#sharpest tool spencer reid

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter eight, halloween)

‘Your hands are all over my scent, I worry for you, you worry for me, and it's fine if we know we won't change. Collect every dream in these old empty pockets, in hope that I'll see them someday. But the wreckage of you, I no longer reside in, and the bridges have long since been burned, the ash of the home that I started the fire in. It starts to return to the Earth, I'm leavin' this town and I'm changin' my address I know that you'll come if you want. It's not Halloween, but the ghost you're dressed up as sure knows how to haunt’

summary; communication is hard, especially when spencer is keeping secrets and you���re debating sticking around to find out what they are.

warnings; arguments, fem reader, reader is a bitch, horrible miscommunications, spencer is confusing, reader is hurt, they both cry, some comfort but not really, direct continuation of the last chapter, suggestive so 18+ please, mdni, there is so many mixed emotions in this, kissing, mentions commitment issues, ghosting, god they are complicated, reader is real as always.

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules @ameerakane20 @lucere @cultish-corner @psyches-reid

“Please.” It was so quiet, so desperate, full of genuine plea leaving his lips as he hand brushed your shoulder, spinning you to face him. You looked up at him and your chest ached painfully at the tears lining his eyes. You wondered how long it would be before he no longer had an effect on you.

You shook your head, dropping your gaze down. You wanted to yell at him, tell him how shit he made you feel, make him feel the hurt he had inflicted onto you, but you didn’t, you couldn’t. It was Spencer for christ sake. You hated it, so much, that he was standing here and so were you, you hated that you were looking into his eyes and your heart was aching at the sight, you hated him so much it made your chest hurt, or maybe that was because you loved him.

“What do you want from this, Spencer?” It was shakier than you intended it to come out. You didn’t understand him, which wasn’t new since his brain was a complexity that yours couldn’t near but this was different. His feelings had always been clear until now. Why was he so fixated on making sure you knew he was sorry, why was he so worried about that when he wouldn’t provide you with an explanation, when he knew without that there was no way he could fix this.

“I just- i don’t want you to hate me.” He whispered, your mind spun with furthered confusion and honestly his mixed signals and emotions were beginning to give you whiplash to the point your head hurt and your neck ached. His hand reached out for your jaw, you snapped your head away.

“Would that make you feel better about yourself? If i didn’t hate you?” You asked, maybe the words were malicious, but your voice came out genuine, searching his eyes to see if he needed some sort of validation from you.

“No- I just- I want to tell you everything but I can’t, because you will argue with me and i hate arguing with you-“ you cut off his ramble.

“What do you think this is? A friendly discussion?”

“Closure?”

You scoffed, “No explanation, No reasoning, wont be honest, avoiding questions, getting frustrated- Yeah no this is great closure actually. I hope you feel better now.” You huffed out, tone laced with sarcasm.

He said your name, you frowned. “I don’t want you to hate me. I fucked up, i know. And im sorry i can’t tell you what you want to hear— or anything worth listening to but I care about you, so much. So incredibly much, even if you don’t believe it. I do, I do. I care about you.” He was begging in his words. You didn’t understand why.

“I hate what you did, and i hate how you made me feel, and i hate that i trusted you, i hate that you lied to me—”

“I didn’t lie.”

You scoffed, "I'll never hurt you'" you mocked his promise, "I promise" you continued. He remained silent as his gaze dropped, his hands came to run through his hair.

You were silent for a moment, before you sighed, dropping your gaze, "I don't hate you." You mumbled, not for his comfort but for the fact it was true. You didn't hate him, hating him was near impossible.

"Im sorry." He apologised. "Let me make it up to you."

"Tell me why." You argued.

"I can't." He almost begged, like it physically hurt him to say.

You shook your head, "Then can you just, leave me the fuck alone?" You were tired. Of this, of this feeling. It was as if Spencer came into your life, got close, purely for the sake of reminding you why you didn't let anyone do that. It was sickening. The hurt caused you physically sickness more times then you were willing to admit.

The nights you spent in hysterics over the overwhelming ache in your heart, the him shaped ache. Well those were nights you kept to yourself. When nights grew too lonely, or the side of the bed he had almost claimed as his own carried a hint of his scent, when you saw the hoodie laying on the chair in the corner of your room. You never wore it, you couldn't. You couldn't return it either. It remained in place in the corner of your room, untouched.

"I can't." He repeated in the same tone, yet quieter. He looked so resigned, so in his own head. Guilty.

You wanted to scream.

It was as simple as that. He was confusing, a walking contradiction. He wouldn't tell you what caused his sudden disappearance, what you had done, or what he had done, but he was acting as if he was physically incapable of staying away from you despite that.

Your eyes squinted when you looked up at him.

You weren't going to cry - not again. The fact he had even seen that was an embarrassment you would delve into later — way too late in the night and hate yourself for, for probably the next few years of your life. He was looking at you, pleading with his eyes.

You wanted to scream.

"You don't get to do that." It came out harsh, you intended it so. You could see the physical stiffness of his body. He wanted to reach out, touch you. You wanted him to stay away.

No, you didn't. Your feelings were just as contradictory as he was. In a way you wanted him to stay away from you because you knew if he didn't you may break. The tough shell exterior may crumble for him, again. You wanted to hug him, you wanted to feel the warmth of his body and breathe in his scent, but you wanted to hate him more.

"I know." He said, quietly, It was honest. He chewed at his lip as he looked at you, hands by his side, squeezing his fists together before releasing them. You wanted to walk away. You wanted to so badly but your feet remained glued to the ground, too close to him, yet at the same time not close enough.

You pulled your gaze away, looking over the streets. It was quiet, deafeningly so. If you focused enough you'd hear the music coming from the inside of the bar. You couldn't, you couldn't focus enough on anything other than Spencer in front of you.

"Spencer." You turned your gaze back to him when you muttered his name. It was stern, steady, a complete contradiction to how you felt. "If you aren't going to give me an explanation or at least tell me what i did, then i want nothing to do with you."

His breath hitched, you heard it. He was quiet for a moment then his head dropped, a mental argument, you could imagine. Then when he spoke it was quiet, earnest.

"You didn't do anything." It came out like a promise, he said it so certainly you almost believed it. You wondered if you'd ever believe anything he said again, the voice in the back of your mind screaming that he was a liar seemed a little louder than his words.

Your eyes squinted as your arms raise and fell by your side with a huff of frustration parting your lips. You were over this. So over it.

Everything you had avoided getting yourself into - for this exact reason being proven nothing more than a mistake.

You could hardly form words.

"What did you do then?" You accused, it would be a lie to say that the thought of him possibly finding another girl didn't cross your mind at least once, or a hundred times. It was hard not come up with scenarios and false accurate explanations for what he did.

He said your name, because he wanted to believe you knew him better than that, looking at you with a frown so sad it made your heart feel as if it was constricted of blood. "Nothing- I didn't- Nobody did anything wrong." He frowned.

You furrowed your eyebrows because the more he talked the more you wanted to turn around and hit your head against the brick wall, hoping maybe if you did it enough times this would all make sense. Although you doubted that.

"So you just.. lost interest?" You didn't want to ask, you wish you didn't care.

"No." He shook his head instantly, stepping forward. You would've stepped back if your feet didn't feel glued to the ground, and if his eyes werent burning into yours, as if they were trying to tell you something that his words couldn't.

"No- I am- So interested."

You closed your eyes, because you were sure if you didn't you would scream.

“I know— Thats not fair and I am confusing you— I am confused too.” He stepped closer again. You could almost feel his body heat and the height of him cascading a shadow over you, blocking the streetlight from your vision, not that you needed it because your eyes remained closed.

You sighed, dragging your hands down your face. If this situation were to happen eight month ago, you would’ve turned around on your heels and left without a second thought, refusing to let this hurt you, refusing to care for someone so deeply again, but this wasn’t happening eight months ago, it was happening now, and you did care about Spencer, so incredibly much. It was almost embarrassing. You were embarrassed about how much you cared.

“So is it a commitment thing?” You mumbled through your hands, you just needed something, the rest you could make up in your head late at night before you fell asleep, pouring coffee in the morning, you could come up with an explanation that provided you with enough comfort you made be able to live with the unknowing.

“No.” He shook his head.

That didn’t help, now you were more confused. If it was a commitment thing, you could understand, but it wasn’t and you didn’t understand.

“You do realise this whole conversation is useless right?” You mumbled, peeling your hands away from your face, and opening your eyes. You knew he was close, but not this close. His body was in front of yours, so close it was like a punishment, and torture at once because you had to refrain from reaching up and wrapping your arms around him, in search of the comfort that had grown absent with him.

You looked up at him, a frown on your lips. You wished you could walk away, he looked down at you, chewing at his lips for a moment as his eyes flickered along every feature of your face, committing it all to memory. “But it’s a conversation.” He barely whispered it.

Your heart tugged with so much ache you were sure you were going to die. “You’re hurting me.”

He was silent, his eyes looking into yours. He didn’t flinch at your words but you could see it in his eyes, he knew. Whether it was intentional or not, he knew he was hurting you, he knew what he was doing, and he looked like it was breaking his heart.

He hesitated, you waited. For something, anything.

“Can I kiss you?”

Thats not what you expected. And you weren’t sure if the butterflies in your stomach were hurt and anger dwindling around, or whether it was nerves because it was Spencer. Offering, or asking for something that only confused you more, yet you wanted to say yes.

“No- What?- Are you insane?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing.

He didn’t seem shocked nor hurt by your rejection. He probably expected it.

What he was shocked by, what you were also shocked by was the fact although your words, you leant up and your lips were on his before he could reply. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the emotions, or maybe it was just him.

You would regret it when you pulled away, you knew that. You would hate yourself for every second of the rest of your life when his lips parted yours, but right now, as his hands found way to your waist the moment he processed what was happening, tugging you in closer so your chest was flush against his own and his lips were pressing against yours, all thoughts of anything else left your mind.

His hands gripped at the fabric of your shirt, tangling the material through his fingers, using that to pull you impossibly closer, the movement was so familiar, because he always wanted you so close, he used to, anyways. You weren’t sure what you were thinking when your hands came to his neck, pressing against either side of it.

You definitely weren’t sure what you were thinking when your hands moved from his neck to tangle in his hair, encouraging him further into the kiss.

You were sure you weren’t thinking when your lips parted as his tongue brushed over the lining over your lips, hands squeezing your waist gently. you could feel the air leaving his nose against your lower lip, it tickled and if you weren’t kissing for the reason you were, you would’ve pulled away in a mess of laughter, because with him you could.

He hadn’t been drinking, not alcohol anyways, you knew that because you could taste the sugary syrup residue on his lips from some sort of soda. You were sure yours resembled the taste of vodka, not that you had drank a lot, actually only half of a drink, so you couldn’t even blame kissing him on being drunk, because you were completely in your right mind.

You settled for blaming emotions instead.

You were hyperaware of everything, every touch, every small breath, every movement of his lips, every soft grace of his tongue, of his scent. His scent was suffocatingly familiar, and sickeningly comforting. Your chest was constricted and you weren’t sure if it was from the messiness of his kiss as his lips pressed and moved against yours, or if it was from how you knew when you pulled away you would regret it.

When your hands tugged gently on the strands of hair tangled in your fingers, a slight groan left his lips straight against yours, the sound sent your nerves into a frenzy, and all common sense went out the window. His hands were everywhere, your back, your hair, your shoulders, your thighs.

“We are in the middle of the road.” He mumbled against your lips, not pulling away. You think he knew just as well as you did, the moment it slowed down you’d have too much time to think about it.

“Oh” you mumbled back, pressing your lips against his again, but also very aware that this was very public, although the street was dead, and quiet as the minutes ticked to a later hour, you did not necessarily want to be seen as the girl kissing her ex almost boyfriend in the middle of the street.

“How’d you get here?” He asked, his lips left yours yet before you could even have time to regret kissing him in the first place, his lips connected with your jaw, and your head and common sense remained up in the clouds, you stayed right here with him.

Your breath was heavy, chest rising and falling as your eyes fluttered closed, head tilting to allow him more space as his teeth brushed ever so gently against your jaw before his lips continued against your neck. “Uh” apparently your ability to talk was up in the clouds with the rest of your dignity.

“Uh?” He mumbled, he was teasing.

“Penelope.” You huffed out as your head tilted further, hands still in his hair, his hands still on your waist.

He hummed as his hands slipped under your shirt, pressing gently against the soft skin of your back, the touch sent shivers and goosebumps everywhere. You could feel him everywhere, you were utterly consumed by him in every aspect. “How much have you drank?” He asked.

What a question, because although you were sober and unaffected by the half of a drink you had, admitting that would mean you wouldn’t be able to blame whatever stupid decision you made on alcohol, but you knew if you lied, and said you had more than you did, he would be pulling away and making sure you got home safe.

No option was a good option but one saved your dignity and the other deprived you of him.

“Half of one.” He hummed in response.

“Do you want me to take you home?” He asked, pulling away to look down at you, one hand left your back to reach for your jaw, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of cheek. Any regret in your chest seemed to be overtaken by the gentleness of his touch and the familiarity of his offer.

But you shook your head, “No- you’re not coming to my house.” You mumbled, your lips were still tingling with the sensation of his, you didn’t want him at your house, not anymore. It had taken you a while to even let him there in the first place, he had lost the right to your home. Apparently he would always have the right to you though, even if it was embarrassingly so. “Take me to yours?”

