#spencer ried

[first-edition]

Wishes

Spencer reid x reader

(Not proof read my bad)

Soencer is turning 30 and you are the only one who remeberd

Confession kissing Spencer crying fluff

(Hes a blurb while i get back into writing sorry I disappeared lol)

You’ve been planning this for 2 weeks getting the decorations and presents and setting up his schedule so he’s be free. You’ve been talking to Emily about it but somehow it got lost in all the work and she’s forgotten you’ve tried to do the same with the others but they forgot as well.

“Hey! Spence.” You call to him. He spins around in his chair to face you.

“Hmm?” He asks

“What are you doing tonight?” You ask.

“I was gonna go see my mom but that got cancelled hospital difficulties so I was gonna go to the library of olden books.” He says giving you a small smile.

“Oh I’m well did you wanna come over maybe I could go with you?” You ask.

“Yeah sure that’s be great I can talk about the making and weaving of how hard covers and soft covers were made.” He chuckles

“Yeah!” You smile and nod walking off passed Morgan’s desk. As he eyes you in confusion.

———

The entire rest of your evening is filled with the large library soencer taking your hand and leading you to each book talking about how they were made and crafted and the kind of paper they used.

You actually found it quite interesting it helped that you had been crushing on him for the past 2 years and him as wel to you.

He bought a few books for an obscene price before you faked the realization that you had to rush home and since he drove you both hurried into his car and drove to your place.

“It’s fine Spencer I can just grab it and we can continue to another library before it’s too late out.” You smile as you open your door all the lights off not helping with the time of night as your home seems to be a menaching place to be.

“Light switch to you left.” You say as you disappear into the darkness. He closes the door behind him and turns on the light. The sight of balloons and presents with a mini banner that says happy birthday strung across the ceiling.

“Happy birthday spencer!” You exclaim holding out your arms. His expression drops as he looks around at all the things for him. You rush to the fridge to take out the cake you had made of his favorite flavor.

“I also got a cake. And custom ordered the flavor as well as the decor. The presents are all for you and I-“ you stop as you look at him setting the cake down. Tears fall down his cheeks and his bottom lip quivers.

“S-Spencer…oh I-I’m sorry I know you like cupcakes more but they didn’t have any and I just through may if you wanted you could eat it by your self if yo-“ with out saying anything else he cups your face and presses his lips to yours in a deep kiss which you kiss back.

It lasts for a few seconds before pulling away.

“Thank you..thank you so much you have no idea how much this- how much you mean to me and not just for doing this.” He says his voice breaking you wrap your arms around his neck kissing him again before pulling away to speak.

“You’re welcome I wouldn’t miss your birthday.” You say a smile on your face.

The rest of the night is spent with him opening every present he could’ve ever wanted eating cake and watching a movie before you’d both fallen asleep on the couch.

A few months would go by before the case in Vegas where he and Emily would be talking and she’d ask him how old he was.

“Common it can’t be that far how old are you 29.” She says rolling her eyes before Spencer has time to correct her.

“I’m thirty.” He says her expression changes in shock as she realizes.

“We missed your birthday?”

“No..not everyone. Y/n remeberd planned a whole thing.” He says smiling looking over at his girlfriend who talks with jj.

“Fuck….i forgot she wanted me to come over for that. I’m so sorry.” She apologizes Spencer shakes his head adjusting his glasses.

“It’s okay.”

“Hey! There’s a spot new place down past Luxor if you’re hungry.” You skip up to him holding onto his arm.

“Actually I made a reservation as Caesars palace for us.” He says.

“W-what!? Why.” You smile looking up at him. He leans down to you ear whispering to you.

“Happy birthday.” He says this time it’s his turn to remember your birthday.

