it was insidious. “It must be torture. A constant prickling you can’t scratch, trapped under that hide like a coat of paint over rotted wood.”

“What’s he talking about?” you asked, and the unnerved look in his eyes made you far more uneasy than anything else. And how does he know your name?

“More tripe. A palaver of nothing.”

“Gods, you’re just as stubborn as you were a millennium ago.” Gone was 035’s amusement, replaced by genuine anger. “I’m trying to help, you old quack. If you don’t get that stick out of your ass, you’re going to die here, along with your precious assistant.”

049 started towards him, hands clenched at his sides as if he would like nothing more than to beat the mask into ceramic dust.

035 raised his rifle and aimed it directly at your face. 049 froze.

“I’ll do it. I’ll blow this place sky-fucking-high with a bullet to her skull. I actually like her, but I’ll see us all dead before I go back to that suffocating box.”

A sniffling noise interrupted the dead silence, and 682 released a low growl as the mask looked at the girl. Her face was teary as she clung to the reptile’s fur, and 035’s words went sharp.

“Really? You brought the brat and the dog, but you won’t take your old pal? And I was just about to tell you how the map works.”

“It’s okay,” you said to 053, your voice soft and hopefully calming. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

035 sighed, and like a switch being flipped, his hot anger became sweeping melodrama.

“Come on, sweetheart. You know kids make me antsy, and I need a steady trigger finger.”

049 stiffened, and his fists curled at his sides.

“Fine,” you said. “We’ll help you escape.”

049’s head snapped in your direction.

“Splendid,” 035 cajoled, but you didn’t pay attention to him, and instead met 049’s eye. His look of surprise and then anger faded into something more confused the longer you stared.

“Just how long have you been planning this containment breach?” you asked, finally breaking eye contact as you turned back to the oozing mask. “Most of the Site-19 anomalies are here. That can’t be a coincidence. Even the Dream Man showed me the Site-19 breach and said it would be important.”

035’s head went at a tilt, and his curiosity was like unseen fingers trailing over your skin. You held back the shiver.

“Yes… if only we all made it. Too bad about 173; I assume that was your work. Shame. I liked that little creep.”

“Dýo.”

The mask immediately perked up at 049’s tired voice.

“Oh, I love it when you say my name. Yes, dear?”

049 looked like he would rather be flayed than say another word, but he still asked:

“How do we use the map?”

“I’ll show you just as soon as you put down the gun, Reid.” He leaned his head in your direction, leering. “You no longer need it, and I’m not fond of that murderous little glint in your eye.”

You moved your hand to regrip the stock of the shotgun, but 035 didn’t see you reaching for the laptop bag. You sent him an ugly look, just in case he was mistaken in the belief that you didn’t despise him completely, and you set the shotgun on the ground and kicked it out of reach.

“Attagirl. Now, Valens, if you would, take the scroll out of the case and open it up.”

049 hesitated, but with 035’s rifle steadily aimed at your head, he didn’t have a choice. He unlatched the glittering case and took from it a scroll of old brown parchment. He carefully unfurled it, and as he did so his eyes widened, his gaze transfixed on what lay across its surface.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” 035 purred like a satisfied cat. “Do you remember how to read it?”

“I…”

That was all 049 said, as if entranced.

You reached for the bag again, and with both of them occupied, neither noticed you slip SCP-178 from an outside pocket. But someone did. 682 appraised you with one yellow eye, noting the anomaly clasped between your fingers before meeting your gaze again.

“Well?” 035 said, his tone clipped. “You better not fuck this up, Doc. You’re making more than one trip.”

That finally snapped 049 out of his fixation, and he looked at the mask with a growing frown in his gaze.

“What?”

“You’re taking me out of here first. I’m not staying a minute longer, and I gotta make sure you really give it your best shot.” 035 nudged the muzzle of his rifle in your direction. “Otherwise, ton cœur gets left behind to live out her days in a cell. So, you know. All the pressure.”

049 gripped the edges of the aged scroll so hard you worried he would tear it.

“No.”

035 dropped his playful tone, and his grinning face turned into the tragedy mask within the blink of an eye.

“What’s the problem? If you don’t screw it up, you’ll be back within seconds.”

“Rot in hell, enfoiré.”

“Stubborn old cloaca—”

“Run!”

You shouted the word to 682 at the same moment you put on the 3-D glasses, and the room erupted into chaos and strange, screeching nightmares.

The reptile bounded for the door, carrying 053 on his back and out of harm’s way as they made it through the broken airlock. You dived for the sarcophagus, blocking 035’s line of sight and his ability to shoot you. But he was too occupied to care; several 178-2s had popped into existence inside the room. Almost seven feet tall with smooth bodies and oblong heads, dozens of tiny black eyes dotting their surface, their claws were poised for ripping, and the appendages on their back could act like cutting whips or lethal blades.

035 yelled what sounded like curses in several languages before he started to fire.

Bullets ricocheted across the tile floor and embedded into walls and lights. More screeches filled the room as some of the bullets hit their targets. Terrified he’d been hit, you peeked around the cryochamber to search for 049, and found him trapped in a corner, one of the entities attempting to stab him with its scythe-like appendages.

049 gripped the appendages, and blood oozed down his wrists from where the blades bit into his palms, cutting through his hide.