[outoftheseine]

- SPENCER REID FIC RECS 2 -

he is so pretty i want to cry | note: please be aware of the authors’ warnings before reading. fics include canon tw’s like: violence, death, grief, blood. some fics have 18+ content so minors please DNI.

part 1 | main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

use somebody | part 2 • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @reidmania (sunshine!reader, fluff, pining, slight angst)

sharpest tool • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @reidmania (fluff, angst +18 but not smut, hurt/comfort, miscommunication)

wanted: a gentleman | lips of a gentleman | if you love me right • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @gghostwriter (very fluffy)

make you feel my love | turning tables • spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

↳ by @reidmarieprentiss (hostage situation, angst, rejection, comfort)

just friends! | what a coincidence! • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @tangledinlove (childhood best friends to lovers, fluff)

never forget a face | late-night talking • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @forhappysake (grumpy x sunshine, comfort, a little suggestive, age-gap)

not our scene | part 2 • spencer reid x fem!shy!reader

↳ by @kisses4reid (fake dating, both spencer and reader are shy, fluff)

him • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @godsfavdarling (anxious!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff)

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC'S

the one with the bra • boyfriend!spencer reid x reader

↳ by @daydreamingqueen1 (fluff, little suggestive)

recharging • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @railingsofsorrow (dad!spencer, fluff, hurt/comfort)

better than revenge • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @avis-writeshq (best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slowburn, happy ending)

i'll hold your weight when you can't • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @shewroteaworld (sunshine!reader, fluff, comfort)

everytime we touch • spencer reid x gn!reader

↳ by @idmakeitbehave (5+1, fluff)

the playground • dad!spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @whiskeyghoul (very fluffy)

misletoe • spencer reid x gn!reader

↳ by @reiding-writing (flufff)

i wish i knew you wanted me • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @irndad (angst, rejection, spencer’s addiction, jealous!spencer)

yours • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @aliteralsemicolon (smut, fluff, a little angst and i think this is idiots in love?)

twenty questions • spencer reid x bau!gn!reader

↳ by @viaisms (fluff)

an “i love you” that isn’t words • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @mcondance (fluff, very domestic)

between heart beats • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @vee6lolz (angst)

not enough • spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

↳ by @g0dlyunsub (angst but also fluff, hurt/comfort)

the whole world • dad!spencer reid x mom!fem!reader

↳ by @spencereid-reads (very fluffy)

i’d give you my sunshine, give you my best • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @mwahmimi (veryy fluffy)

bundle of nerves • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @gghostwriter (fluff, fainting)

down the fire escape and into my heart • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @justawhitebloodcell01 (meet cute, fluff)

call your mom • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @railingsofsorrow (exes to lovers, hurt/comfort)

amorphous • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @pathologicalreid (fluff)

your beauty never scared me • spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

↳ by @auroralwriting (fluff, comfort)

all of the books beside your bed • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @tlou-reid (very fluffy)

cherry picking • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @certaimromance (mentions of sex, miscommunication, fluff)

period disturb • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @vanteguccir (fluff, comfort)

innocent love • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @cookiescribble (smut, fluff, both spencer and reader are virgin)

north star • spencer reid x uni student!reader

↳ by @parfaitblogs (post prison spencer, trauma, nightmares, hurt/comfort)

i keep you clean; you surrounded me • husband!spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @nereidprinc3ss (spencer’s addiction, comfort)

dearest friend • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @endearng (idiots in love, jealous!spencer, fluff, a little angst)

the bolter; cannibal• spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

↳ by @ophelia-is-complex (angst, comfort)

opposite • spencer reid x bau!reader

↳ by @reidsbabyhoney (angst, a little fluff)

why didn’t you tell me? • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @unequivocallyreid (smut, angst with happy ending)

heavenly • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @dudeitiskarev (post prison spencer, age-gap, smut, fluff, so so good)

stolen glances • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @justawhitebloodcell01 (fluff)

last, last time • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @sweatervest-obsessed (angst, breakup, kidnapping, tw: dv)

federal beach investigation • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @reidmarieprentiss (fluff)

the prodigy path • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @imagining-in-the-margins (comfort, a little angst, dad!spencer)

two pair • spencer reid x reader

↳ by @unlosts (sososo sweet spencer, fluff)

what do we do now? • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @anniebeemine (unplanned pregnancy, fluff)

light as a feather • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @unseededtoast (fluff, general cm stuff, comfort)

one bright morning • spencer reid x fem!reader

↳ by @unseededtoast (angst, trauma, blood, comfort, lightly suggestive)

[webbluvrsugar]

Lie To Girls — Spencer Reid x exbau!reader

slightly based on the song sharpest tool by Sabrina Carpenter but it’s more like the song would fit them right (love me some angst, had to do it.)

cw: angst with fluff at the end, no use of y/n, passes a little bit after JJ confessed her feelings for Spencer. - this isn’t a jj slander, only serves for context.

Spencer sweared to you he was over JJ. The blonde had just confessed her feelings for him in a case, and really, you guys used to be fine, at least until he found out his crush of years actually liked him all this time that passed, that he could’ve had a chance all this time if there was no miss communication between them. God, he didn’t even want to tell you, not that he was afraid with the way you’d react but that he knew it was… wrong, in some way, it was. You took it pretty well, but then he confessed he’d been thinking about it more than usual and that just wouldn’t cut it. Which led to the both of you arguing in the living room of his apartment.

“I — I don’t know what you want!” You shout, a mess of tears, he’s been trying to explain that he didn’t really mean anything he said previously. “Sure, you had a chance, but am I not enough?”

It breaks Spencer’s heart to see you like this — so emotionally distressed because of something he said, something stupid and reckless, and it doesn’t seem like it will get better soon.

“No, I’ve.. I’ve never said that, you’re more than enough to me, I just thought—“ he tries to speak, but he’s cut off by you.

“Thought what?” You take a step closer, you’re so sad that he wishes you hadn’t done that. “She’s married! Jesus — she has kids!” You sniff, his head clenches.

“I know.” He admits, ashamed, head hung low.

“I don’t know what happened between you two but there’s no way of fixing it!” Your words are bitter, and they hurt, but he understands why you’re acting like this, he won’t blame you.

He doesn’t respond to that, you can see the look in his eyes, as if he’s heartbroken, and really you don’t know if it’s because of you or Jennifer, it’s hard to tell, and maybe that is exactly why you hurt him even more with your next words.

“If you want me to leave, I will.”

You take another step closer, Spencer gulps, and when he stays silent, you start crying incessantly, hands up to your face as if you’re ashamed of him seeing you like that — you shouldn’t be, he realises how much he really messed up. He’s hurt, confused, but he didn’t realise how this would affect you, and if anything, you’re both to blame.

Spencer’s a nice guy in your eyes, the perfect boyfriend even through his flaws, you don’t know if it’s because of his personality or really because you’re just madly in love with him, but even now, you can’t see malice in the way he acts. He would never need to lie to you the way he did when he said ‘I don’t love her anymore.’, he would always be a saint to you.

He approaches you finally, pulls you into a tight hug at his chest, places a kiss on top of your head and grips you like you’ll fly away if he doesn’t hold you.

“I’m sorry, okay, I just made a mistake,” he whispers, resting his chin over your hair. “I don’t need anyone else.” He breathes.

“Was just a stupid mistake.”

[yes-cuzwhynot]

Spencer Reid’s jawline is the sharpest tool any psychopath could use to torture someone change my mind (you can’t)

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter six, dumb and poetic)

‘You're so sad there's no communication, but, baby, you put us in this situation. You're running so fast from the hearts that you're breakin' save all your breath for your floor meditation. you're so empathetic, you'd make a great wife. well, you crashed the car and abandoned the wreckage fuck with my head like it's some kind of fetish.’

summary; you see spencer for the first time, since he left for his case (and then ghosted you) only its the last place you expected, and provides you with less closure and more confusion

warnings; reader is a (rightfully so) bitch in this, as she should, fem reader, ghosting, miscommunication, its awkward, its sad, so much angst, no comfort, (fluff flashback tho!) mentions reader being able to speak french, reader has long enough hair to tie up, reader is a bow wearing girly.

Taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules @ameerakane20 @lucere @cultish-corner @psyches-reid

2.3k words.

SERIES MASTERLIST



“That one looks interesting” you mumbled as you repositioned to sit up a little straighter in bed, leaning closer to the laptop screen as you looked over the upcoming releases at the cinema downtown. It was a french film, sure there was other films in english but none of them seemed as interesting.

“Mhm, do you wanna go see it?” Spencer asked, he wasn’t paying much attention to what you were talking about as he sat behind you, you were placed in between his thighs, your back pressed against his chest, his chin had started by being pressed against your shoulder when the two of you began looking for movies, since then his head had moved to be nuzzled in between your shoulder and neck, placing soft kisses along the skin he could reach, every now and again reaching up to kiss along your jaw.

You leant further back against him with a gentle smile, your head tilting in order to allow him more access to the skin of your neck as he arms wrapped tighter around your waist, pulling your further against him, your hands placing gently against his forearms, every now and again lifting one to scroll through the website. “It doesn’t come out for another month”

He shrugged, “We can go see it when its out.” He mumbled against your skin as he continued to press gentle kisses there. You let out a warm laugh, lifting one hand to run gently through his hair.

“You don’t even know what it is” you said, since he hadn’t lifted his head to look at the screen since it had found place nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You weren’t necessarily complaining and you found it half sweet how he agreed to what you wanted without even knowing what it was.

He huffed slightly, the air coming out warm let leaving goosebumps to raise on your arms as you felt it against the skin of your neck before he tilted his head away to look at the computer screen. There was hardly a second that passed as he read over the description, before he was speaking again. “It seems good. We can go see it.” He said.

You smiled, “Really?” Although you knew either way if it was what you wanted to see, he would make sure you saw it.

“Mhm, it’s in french though, no subtitles” he read what was written. His hand gently slipping under your shirt to rub softly over the skin of your stomach, wanting the skin to skin contact, wanting to just feel that you were there with him. “I can whisper translate to you.” he said.

your heart warmed at the idea of spencer sitting through the entire moving, whispering french translations into your ear, but it also warmed at the fact that he had no idea. “You don’t need to.” You said gently.

He shrugged, “Its no big deal. If you wanna see it, we will see it. I want you to be able to know whats going on”

You let out a hearty laugh as he misunderstood what you meant, you hadn’t told him that he didn’t need to translate for you out of guilt. “Spence, i know french, honey. I will understand.”

He pulled away a little bit. Your head turned back to look at his face, his lips parted in shock and eyebrows furrowed, “you know french? i didn’t know you knew french?” He seemed so offended that he didn’t know this little detail about you until now.

You laughed, “Theres a lot you don’t know about me, spencer reid.”

The lobby is crowded, filled with the low hum of chatter and the smell of popcorn. You stand near the back of the line, staring at the poster for the French documentary you’ve been meaning to see for weeks. The one you were supposed to see with Spencer.

You’ve asked yourself a hundred times why you’re even here. It’s been a month since he vanished from your life—no explanation, no goodbye. Just gone. You’d told yourself you weren’t going to think about him anymore, that it was time to let it go. But here you are, at the very movie theater you both planned to go to, clutching your phone like it’s going to somehow give you the answers he refused to.

The line moves forward, and you shuffle with it, your mind elsewhere. You’re so distracted, you don’t even notice the people behind you until a soft voice breaks through the noise.

“Hey, I love your bow!”

You turn slightly, catching a glimpse of the woman behind you. She’s blonde, with a friendly smile, standing next to a tall man who’s looking down at something in his hands. You don’t get a good look at him—your mind barely registers the compliment, just the vague, polite impulse to thank her.

“Thanks,” you mumble, turning back to the counter, but there’s something nagging at the edges of your awareness. Something familiar about the way the man next to her is standing.

Before you can stop yourself, you glance back again—and this time, your heart stops.

Spencer.

He’s standing right there, next to the blonde woman who just complimented you. His eyes are wide, almost startled when they meet yours. For a second, no one says anything. The air between you tightens, thick with an awkward tension that makes your stomach churn.

It’s like time freezes for a moment. The noise of the theater fades into the background, and all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart. You weren’t prepared for this. Seeing him here, like nothing’s changed, like the last month hasn’t been this gaping wound he left behind.

The blonde woman—JJ, you realize now—follows his gaze, and when she sees the look on your face, her smile falters. “Oh,” she says quietly, piecing it together. “You must be...”

You force a smile, even though your heart is hammering in your chest. “Yeah...”

Spencer shifts uncomfortably, clearly unsure of what to say. His mouth opens, but no words come out. You’d find it almost comical, how off-guard he looks, if you weren’t so furious. He was supposed to be better than this—better than just disappearing on you, breaking promises like you didn’t matter.

JJ, bless her, tries to diffuse the awkwardness. “We were just talking about this movie a few weeks ago,” she says, her voice bright but strained. “Spencer said he had plans to see it.”

“Yeah,” you say, the sarcasm slipping into your tone before you can stop it. “Im sure he did.”

Spencer’s face tightens at your words, and for a split second, you see a flash of guilt in his eyes. But it’s not enough. He hasn’t earned the right to feel guilty—not after what he did.

JJ shifts awkwardly beside him, clearly uncomfortable. “I, um—” She gestures vaguely toward the ticket counter, like she’s trying to give you both some space, but the tension is too thick to be diffused so easily.

You turn to face Spencer fully now, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “So,” you say, keeping your voice as even as possible, “you’re alive.”

He winces at the accusation in your tone, but he doesn’t argue. He just nods, his voice quiet. “Yeah. I...I’ve been working.”

“Working,” you repeat, bitterness surging like bile in your throat. “Right.”

There’s a pause, and you can see the wheels turning in his head, like he’s searching for the right thing to say, but nothing comes. He’s always been good with words, but now, standing here in front of you, he looks like a man completely out of his depth.