[awordsmith]

omitted thoughts 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which the tension between you and Spencer at work is almost too much to bare; lingering eyes and longing needs that are ignorant to the people around you, but all too easily perceived by the other.

who? spencer x bau!reader  when? s8  category: smut  content warnings: (maeve plotline does not exist, emily is still with the bau) munch spencer, tension here–tension there–tension everywhere, thorough foreplay (as in practically the entire fic), sexual acts, not too explicit, no dom/sub really mentioned–though spencer is a little more confident, proofed! reid with pleasure...  word count: 11.4k a/n: munch spencer as per requested by an anon!! this one has been in my filing cabinet for a while, so i'm glad i've finally gotten to write it out... also, new format–hey! okay i'll stop rambling... enjoy!!

There is a moment in every person’s life when they just know something sinister is about to unfold. That feeling found its way to you the exact moment the mixup with the rooms happened. It was bound to occur, it wasn’t like it was inevitable–you of all people were accustomed. Though, to be particularly truthful, it wasn’t the mixup that strangled your thoughts, no, it wasn’t as trivial as that.

What had your heart racing–your mind running–was that you were paired with Spencer. You should have said something. You were sure Emily would switch with you in a heartbeat–she and Spencer got along well enough, that it wouldn’t be a favor at all. However, even with this knowledge, you kept your mouth shut.

It was something in your gut, something in the darkest parts of your mind that swayed the moral, logical side.

It was late and the dimly lit hall only had so much life. You noted the old, peeling, pee-colored wallpaper; red flowers straying to and fro–if you tried hard enough, you could almost picture how it must have looked like in its prime.

Spencer made no effort to talk and for this you were grateful. You hadn’t had the chance to get too close to him in the few months you’ve been with the team. You were new, but not unaccustomed–you had been transferred almost six months ago with the help of thorough recommendations and pure skill–though you never pulled rank.

Hotch seemed a nice enough dad-boss, Rossi gave the impression of a comedic uncle most of the time, Morgan took his role as the older brother, Emily and JJ were great mentors and you were thrilled to be working alongside them, and you found Penelope to be a strong aunt-like figure. Spencer, though, you weren’t too sure where he fell in the categories you had enlisted just yet. 

He was a great mystery, one you were keen to unravel little by little.

“Do you have a preferred side?” Spencer asked after completing a skim with his bedbug flashlight.

“No,” you glanced around the room, two queen beds sat adjacent to each other only separated by a mediocre bedside table. A home phone sat close to the bed nearest the door and a lamp sat closest to the bed nearest the AC and window. The old, red velvet curtains were pulled back in what you thought was meant to be a kind gesture. Nevertheless, for an unknown reason, it left a bad taste in your mouth. “But, I do think we should close those,” you sighed, setting your duffle bag in the only chair in the room.

Spencer set his things on the bed near the window. You began untying the curtain closest to the bathroom. A shiver crawled up your spine as the air around you grew dry, you were seriously hoping for hot water. You meant to throw Spencer a hopeful glance, praying he’d let you take a shower first–but your eyes caught his hands instead. He was working his sleeves back, unbuttoning them as quickly as he could.

His sweater vest had been discarded and now lay in a bunched-up pile near his suitcase. You found yourself tracking his every move. He didn’t take notice of your stare until after he’d untied the curtain and met it with the one you had undid. You swiftly averted your eyes and swallowed, finding your throat had gone dry.

You cleared your throat and pushed your hair away, giving Spencer nothing but back, “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to shower first.”

Seconds ticked by and he said nothing, only when you heard a bed squeak did you turn back around. Spencer took up a space at the head of his bed, watching you with a look you were sure you’d never seen cross his face, it was almost smug, but not in the normal sense of the word–as indescribable as it was, it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You weren’t too sure what it made you feel.

“Is–is that a yes?” Your face felt hot, and you wanted to slap your hands to it, knowing it’d cool down somewhat, but you forced your hands to remain at your side.

“Yeah, sure,” he quipped, his voice the complete opposite of what his eyes conveyed.

You nodded and hurried over to your bag, leaving it at the foot of your bed when heading into the bathroom, which is where you found it upon exiting. 