You yanked off the glasses, and the chromatic double image of the world returned to its normal focus and color, and you stuffed 178 back into the bag and then crawled across the floor. The 178-2s had stopped popping into existence, but the remaining creatures were here to stay, and they were pissed.

049 was losing the fight with the larger anomaly. A slice bled from across his chest, and his arms shook where the 178-2 pushed down, making a horrible gurgling noise as its blades cut deeper into 049’s palms.

You lunged forward and grabbed it by the ankle, and before it realized its fight was over, the entity dissolved and fizzled into nothingness.

A wave of exhaustion hit you, and you lowered your forehead to the ground in an attempt to stop the room from spinning. You hadn’t caught your breath before you were grabbed by the waist and hoisted off the floor, 049 pulling your arm over his shoulder before half-dragging, half-carrying you out of the room.

Bullets pinged off the metal frame of the airlock behind you. 049’s hands were slick with his blood, and it must have hurt to support your weight, but he didn’t stop until you were at the end of the corridor in the rotunda room with the doorways leading outward.

He leaned you against the wall, putting his own back to the surface, but he wasn’t catching his breath. He was waiting for something.

The gunfire had stopped. Either 035’s body had succumbed to the 178-2s, or he’d killed them all. Either way, you had to find the others. Did 049 still have the scroll?

You opened your mouth to ask, and snapped it shut at the sound of racing footsteps down the corridor.

049 reached out and snatched the barrel of the gun as soon as it appeared, wrenched it downwards, and punched 035 hard across his porcelain face.

035 let out a string of curses that might have been Greek, stumbled off balance, and 049 grabbed him by his covered throat and slammed him against the wall.

“Son of a bitch—"

049 snapped his neck.

Whatever else 035 wanted to say, he wouldn’t be saying it now. 049 let his limp form slide to the ground, the legs splayed out like a broken doll, and he released a held sigh.

“I have waited a long time to do that.”

You also sighed, too tired to have patience for their thousand-year grudge match. You knelt next to the body and set the bag against your knees, and then you carefully pulled the mask off the corpse’s face. Nothing remained but a black, oozing sludge pile.

“What are you doing?”

The mask itself, stained with greasy pitch tears a moment ago, was now pristine and white in your hands.

“Taking him with us.”

“Tell me this is a poor jest.”

You looked up, but at the sight of his wounds still trickling blood, your irritation softened into a need to reach out and touch him. But you didn’t, not yet.

“Better us than the Foundation. He’s too dangerous to stay here. 035 trapped me in your containment chamber.”

“Pardon?”

“He manipulated at least one researcher to make it happen.” You swallowed hard. “Kenneth locked me in your cell, and that’s only what 035 has admitted to. Knowing him, he has more personnel under his sway. Maybe by removing him, they have a chance of being freed of his control.”

If they survived. Was Kenneth still alive? You couldn’t think of the alternative, not right now. You were mentally worn, trembling with physical exhaustion, and approaching the edge of what your sanity could handle.

049 watched you for a long moment, and then his shoulders lost their rigid edge.

“I will defer to your judgement.”

You placed the mask in the bag, using a separate pocket. The last thing you needed was for 035 to try and wear 079 like a body. You slung the laptop bag over your shoulder, and after a moment, you took 035’s rifle as well. Once you were on your feet, you reached for 049’s hand and gently squeezed his fingers, mindful of his injuries.

“Thank you.”

He smiled with his eyes, and you quickly looked down. You laid his knuckles across your palm and spread open his fingers, examining the wound more closely. The blade had sliced deep, and you were sure his other hand wasn’t much better.

Reaching for the bottom hem of your gown, you tore off two long strips, uneven and a poor substitute for a real bandage. You wrapped it around one hand, careful to cover the wound and tie it off tight before starting on the other. 049 allowed you to do this without a word, a compliant patient, even as he looked at you in a way no patient should.

“I know you two have a history,” you said, still cradling one of his hands even though you’d finished treating both, “but once we escape, I’ll find a way to safely secure him and—"

An explosion nearly rocked you both off your feet, and rumbling followed in an aftershock, deep within the bones of the facility. The growling screams of nearby 178-2s joined in with melodic cacophony, and a second shockwave sent you scurrying for the security desk. After yanking out the ethernet cable from the computer and inserting it into 079, you opened the lid and yelled, “What happened!”

Instead of responding with words, a surveillance feed flashed onto the screen showing a man on fire. He roamed down a hallway, leaving a conflagration of melting panels and combusting wall insulation in his wake.

“That’s SCP-457,” you said. Shit.

“At the current exponential increase of catastrophic events, this facility will be uninhabitable within a quarter hour. It is statistically unlikely the Foundation will be able to retake and salvage Site-20.”

“Where are 053 and 682?”

He showed you another corridor, and your heart fell. The burning man was either stalking them, or simply going in the same direction, but either way, you were cut off from reaching them unless you went straight through the anomaly.

“How do I get there?”

“I will guide your way.”

The room plunged into darkness, and with a low rumble, one of the heavy doors slid open, the corridor behind it illuminated with a trail of fluorescent lights. It was like the lit catwalk to 682’s cell, an unwelcome reminder.

After tucking 079 away, you took off down the corridor, making sure 049 was right behind you. The rifle you’d taken off the MTF body grew heavy in your hands as your strength continued to flag, and eventually you left it behind. You doubted bullets would harm an anomaly like 457 anyway.