The silence stretches on, thick and uncomfortable, and JJ glances between the two of you, clearly picking up on the history she hadn’t been aware of until now. “I didn’t realize,” she says quietly, almost to herself, but you catch it anyway.

You give her a tight smile. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” It wasn’t her fault.

It’s not fine. Nothing about this is fine. You had spent weeks trying to figure out what you did wrong, you didn’t even know why you were here. Why you decided to torture yourself with the night that was suppose to belong to you and him. You told yourself a thousand times that maybe he was too busy, that maybe he had a good reason. But seeing him here, casually buying tickets like nothing happened, makes it all feel worse. Like you were the only one who cared.

Spencer shifts again, looking like he wants to say something but can’t find the right words. “I...I didn’t mean for things to happen like this,” he says softly, and there’s something almost pleading in his tone, like he’s asking for forgiveness.

But you’re not ready to give him that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Right,” you say, your voice colder than you intend. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

JJ gives Spencer a look, something unreadable passing between them. She murmurs something about checking on the tickets and steps away, giving you two some space.

You don’t move. You just stand there, staring at him, waiting for him to say something—anything—that will make this better. That will make you understand why he hurt you like this. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, looking like he wishes he could disappear.

“Im sorry.” he admits after a long pause, his voice low. “I really am.”

You laugh, but it’s not a real laugh. It’s bitter, hollow. “Right.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but you can see the hesitation in his eyes. You hoped he’d say more. That the moment you saw him again he would explain, that there would be a valid reason. Yet standing here, looking at him with all the hurt in the world swirling in your stomach, you know he’s not going to give you the closure you need. He’s too afraid to dive into whatever it is that made him pull away. And in this moment, you realize that maybe you’ll never get that closure—not from him, at least.

“I have to go,” you say abruptly, turning toward the exit before he can stop you. You can’t do this. Not here. Not now.

As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on your back, but he doesn’t follow. He doesn’t call out to you. He just lets you go, like he let you go a month ago.

And this time, you’re the one who disappears.

[reidmania]

sharpest tool!reader is my favourite guys. shes so funny. you guys don’t even know. Also spoiler yall!!

[reidmania]

Sooo… im adding new chapters to the sharpest tool masterlist soon.. yay?

[reidmania]

NEW CHAPTERS NEW CHAPTERS NEW CHAPTERS NEW CHAPTERS !!! FIVE!!!

and a playlist bc someone asked me once what the songs were and who they were by, so i decided to add it to the masterlist. IM SOO excited

sharpest tool | spencer reid

series masterlist

series status; ongoing

summary; you are not the biggest fan of relationships after being disappointed too many times until you meet spencer reid. everything is great until he leaves for a case right before you make it offical and you don’t hear from him again.

warnings; fem!reader, season 7 spencer, avoidant!reader, reader is lowkey a bad bitch, miscommunication, normal cm stuff, ghosting, fluff & angst, hurt x comfort, 18+ because there’s suggestive mentions and illusions to sex, mentions of sex, overthinking & doubts, bad past relationships.

an; hi guys im so excited for this. u will notice each chapter is based off a different song. please comment if u want to be apart of the taglist for this series so u dont miss when chapters come out.

Chapter release dates are all based off australian dates which mean for americans it will technically be the day prior to the one written, also keep in mind this is a loose guide and chapters may take longer!!

this will also be written majority from reader’s perspective, but there will be bonus chapters for spencers side!!

one; the only exception -

two; feels like -

three; full machine -

four; motion sickness -

five; l know it wont work (spencer pov, bonus chap to four) - 10/10

six; dumb and poetic

seven; how many things

eight; halloween

nine; decode

ten; lie to girls

eleven; the prophecy

twelve; not thinkin’ ‘bout you

thirteen; fine line

fourteen; fools gold

fifteen; false god

im so very excited for this guys. please be excited too. or else i will lose all motivation to continue this series and then i will be sad (yes that is manipulation. Pls be excited) song artists below !!

the only exception- paramore

feels like - gracie abrams

full machine - gracie abrams

motion sickness - phoebe bridgers

i know it wont work - gracie abrams

dumb and poetic - sabrina carpenter

how many things - sabrina carpenter

halloween - noah kahan

decode - sabrina carpenter

lie to girls - sabrina carpenter

the prophecy- taylor swift

not thinkin’ ‘bout you - ruel

fine line - harry styles

fools gold - one direction

false god - taylor swift.

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s. reid

(chapter two, feels like)

‘I would do whatever you wanted we don't have to leave the apartment, met you at the right time,this is what it feels like. Livin' in a movie I've watched and funny 'cause I couldn't have called it, met you at the right time, this is what it feels like’

summary; the more time you spend with spencer the more you find yourself opening up even if its to the littlest things, you let him know you, and he loves it.

warnings; fem reader, mentions of bad relationship history, reader is closed off, avoidant!reader, lowkey a friends w benefits situation but its so much more, reader is lowkey so real; fluff, 18+ suggestive content. it is not the date i said id publish this, i was peer pressured (by my multiple personalities)

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee e @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15

2.6k words.

SERIES MASTERLIST

You weren't sure how long you had been at Spencer's apartment for, if someone told you had been there for hours you probably wouldn't believe them. You didn't completely understand why but everytime he was around it was like time slowed, yet it seemed to only go so much faster. Hours with him felt like minutes. It was like you and him existed in your own little bubble away from the rest of the world, you loved that.

Everything with him seemed calm. Maybe it was his way of making you see the positive in a bad situation, or maybe it was how carefully and gentle he handed when your emotions got a little too much for you to bury away like normal, maybe it was how gentle and warm his hands felt against your skin, grounding you when you got a little too in your head about something, or maybe it was the way he would ramble off facts to distract you.

You weren't sure. You didn't know how someone could be so calm, all the time. Then you would connect it back to what he did for work. It was technically his job to remain calm in stressful or overwhelming situations. You wondered if that was why he handled you with so much care, as if you were a valuable he was afraid would break. Its not like he walked on egg shells around you, it was just that he saw you with so much value, he treated you so delicately.

Maybe thats why you had lost track of time.

You were perched up on his lap, your knees placed on either side of his thighs, straddling him. One of his hands was tangled beneath the softness of your hair, cupping the back of your head as his fingers curled against your scalp, while the other was wrapped around your waist, pressed against the small of you back. Hold you aganist him as his lips tangled with yours.

Your hands were cupping his jaw, every now and again your fingertip would trace the sharpness of his jawline and he would shiver and press you closer against him. He kissed you like he needed it to breath, you could feel the air leaving his nose against the skin of your cheek every now and again.

You felt lightheaded, in the best way possible. Whether it was from the very minimal amount of air you had been able to breathe in since he started kissing you, or if it was simply from the feeling of his lips against yours.

The air around you smelt sweet and full of him. Maybe thats why you loved being at his apartment, because everything there was so.. Him. The way it was organised and decorated, the smell of him that hid in the air between the walls, the colours of the cushions on his couch, it was all so him.

You pulled away from the kiss briefly as a thought crossed your mind, there was almost a shaky gasp for air, now that you were able to properly breath. He smiled lazily as he leant his head back against the couch, watching you. Probably admiring the flush of your cheeks, and the swell of your lips.

"Are you okay?" He asked, a smile still on his face yet his eyebrows were pinched in concern. Spencer's hand untanging from your hair, both of his hands moving to settle on your hips, his thumbs nudged up the hem of your t-shirt and slipped underneath them to rub gentle circles against the skin on your sides, his eyes never leaving yours.

You nodded, your hands dropping from his face to rest against his shoulders. You weren't sure if you were blushing, but you defintely felt like you were. You couldn't remember the last time a guy had this sort of an effect on you.

You looked down sheepishly, your hands gently brushing over the fabric of his t-shirt. "Im- Im just thinking about sugar cookies." You huffed out. Was it silly? Yes. But there was something about Spencer that made it feel so safe to say those silly things too, without judgement. Your eyes lifted to meet his, seeing the concern on his face was replaced with amusement.

He raised his eyebrow, a smile on his lips. "Kissing me makes you think about sugar cookies?" He asked, your eyes widened slightly at his tease, you instantly shook your head lips parting as you let out a huffy breath.

"No!" It came out high pitched and defensive and made Spencer burst into laughter. If you weren't blushing before you were now. You didn't know if you love or hated the fact that Spencer could make you feel so soft, so small, so loved. You partly hated the fact that he had that sort of power, yet if you were going to trust anyone with that sort of control over you, it would be him.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he buried his face into your neck. Your arms wrapped around his neck, moving up to run gently through the back of his hair as he pressed soft kisses against your neck. The sensation causing you to instinctively tilt your head to the side to allow him more access to the space.

"We can go get sugar cookies" He mumbled gently, against the skin of your neck, pressing another kiss there before he pulled back, looking up at you. “If you want sugar cookies we can go get some”

You smiled at him, tilting your head a little. “I didn’t say I wanted them. I just said i was thinking about them” You quipped back. You did want sugar cookies, but did you want to leave the warmth of Spencer’s apartment to get them? No. Did you want to have to make him go out of his way just to get you sugar cookies? Also no.

“But you do” He replied, raising his eyebrow in amusement. Maybe he knew you better than you thought. “You wouldn’t have mentioned it unless you wanted them.” He replied in a slight - matter of factually way, as if he was proving you wrong.

You huffed, “We don’t have to go to the shops just to get sugar cookies. I can get some on my way home later.” You mumbled, knowing your house was technically in the other direction to the closest shops. You also didn’t entirely want to think about having to go home yet, you didn’t have to, not for a few hours more.

He sighed dramatically as he raised his eyebrow, a smile of amusement on his lips. “What sort of almost- boyfriend would I be if I let you stay here craving sugar cookies?” He teased, you smiled.

The title he had given himself didn’t offend you in the slightest. Instead it made your heart warm slightly and your cheeks flush. You sighed dramatically like he had moments ago, pretending to think about it for a moment, before shrugging.

“A horrible- horrible one.” You answered, a smile on your lips, giving in — because you were really craving the sweet treat. He let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head before he pressed his lips gently against the top of your forehead.

“Well we can’t have that. I’m trying to win your heart here.” He mumbled, voice full of fondness while he teased, as you moved off his lap. You let out a hum of agreement, as you got off the couch, he followed behind you, standing up and reaching to hold your hips as you walked towards the front door.

If you weren’t so focused on the task at hand (getting sugar cookies and clenching your craving) you might’ve admitted he didn’t have to try to win your heart. You were pretty sure it had his name written over it months ago.

“I didn’t know there were so many different types of sugar cookies” Spencer mumbled as he looked over the multiple different brands and flavours of cookies placed neatly over the grocery store shelf, his arms we’re wrapped tightly around your waist, his chin placed on you shoulder as you tried to decide which ones you wanted.

You let out a hearty laugh, “They don’t have any normal ones” You half pouted as you looked over the shelves, unable to find the ones you were specifically craving. You leant back slightly to further press your back against Spencer’s chest.

“What defines normal sugar cookies?” Spencer asked, tone laced with confusion. Clearly he wasn’t a sugar cookie fanatic. Your head turned slightly to face him, the awkward position causing a slight ache in your neck but it was worth it at the sight of his eyebrows pushed together in confusion as he looked over the variety of packaged cookies.

“The.. normal ones?” You shrugged, he let out a chuckle as he placed a gentle kiss against your clothed shoulder. You weren’t sure how you could better describe the cookies. You didn’t want the chocolate ones, or the strawberry ones, or the matcha ones which looked cool — but unappealing, you just wanted the normal authentic ones.

“Oh yeah— My bad. I should’ve known that” He huffed out half sarcastically, the other half of his tone was full of fondness. As he pulled away from your shoulder, turning you slightly in his arms so he could look at your face, there was a playful smile on his lips.

“Well- no! i meant- Like the normal ones” You weren’t helping your case, or him understanding. He just mhm’d and nodded unconvincingly, the playful smile remaining on his lips. He was teasing you.

You huffed out, “I hate you” you muttered, pushing yourself away from his arms to further prove the statement you both knew was a lie. He apologised quickly and reached out for you, holding you close in place, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing you close against his chest as he hugged you.

“You are so mean to me”

It came out mumbled against the fabric of his shirt, and caused a laugh to pass through his lips. “Im sorry. Let’s go find somewhere with the cookies you want.” He said, his hand rubbing up and down over your back.

“We can just get one of these.” You mumbled. He had already gone out of his way to take you to get sugar cookies and the last thing you wanted to do was make him go someplace else just because they didn’t have the specific ones you wanted.

He shook his head as he leant away, not before pressing his lips against your forehead. “We can get both. We can get whatever you want.” He said, looking down at you as he continued to run his hand gently up and down your back.

Every expectation you once had of a relationship was squashed by Spencer’s existence. Any standard you had in your mind he surpassed with flying colours, he was better than any guy you could make up in your head.

Every broken piece of you seemed put back together at the gentleness of his hands, the warmth of his body, the sweetness in his words, or the feeling of his lips against your skin. It was weird, feeling so secure in something so unofficial.

You opened your mouth to reply but you were cut off by the sound of Spencer’s name being called. You watched his eyebrows furrow in recognition of the female voice before his head turned slightly, towards the direction the sound came from.

You followed his gaze, seeing a blonde girl walking towards the two of you. Her arms were stacked full of items, rather than getting a basket or a cart for any of it. She was wearing a bright pink dress with designs over it. Her smile was infectious.

Spencer looked back at you for a second, his arms dropping from your waist, you would’ve felt the pang in your heart if his hand didn’t instantly reach out to interlace with your own. “Garcia, Hi.” He smiled, almost nervously.

You stood silently as the blonde woman looked between the two of you, a wide smile on her face as a gasp left her lips. “Oh my gosh! Who’s this? Is this your girlfriend? The secret message sender?” She rambled out excitedly.