Spencer had pulled pajamas out, they were neatly folded beside him. “I’d wait a little before showering,” you frowned, “sorry, I must have been in there for ages,” your mouth lilted in a slight smile as you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and took up residence near the bedside table, “next time, just to tell me I’m taking too long, I won’t mind.”

He chuckled and you grinned, elated you finally were able to ease the unnecessary tension that had come over the two of you during your staring contest in the moments right before your shower.

“Seriously?” He sounded mirthful and when you looked up his eyes caught yours, your heart studded and you found your cheeks heating up again. He had an eyebrow raised slightly and the small smile that accompanied his expression gave off the impression he was teasing, “You’d be fine with me just walking into the bathroom while you’re in the shower?”

Your eyebrows scrunched together in slight confusion and you couldn’t help the awkward smile that wouldn’t leave your mouth, “I was just joking, Spencer, but–if I am taking too long you can bang on or yell through the door.

He nodded, looking away, “I–I know, I was just messing with you.”

“Oh, please,” you snorted and rolled your eyes, trying to crush the way your thoughts raced at the way you absolutely would not give a half a damn if he did. You pressed your hand to your cheeks for a few seconds before continuing to move things out of your bag, you were thinking about how to arrange them in the large chifforobe directly across from your bed. Did Spencer hav–you gasped and dropped an article of clothing as if it had burned you.

“That was not–” you scorned yourself, that was completely inappropriate. You blinked over a few times, thinking it would make the image disappear well from your mind, but it only served to intensify the phantasmagoria.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer was at your side after three blinks. Your eyes widened as he reached for your hands that were opening and closing, trying to grasp any control over yourself. 

You stood abruptly, unable to be in any sort of vicinity he was near. “I’m fine–I just, I remembered, I forgot something in the lobby. It must have fallen.” You shrugged, forcing a horrid excuse for a smile onto your lips. You left the room, heading straight for the elevator. You needed the cold-biting air of December to slap some sense into you, it was almost January, thus winter should have been approaching its peak right about now.

You have never–okay, yes, you’ve had small torrent thoughts of coworkers in somewhat unprofessional manners, but none had ever been so vivid–not like the one you had just then. As the elevator opened, you tried assembling the course of thoughts that had led up to the–the Spencer one.

It only took a few minutes for you to understand thinking about it was useless. There was no coherent explanation for the thought you had, no indication of any type of build-up that might have prepared you for the fabrication. 

“His eyes,” you heard yourself murmur as the elevator let you off onto the first floor. You ignored the receptionist whom you recognized from only a few hours ago. The glass door was as easily pushed open as it was to pull; the biting air hit your face and you sighed, relief allowing you to breathe once more.

His sleeves were rolled up, your arms laced around his neck as you pulled him against your flushed, exposed skin. You were nearly naked and all but begging him. You had it. His attention. Every single piece of it.

And you were relishing it as he fucked you against that damned chifforobe.

You were startled by the discovery of Spencer’s presence as he pushed open one of the glass doors of the hotel. The carpark was desolate save for the two of you and you felt more vulnerable than you had felt in the daydream.

“Hey,” Spencer lifted his hand slightly, sticking it back in his pocket right after as if he’d cringed at himself.

“Oh, hi,” you pressed your lips into a thin smile, squeezing your eyes so as not to give away the fact that you did not want him to be there.

“You–kind of ran off, I just wanted to make sure you were alright…” his eyes traced up and down your body as if in search of something. A slight smirk grazed his lips, but it was quickly replaced with a frown that felt a little too compelled, “did you find what you were looking for?”

“Nope,” you squeaked, rocking back and forth on your heels. You squeezed your hands together behind your back like you were in prayer or giving thanks, “sorry for bringing you out here, I thought I lost something important and overreacted.”