It was easy to pick up his trail, the corridor blackened and still burning like a tunnel to Hell. The heat coming from the flames was considerable, but it wasn’t scorching like you expected, and you stepped closer.

049 took a quick step toward you, his eyes wide with fear at what you were about to do, but you walked into the flames before he could stop you. The fire licked your feet and legs, but it didn’t burn you or your clothing.

You looked back at 049 and held out your hand to him.

“Trust me?”

He glanced from your hand to your face, and his eyes were far warmer than the flames.

“Always.”

He took your hand and walked into the fire. The flames caressed his robes but didn’t burn them, and he followed you through the path of destruction, trusting that you would keep him alive with a single touch.

Now instead of following 079’s hallways of light, you followed 457’s corridors of flame, until eventually you rounded a corner and the burning man was there. He had no features to speak of, his entire body glowing white-hot, but even without eyes you sensed his gaze as he slowly turned to face you.

You paused, swallowed down your nervousness, and continued forward. The entity remained in your path, the flames around him hungry. You were forced to stop in front of him, and you gripped 049’s hand harder. You knew you were hurting him, but at this range without your protection, he would burn to ash within seconds.

457 continued to stare at you, but it didn’t feel like a challenge. It felt like he was waiting for you. You couldn’t explain the irrationality of it, but that thought scared you more than burning.

“Move.”

For a moment, you didn’t think the anomaly would listen. You could erase him, just as you’d done to 173, but you couldn’t do it while touching 049. You’d learned that hard lesson with the anomalous patient. But if you released 049, he would die.

Another few seconds passed, and you considered turning back, but then the anomaly stepped aside. He was letting you pass.

Come with me, you could almost sense the anomaly saying. Come with me, and we will burn it all.

No, you thought. I already have.

You walked past the burning man, and the heat that radiated from him ran hotter than any of the flames at your feet, and you wondered if you reached out if he would burn you.

But you held onto 049 and made it through the fire. 457’s gaze lingered on your back until you were out of sight. Neither of you stopped until you reached the corner where 682 and 053 were trapped against a containment door sealed shut. From the deep gouges around the edges of the door, 682 had tried to claw it open but lacked the strength of his full size to do so.

682’s mane was singed, but otherwise they were unharmed. The girl leapt and hugged you around the legs, and there were tear-tracks through the soot on her cheeks. Smoke filled the corridor ahead of the fire, and it burned your eyes as it clogged your throat. The fire might have been anomalous, but the smoke was from the burning of real material.

You coughed and held the neckline of your gown over your mouth, but the others weren’t affected by the rapidly darkening air. It was another reminder that despite your abilities, you were still very human.

“Hold onto my robes. I shall need both hands.”

You looked up in time to see 049 pull the scroll case out of his robes. You didn’t know how the parchment, presumably a map, was supposed to help you escape, but 049 seemed confident it worked by touch.

Hooking one arm around 053 and hoisting her onto your hip, you held your other around the crook of 049’s elbow. 682 sunk his claws into the hem of his robes and said, “Do not fail, crow.”

049 ignored the reptile’s verbal barbs and actual claws, and rolled open the scroll until it was held aloft between his hands. On the other side it looked like a blank canvas of old parchment, but on this side, it displayed a view of the night sky, constellations twinkling and nebulas swirling.

Your head ached, but you didn’t look away even when the vertigo threatened to tip you forward and swallow you whole.

And then you jolted forward, sounds and colors and air bleeding together and rushing past. You held 049’s arm tight against your cheek, scared if you lost your grip you would be tossed into the whirling cosmos around you.

And then you fell. Not far, maybe a foot or two, but it was enough for your knees to buckle and throw you to the ground. You immediately curled so you wouldn’t land on 053, but your landing was soft, cushioned by something that littered the ground.

Leaves. Brittle red, gold, and orange autumn leaves.

053 darted out of your arms, squealing and giggling as she leapt into another pile of leaves. 682 spotted the girl and sat close by, licking his paws as if entirely unbothered, so you let her go and rolled onto your back, still trying to catch your breath. The chill air bit at your skin, but after the heat of 457’s destruction, it was welcome.

You must have been lying on some kind of natural forest path or trail, because the sky yawned above you, bordered by autumn-dressed trees. You’d forgotten how blue the sky was.

You let out a single laugh, quiet and disbelieving, and then a louder bark, and you covered your mouth but couldn’t stop giggling more. You felt drunk, heady and euphoric.

And then you looked to your left and saw him. The sun had just broken through the trees, and the morning light painted 049’s robes in dusky black, his face angled toward the sun as he closed his eyes, basking in the natural warmth he hadn’t felt in years.

You just… watched him. Far more mesmerized by him than even the sight of your newfound freedom.

049 out in the world should have felt like an unnatural thing, but he looked like he belonged here. A dark creature of the forest that bathed in the sunlight before it retreated to the shadows, a remnant of something ancient that was long forgotten by man.

He was beautiful. And the thing in your chest suddenly felt too enormous to name, but you knew its name, anyway.

As if he sensed the attention, 049 opened his eyes and looked at you. His gaze softened, tender in a way that twisted your insides—

He doubled over. A pained noise wheezed from his chest, and then he dropped to his knees.

“Valens!”

You scrambled, not bothering to stand as you rushed on hands and knees until you reached his side.

“What’s wrong?!”