You watched with a warm smile as Spencer’s cheeks tinted red. You only assumed you had developed that nickname because you had texted Spencer while he was working a few times.

“Uh- Shes.. Yeah- uh.” Spencer spluttered over his words, he didn’t know what to address you as and you understood why. Although he called himself your almost- boyfriend a number of times, telling his friend you were his almost - girlfriend wasn’t quite the same. The situation you were in didn’t quite have a title. Him not denying you were something to him, was enough for you.

You saved him the embarrassment and smiled at the woman, offering her your hand with a warm smile as you introduced yourself. She almost squealed in excitement, instantly shaking your hand enthusiastically.

“I’m Penelope! I work with boy genius here— Oh my gosh. Do you know he basically dies every time you text him. I mean I have never seen him smile so—“

“Thats- enough. I think she gets it” Spencer cut Penelope off, his cheeks now bright red and his voice was laced with embarrassment. It only made your smile widen because of the way it further proved what she was saying. The idea of Spencer simply smiling at your messages while he was away made your heart warm.

“Theres no normal sugar cookies.” You mumbled out, not really knowing what to say. You wanted to slap yourself in the face afterwards. Then Penelope looked over the shelves and a pout formed on her lips.

“What! Thats the whole reason I came here!!” She frowned dramatically as she looked over the shelves and any embarrassment you had felt washed away because she was so sweet. You had heard about the people Spencer had worked with before, he never failed to tell you the silly stories or conversations that were shared between his team.

“Us too.” Spencer smiled, squeezing your hand gently. You relished in the silent reassurance he offered. Then his phone started to ring, causing a slightly annoyed huff to leave his lips as he pulled it away from his pockets, his other hand staying interlocked with yours.

Your eyes stayed on him as he answered the call, you listened to him mumble a few words of agreement before the call ended just as quickly, before he could ever say anything, Penelope’s phone started to ring. She struggled to pull it out over the amount of items in her arms, but successfully did before you could offer to help.

“We have a case” Spencer mumbled gently to you, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed in a mix of disappointment and understanding. He looked just as disappointed, if not more. “Thats okay.” You said gently, Penelope seemed to be finding out the same news.

“I’m sorry” Spencer apologised as he broke his hands holding with yours to wrap his arms around your shoulders, you melted into the hug as your arms threaded around his torso. Breathing him in.

“It’s okay. It’s your job.” You reassured him.

His arms held you tighter for moment before he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and then another. “I’ll take you home first, pick whichever sugar cookies you want from here and I promise when I get back I will return with normal sugar cookies” He said gently into your hair.

“Pinky promise?” You asked, he let out a warm laugh, kissing the top of your head against your hair again.

“Pinky promise.” He confirmed.

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter four, motion sickness)

'I hate you for what you did and I miss you like a little kid. i faked it every time but that's alright. i can hardly feel anything, i hardly feel anything at all, I have emotional motion sickness somebody roll the windows down, there are no words in the english language, i could scream to drown you out'

summary; you never had someone make you feel safe enough to open up, until spencer. now trying to cope with his sudden absence you learn to lean on your new found friendship with his coworker, penelope.

warnings; fem reader, mentions of bad relationships, ghosting, commitment issues, self doubt & overthinking, preettyy angsty idk guys, no comfort yet but there is some fluff, and theres penelope & reader friendship!! reader lowkey shit talks spencer but he deserves it. reader is embarrassed & upset. reader is lowkey really mean, but shes coping guys. i think this is my favourite chapter out of all of them.

2.3k words

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea a @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules

SERIES MASTERLIST

The lights are low, casting a soft, warm glow on the room, making it feel almost too cozy for the storm of emotions swirling inside of you. Penelope sits across from you on the other side of the coffee table, her vibrant personality seeming muted for once. She’s not wearing her usual bright colors, just a simple oversized shirt and pajama pants, the kind of clothes that scream comfort. It fits the night. It fits the conversation.

“You want to talk about it?” Penelope asks, voice gentle, but still full of that spark of energy that only she has. There’s no judgment there. Her eyes made you believe there never would be.

Your fingers tug absentmindedly at a loose thread on the hem of your sweatpants, the silence stretching between you like an invisible barrier. But it’s not an uncomfortable silence. Penelope doesn’t push. She doesn’t know you well enough to push. You’re not sure how to start, not sure how to talk about something you’re still struggling to process.

The night had consisted of making cookies, watching sickeningly sweet romance films you both gushed over — there were numerous times you had to stop your mind from drifting to Spencer, and when it did, you felt a sickening ache in your stomach. For the most part, besides those moments where the room fell quiet and your mind drifted, the night had been great.

“He just... stopped,” you whisper, voice barely audible, but Penelope catches it. Her eyes soften, and she leans forward slightly, offering silent encouragement for you to continue. "One day, Spencer was there, and the next... he wasn't. Theoretically of course..”

Spencer was different to anyone else you met, or at least he seemed that way. You thought he understood you. The way he listened, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way he made you feel like you could breathe around him. No one had ever done that for you before. But then, when things had started getting real—when you both were on the verge of making it official—he disappeared. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it was a commitment issue thing. Or if he really just had been playing with you the entire time.

“I don’t understand why,” you continue, the words tumbling out faster now, as if saying them out loud will make them make sense. “One day, we were close. He’d text me every morning. He’d ask how I was feeling, what I was doing. He made me feel… seen. Like he actually cared. And then, nothing. No calls, no messages. He just—”

“Ghosted you?” Penelope finishes for you, and the bluntness of the term hits you harder than you thought it would. You nod, feeling the sting of it all over again.

“He just disappeared,” you say, the words coming out harsh, jagged. You laugh bitterly, but there’s no humor in it. “Like I wasn’t even worth an explanation.”

Penelope’s hand reaches across the table, her fingers curling around yours in a comforting squeeze. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just lets you sit with the weight of your own pain. But her presence, her warmth, makes it feel a little less suffocating.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Spencer… he’s complicated. I don’t know why he did this to you, but I can tell you for sure, it’s not your fault. It never was.”

You close your eyes for a second, trying to swallow down the hurt, but it lingers there, a dull ache that refuses to fade. It’s not just about Spencer ghosting you; it’s about all the hope you had pinned on him. You thought he was different, thought he could be the person who made you feel safe in a way you had never felt before.

You couldn’t help the embarrassment you felt, all you had been thinking about for days was ‘how could i be so stupid.’ You had your guard up for a reason. You didn’t date for a reason, and the fact that you had let him let you forget that. You were so mad at yourself.

You missed Spencer more than you were willing to admit. Sleep evades you, and when it comes, it’s restless—haunted by the ghost of his touch. Your limbs grew weary, not from movement but from the effort of carrying the silence he left behind.

Your lips twitch into a bitter smile. “Yeah, well, maybe that’s on me. I was stupid for thinking it would be different.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Penelope says firmly, her voice suddenly fierce in a way that surprises you. “No. You were not stupid. You opened up because he made you feel like you could, and that’s on him, not you. He gave you the signals. He made the promises, and then he broke them. Spencer—he’s got his issues. He’s been through a lot, but that doesn’t excuse what he did to you. You deserved better.”

You pull your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly as Penelope’s words sink in. It’s hard to believe that sometimes, that you deserved better. Spencer had made you feel like you could finally let your guard down, but in the end, it just made the hurt cut deeper. — Maybe thats all you’d ever deserve.

“He made me feel safe,” you admit, your voice breaking slightly. “Which i know sounds stupid— But— I don’t know.. I trusted him.”

“And then he took that away,” Penelope finishes, her voice softening again, filled with understanding. “It’s okay to be hurt. It’s okay to be angry. You opened up to him because you trusted him, and he didn’t treat that trust the way he should have.”

You nod, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay. You hadn’t wanted to cry tonight. You hadn’t wanted to break down. But being here with Penelope, his friend, his co-worker, who was so sweet and so understanding, it’s harder to keep everything bottled up.

“I just don’t get it,” you say, voice shaking. “Why would he make me feel like I mattered, like we were something, and then just leave?”

Penelope sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Spencer’s not great at dealing with his emotions,” she explains gently. “He’s always in his head, analyzing things, trying to make sense of the world. But feelings aren’t always logical. And sometimes… sometimes he runs from things he can’t control.”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Well, he sure ran fast.”

Penelope gives you a sad smile, squeezing your hand again. “I know it doesn’t make it easier, but sometimes people can care about you and still hurt you. It doesn’t mean what you had wasn’t real. It just means he is an idiot.”

You stare down at your hands, the weight of her words settling on your shoulders. Maybe she’s right. Maybe Spencer did care about you in his own way, but that didn’t change the fact that he left you when you needed him most. It didn’t change the fact that you were still trying to pick up the pieces of your heart while he was nowhere to be found.

“I mean, he’s so damn smart, right? So.. So smart, always figuring things out. But apparently, figuring out how to treat people isn’t part of his skill set.”

Penelope chuckles softly, though there’s no real humor in it. “Yeah, sometimes Spencer’s great at solving every problem except the ones that really matter.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” you mutter, shaking your head. The frustration still courses through your veins, and you grip the fabric of your pants tightly, trying to channel it somewhere, anywhere. “I’m not going to sit around waiting for some half-assed explanation either. If he wanted to tell me why he bailed, he would have.”

She nodded her head. “He is dumb.” She said.

A laugh passed through your lips as you nodded quickly in agreement. “How is he so smart — and sweet yet such a fucking coward? I’m so pissed that he couldn’t even end things in person — that he didn’t even say anything.” You ran your hands down your face.

Penelope smiled. Maybe you were being mean in order to deflect from the hurt in your heart and the way your brain fizzled with an overwhelming ache for the comfort of Spencer. “Are you sure you don’t want me to ask him about it?” She asked.

You were quick to shake your head. While you were desperate for an answer of what you could have possibly done — you weren’t desperate enough to go through his friends to get an answer. You refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing you cared so much. “No. No- Please don’t— Does he even know we have been talking?” Penelope was quick to shake her head with a grin.

“Nope! I haven’t said anything to him.. I sent a photo to JJ earlier of your bobble head collection, but I highly doubt she would’ve just shown Spencer?” She mumbled, shrugging her shoulders slightly. The words made you frown, yet glad. You didn’t care about Penelope sharing your silly bobble head collection, it was something you were very proud of.

“I don’t really care if he knows. Is it bad I hope he is really mad? Like I hope he is really really pissed off about it. Is that petty?” You tumbled out the questions as your mind swirled. You hoped he was mad because at least then in some way maybe you could believe he cared.

“Yes. Definitely petty.” Penelope nodded, a playful smile on her face. “But— If anyone has a right to be petty, it’s you.. You’re handing this better than I would. i’d want to egg his house.” She shrugged, the words made a string of laughter leave your lips.

“I really really do want to” You said honestly, “maybe then he would have to say something” It was silly, but it would lie to say the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. It was childish, and immature and so petty, but leaving someone with no explanation was also just as childish and immature so in your head, it evened out.

“I reckon he would start crying” Penelope giggled.

“God I hope so.” you huffed out, running your hands through your hair before a small smile made way onto your lips as you looked up at the blonde women. The last thing you expected was to get along so quickly with the girl. You had expected it to be awkward between the two of you, but it wasn’t. You two spent hours watching silly chick-flics and laughing, before this conversation even started.

“Thank you- by the way. For this” you mumbled, referring to her just being there. She didn’t have to. She didn’t know you, she didn’t owe you anything, she was Spencer’s friend, not yours.

Penelope grinned widely, “Don’t thank me. I love boy genius but he can be such a tool sometimes without even realising it. He fucked up and you need somebody, plus who else would make sugar cookies with me?” She teased.

You curled up by Penelope’s side, smiling at her gently. You really were grateful. “Speaking of sugar cookies, do you think we could frost them yet?”

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter seven, how many things?)

‘Remember when you left once, that never made too much sense to me, well, it hurt you so bad, hurting me, you really came to me for sympathy, I consider you, I'm not trying to, it doesn't matter whether not I want to, I can't help it, it's a habit, your corner in my mind is well established. I wonder how many things you think about before you get to me.’

summary; the last thing you wanted was to see spencer at a bar, let alone talk to him, but the hopes of getting some sort of answer keeps you in place when he asks you to talk.

warnings; arguments, mentions of ghosting, mentions of drinking!! big emotions guys, crying, reader is a little mean, as she should be, shes an icon i love you, this whole argument will continue into the next chapter thank you i love you. genuine question how would we feel about another chapter today

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules s @ameerakane20 @lucere @cultish-corner @psyches-reid

You never expected to see him again. Not after the way things ended—if you could even call it an ending. A conversation, a few moments of vulnerability, then silence. The ghosting had been sudden, sharp like a slap you weren’t expecting. You never did well with the idea of opening up to someone, but with Spencer, you let your guard slip just enough for him to see something beneath the surface. And he promised. He promised not to hurt you.

But he had.

Now, it’s been a month since you last heard from him. A month of wondering what went wrong, a month of overanalyzing every word you exchanged, trying to figure out if it was something you said. You were doing well before you met Spencer—solid, independent, and self-assured, despite your reservations about letting anyone get too close. Then he came along, charming in that awkward, intellectual way of his. He made you believe, just for a moment, that maybe it was okay to hope for something more.

Then he vanished.

The last time you saw him was a couple of weeks ago at a movie theater, and that encounter had been enough to twist the knife he left in you. The tension between you both was palpable, a thin thread that could snap at any moment. You left that night feeling hollow, frustrated at the lack of answers, and confused by his refusal to acknowledge the way things had ended.