He didn’t acknowledge your answer immediately, though he did step forward and when he took another step forward, you were inclined to take a step back because you thought the proximity might prompt you to do or say something you definitely shouldn’t be doing or saying with a coworker. He raised his hand to your face, the back of his hand rested on one of your cheeks, your eyes shut on impact, your hands separated and were not fisted.

Your eyes opened when a few low chuckles escaped Spencer’s mouth, he huffed out a few more before pulling his hand back and using it to cover his mouth…watching you. His eyes held that same smug amusement that you’re sure you’ve never seen before this night.

You met his stare, noting that with the coverage of his hand, his expression was just a bit easier to read. Your lips settled into a thin line as you concluded he was messing with you. You cast an unbothered expression over your face, though you felt anything but. “I think the water should be hot enough now.”

Disregarding the moral obligation of waiting for a response, you headed for the hotel’s entrance.

The elevator ride-up wasn’t as tense as you would have thought it to be. You could feel a calm rest over each other’s company. It was almost like a mutual understanding that did not need voicing. Back in the hotel room, Spencer headed into the bathroom without a word, again, you found yourself grateful he decided to spare you.

Even so, you did find it just a bit peculiar because Spencer had never before taken on any particular interest in you, sure you shared conversations–that was to be expected though, as you worked with him. You shared meals and nights out, though only when it was a group thing.

To be sure he drew your curiosity, but you never once thought about indulging in your secret desire because it just never seemed right. This mixup had felt like a gift from God when it was first introduced, because now–you had thought–we’ll be forced to be around each other, no doubt we’ll grow somewhat accustomed to each other’s habits. 

Perhaps the thought was a bit excessive, but it was simply the truth to you. How else were you to casually approach Dr. Spencer Reid? The youngest to be scouted in his field?

Well, you now thought grimly, scratch all that, he’s just a genius with an ego.

You approached the chifforobe hesitantly, then hastily sorted your clothing in a few drawers and on a few hangers that were already there. As you set your duffle bag at the bottom of the large space, you heard the shower squeak off and Spencer called your name.

You rolled your eyes but walked toward the bathroom, calling from your side of the closed door, “what?” 

“I,” his voice cut off and just when you thought you had waited long enough, the bathroom door swung open halfway and Spencer leaned out. 

The first thing you noticed–though unintentionally–was the steam that hit you in the face. You squinted and waved a hand before you, “Jeez, Spencer.”

His face–his hair was wet and water dripped down his head–looked a bit painted, “I left my towel in my bag, get it for me?” 

He sounded genuinely displeased at the situation, which is why you huffed and replied, “Fine.”

“Thank you,” he yelled, shutting the door again. You ignored the flip your stomach did and shivered. 

He had left his suitcase open, his things in a bit of disarray across the bed. You wavered only a moment before letting your hands fly up and down his things. His towel was quite easily discovered, though your eyes lingered on the rest of his things.

You stood and headed back toward the bathroom, knocking. Spencer appeared instantly, a smile spreading to his face. The steam had cooled somewhat, but the bathroom–you could tell–was still very much sauna-like. “Thank you.”

“You said that already.”

He raised a brow, his smile quirking, “thank you, again.”

He stole the towel and shut the door, leaving you standing there. You felt impulsive and thought there would be no way you could get through this entire trip by sharing a room with him. And yet, it was your job, and it would no doubt be questioned, you’d probably–by accident–allude to something that did not occur, and you’d both be in trouble for something so ridiculous: it shouldn’t even be a thought that crossed your mind when you looked at your coworker and yet–the bathroom door opened and Spencer walked out in only a towel–it did.

“What do you think you're doing?” You called from your bed, standing.

“It’s too moist in there, I won’t dry.” He replied as if it were a fact and not an atrocity.

“Yeah–but–” you bit your lip, eyes tracking up and down his torso, something you should most unquestionably not be doing.