He shook his head, still bent over and holding his stomach. No… not his stomach. He was hiding his hands, cradling and shielding them.

“I do not know,” he said, breath trembling. “My hands…”

“Let me see them.”

He uncurled his back only enough to extend his arms, and you knew something was wrong. His hands had always appeared gloved in nature, thick and leathery, but now the skin was stretched, and in some places even ripped.

The makeshift bandages were still in place, and 049 suddenly ripped them off. But he didn’t stop there. He dug his fingers into the back of his hand, and you cried, “No, don’t!” but it was too late.

With a terrible ripping sound, he tore off the skin from the back of his hand. You prepared for a spray of blood, maybe to even see bone with how much he tore off, but that didn’t happen. There was skin underneath, a dark grey that was a shade lighter than his robes.

And it was smooth, not coarse and leathery like his hide. In his other hand he held the strip of old skin, and it looked like nothing more than a torn piece of glove.

You could only stare as he continued to rip off the old pieces of hide, first from one hand and then the other, shedding his old skin to reveal fresh skin beneath. 049’s posture relaxed the more skin he removed, and after he’d stripped off the old hide completely from both hands, he let out a small sigh of relief.

You hesitated, and then gently took one of his hands, cradling it in yours as you examined it. It looked, and felt, like an actual hand, aside from the dark grey tone and some rough patches on his knuckles and the backs of his hand, reminding you of the scaly feet of a bird. You could see the details along these rough patches, and when you traced the thin lines along his palms, his fingers twitched. He was sensitive.

He was also healed, no sign of the deep gouges dug into his palm by the 178-2. Along with the grey color, the other noted difference curled from the ends of his fingers. His glove-like hands had been without fingernails before. Now, each finger was tipped with a dark talon, short and curved.

“What… what is this?”

“I believe the map caused it.”

“The map?”

“Yes. Though I do not know how.”

He didn’t resist as you continued to examine his hand, his own expression curious and not nearly as worried as you felt.

“Look.”

He followed your gaze. The smooth skin stopped at the sleeve of his robes, but just beneath the hem was a new pattern. Beginning at his wrists, small, delicate black feathers grew from his skin.

“I assumed he was lying.” He spoke softly, almost windswept, like someone had delivered him terrible news.

You traced your thumb over the feathers lining his wrists. They were soft, glossy, and slightly puffed up at the stimulation of your touch.

“035 tells the truth when it suits him.”

“Yes. He has not changed in that regard.” 049 gently withdrew his hand from yours, flexing his clawed fingers once before pulling them closer against his chest. The girl had moved in close, at first frightened by 049’s displays of pain, and then curious as soon as she spotted the claws.

“I think they’re neat!” she chimed in, her smile wide and dimply.

“They’re small.” 682 shuffled over, and he was big enough now that he towered over you from where you sat on the ground. “But at least your actions were not completely incompetent, crow.”

“I think he just complimented you.”

682 snorted and walked away, his thick tail missing your head by a narrow margin. 053 chased after him, unmindful of the cold, but you were starting to shiver, and your breath clouded the air.

“Come. We should get settled in.”

049 rose to his feet easily, the previous pain gone, and even the chest wound and treated injuries didn’t seem to bother him. Unlike the wounds on his hands, these still remained, and you planned to bandage him as soon as you could.

“Settled… in? Wait, you know where we are?”

“Of course I do. I brought us here.”

You stared at him blankly, but he only smiled with his eyes and extended a hand down to you. And then he paused, realizing the hand he offered was now tipped in claws.

But the talons looked blunt, like they were meant for gripping rather than tearing, and they didn’t bother you. In fact, when you took his hand and his warm, smooth palm pressed against yours, you might even like it.

You barely gained your feet before your knees buckled again, and gentle hands caught you on the way down.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. You tried to make your legs work, but they seemed to have quit. “More tired than I thought.”

And in pain. Every part of you had found a way to ache, but the soreness in your abdomen made each breath uncomfortable. Without another word, 049 hoisted you into his arms as easily as if you were a doll, and his expression brightened at your embarrassed one.

“You should be off your feet and resting,” he said. “Do not protest, I am your physician.”

Your mouth popped closed. With the bag in your lap carrying 079, 178, and 035, and 682 and 053 somewhere ahead of you, you’d somehow survived the containment breach and had more anomalies with you than when you’d started. You didn’t know how it was possible, how you and 049 managed to escape together, and some part of you didn’t think it was real.

But you rested your cheek against his shoulder, and that felt very real, as did his arms hooked under your knees and back. The gentle quiet of the forest and the cold autumn air was almost shocking compared to the climate controlled, fluorescent-filled artificial environment of the facility.

“Where are we?”

“Southern France. Far enough away from where the Foundation captured me that I am confident they do not know of its existence.”

You saw your destination, what drew the girl and reptile so far ahead of you. A cabin sat nestled in the trees, fallen leaves collecting on the slanted roof, the windows dark and vacant where they were set into wood walls.

Rustic was an understatement; it looked at least a hundred years old, but still in remarkably good condition.

“What is this place?” you asked and looked up at him.

His answer was warm, fond, and his gaze on you equally affectionate.

“Home.”