Now, you’re here, sitting in a dimly lit bar across from Penelope, a new friend who has become one of the few people you trust these days. Penelope was fun, always light-hearted and full of life, and tonight was supposed to be about anything but Spencer. You needed this—needed to escape the weight of it all, even if just for a few hours.

You take a sip of your drink, laughing at something Penelope says, when you feel it. That familiar prickle along the back of your neck that tells you someone’s watching you. You glance over your shoulder, and there he is.

Spencer.

Of course, he’s here. Of all the bars in the city, of all the nights you could’ve decided to go out, he had to be here tonight. Your heart clenches in your chest, a mixture of anger and something you don’t want to admit still lingers between you.

His eyes meet yours, and there’s something in them—regret, maybe? You look away quickly, turning back to Penelope, trying to ignore the rapid beating of your heart. But you can feel him moving closer. You knew it would happen eventually, didn’t you? You knew he couldn’t avoid you forever.

Penelope’s eyes follow yours, and her expression shifts. “Do you want to leave?” she asks softly, but you shake your head. No. You’re not running this time. Not again.

Spencer stands just a few feet away now, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot like he doesn’t quite know how to approach. It’s not like he can just walk up to you and pretend everything’s fine. You wish you could muster the strength to ignore him, to just let him stand there in his discomfort, but part of you needs something from him. An answer, an explanation—anything.

“Can we talk?” His voice is low, hesitant.

You meet his gaze, and the flash of guilt in his eyes makes you swallow hard. It’s unfair, you think, that he can still make you feel this way—torn between wanting to scream at him and wanting to understand.

You push your chair back, standing up. “Fine. Let’s talk.” Maybe it was the need for something resembling a clear answer. Maybe it was the hopes you’d get one.

Maybe it was purely that you hated yourself and needed to further those feelings by indulging in this.

The air between you is thick as you follow him to a quieter corner of the bar. Penelope gives you an encouraging nod before you leave, and you appreciate it, though her presence now feels far away. All you can focus on is the man in front of you, the man who has left you wondering, hurting, and so damn confused. Everything around you is a bit of a fog as you grow light headed.

Spencer doesn’t sit, and neither do you. Instead, you stand there, arms crossed tightly across your chest, waiting for him to say something. Anything. The air is full, suffocatingly full of his scent and the feeling of his lips brushing over your hair, the memories of him, of you, of what he did — or didn’t do, being shoved down your throat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice soft but filled with sincerity.

You scoff. “That’s it? You’re sorry? I don’t care.”

He looks down at his feet, running a hand through his hair nervously. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—things got complicated and I just… I don’t know how to explain everything.”

“So you just don’t explain at all?” Your voice is harsher than you intended, but you don’t care. You’re tired of feeling like the one who has to keep it together, tired of the constant guessing.

He takes a deep breath, looking up at you with an expression that almost makes you falter. Almost. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Is it?” You take a step closer, your eyes narrowing. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you just didn’t care enough to give me an explanation. You left, Spencer. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

“I did care. I do care,” he says, almost too quickly, and the desperation in his voice catches you off guard.

“Then why?” you ask, your voice quieter now, the anger giving way to the hurt you’ve been trying to keep buried, almost like a plea “Why- Why. Why couldn’t you just talk to me? Why couldn’t you have just been honest?” Now it was a plea, you needed something from him, anything, something to pick yourself apart for as a reason to his absence.

He hesitates, opening his mouth to speak and then closing it again. His silence is answer enough, and it makes your heart sink even further.

“Is it that difficult for you to be honest?” You huffed, the anger bubbling in your chest and maybe you’d feel guilty and mindful, if you didn’t feel so hurt.

“I—” he begins, but you cut him off.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize if you’re not going to tell me why, Spencer. You owe me that much.”

He looks torn, like he wants to say something but can’t bring himself to. His silence stretches on, and you feel your frustration boiling over.

“This is exactly what I mean,” you say, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You keep apologizing, but you won’t actually explain anything! I’ve spent the last month wondering what the hell I did wrong. You promised you wouldn’t hurt me, and then you just… disappeared.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, his voice barely audible.

“But you did,” you reply, your throat tightening as the emotion you’ve been holding back for weeks finally threatens to spill over. “You left me hanging, Spencer. You made me believe that maybe I could trust you, and then you did exactly what you promised you wouldn’t.”

You can see the guilt etched across his face, but it’s not enough. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and it feels like a punch to the gut because it’s still not the answer you need. He’s not giving you what you deserve. He’s not giving you anything

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the tears at bay. “This is useless.” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper.

You turn away from him, your feet moving before you even fully register it. You need to get out of here, need to escape before the tears break free and you completely unravel in front of him.

“Wait—” he calls after you, but you don’t stop. You can’t. You push through the crowded bar, ignoring the curious glances from strangers and the concerned look Penelope throws your way as you pass her. You just need to get outside, to breathe.

The cool night air hits your face as you step out onto the street, and the dam finally breaks. Tears spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless, and you hate yourself for it. You hate that he still has this effect on you, that he can still make you feel this vulnerable. You lean against the side of the building, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if you could somehow hold yourself together through sheer will alone. But it’s too late. The cracks are already there.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to let someone in like this only for them to break you down again. You’d been so careful for so long, so guarded, and then Spencer came along and promised he wouldn’t hurt you. And you believed him. But promises are just words, aren’t they? Words that can be broken as easily as they’re spoken.

The door to the bar swings open, and you know without looking that it’s him. You hear his footsteps approach, but you don’t turn around.“I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice so close now. “I know that’s not enough, and im sorry I can’t give you the answer you want, but I’m sorry- I want you to know I am so sorry.”

You laugh bitterly through your tears, shaking your head. “That’s the problem, Spencer. I don’t need you to be sorry— I couldn’t give a fuck less if you’re sorry. Im asking you why.”

He stands there, silent, and you can feel his presence behind you, but he doesn’t try to touch you. He doesn’t try to comfort you, and you’re glad because you’re not sure you could handle it if he did. His touch is like a faint memory now, sometimes when you turned the heat of the shower up just enough, for a split second it felt the same as his body against yours, that was the closest you had gotten to any sort of comfort, any sort of warmth.

“I thought you were different,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him. It was stupid of you. To have believed that, to still want to believe that. You wanted to understand, you wanted him to be honest, to keep the promises he made, like you trusted he would.

“I am different,” he says, his voice filled with a kind of sadness that makes your chest ache, like a plea. You wanted to believe him, you wanted this to be easy. You wanted to feel like this was the same person you had spent the last six months slowly falling in love with. In a way you knew he was the same, despite his broken promises and the hurt he inflicted onto you, the look in his eye was the same.

You shake your head again, finally turning to face him. “Not enough,” you whisper.

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter ten, spoiling me)

‘If I ask you for space you write seven-page letters. I used to think that meant I couldn't do better, you blow up at me then you pay for my dinner. I used to think that meant I wound up the winner. But front after front I was taught to forgive, you bought me to rot on the shelves of your fridge and you keep me around 'til you're hungry enough but my face has gone grey, There is mold in my gut’

summary; reader isn’t sure how to feel or how to react when she finds out the truth behind spencer’s sudden absence.

warnings; mentions of death, insecurity, female reader, avoidant reader, angst, first part in italics is a flash back, talks about hotch losing haley, no real details about that case, arguing, no closure.

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules @ameerakane20 @lucere @cultish-corner @psyches-reid

“Tell me something true.”

Your head turned at the sound of Spencer’s voice, a small smile across your features. Your house was warm, cosy and decorated in a way that only could be described as you. You knew Spencer was just glad to me here, it had taken a while for you to let him in the presence of your home. You always deemed someones home the most personal thing about them.

You had been recently questioning where home was.

Sure, your house provided you with comfort after a long day, you craved the warmth of your bed when your feet ached, you could hide in the walls that weren’t alive, they let you bury yourself in emotion to difficult to articulate. You liked that. Your house, there was never any pressure to be anything other than you.

So what were you to do when Spencer made you feel the same way?

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought over his question. Pushing your back up against the cushions of the sofa, heels of your feet digging in beneath you as you turned your body to face him, the documentary playing on the tv now long forgotten as your gaze met his.

He was wrapped tightly in a cotton sweater, you were sure in a few days the same sweater would be lost in your wardrobe. He never minded when you borrowed his clothes, deeming they were softer, more comfortable than your own. It was becoming more difficult to ignore the feeling in your chest that bloomed everytime he was around.

“True?” You repeated, furrowing your eyebrows. It was an out of the blue statement, he nodded in response, as he nudged himself closer to you on the couch. You tilted your head a little, “What do you mean, i’ve never told you anything untrue.” You said.

He rolled his eyes, you didn’t have to question why. You both knew deep down what he meant by his question. He was asking you to let him in. You thought letting him into your house was doing just that. Maybe he cared more about knowing your mind.

“You don’t talk. Like- about yourself, about your childhood, or your work, or how high school was- So, tell me something true.” He explained, even though he knew you already understood what he meant. If you needed the verbal clarification, he would give it.

You smiled. He wasn’t wrong and you weren’t embarrassed nor ashamed about your privacy. He would argue you couldn’t call it privacy if you were avoiding talking about it, then it crossed over to secrets. You didn’t mind having secrets either. But you liked Spencer, more than you were willing to admit and the fact he was providing you with the same sort of safe feeling your house did, well it made it easier to be open. To talk about the difficult things.

“What do you want to know?” You asked.

“Why you won’t go out with me.”

You let out a breathy laugh and rolled your eyes. He didn’t seem phased by your reaction to his want, nor surprised. You should’ve expected that to be what he wanted to know, apparently the response you gave the first 23 times he asked wasn’t good enough, maybe because he knew it wasn’t true just as much as you did. “i already told you, I just don’t want a relationship.”

“But why?”

You shrugged, was there an answer to his question, of course. But there was a line you drew in confessing and dumping your past on people, and that conversation would fall over the line, the very thick, very defined line. Unfortunately Spencer’s presence in your life began to blur many lines, ones that seemed once so clear, now smudged. You had yet to decide whether that was a good or a bad thing. It wasn’t just the trauma dumping line blurring, it was every one. It was all of them.

Everything you thought you knew began to shift, your perspectives changed on things when he shared his opinion, your mind was opener, you were more comfortable. You were happier. Maybe not because of him, or because he provided you with more happiness than your life originally had. You were content with your life before meeting Spencer, but there was something nice about having a friend.

“Theres always.. I..” you faltered, shifting uncomfortably, your legs untucking from under you to instead pull to your chest as your arms tangled around your shins, chin resting on your knees. “I’ve always, kind of felt like i was just existing, never really living. I noticed that a while ago, so i decided that if i was going to have to exist, id at least do it peacefully.”

“Relationships aren’t peaceful for you?” He tilted his head, it wasn’t an accusation the way he said it, it was genuine curiosity.

“They haven’t been.” You answered with a shrug. Wishing not to recall your last relationship.

Spencer shuffled closer. His arm’s folding over his chest as he pushed his back further into the couch cushions. He was staring at you, eyes flicking over your features. You were smart enough to realise he was profiling you, trying to see if you were uncomfortable, trying to read you.

“You’re profiling me.” You hummed. He didn’t hesitate in nodding.

“You’re hard to read.” He said, turning his body slightly to better face you. If you knew anything about profiling, or psychology you’d assume he was more uncomfortable than you were talking about this, or maybe he was simply just nervous. “I’ve never really had much trouble in reading people. I can’t read you.”

You tilted your head, you half took it as a compliment. Dedicating so much of your time to making sure nobody really knew you, dedicating so much of your time to wondering if you even knew who you were, to hear that time pay off, well it made you feel a little better about the hole you had dug yourself into all those years ago, the one that seemed a little bit too deep to get out of.

“Does that bother you?” You asked simply. Wondering if much like many others, he would give up trying to figure you out, you’d be slightly disappointed if he did, but not entirely. You simply didn’t want to be figured out. You didn’t want to be read, or profiled, you wanted to stay as you were, even if the look in Spencer’s eyes was convinced of otherwise.

He shrugged, “Not really.” The goofy smile on his face appeared moments after, “I like puzzles.”

You didn’t know whether to be amused or unsettled by his dedication.

“Your turn, tell me something true.” You changed the topic, hoping that maybe the curious look in his gaze would disappear if he had a moment to forget why he was so set on learning every thing about you.

He grinned widely as he rested his head against the couch cushion, looking at you. “I really like you.” He said simply. You hated the way your cheeks rose of colour, you hated that his words made your skin feel a little tight around your bones. You hated that you couldn’t tell whether the feeling swirling in your stomach was a bad gut feeling, or butterflies.

You shook your head anyways, “You have told me that a million times. Pick a different true.”

“But thats the truest I have.” He sounded offended. Not by your lack of response, he knew what you’d say, yet he never failed to remind you that he did in-fact, really like you.

“Spence, pick a different one.”

He huffed, faux frustration over his features as he leant his head back to think for a moment, his eyes travelling the lengths of the ceiling in your home, memorising it. You watched the side of his face, eyes travelling over the curve of his nose and jawline, before he turned his head to look at you, a almost sweet smile on his face.

You didn’t like the way it made you feel.

“One of my biggest fears is losing someone because of my work, someone getting involved or being at harm because of me, thats why i don’t date- really.” He said, the smile on his face remained as he looked at you, but the words that left his lips made your heart frown. You shuffled a little closer, not even realising you were doing it.

“But you have asked me out a thousand times.” You countered, not because you didn’t believe the fear of his, but out of curiosity.

“Yeah well.. I guess we both have fears in relationships, right? I guess i just think its not worth worrying about those things until they might actually happen. Like- you’re worried you’ll get hurt again, I’m worried my job will hurt you, but they aren’t problems right now. You know?”