He was bent over his things on the bed near the window, you turned your gaze on the floor when his eyes flickered to yours. “But what?” He paused, probably noting your expression, your pursed lips, and your unstill gaze. “I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable I can go back in. I don’t want to–I’m sorry.” You swore you could hear a lilt in his voice when he began, but it quickly turned into something more…appropriate–like he just realized the embarrassment of what he was doing. He gathered his clothes again and headed for the bathroom, returning a few minutes later in damp garments.

And though his frown said ‘I’m sorry,’ his eyes said, ‘I’m going to give you hell’. And hell it was. For the rest of the trip, you could swear Spencer did…things purposefully. Such as lifting his shirt slightly to wipe his face when he got out of the shower, turning his neck just barely so that your gaze would catch on the exposed collarbone. You swore up and down that these were being done on purpose just to make you squirm because–because–well you didn’t really know why Spencer was doing all that. 

But you knew it was for you, that was about the only thing you knew to be fact. Your nose scrunched as you recalled the looks he’d given you after every purposeful act–in such a way that it seemed like he wanted to see your reaction–as if he gets off on it.

The jet ride home was no exception to Spencer’s antics, but by this time you had decided for yourself you’d had enough of falling victim to him. You concluded that there could only be one reason Spencer was acting the way he was: because he was attracted to you. You didn’t know why–hell you couldn’t even explain why you were attracted to him in that way–but it piqued your curiosity. If he had the ability to get you to react in such distinct and significant ways, what power did you have over him? That was the dispute you set out to ascertain.

At first, it was harmless, quiet jokes told only loud enough for the two of you to hear. When the jet landed again, you ran a hand through your hair and threw your head back, as if trying to stretch. Your eyes popped open just a few minutes later to find Spencer’s eyes eating up everything from your neck to your collarbone. When he met your eyes, they weren’t amused but rather accusing. He had fallen into your trap and he had just now realised. Some genius, you found yourself regarding him with an internal snort.

“We get the day off tomorrow, right?” Emily’s tone was mirthful, full of sarcasm.

“Yeah, right.” Morgan groaned.

Hotch grimaced, “See you all tomorrow.”

“At nine?” Rossi sounded hopeful.

Your boss sighed, eyes: rolling, but a smile etching itself onto his face, “At nine.”

Small victories, a sigh escaped you under your breath, small victories.

You headed for your car, rummaging through your purse for your keys. A presence loomed over you and you froze, Spencer’s hand lightly pressed against your back as he leaned over you and tilted his head downward, “See you tomorrow —…”

Your breath caught and you tried to swallow, but your mouth was dry. Was this real? Was this not the nerdy little geek you were told you’d be working with? The guy who kept getting kidnapped? The one who could barely hold a gun four years into working in the BAU?

He walked away, down the row of cars, looking for the one he owned.

Despite yourself, your lips curled into a sinful grin. You already loved this game. 

The next morning, you caught Spencer stepping into the elevator, “hold the door!” You threw your hand out, as you rushed your footsteps.

The elevator wasn’t crowded, but there were five others you did not know, and they were all men, so naturally you moved closer to Spencer. It wasn’t on purpose, but nor was it an accident, more of an instinct. His presence gave you peace of mind as you calmed yourself down.

“Rough morning?” He asked, appearing nonchalant.

You looked up at him as he took a sip of his coffee. The elevator came to a halt and two people shuffled into the elevator after three others left. Your floor was approaching and you felt easier–especially with the extra space–but when you stepped away, a hand caught your waist.

You followed the arm all the way to Spencer’s gaze, the expression there looked to be a mix of contemplation and confusion. His hand dropped when the elevator dinged and the doors opened. He was the first to step out of the elevator, you were the fourth.

Penelope found you on her way to the roundtable, stating the others were already there. You followed her and took the only available seat in between Morgan and JJ. Spencer sat right across from you, between Emily and Rossi. When you caught his eyes, his head tilted slightly and a small smirk danced across his lips in the bright light. 

Your eyes rolled and you shifted one leg over the other under the table. 