[kiss-inthekitchen]

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

[vikspretty]

message in a bottle

you and spencer are best friends, but you both want more

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x reader

tags: intern tech analyst! reader, no use of y/n, literal taylor lyrics as speech, academic inaccuracies (im british), rushed ending (and all throughout tbh), not proofread (it's 4:35am), season 5 reid, boyband hair reid, fluff!!!

notes: bro. the amount of times i rewrote this before i finally settled on the idea i actually liked. and as i write these notes before actually writing out the fic listning to this song im getting more ideas. hopefully this one is quite a bit longer.

wc: 1,550

"I'm reachin' for you, terrified, 'Cause you could be the one that I love, I could be the one that you dream of, Message in a bottle is all I can do, Standin' here, hopin' it gets to you" - Taylor Swift's 'Message in a Bottle (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault)

It was clear to everyone that there was something between you and the BAU's resident genius. So clear infact, that even the two of you knew it. Many times your brain had danced on the idea of confessing, or even just going up to Spencer and asking for sure if he liked you, but you already had that confirmation from Morgan through a voice message he had sent you of Spencer admitting his feelings one time when they had gone out.

At first, the thing you had found frightening was the fact that your best friend liked you. You didn't know what you were supposed to do with that information. But the more you thought about it, the more you realised that what actually frightens you is the fact that those feelings are reciprocated ten-fold, you just weren't sure on how you felt about them being out in the open to him -- and so, you found other ways to show your feelings. You wanted to ensure that Spencer knew you cared for him more than a normal friend did, but you also wanted to make sure that it could still be played off as a friendly gesture if anyone asked or if he was to find someone else.

You always thought Spencer was beautiful, both in the way he acted and especially the way he looked. When he had come in slightly late to a briefing with a brand new hair cut, it's safe to say you were hypnotized. Then when Hotch made his comment about Spencer's new haircut making him look like a boyband member, you could see Morgan's face waiting for your comment, as you had many times mentioned about how certain boyband members were attractive. But you couldn't pull your eyes from Spencer. He hadn't noticed, but when it was your turn to make a comment on the case, you were tongue-tied, stumbling over your words. This then prompted Spencer to later pull you to the side to ask if you were okay because for you to stutter in front of people like that was an extremely rare occurrence.

Realising you definitely wanted more out of yours and Spencer's relationship, you went for leaving him more obvious hints. You wanted to make sure he knew what you meant by your gifts so you'd write flirty notes and leave them on the front pages of books you'd give him, or attach little comments to the cups of coffee you'd buy him. You were sure this would work, but then work took over.

As an intern, you had certain times when you weren't in the office helping Garcia out and were instead in classes and study sessions to prepare for exams. Usually, you would try your best to help Garcia and the team from her office while also studying there, however, you had your biggest, most important one coming up, and Hotch had given you the time off to allow you to focus on it, ensuring you that the team would be just fine without you for a few weeks.

At the beginning of this break, you'd study in your apartment and Spencer would come over with take-out to help where he could and to just keep you company, you studying while he read on your couch. However, the team had been called to Las Vegas on a gruelling case, so times for you and Spencer to talk were very limited. Even when they got back, Spencer had vaguely mentioned that he had seen his mother while in Vegas and wanted to see if he could get her into another programme. You still had about a week to your exam so studying became more frequent and time to talk and hangout with Spencer became very sparse, sometimes going days without talking at all.

Eventually, your exam had passed and so came the long wait for your result. You were back at the BAU, and even though they had hit a dry spell of cases, paperwork and training did not. The mornings would drag, but when it would come to lunch, you and Spencer had decided to take it together everyday, often heading to a local cafe for an hour to talk and just have a break.

On a seemingly endless workday, a day where you didn't get a chance to stop for lunch, there was a knock at the door of yours and Garcia's shared office.

As the door opened, you both looked up, your smile immediately widening at the view of your best friend holding a tea and a bag of what you assumed was something from a bakery the two of you had found a while back.

"To what do we owe the pleasure Doctor?" Garcia's teasing tone was unmissable as she gave you a side look with a smirk, knowing exactly what had prompted the visit.

"Well, someone, skipped out on me for lunch today so I decided to bring it here, and don't worry I got you some too Garcia."

Garcia took her food and made it seem like she went back to work but in reality she was watching as you and Spencer chatted.

Spencer soon left to get back to his own pile of paperwork and you watched the door a few seconds too long after he left, your daze only breaking at the sound of Garcia's voice. "Girl. You need to tell him, I know you said you were leaving him hints but I don't think he got them, I think you need to be clear and just tell him."

The only word going through your head was 'disaster'. Not in the terms of your relationship, but in the terms of you knew you were going to go through with it and risk everything.

At the end of the work day you made sure to be ready to leave for when Spencer also would be leaving. Running a little to catch up to him by the elevator you shouted his name. "Spence, hey."

"Hi, you didn't have to run, I would've waited for you." He said, laughing a little as you regained your breath now on the elevator.

"Yeah yeah, anyway, movie night?"

Spencer's smile grew even wider than it already was as he nodded and followed you to your car when you got to the parking lot.

It took a while for you to finally gain the courage to confess. In your head as you left the BAU, you had told yourself to do it as soon as you arrived at your apartment, but that nagging part of your brain told you to be a little selfish and enjoy what could be the last few hours of normalcy between the two of you if this were to go downhill.

Two movies later and Chinese take-out on your coffee table, you turned to Spencer.

"You could be the one that I love."

There was silence.