You smiled, rolling your eyes and shaking your head before leaning into his side. Choosing not to reply.

You slumped against the wooden headboard of his bed, you tried to keep your focus on the small worn out indents over the wood, the detailing, you tried to figure out what wood it was, not that you had enough knowledge on wood to make that decision, you tried your best anyways. You could assume it was red oak, expect it was too dark, maybe it was painted with a wood stain, or maybe it was a different type of wood. Walnut, it could be walnut, that was a darker sort of wood, you were pretty sure, but the marbling texture told you otherwise. Maybe rustic brown maple.

Maybe you were just going insane.

The silence in the room was deafening and the more time went on the more you were convinced that you were purely wasting your time. After Spencer had convinced you to stay for his explanation, you found yourself back on his bed, he sat on the edge of it, watching you as you studied the headboard, the one you had seen a hundred times, or more, yet never gave much thought to. You were waiting for him to say something, anything other than the same apology you had heard repeatedly.

“Do you remember when I left for the case?” Was the first thing he said. It came out timid, careful, his words caused you to stiffen slightly, your shoulders growing tense with the weight of the memory. Of course you remember, it was physically impossible for you to forget.

You didn’t look away from the headboard, now almost dedicated to figuring out what wood it was made out of. You let out a hum, letting him know you were listening, letting him know you did in fact remember the day he left for the case. You remembered driving around for twenty minutes extra while he was taking you home because he was dedicated to finding you basic frosted sugar cookies.

He shifted, you felt the bed dip further as he added more of his weight to it. The closer he got the heavier the air seemed, your body tense with not only all of the memories, the conversation, but also the fact that you were still half foggy from your previous orgasm, you were uncomfortable, despite the fact Spencer made you clean yourself up before having this conversation, because he cared about your health and hygiene even if you wouldn’t let him take care of you after.

He cleared his throat, maybe he was feeling the tension just as much as you were. “I spent every spare second I had texting or calling you for the first few days.” He clarified, expect you knew this, he did this on every case he went on. You didn’t question that he once cared, you believed that, but you questioned what changed.

“Then you stopped.” You mumbled, not breaking your gaze on the headboard, head tilted up so your eyes to travel the detailing of it.

Spencer nodded, “Then I stopped.” He confirmed quietly.

You werent completely sure where to go from there, what to say, what not to say. You didn’t want to plead for an answer why, again. The process seemed repetitive, exhausting. This time you didn’t have to ask.

“A little while ago, Hotch, you know Hotch. He lost his wife.” Spencer spoke, you watched as his fingers dwindled absentmindedly. Your gaze no longer focused on the wood texture or type, now taken by what he was saying, how it related. The same confusing feeling in your stomach that you still hadn’t learnt how to differentiate between a bad gut feeling and a bundle of butterflies.

“Oh.”

Bad response. You knew that. But you didn’t have a lot to say. You didn’t know how someone was supposed to react to something like that, you didn’t know how Spencer expected you to react.

Spencer shuffled so he was better facing you, “I- uh. I won’t go into detail, but it was because of our work.” He muttered, his voice strained and heavy with indication you failed to recognise, or better yet understand.

You were quiet for a while, he let you be. Your eyes never meeting his because this conversation seemed heavier than you expected it to. When you spoke your voice was heavy with emotion, unintentionally so, “Spencer.” A breathy reminder that you were here for a reason.

He knew, he shuffled. You realised how much he was moving around, now nervous he was. Almost as nervous as you. “The case- When I stopped- When i ghosted you, there was an empty threat made against the team by an unsub.” He didn’t want to admit it, you could tell by the strain in his voice and the way his eyes no longer begged yours to meet them.

“Oh.”

“I guess i realised how much danger I was putting you into.” He huffed out. Leaning back against the headboard. The headboard that moments ago you had been studying like it was the most interesting thing in the world, now you couldn’t imagine focusing on anything other than the weight of his confession.

The sweetest reason maybe, for your safety. He removed himself from your life for the sake of your life. Maybe it was an act of love, maybe it proved how much he cared for you. You weren’t sure how to understand what he was telling you, you had a million questions lodged in your throat. All that seemed impossible to get out.

Maybe it was the sweetest intention, but he was immature with the way he went about it. He left like you didn’t matter, like you weren’t worth an explanation.

“You didn’t think to just tell me that?” Was what you said in response, it came out harsh, full of offence. You were offended.

“You would’ve tried to convince me otherwise.”

“Thats a lousy excuse and you know it.” It came out rough, you were sitting up at facing him and every part of you screamed to get the hell out of there and never see him again, yet something kept you sitting. Maybe the hurt you felt, maybe the anger. You weren’t sure, and you didn’t think you cared.

He sighed, “I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Yeah- Right. And how’d that work out for you?” You spat back.

He shuffled uncomfortably before meeting your eyes. “You are alive.”

“I was at no immediate risk.”

“But you could be! Thats what you aren’t understanding— That wasn’t the first time its crossed my mind. If something happened to you, it would be on me. If you got hurt, it was on me. If you got killed, it would be on me. Not only that — but I’d lose you, your friends would lose you, your family would lose you. I value your life more than I value how i feel about you. Im sorry thats not what you want to hear but its true.”

You shut up after that for a moment. How could you argue when his mind seemed so made up. Did you even want to convince him otherwise? It wasn’t like you hadn’t considered the possibility of being in danger before, but the fear always seemed so insignificant compared to the way he made you feel. How were you supposed to argue against him.

“You deserve better.” He said, moving off his bed.

How could you argue with what you knew was true?

You huffed, “Why would you not just talk to me about this Spencer? Why would you make this decision for me? Why are you telling me what risks i am and am not willing to take?” You weren’t sure you wanted an answer. You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

He looked at you, and you swore there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something so gentle and familiar. “A relationship with me is not worth your life.” He stated.

You wanted to yell at tell him that wasn’t his decision to make, that he couldn’t decide this for you. That he was being a coward. A few months ago you would’ve. A few months ago you would’ve done anything for him, you would’ve sat there and reassured him, changed his mind.

Now you weren’t sure.

You moved off his bed like he had moments prior, the room was heavy with an uncomfortable amount of silence. Tension. Unspoken words on both ends. There was still a million things left to say, yet you no longer wanted to stick around to hear them.

“Yeah, Im beginning to see that.”

[reidmania]

Writing smut for sharpest tool rn.. gotta lock in guys.

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s. reid

(chapter one, the only exception)

‘I've always lived like this ,keeping a comfortable distance and up until now I had sworn to myself, that I'm content with loneliness, because none of it was ever worth the risk, but you are the only exception. You are the only exception’

summary; you never thought you’d find yourself falling in love again, especially not this easily, especially not with the boy from the library.

warnings; fem reader, mentions of bad relationship history, reader is closed off, avoidant!reader, lowkey a friends w benefits situation but its so much more, reader is lowkey so real; fluff!!

taglist; @gghostwriter @iknwreid (it literally wont let me tag anyone else!! Im sorry!!)

1.8k words.

SERIES MASTERLIST

White bed sheets were tousled, there was faint music that could be heard from your radio in the living room, even with the door closed, the air was warm around you, lights turned off, yet the fairy lights twirled around your bed frame left a warm glow across the room that increased the delicacy of the moment.

You admired the boy laying beside you, on his back, eyes up to the ceiling as soft breaths left his parted lips. The warmth of the fairy lights making his skin glow, every small detail further defined, his eyes with a slight gleam, you were unsure if that was from the lights or the intimate moment shared.

“I can feel you staring.” He said, his voice was careful, quiet as if not to ruin the fragile peace in the air. Your eyes didn’t leave his face, despite his words, they remained memorising the details of his side profile, the curve of his nose and jaw, the plush of his lips, the fullness of his eyelashes; every detail committed to a special corner of your mind.

Then his head turned at your lack of response, his eyes meeting yours, then there was a small smile on his face, lips curved upwards, his eyes mirroring your own as he admired you in the gentle lighting. “What is it?” He asked, his voice still so quiet.

Your lips curved upwards as his had a few minutes ago as his eyes stopped their dancing over your features to meet your eyes. “Im just glad, y’know.” You admitted, the same gentleness in your voice. As if this moment would end if you spoke too loudly, to fast, too much.

He shuffled slightly to reposition so he was laying on his side, body turned towards your own. He propped himself up on his elbow, “Me too.” He said, you didn’t have to say what it was you were glad about, he knew. He always knew.

Then his smile widened before he spoke again, “Im glad I didn’t give up when you rejected me the first two times.” He mumbled gently. A breathy laugh left your lips at the memory.

When you met Spencer at the library a whole six months ago, the last thing you had expected was to end up falling for him. Sure, you were attracted to him but you had been attracted to people before. Sure, the way he had rambled about the book you were borrowing had you smiling and listening intently. Sure, when he had asked you if you wanted to get coffee, you had considered it for a moment.

Then you politely declined. You watched his face twitch in disappointment and embarrassment before you had explained it was nothing against him, you just weren’t interested in dating at the moment. You thought that was the end of it when he nodded and said he understood then left with a small smile, and quick sheepish wave.

Then you saw him at the library again two weeks later, you invited him to sit with you because you could feel his eyes on you from across the room. He sat with you in the library for two hours that day, the both of you laughing and rambling about different books you had read.

Spencer was respectful of your decision not to date. He didn’t pry or ask why which you were the most respectful for, but every time he saw you at the library he would sit with you, you two would talk sometimes, sometimes you would just sit together and read silently, he would finish an abundance of books in the time it took you to read one, and for a while you were convinced he didn’t actually read them.

Then he explained his ability and knowledge one day when he noticed you eyeing him weirdly. Then you were both impressed and interested. It felt like a push and pull game when he asked you out again two days later, and you were almost going to say yes. You were almost going to forget about the hurt you had endured in past relationships or how nothing seemed to work out for you. You were almost going to forget about the engraved belief that you just weren’t made to be loved.

Almost.

You rejected him again, but you told him you really enjoyed spending time with him and you would love to be friends. He had accepted and you felt guilty for the first time in a long time for rejecting someone, he was quick to notice that and reassure you he understood your decision and he would love to be your friend.

That friendship was a bliss. He would disappear sometimes, but when you learnt what he did for work it all made sense. You also didn’t really mind the disappearance of who seemed to be your only friend. You had gotten use to being alone, you enjoyed it. You relished in the space you had, the lack of expectation, the lack of chance of getting hurt.

The more time you spent with Spencer the more you realised how amazing he was. The way he spoke, the way his brain worked, the way he treated you and made you feel. You spent a long time in denial of these feelings for him you had grown, because it never ended well.

You didn’t date. You hadn’t for years and that was good, that was easy. You weren’t hurt or disappointed by meaningless flings or relationships ending badly, you didn’t spend your time trying to get over breakups or men who didn’t know the difference between their, there and they’re.

Not dating was easy. It was safe, and it was good. Until you met Spencer and all of those morals seemed to be thrown out the window every time he would smile, or open a door for you, buy you a collection of gifts when he learnt he had missed your birthday.

You had kissed him, one time when you were at his apartment. You hadn’t really even thought about what you were doing, you just knew he looked really good in the warm lighting of his kitchen, placing a tray of baked cupcakes on the stovetop to cool. You just knew that whatever fear you had of relationships didn’t seem so scary when Spencer was around.

He had kissed you back, almost instantly after a brief moment of surprise. His hands cupped your jaw and curled into your hair, his lips pressed desperately against yours as if he had spent his entire life waiting for this moment alone, he kissed you like his life depended on it. Never had you been kissed like that before.

The conversation after the kiss was a blur in your memories. He asked what that meant. You didn’t know how to answer. He took control of the situation, the conversation that seemed too difficult to have and he made it all seem so much easier, he said he liked you, a lot and that if you liked him back at all, then he wanted to explore that.

You had cried when you opened up to him about your fears of relationships. He had almost cried seeing you cry. The girl who seemed so strong, so independent all the time, crying. He felt guilty as if he had made you cry and from that moment on he had promised he would never be the reason for your tears again, unless happy.

He had promised you he wouldn’t hurt you, he rubbed his calloused thumb over the silk of your skin, pushing away the tears that tainted the skin he deemed so pretty. He had promised you could take it slow, that he wanted to take it slow. That this was all on your terms.

Thats how you ended up here, two months after that night, laying in your bed together after a moment so intimate. Not together, not offical. Not yet.

“Me too.” You mumbled back, he smiled at your words.

“Where’d you go? You disappeared on me” He mumbled as his hand reached out to wrap gently around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Like he needed to hold you. He did that a lot, you noticed. His hands were constantly on you in some way, as if he didn’t believe you were real unless he could physically feel you there.

You let out a breathy laugh, “I was thinking about how we met.” You said honestly. It was almost impossible not to be honest to him. His eyes held something that made the words pour out of you before you could help it. He was so sweet, so gentle, so safe. He was everything you thought you’d never have.

He hummed in acknowledgment as his arm wrapped further around your waist, then he shifted so he was burying his face in between your shoulder and neck, the space he spent so much time you wondered if it smelt more like him then you. His lips pressed against the soft skin there before he mumbled, “You were reading a horrible book.”

You let out an infectious string of laughter, you could feel his smile widen against the skin of your neck. “It really wasn’t that bad.” You defended half playfully — but it was, the book was so poorly written at the time you had been frustrated you wasted your time reading it. Now however, you were so glad because it was what insinuated your first conversation with Spencer when he muttered about it being a bad book.

He pressed another soft kiss against your neck, before pulling back and tilting his head up slightly to look at you, “It really was.” He argued, in the same tone. A warm playful smile on his lips. You felt an ache in your heart, the best kind of ache. The one that seemed to happen every-time he smiled at you.