Penelope read off the new case and while many questions were thrown out, you and Spencer kept playing the game of ‘who could make who more embarrassed’; though you both were incredibly refined at your job and were able to keep it from the insight of the others.

Hotch stood and said, “jet’s up in 15,” before rushing out of the room.

You stood as well, needing to collect all the things you might have left on your desk and turn in your report to Hotch you forgot. Rossi had followed your boss–it was probably something about Strauss, it always was whenever they acted like that. Emily, Morgan, and Penelope were having a conversation while JJ said something to Spencer and began a small exchanges. Your eyes were laser focused on her, you felt a sort of conviction fall over you. You didn’t think you were jealous, no–it was anything like that because you knew Spencer was only trying to get under your skin. Instead, you felt a sense of thrill and couldn’t help the smirk that edged its way onto your face as you floated right past them without batting an eye.

You heard his chair squeak as he leaned back, eyes trailing your figure as you exited the roundtable room. Upon approaching your desk you smacked your hands to your cheeks, helping them cool off while ignoring the chatter of the office. You searched your bag a bit until you found the documents you had been looking for.

You froze, you could feel his stare, but when you glanced around, you couldn’t find him anywhere. Your eyes narrowed as you sifted through each and every face, there–in the breakroom behind the glass… Spencer had one hand in his pocket and one holding a mug of coffee, his eyes anything but innocent. He mouthed something, but only when you noted the absense of your other team members were you able to put together his words. We’re leaving.

You met each other in the stairwell of the rooftop, you ignored the simmering in your chest as he veered over you and pushed open the door. He smelled good– god he smelled good. You forced yourself not the make it obvious you were trying to drink in and savor his scent when he let out a shuddering breath. Your eyes popped open–which is when you realized you had shut them. What is wrong with me? You allowed your eyes to track up his face, starting from his shoulders.

He was so close you could see him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing as he stared you donw, mouth slightly ajar. His eyes were hazy and he wasn’t staring at you, but your throat. It was only for a few seconds, but it felt like hours. When he found your gaze again his jaw yet and he pulled himself together. His eyes were no longer dangerous, but they still set some kind of fear in you.

“We should go,” you murmured.

He didn’t respond until you began moving. He called your name only once, but when you looked back, a grin–small, but fucking there–destroyed his firm calmness from only moments ago, and replaced it with egotistical destruction.

There were so much said in that single expression and yet nothing at all that would have been picked up by a team of profilers, let alone a stranger–it was as if this look was designed specifically for you–designed just to become your undoing. You fucking hated Spencer Reid and his big ass ego, but you wanted him–by all hell you wanted him.

Though you’d soon find that wanting him was nothing compared to needing him.

The rest of the case came and went in a similar manner you had dreamt about the night before. You and Spencer shared lingering looks, murmured things in front of the team that, though made sense in the moment, his the underlying meaning only the two of you could pick up. You honestly found it surprising no one had caught on to what was transpiring between you and Spencer, although to be perfectly honest, you, yourself, had no idea what was transpiring between you and Spencer.

You didn’t seek each other out, but whenever you were together–alone or with others–there was this spark of craving you couldn’t quite explain out loud, and even when you thought about it, you didn’t know the right term for it other than a game. What else could it be? You couldn’t relly put togehter the events that had started it, but you knew it began sometimes on the 3-day case–maybe even that first night in the hotel. A shiver crawled up your spine, you watched Spencer out of the corner of your eye, reading. He could normally be found in the front of the jet, lying down and napping or reading.

When you were alone, all your thoughts revolved if not around the case at hand, Spencer. You didn’t want to compare it to an obsession, because what it really was was a little less of that and a little more of a desire to learn him. His body, his mind, his cravings and and fantasies. It was everything you had never felt and it scared you. There was no logical explanation to Spencer being the onset to these emotions, and yet if you’d never met Spencer, who was to say these feelings would have ever been unleashed?