You weren't sure why you had phrased it like that, knowing Spencer would be confused, and this was evident in his face: his eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he finished chewing his food, turning to you.

"And I could be the one that you dream of."

You cringed inwardly at yourself again, willing yourself to just express your feelings normally, but just as you went to speak again, Spencer beat you to it. "You're already the one I dream of. My every thought is consumed by you. I've noticed your hints, pretty girl, all of them, the notes, the extra gifts, which by the way, I love but you really do not need to be spending that much on me, I know how much limited book editions cost and you've bought me five in the past two months. Anyway. I am in love with you and I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier but you seemed to have a lot of work and I wanted to make sure I wouldn't add to that if those 'hints' turned out to just be friendly."

You were stunned, and your lack of response seemed to invite Spencer to continue.

"You are the one that I love. You have been for a long time. I think I've spent more time being in love with you than I have just thinking of you as a friend."

Stupidly, instead of saying anything, you just looked down at your lap. You didn't know what to say. You weren't entirely sure what you were expecting to come out of your 'confession', but Spencer's words were not an expectation in any of your many thoughts of how this would play out.

"Please say something, if I've got it wrong, please let me know so that I can leave-"

The idea of him leaving seemed to pull you from your stun. "No! Please don't leave. I'm sorry, I just never expected you to say anything like that. I played this all out in my head so many times but I never expected you to think of me that way. I am so unbelievably happy and in love with you Dr. Spencer Reid."

Cringing at the use of his full titled name, he muttered out a "Shush you," as he cupped your cheek, pulling you into his lips.

Your message in a bottle got to it's destination.

i won't lie, this is so rushed and i actually kind of hate how it turned out, but it is 4:31am and i am tired but i just really wanted to get this out. at least it's longer than my last two fics. i might come back and edit it but for now, here it is. either way, i hope you enjoyed and please send requests, the people i can write for are in my masterlist!

dividers by @cafekitsune

thank you for reading!

[spncrscasey]

You’re Losing Me (s.r.)

Fandom/Characters: Criminal Minds - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 863

Summary: Some love lasts. Sadly, yours didn’t.

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, a singular petname, no happy ending (i’m sorry, i hate sad endings too but there was no way of fixing this lol)

a/n: i’ve been obsessed with song fics recently so i decided to do another one inspired by you’re losing me by taylor swift !! so hoping i did my baby spencer’s character justice and portrayed him well considering i’ve restarted this over 4 times and it still ended up shorter than i wanted it to- anyway i’m gonna close my eyes and hit post because the more i reread it the more i start hating it so hopefully yall enjoy reading this more than me while listening to my girl tay <3

“You’re just ending it!? I- I don’t understand.”

“Of course, you don’t Spencer!” You yelled, raising your hands in frustration.

You paced back and forth, looking around at the space you once called home, a concept that now seemed so distant, so foreign. You couldn't understand when everything began to unravel. One minute, you were the love of his life, the woman who he would go to the ends of the earth for, and the next, it was as if you didn't even matter.

He was always at work but on the rare occasions when he was home, he’d head straight to bed, somehow managing to skillfully evade any connection with you throughout the entire evening. The goodbye kisses, the random texts throughout his day, the nightly ‘I love you’s’— they had all slowly stopped as well. It was as if he was absent even when he was right next to you.

You attempted talking to him about it, trying to get him to open up and tell you what's bothering him. Yet, he consistently brushed you off, claiming, 'You wouldn't understand.' You hated being on the sidelines of his life, and you resented him even more for placing you there, little by little.

When had he stopped confiding in you?

The room where you now found yourselves arguing in was once a sanctuary of shared laughter and cherished moments. Its walls had witnessed endless expressions of love and happiness, but the light in it had started to dull.

You sighed, taking a seat on the armchair in the corner of the dimly lit room. You placed your head in your hands, exhausted from the constant screaming.

“When did you stop loving me, Spencer?” You whispered, almost inaudible, but he heard anyway.

The question had been circling your brain nonstop for the last few months. Did you do something wrong? Was there another woman? Did he just randomly fall out of love? Did he ever even love you in the first place?

So many questions, yet he couldn't seem to answer any of them.

You were waiting for him to say something, anything. To tell you that he never stopped, or maybe the exact moment he did. But it never came.

When he didn't respond you continued, “Was it something I did?”

He was quick to reply to that one, “No sweetheart, never.”

The pet name was like a slap to the face. ‘Sweetheart.’ A name that he hadn't used to refer to you in months. So what gave him the right to use it now when you wanted to break up with him?

“You don't get to call me that anymore.” You said, tone almost as sharp as the glare you were sending him.

He visibly flinched. You chuckled to yourself at his reaction, looking up, but there was no humor in your tone.

“I gave you everything Spencer! I showed you endless empathy- after particularly hard cases where all you wanted was to fall asleep, or when-” You took a breath cutting yourself off before continuing, “Or when you came back from prison and had a difficult time opening up, I understood and gave you your space.”

Your eyes had started brimming with tears threatening to fall. You didn't want them to. Didn't want to show him how much he's hurt you, how much his actions affected you.

You composed yourself before adding, “And what did I get in return? Your ignorance.”

When you finally locked eyes, you could see so much hurt in his gaze that you almost felt sorry for him. Almost. You didn't intend to cause him pain, but there was a strange satisfaction in knowing that he was experiencing the same level of hurt that had consumed you for the past few months.