You felt warm in the cheeks when he looked at you like that, like you were something worth looking at. That wasn’t something you had felt before. Nobody had even felt as safe as Spencer did.

You laughed, “It was pretty bad.” You gave in. He nodded enthusiastically in agreement as he leant down to steal a gentle kiss from your lips, before pulling back, he repositioned so he was hovering over you, on his knees in between your thighs, hands pressed into the pillows on either side of your head, caging you in.

You weren't sure if you had ever been in love before. You thought you had, with your ex all those years ago. You thought a hurt like that could only come from from a love so deep. However with the way Spencer was staring down at you, the way he brought one of his hands to brush gentle strays of hair away from your face and then moved his hand under you jaw to tilt your head upwards and kiss you so gently.

Well, if this was what love felt like than you had never been in love before. Not until now. You swore off dating, you swore off falling for someone, you swore off letting another person in, letting another person know you.

Well Spencer was the execption.

[reidmania]

REIDMANIA

about;

hi im bear or bianca or whatever u wanna call me.

20 year old girl physical, emotionally a 12 year old boy.

she/her!! criminals minds, greys anatomy, gracie abrams & noah kahan fanatic.

masterlist and recent works

criminal minds masterlist

good riddance x spencer reid oneshot masterlist

let the grass grow | s. reid

sharpest tool series masterlist | s.reid

beartober

popular works

safe by your side | s.reid

why wait | s. reid

person favs

cedar | s.reid

in between | s.reid

use somebody | s.reid

other socials>;

twitter; likeaboxofhoney

(i never use twitter idk how it works that place scares me)

side blog: you will never know!!! Except u do now, its beeforpresident

asks are always open, requests are closed

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter nine, decode)

‘but now I wonder why, I let your confusion keep me up at night, I'm so tired. Re-read every single undertone and I overanalyzed it, front, back, and beside it, where else can we go? there's nothing left here to decode. Done lookin' for signs in the gaps and the silence. It's just getting old, there's nothing left here to decode’

summary; you await the regret, but it’s welcome seems to be postponed by spencer and hormones.

warnings; smut, 18+ MDNI. fem reader, mentions of ghosting, arguing, they are so messy angst, oral, f receiving, fingering, slight overstimulation, overwhelmed reader, comforting spencer, mentions alcohol but nobody is drunk, reader had half a drink but is completely and utterly in her right mind guys, everybody is in their right mind, SOFT dom spencer, really sad bc its them, mentions reader having a whore phase, which makes sense cause she was single for a while before spencer guys!!!!!

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules s @ameerakane20 @lucere @cultish-corner @psyches-reid

When you suggested Spencer taking you back to his house, it was safe to say it was purely an emotional and hormone based decision. He was there, and you missed him. Now sitting on his sofa your body seemed to hold every ounce of realisation, that you were seriously really embarrassing yourself right now.

You were disappointed, simply. In your emotional decision, that you were allowing him back, maybe not emotionally, definitely not emotionally, but physically. He didn’t deserve the right to you in any way, thankfully you cared more about him knowing your mind, than seeing your body.

You were sure if you convinced yourself this was just another meaningless hookup on a friday night after a long day, you could pretend that you weren’t planning on having sex with the one person that you swore you’d never let get close to you again.

Maybe it was a punishment for him, that he would get to know you physically, and thats all. Your connection now would be physical. He wanted more, or he did before when he asked you out and worked his way into building your trust, only to have broken it.

Maybe it was a punishment for you.

Maybe this was a lesson you really just had to learn the hard way, time after time again.

“Do you want coffee?” Spencer asked, your head turned to look over your shoulder, eyebrows pulled in, confusion washing over you. You weren’t here for coffee, you weren’t here to just hang out with him, to spend the night with him, you were here for..

Something, you didn’t know.

Maybe sexual relief, maybe self sabotage because the hurt he provided was the most of him you could get. You weren’t sure. Maybe you hoped that if you had sex he would tell you why he suddenly switched up on you.

Or maybe you just wanted to have sex with him.

“No.” You answered, standing up from the couch, your feet found themselves walking to the kitchen where he was. His home layout engraved in your mind because of the amount of time you had spent there. It used to be a second home filled with warmth and laughter, now it felt like different. In the same way things between you and him felt different.

You saw his back first when you stopped in the open doorway of his kitchen, he obviously noticed your presence and turned around, leaning his hip against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “Whats wrong?” He asked, eyebrows pinched as he noticed the look on your face.

You huffed, “Im confused.”

He frowned, stepping closer till he was in front of you. It was awkward, yet any regret of the decision you had made subsided when your eyes flickered down to his hands, as he clenched and unclenched his fists, obviously dealing with the tension much like you were.

“I know— I’m sorry, I want to tell you-”

a huff left your lips, shaking your head, you groaned, “Not about that- Well yes about that- But- Not right- okay. Twenty minutes ago you were asking me if you could kiss me after ghosting me for over a month with no explanation, and now i’m in your house, to have sex with you and you’re offering to make me coffee?”

Maybe it was more embarrassing in the way you explained it, or maybe it was really just that embarrassing. You didn’t care, that was something you could deal with when you were home, dealing with the similar amount of regret that would come.

He seemed to find it amusing, that made you mad, not any less attracted to him right now, but much more annoyed. “Im trying to make you feel comfortable.” Despite his amusement he was honest and genuine when he leant a little closer to you.

Of course he was, he was good at that, making you feel comfortable, safe, secure. You had to remind yourself that no matter how comfortable you felt, this was an emotional decision, thats all it was, it was because you were horny, not because you were going to let him back in.

“I don’t want to be comfortable. I thought you bought me here to have sex.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

He raised his eyebrows, “You asked me to bring you here.” He pointed out.

“Because I thought you wanted to have sex!”

“Okay, alright. Gosh. Someone is needy.” He mumbled as he stepped closer, and you were trying to be nice for the sake of getting what you wanted, you were trying to be civil for the sake of your sex life (and the lack of it in the last few months), but the glare that followed his words was inevitable.

“Spencer, I will go home right now and I swear to god I will never talk to you again.” Maybe it would be sweet funny banter if you weren’t dead serious when you said it, he seemed to know that, the way his hand reached out to brush a hair away from your face before his thumb lingered on your skin for a moment too long.

His touch wasn’t comforting, you wouldn’t let it be. In order for this to remain purely a hormone based decision and act, you would need to continue to remind yourself of the fact that he lied, broken promises, hurt you, and wouldn’t tell you why.

This was a hormone based decision, not a i miss you and i will take sex because its all i can get based decision.

“Are we going to have sex?” You asked, voice quieter now. His hand had been caressing your cheeks for the moment too long, his eyes boring into every single feature and aspect of your face, and he was silent, the moment was too intimate for the reasoning you were giving yourself for this whole situation. So you felt the question was necessary.

He hummed, “Do you want to have sex?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes. You were pretty sure you made it clear what you wanted. “Clearly.”

“Be nice.” He muttered as his thumb trailed over your jaw.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You argued.

He chuckled, but it wasn’t funny. Because you both knew he had lost the right to tell you what to do, not that he ever took advantage of that right when he had it, he was always very sure you could make your own decisions and take care of yourself, but at that time, when he did tell you to do something, you listened. He lost that. He lost the right to a lot of things. The intimate moment wouldn’t be started by laughter and sweet kisses that turned into more, the moment wouldn’t be sweetened by the sound of your music playing in the background. He lost that.

He had lost the right to your love, yet unfortunately he still had it all.

He softly placed his lips on yours. Not that it was really soft, because you had learnt that he was incapable of kissing you like he didn’t need it to survive. Every soft kiss was a kiss you placed, his were all full of every emotion. If he wouldn’t tell you what he was thinking, you’d feel it in the way he kissed you. Right now, it was an ‘I miss you’ kiss.

You kissed him back the same, you weren’t sure if he knew the emotion he poured into every kiss he gave you, maybe it was a subconscious thing, you weren’t sure if he’s notice the similarities between the way he kissed you, and the way you kissed him. The same ‘i miss you’ kiss.

His hands gripped your waist, he nudged your thigh with his knee, before stepping into the space between your feet, you stumbled with each step he took, your feet following his backwards. The kiss was never broken, his lips still pressed desperately against yours, there wasn’t a build up, it didn’t start slow, it was just this. It was just whatever was left of you and him.

You continued stumbling backwards until your back was against the wall and his body was pressing yours further against the plaster, his hands were everywhere, pushing your shirt up at your waist to run his thumb over either side of your stomach while your hands gripped at the fabric of his shirt.

There wasn’t a lot to think about, you weren’t sure you could think even if there was a lot to think about. If you thought too long you’d realise what you were doing, you knew that. You didn’t want to come to the realisation. You didn’t want this to end.

“Is this okay?” He asked against your lips, before pulling back so you could answer properly, clearly. his fingers trailed up underneath your shirt, nudging the material of your bra.

You nodded, letting out a harsh breath as your finger curled around the materiel of his t-shirt. Your head fell back against the wall as he moved back slightly, lowering himself so he was on his knees in front of you. You didn’t have time to react as his hands bundled up the fabric of your shirt, pushing it up before holding it just under the wiring of your bra.

“W- what are you doing?” You breathed out as you lowered your head, looking down at him. You knew you were going to have sex, so why you were confused as to him imitating sexual behaviours — you weren’t sure. Maybe you were starting to come to your senses, maybe you were just on edge.

He didn’t answer for a moment, his free hand coming to run down the side of your waist, the soft touch sending shivers down your spine, the coldness of his fingertip against the warmth of your skin set it on fire. He leaned up and pressed his lips softly against the skin right above your belly button, looking up at you through his eyelashes, and for a second you swore you forgot about everything.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, not directly answering your question as to what he was doing. You knew what this was, Spencer — while always making sure to hear you verbally agree and give him the go ahead during the sex, he would be doing it for everything now, because things weren’t the same.

And he knew just as well as you did, that any moment you may change your mind and hate his guts. And he wouldn’t blame you. “Yes” you whispered as your breath hitched, he hummed against the skin of your stomach, his lips continuing to brush over the skin. His hand continued rubbing up and down the soft skin of your side.

“You need to relax.” He mumbled softly as he kissed under where he had bundled up your shirt. You hadn’t realised you were so tense, you didn’t know if you could be blamed, not only was he on his knees in front of you, but he was Spencer. Of course you were tense. You couldn’t remember the last time the thought of him alone didn’t make you tense.

You huffed, your fingers carding through his hair. “Don’t tell me what—” you didn’t even get to finish your snarky comment before he was saying your name, leaning back on his heels to look up at you. His hand dropped your shirt and both his hands trailed to your hips. You frowned as you looked down at him, and at the loss of contact.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled, thumb dipping into the waist band of your pants, not a sexual movement, but to gently rub the skin of your hips under where the elastic had settled, he didn’t ask the question to get an answer. It wasn’t even a question. He knew you were mad at him.

You nodded. You didn’t know what there was to say. You were mad at him, you were hurt by what he did and you’d be lying if you said that being here like this was him didn’t further those emotions, they continue to surpass the hormones that put you in this position, with Spencer kneeling in front of you. You wanted to have sex with him, you didn’t doubt that, and if you did end up regretting it, it would be self regret out of embarrassment, not necessarily for having sex with him. You were feeling a lot of emotions, and they were all confusing and contradictory with one another.

He nodded back, still looking up at you. “I know sweet girl, Im mad at me too. But for this to happen you need to relax okay? I can’t do anything when you’re this tense with me.” He mumbled out, the name made your stomach twist with a mix of butterflies and discomfort at its familiarity. Your breath was shaky when it left your lips.

You leant your head back against the wall, taking a few deep breaths, trying to relax your muscles and your nerves. It was hard, the tension in your muscles wasn’t just because you were about to have sex and the anticipation was catching up to you, sure maybe that played a part in it, but the tension came from the weight of every lingering memory of what you was suppose to happen, what he did, what he didn’t do, how much you hated yourself for being here with him, and how much you loved him. That wasn’t the type of tension you can just relax.

Spencer watched, eyes never leaving you as his hands continued to rub gently over your sides as if his touch was suppose to be soothing, maybe it was and you were just too in your head to realise it. Maybe every touch felt the same because you could tell each one carried a the weight of his guilt and it kept getting heavier. You wanted this, you did. You were making this decision in your right mind, there was nobody else to blame.

“Would you feel more comfortable if we went to my room?” Spencer asked, he leant up again, kneeling properly so he was closer to you again. Your head fell forward to meet his eyes as he stared up at you, eyes wide but not pleading with intention, care and concern maybe, a lot of guilt and a whole lot of love. You had to ignore that, because it contradicted the truth you had made up in your head in order to deal with his lack of.

You frowned, “I told you, I don’t want to be comfortable.” You mumbled. You were consumed enough by his scent now, with just him close to you, to be in his room where the entirety was so him, to lay in the bed you spent your nights and mornings tangled in one another, you weren’t sure you’d be able to handle it, you weren’t sure there was enough convincing you could do to yourself for you to continue to believe that this decision wasn’t driven by the undying need to just be with him.

Because that was embarrassing.

You chose to keep your pride as much as possible, although it continued inching away when you looked at him. That was also embarrassing.

“Well, Im not doing this if you’re uncomfortable.” He said back.

“Fine.” You settled.

“Fine.” He replied in the same tone, but he smiled, quickly grabbing your hand and placing his lips along your knuckles before intertwining your fingers and standing up straight. It was playful. He was comfortable. He was okay about this and you felt like every moment was killing you.