It was late, but you were glad you were going to get to sleep in your bed two nights in a row. It felt like a blessing from the heavens, but then your realzied you’d have to see Spencer again tomorrow and go through the fervency all over again. Now, it felt more like irony.

Weeks of the same longing, the same wandering eyes, the same muttered whispers, the same damn game. Though you’d gotten used to your little gambit of brash actions, you weren’t tired in the least. It was–as sad as you had to admit–the most fun you’d ever had with a person.

It was fun until it became real. The team hadn’t caught on, but that was particularly due to the fact your efforts always occurred out of pure chance. You never made it obvious and he was especially good at hiding his feats, it seemed to you he was consistently able to accomplish his devious acts right under the nose of his superiors. 

You reasoned that it was perhaps because none of them would ever suspect him of any of the things he was taking up in his pastime. Not even yourself would have guessed he was like this if he hadn’t shown you, or if you hadn’t noticed the way his eyes always seemed to look the opposite of whatever his face was saying in the moment.

Despite all of this, however, you hadn’t touched–at all, no brush of the hands, no accidental shoulder bumping, nor anything on purpose; not since he’d grabbed your waist in the elevator that first day back at Quantico. The contemplation in his eyes then occurred to you at night. You tried to make out what it meant–to him at least, but never could. It was one of those thoughts that kept you up, staring at the ceiling, hoping exhaustion would so its job and prevent the misery that inveitable came without it.

Tonight, though, you didn’t know how you were going to fare against pretending to be with him. It was for the case–you kept reminding yourself as you changed into a little black dress. Everyone looked good in black, it was a color that also hid a person well enough in a club–perfect for an undercover agent.

The decision to have you go in with Spencer instead of JJ was his idea. Of course it was his. He’d proposed the switchup at the roundtable meeting that morning–and as soon as he had, you’d jolted in your seat. He’d continued talking, glancing at you now and then as if he’d actually believed the difference between you and JJ would matter.

Regardless, because you were closer in age–by only a few years, you’d wanted to remind everyone–it’d be more believable that you were together, he’d also dropped an “it’d be more comfortable that way”, which swayed Morgan and Emily, JJ kept silent during the entire tirade–though not angry, was incredibly, almost blatantly long. 

You couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but at the time you weren’t too much focussed on her, the looming fact that you’d have to touch him in ways you’d only thought about touching him to do your job? It terrified you. Not because you were afraid of acting out your fantasy–but because you weren’t sure if you could control yourself enoug to where it was just acting.

You slipped the dainty dress on and hid your gun and badge in your boots. You let your natural hair fall loose, but kept a hair tie on your wrist. Stepping out of the only bathroom in the police station you were currently residing in, holding your work clothes against your chest , you noted the imminent stares. Instinctively using your clothing to cover your thighs as you met the others in the front. Spencer kept his eyes in check–smart boy, you bit back a smirk–but the rest of the team complimented you, Hotch and Rossi having almost completely different ways of doing so, you snorted at the contrast. 

Spencer took the driver seat of a vehicle you were borrowing, the dark of a December night threatening to conceal the thing entirely. You gazed out the window, “they’re following us right?”

“Everyone will be outside and prepared.”

“I can’t believe this,” you sighed, throwing your head back.

“The fact that we’re going undercover or the fact that you have to wear that piece of cloth?” Spencer asked, though his manner was light, there was a rough undertone that heated your insides.

“I was wondering when you were going to bring it up,” you sighed carelessly, waving a hand, “I just thought you hadn’t noticed.”

“Everyone noticed.” The mask of his facade was slowly slipping away, revealing a much colder side to Spencer–one you had the pleasure of seeing more and more of the past three weeks than in all of the six months you’d been in the BAU.

“Yeah,” you smooth down the dress, “I wouldn’t normally wear this type of thing out unless I was looking to bring someone home.”

“Oh really?” You could practically hear his eyebrows raise. “You never wear things like that when we go out for drinks.”