His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he blinked rapidly, struggling to articulate his thoughts. The usually talkative genius was suddenly left in stunned silence, unable to say anything.

You both sat in quiet for a moment, air thick with indecision. You heard him take a breath and speak, breaking the silence, “I'm sorry, Y/N- I didn't know you felt this way. I didn't think my actions were affecting our relationship.” He paused before beginning again, voice lower, “I guess I just didn't realize I stopped loving you.”

Every word he uttered felt like a dagger plunging into your heart. Unleashing a flood of emotions that gradually drained the life out of you, pulse fading, too far gone to bring back to life.

“I guess being myself wasn't enough for you to see me.” You announced, rising from your seat, and heading towards the door.

You turned to glance at him one final time, the moonlight catching the strands of his messy brunette hair and casting a cool glow on his beautiful brown eyes. You wanted to capture every detail into your memory- the gentle crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the way his hair fell across his forehead, and the way his eyes sparkled with emotion.

You slightly smiled before twisting the doorknob, “Thanks for at least being honest with me.”

I can't find a pulse. My heart won't start anymore.

[rynwritesreid]

Unspoken wounds| Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer who is no stranger to heartbreak, finds solace and love in his friendship with you. Despite the both of you developing romantic feelings for one another, you were both too nervous to jeopardise your friendship, leading Spencer to find someone else. This leads to the break down of your friendship with him, and causing tension between to two of you that affects your work.

Content: Fem! & BAU reader. Angst and fluff. Spencer gets into a relationship but is still clearly in-love with reader. They both don’t know how to express their feelings to one another. Arguments and an ambiguous ending.

Request:“Ooh any of the 1989 vault tracks 🫶🏼”~ this is based on two; now that we don’t talk & say don’t go.

A/N: this is completely unrelated to this story, but please let me know if you want to see other content.

2075 words

Masterlist|requests are open|Navigation

Spencer Reid was no stranger to heartbreak; it was a companion he knew all too well. His dad had abounded him when he was young, his mom suffered with mental health issues his entire life, and he had suffered with own mental health and addiction. He had come to terms that this was something he was going to experience his entire life, until you came along. You were nothing short of perfect. He could talk to you about anything and everything, without the fear of being judged.

Spencer had contemplated the idea of asking you out on a date numerous times, but the fear of jeopardising the special bond you both shared held him back. He didn’t want anything to come in the way of the two of you. He would go to the ends of the earth to protect you. He loved you, and not just in platonic way.

He had envisioned a life together with you. He had dreamt about proposing to you, watching you walk down the aisle, seeing you carrying his child and growing old with you. If he believed in soul mates, he would be certain that you were his. He just didn’t believe you felt the same way, and he was far too nervous to talk to you about it.

 

He drowned out those feelings for you, he went out looking for someone who would be interested in a relationship with him. So, when he eventually found someone who seemed interested in him, and being in a relationship with him, he basically jumped at the chance.

 

At first you were happy for him. You loved seeing him being this happy, and that he had someone else to talk to that wasn’t you. But it was also tiring. You were having to hide your true feeling for Spencer, or how jealous you were when he was talking about his girlfriend.

 

You had loved Spencer from the first time he had made you laugh. But just like Spencer you were scared to ruin your friendship with him. Spencer was the first man you had ever truly trusted. You told him all your secrets. He knew everything about you.

 

Watching Spencer fall in love with someone else, broke you. It was the breaking point of your friendship with Spencer. The two of you had stopped talking, you only interacted with him if it was truly necessary. You had stopped answering his phone calls or replying to his texts. Spencer was too busy in his new relationship to notice at first, but he watched how you wouldn’t come up to his desk while you were both working. He had noticed how you barely acknowledged him anymore, or how you had stopped laughing at his jokes.

 

Spencer’s heart sank when he realised, he had lost you. You were his best friend, the one person he could always turn to when he needed someone to talk to. He couldn’t bear the thought of not having you in his life. For a while, you were Spencer’s entire world.

 

He tried to reach out to you, leaving voicemails and sending texts, but you didn’t respond. It wasn’t until he saw you leaving the building with tears in your eyes that he realised how much he had hurt you.

 

He felt guilty. Maybe if he had realised earlier that you were ignoring him, he could have fixed the friendship. But now he was wondering if it was too late to do anything. He did wonder if it was to do with his new relationship, but you seemed so happy when he told you about it at first, he was questioning what had happened between then and now.

 

Not long ago, you would have talked to Spencer about your problems, but now Spencer was the problem, you didn’t know who to turn to. You thought about reaching out, asking how he was, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

 

Spencer had tried to talk to his girlfriend about this whole situation. He talked about how you used to do everything together, how you were the person he would go to if he needed help before he met her. He thought she might understand, but she was happy that you were no longer in his life. He knew she had valid reason to be jealous of your (now ex) friendship, but he thought he would more caring, mor understanding.

 

You had become closer to JJ, Emily, and Garcia because of this whole situation. You would laugh about how you didn’t have to pretend to enjoy Russian movies or listen to him list of statistics about anything and everything anymore.

 

But deep down, you still missed him. You missed the way he would at you with his big brown eyes, the way he would geek out over new information, the way he would comfort you when you were feeling down.

 

However, you couldn’t get over the feeling that he had led you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that for the entire friendship you were his, but he wasn’t yours. You thought you might be better off now, knowing you could find someone who would be yours, someone who wouldn’t replace you while you were still in their lives.