He was holding onto your hand tightly as he led you down the hallway. That was intimate in a way it made your chest weigh heavier, uncomfortably so. Familiar in the way it made you feel as if you were home, you weren’t sure if you currently enjoyed the feeling on his hand in yours, but you certainty weren’t pulling away, because the loss of his touch felt worse.

“Can you please take off your shoes and get on my bed?” He asked, once you had entered his bedroom. You were already suffocating in him. Taking in every little difference, his books had moved from his bedside table to his drawers since the last time you were here, he got a different lamp resting on the bedside, he had a plant.

Yet the more you looked around, those little differences didn’t make your chest burn until you noticed that so many things were the same. Your old phone charger that had broken one time when you were staying over remained in place on his shelf where you had placed it then forgotten about it, a small tube of your lipbalm on his bedside table, the book you had started and never finished was the only book that hadn’t moved to his drawers.

You looked back at him, your chest impossibly tight. You could hardly remember what he had asked you to do. You could hardly think. The regret was sinking in as all of the hurt came back, any thought that had clouded that memory prior seemed to disappear because his bedroom remained just as much you as it did him.

“What?” You breathed out heavily, a mass of air you didn’t even know you were holding in. The minute it left your lips your head spun.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he squeezed your hand, the movement was suppose to be comforting but your chest tightened. This was suppose to be a careless moment you’d regret later, not now, not before you had even gotten the chance to do anything. “I asked you to take your shoes off and get on the bed. You don’t have to.” He tried to offer to ease your mind, maybe contradict you if you even dared to argue for him not to tell you what to do. He asked.

“Oh” your lips parted as you looked down and kicked off your shoes. You let go of his hand and breathing felt a little bit easier. You moved towards the bed, because while this was embarrassing, having sex with him after he broke your heart — bursting into tears and running out like you really wanted to, would unfortunately bruise your ego more.

You settled back in the comfort of the mattress. It was so much comfier than yours, yet he use to argue how much better your bed was. You would argue differently. It took you a while to realise neither of you actually cared about the comfort of the bed, just the owner of it. Spencer looked at you for a moment from where he was standing.

“Are you going to come over or what?“ you huffed, impatience getting the better of you. Maybe also the fact that if he didn’t do something you were pretty sure the comfort of his bed, and the surrounding scent would either wind you into tears, or sleep.

He cringed, stepping forward a few times until he was sitting down next to you on the bed, body facing yours, yet he kept a safe distance, hands remaining in his lap, “You don’t look like you want this.” He mumbled.

You frowned, you weren’t great at keeping your emotions off your face regardless of how good you were at keeping them out of your mouth. Spencer also learnt your body language, he studied it as if he was going to be tested on it, he knew you better than you wanted to admit, which made it all hurt more. Because you let him know you.

“I do want this.” You said, and you did.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He tilted his head a little bit, eyes locking in and searching yours for any sign of doubt, hesitation, he knew it would be there. So did you. After everything you decided you deserved a moment to hesitate, and after everything Spencer wouldn’t argue with that. You tilted your head to the side, reaching up, the back of your fingertip coming to brush against the spine of the book you had been reading, only about half way through. It was what you would read on the nights you spent at Spencer’s, comfortable silence filling the air while you both read.

“I need to get a copy” you muttered absentmindedly. If Spencer made any sort of face or reaction you missed it, your gaze focused on the book and the memories that ran with it.

He reached out to brush his hand over your thigh gently. “You can have that one.” He said, before shuffling so he was settling where your knees were pulled up. His hands were everywhere again, his touch gentler, because the emotions in your mind were showcasing in your body language. He leant forward, gently nudging your knees apart as he leant in more to push your t-shirt up again. “You can have anything you want.” It was a promise, a quiet barley audible promise.

You almost wish you hadn’t heard it because your own words followed, “Besides you?” You shivered as he positioned himself on his knees between your legs, fabric of your shirt bundled up in his fists, he paused at your words, tensing. You saw it.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, keeping his eyes away from your face, at focused on his hand that had finally continued moving again. “Can I take this off?” He asked, referring to your t-shirt, not answering your previous comment, maybe it was a question, you weren’t even sure. his eyes flicked to yours and you nodded. Then he was pulling your shirt up, hand moving to your back to help you sit up a little bit before pulling it off over your arms. Suddenly you were very aware of how cold the air was around you. Or maybe in was just the air between you and Spencer that was so cold, despite the warmth of his hand on your skin.

His hands were everywhere, again, feverishly even, he was leaning up, and then down to connect your lips in a kiss that was so full of emotion it shocked you, a different emotion, a different type of his. He was apologising. Or maybe you were making this up in your head in order to make sense of what was going on. You kissed him back, your hand moving to cup the back of his head, but then he was pulling away, kissing down your jaw, each breath that left his lips was hot against your skin.

He kissed down your neck, lingering on a specific sensitive spot that made your lips part and a soft gasp to pass through, before he continued his pathway down, kissing and swiping his tongue out over your collarbone, his hands moving to reach up to your chest, gently groping you over the fabric of your bra, you sighed, he groaned.

His forehead came to rest against your collarbone, when his hands slipping behind your back, running his fingertip over the clasp of your bra, a silent question. You arched up, a silent approval.

When your bra was removed, there was no time to process the cold air that caused your sensitivity to rise, for insecurity to creep in, his lips closed around the soft skin of your boobs, his hand gently squeezing the one his mouth wasn’t on. “Do you still want me?” He mumbled against your nipple, as his tongue swirled around it.

Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering closed. Maybe it was your turn to avoid answering a question. You knew what he was referring to, you mumbling earlier about how he would give you anything besides himself. His question wasn’t out of insecurity, it was out of awareness.

You let out a sound when his finger grazed over the rise of your chest, before he was pulling back from the skin he had been at, his lips trailing down your stomach again, kissing over the waist band of your pants as he shuffled to be laying on his stomach. You weren’t sure a clear thought process was possible when he tucked his fingertip below the elastic.

“Off?” He asked.

You nodded. Words were lost.

He didn’t ask the question expecting an answer— you were glad because words failed you, maybe he asked it because he wanted you to think about it. Whether you liked it or not, he knew you. He spent months learning you inside out, he said it a hundred times that he would forget everything he had ever learnt if it meant knowing you.

You hadn’t take that seriously.

His hands tugged the material down, you were lifting to help as much as possible. Once they were halfway down your thighs. He was letting out a breathy laugh, sitting up the slightest bit to pull them off your legs. The positioning was awkward but it only lasted a second before your knees were parted again.

You could feel his breath against your thigh as his lips trailed over the skin. You were really glad he didn’t ask the question expecting an answer, because you were pretty sure if you opened your mouth a gasp would leave it. A breath you didn’t know you were holding in. You were also glad because you didn’t know the answer. You didn’t know if you did still want him. You wanted to know him, to understand what happened, what went wrong. You wanted things to go back to the way they were before.

Whether that be before he left, or before you met him.

You wanted him, you did. But he was right to question you, because as much as you want him, you cared too deeply about your pride, about the trust that had been broken, the false hope and the lies, you cared too much to know if you would ever forgive him for that.

“Breathe, sweet girl.” He mumbled, breath hot against your skin as his kisses grew firmer, with parted lips as he moved up the inside of your thighs. You did, you let your lips part and the air to flow out, then back in. He hummed in acknowledgment.

“Spencer, please.”

If this was any other time, two and a half months ago, Spencer would’ve made a comment about your good manners, or teased you playfully. He knew better now. He didn’t say anything as his fingers tugged away at the remaining material, slipping his fingers under the hemming over your underwear, then they were being tugged down your legs, in that same awkward positioning.

Your chest rose and fell with anticipation as his breath grew hotter and closer to where you wanted him, then his hands were moving from there positioning on your thighs, his thumb gently brushing over your folds, you sighed, he looked up.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that?” He mumbled as if it was the most casual thing ever. You refused to acknowledge the way your stomach burnt with the mixture of butterflies and hurt. You didn’t have time to reply before a gasp was leaving your lips as he leant down, his tongue dancing over the same as his fingers had only moments prior.

Your hand reached out to grip his hair almost instinctively as you leant up on your elbow, his tongue worked over you as if this was all he would ever need. You were embarrassed of the sound that left your mouth when his lips latched onto your clit, tongue flicking against it. Despite your embarrassment, Spencer seemed to think opposite of the sound as a groan left his lips against you, the vibrations only furthering the feeling.

“Spencer.” You moaned, your body no longer capable of being held up by your elbow as you dropped against the bed, flat against the bed, head turning to bury your face in the side of the pillow. Your back arched, hips furthering against his face. He didn’t seem to mind as his free arm wrapped around your hips, tugging you even closer.

His tongue lapped over you, the sound was so embarrassing if you weren’t caught up in the pleasure of it all, and the emotions that seemed to follow him, you would’ve noticed. His fingers moved to brush his thumb over your clit as his tongue slipped inside you, before out, then lapping you again, tongue and lips everywhere. The feeling was overwhelming in the best way as your back arched.

“Im sorry,” he mumbled against you, before his tongue slipped inside you again, you weren’t sure if it was his words or the feelings that made your eyes glaze over, instinctively causing you to squeeze them shut. “Im sorry.” He mumbled again.

You could’ve believed him.

His finger brushed down, his thumb nudging your hole as his lips moved back up to your clit, then his thumb was replaced with his middle finger, slowly easing inside you. You moaned at the feeling, he almost mirrored it against you, his hand easy in and out.

“I miss you,” He whispered against your clit, finger curling inside you as if to puncture his words, or maybe to keep you from replying. If that was the case, it worked, because your head furthered into the pillow. You could hardly process his words or the hurt they sent to your chest over the growing need in your stomach.

“Spencer.” Maybe his name was all you could say. It was suppose to be a warning, not to go there, not to touch the topic, but it came out as a moan. He added another finger as his tongue flicked over your clit again, lips latching on and sucking as if his life depended on it.

His pace grew, mirroring the growing knot in your stomach. His tongue and lips worked harder against you, because he knew you and he could feel it. You might’ve muttered out a warning but either way it would’ve been muffled by the pillow your neck was twisted awkwardly into, he didn’t mind when you came on his fingers. You knew he didn’t from the way his fingers slipped out and were replaced with his mouth.

“Too much” you had cried out as your hips shifted away from him. He was off you instantly. Leaning up and licking his lips. He placed lips gently against your thigh before he was shifting to sit up. Your eyes were closed so you missed the way he stared at you, before running his hands through his hair as shuffling out from his space between your legs.

You could feel the absence, your eyes opened to find him collecting your clothes from where they had been stripped of around the room. You frown. “What are you doing? I just- I just needed a moment?” You leant up on your elbows, despite the fogginess in your mind.

He frowned when he stood up straight after picking up your t-shirt, his eyes bored into yours and you wish you understood the emotion swirling through them, but you didn’t. You didn’t at all. He just placed your clothes beside you on the bed, before sitting on the edge of it, his hand reaching out to gently brush over your thigh.

“Im not going to have sex with you.” He mumbled, and you weren’t sure what the emotion was that was sent rippling through your body, anger? Hurt? Embarrassment? Rejection? Gratitude? You were suddenly unable to differ them.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you sat up further; reaching out for your t-shirt because you suddenly felt way too exposed in front of him. You tugged it over your head as you spoke; every muscle in your body tense. “Why not?” You barely whispered, your chest still heaving on the come down of your orgasm.

His hand continued rubbing your thigh gently. He looked at you and said your name and you knew what it meant. He felt guilty. You weren’t sure if it was the guilt for everything that had happened or if it was the guilt for possibly having sex with you when he knew he wouldn’t stick around. You wanted to laugh and mumble how that never bothered him before; but you didn’t.

You suddenly felt really embarrassed. “God.” You mumbled out, realisation and regret washing over you as you reached out for the rest of your clothing, shuffling uncomfortably to get dressed as fast as possible, Spencer was quiet, his hand slipped off your thigh when you moved to tug your underwear and pants back on.

“Don’t do- Let me clean you up”

“Get the fuck off me.”

It was an instant switch. An instant reminder that this wasn’t anything other than a horny decision. That things between you and him weren’t okay, and may never be again. A reminder that no matter how much you indulged in the idea that this was nothing more, that this wouldn’t haunt you, you were in love with him, and this was hurting you. He was hurting you, and you let him. You would never forgive yourself for loving him.

He said your name but your mind had shut off.

He frowned when you didn’t reply of acknowledge him, he frowned further when you — disorderly dressed moved to get off his bed, your hair a mess but you couldn’t seem to care.

He reached out for you, “I want to explain, if you hate me after you can go and I’ll never bother you again, I promise. Im sorry? Okay. For everything. I shouldn’t have let this happen- I shouldn’t have taken you here. Im sorry— I love you, Im sorry.”

Your eyes closed when the words left his mouth and your muscles relaxed, not with relief but because you no longer had the energy to remain tense, your arm didn’t pull away from the gentle grip of his hand, the only thing keeping you from leaving. ‘i love you.’ He loved you and you didn’t believe him. You were mentally debating whether you even wanted to stick around to find out anymore, or if you needed to get out right now.

“I hate you.” You were lying. You were hurting him before he was hurting you. You hated that, that this was what was left of you and him. You hated that you wish you meant the words, you hated the way you knew he didn’t believe you, you hated the most that you didn’t believe you either.

He didn’t flinch at your words. You hated that too. “Can you wait till after I explain to decide if thats true?”

You weren’t sure you were capable of thought anymore. You were pretty sure he had taken your entire sense of self, curled it up in a ball and thrown it so far away because you were unable to find it since the day you had kissed him in your kitchen all those months ago. Every aspect of what you had with him, and who you became, you weren’t sure it was for the better.

You definitely doubted it was, when your feet remained planted on the floor, and your gaze met his. “Fine.”