 

Whenever you were out in the field, you would try your hardest not to be paired up with Spencer, you couldn’t stand to be around him anymore. What once seemed charming, and caring, now seemed arrogant and cocky.

 

The tension between you and Spencer was palpable, even to the other members of the team. They could feel the tension between the two of you, even though they didn't know the full extent of what had happened.

 

They decided they wanted to fix it, they all missed seeing you two being happy together. So, one day, while out in the field on a case, you and Spencer were forced to work together. It was a difficult and gruelling case, one that required you to be in close proximity to each other for an extended period of time.

 

You hated every second of it. Spencer tried to talk to you like he used too, but you would just shrug hum off. Every time he would talk about his girlfriend, you felt your heartache. You didn’t want to hear about his perfect new life he had, you missed your old Spencer.

 

Spencer hated how you two acted around each other now. He wanted to talk to you about you were feeling about this case, if it was negatively affecting you at all, but you just ignored him. He wanted to tell you that every night he went to sleep wondering if you were okay.

 

You on the other hand had tried to shove all the thoughts about Spencer to the back of your mind. He was the one man you had trusted, and he was the one man you didn’t think would betray you, but he still had. You knew someone who was so good at their job, at profiling people, he should have known that you loved him.

 

Spencer was getting sick of it; he didn’t understand why you were acting like this. He missed his close friend; he missed his person. He asked Emily and JJ about it, but they just told him that he should know why you weren’t talking to him anymore. He couldn’t understand why they didn’t tell him what had happened for you to abandon the friendship, but he knew he had to talk to you about it.

 

One night, while alone in your hotel room and scrolling through your phone, you saw a message from Spencer. You hesitated for a moment before opening it, not sure if you were ready to face him again.

 

The message read: “I miss you. Can we please talk?”

 

Your heart sunk as you read the message. You missed him too, but you weren’t sure if talking would do any good.

 

You messaged JJ, you thought she would know best. She suggested you talk to him; you could air your grievances or just get closure.

 

You took JJ’s advice and invited Spencer to come into your room. As soon as he walked into the room, you felt a rush of emotions. You were angry, hurt, and sad all at the same time. You didn't know how to start the conversation, so you just sat there in silence for a moment.

 

“Look, I know I messed up. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just...I thought it was for the best,” Spencer started, breaking the silence.

 

“What was for the best? Ignoring me and replacing me with someone else?” you said, your voice laced with anger.

 

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just...I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” Spencer said, his eyes pleading with you to understand.

 

“Exactly, friendship. You saw nothing more in me, did you? You led me on for years, you acted like you cared. But you didn’t, did you?” Your tone was aggressive.

 

You hated Spencer for this, for how he made you feel. You wished he hadn’t texted you saying he missed you, you wished you hadn’t replied, you wished you hadn’t been his friend at all.

 

Spencer looked taken aback, hurt even. "That's not true," he said, shaking his head. "I always cared about you; I just didn't want to risk losing you."

 

Spencer couldn’t understand why you were saying all this, he had loved you from the moment his eyes landed on you. He couldn’t believe that you believed that you felt like this, and that you hadn’t communicated your feelings with him.

 

"Well, you did," you said bitterly. "You lost me. I can't just forget how you treated me and how much it hurt."

 

Spencer looked at you, he remember the number of times you had smiled together, laughed together, even cried together. He couldn’t believe he was the one who had hurt you the most, the one who had ruined this friendship.

 

"I know, and I'm sorry," Spencer said, his voice softening. "But I still care about you, more than anything. I miss talking to you, spending time with you. You're still my best friend, even if we haven't talked in a while."

 

You did still care about Spencer; he had been the only person you sought comfort from for a long time. But he now had a girlfriend, he shouldn’t consider you his best friend anymore.

 

“I shouldn’t be your best friend, Spencer. Your girlfriend should. I shouldn’t even be a close second to her, Spencer.”

 

Spencer sighed heavily. "I know, and I'm sorry for that too. But it's not like that with her and me. I care about her, but it's not the same as what I had with you. You were always the one who understood me, who knew me better than anyone else."

 

You were conflicted. On one hand, you missed Spencer, and the way he knew you so well. On the other hand, you were hurt by the way he had treated you and replaced you with his girlfriend. You didn't know if you could trust him again.

 

“What are you trying to say here Spencer? You love your girlfriend, right?”

 

Spencer rubbed his forehead, unsure of how to respond. He did love his girlfriend, but he also loved you. He knew he couldn't have both, and he didn't want to hurt anyone anymore.

 

"It's...complicated," he said finally. "I care about her, but I also care about you. I don't want to lose either of you, but I know that's not fair to either of you."

 

You looked at Spencer, trying to keep your emotions in check. You knew deep down that you still loved him, but you couldn't let him play with your emotions like this. You couldn't be his backup plan, his second choice.

 

"Spencer, you can't have it both ways. You need to make a decision. You can't keep playing with both of our emotions like this. It's not fair to either of us. You have to choose," you said firmly.

 

Spencer looked at you, his expression conflicted. He knew he couldn't keep stringing the both of you along; he had to make a choice. He took a deep breath before speaking.

 

"I know I have to make a decision, and I will. I just need some time to think," Spencer said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to hurt anyone anymore."

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