“Precisely my point,” you quipped.

Spencer pulled into the club’s parkinglot. It took you less than five minutes to get inside. At first, you were sitting at the bar, but then, Spencer, with the earpiece attached to him, relayed the message from Hotch. Penelope had given everyone access to the inside of the club, they were watching you two through the cameras. You forced yourself not to glance at them–even the tiniest slipup could reveal you to the unsub, and you wanted them to target, not avoid you.

“They want us to dance.” Spencer sighed loud enough to where you could hear it over the noise.

“Right,” you rolled your eyes, because that’s exactly how the unsubs target their victims–didn’t we go over this in the profile? Your smile tightened as you spun and headed for the floor, crowded by so many–oh that’s not hygienic.

“Yeah, okay, maybe we skip this part,” Spencer grimaced from his palace beside you.

“You think?” You raised an unimpressed brow at the blurred figures in front of you.

He murmured something Hotch and they went back and forth a little, though you couldn’t hear exactly what was said, Spencer’s face of triumph was all you needed to breathe a sigh of relief.

You found yourselves hiding in the corner at the back, there weren’t many people crowding around you which made you perfect for the unsubs, though the appearance of them at this club tonight was purely based on instinct, gut feelings, and careful, calculated guessing, there was still a chance they wouldn’t show themselves.

You didn’t mean for it to happen like this, you were doing everything in your power to stay composed and in control, but some part of you–the defiant, terrible side of you–wanted so badly to see his reaction when you touched him.

His frame leaned over you, holding you against the probably dirty wall, the sensual music that played a heavy beat around you felt like an instigator. Sweat slipped down his neck and it drew your attention, all of a sudden Spencer tensed, then he relaxed slightly but it felt forced, “They have eyes on the unsubs.”

“How many,” You compelled your eyes to stay on his though they wanted to scour the area around you and find just exactly who he was talking about–which would be idiotic, of course.

“That’s right,” he swallowed–ignoring your question, your eyes caught his throat bobbing–he noticed. “Keep your eyes on me,” you nodded at his words, feeling your throat drying as you neglected the need to trace his collarbone with both your fingers and gaze.

His hair was a mess of damp curls and his face was barely visible in the bright, flashing lights, but you had a job to do–and yet here you were, gripping the collar of his shirt, brushing back the hair that fell in his face as he looked at you with those eyes.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he said, “but if you aren’t up for this just tell me now.” His voice lilted at a challenge, but you heard the mumble ordered in the earpiece–by hell he could yank you hair almost completely out and you wouldn’t give a damn.

You held his regard with one of your own, eyes narrowed, “Just do it.”

And he did. But he also didn’t. His smirk narrowed ere leaning in. He gripped your face with an elephants strength and a swan’s gracefulness. You closed your eyes, waiting for his lips, but he swerved at the last moment and kissed the skin below your ear. He trailed a few kisses down your neck but stayed close to your hearing range, evidently, he was teasing–you wanted to scoff but couldn’t find it in you to make him stop.

“How’s this?” He murmured.

“You’re an ass,” you replied huffed, trying to mask a groan.

He grinned against your neck, “I know.”

The club case was the reason you and Spencer now ensured you were always together. From then on, you seemed to not want to be anywhere else the other wasn’t–or rather, you felt more comfortable with each other and couldn’t bring yourselves to leave the other alone.

Not that either of you minded and you still did your jobs perfectly fine–though there was more intensity when the other was in any sort of danger, it only propelled the one that wasn’t to learn how to do their job quicker. It was both a fast track to understanding how to adapt to constant situations that warped your idea of what was really going on. When he got something wrong–which was rare but not absolute. After about a month of this, you were starting to question what you were to him–what he was to you.

Though you still weren’t sure how to properly ask that question. You hadn’t slept together, though you thought about it all the time you weren’t at work…and perhaps sometimes when you were… Those thoughts slipped through on occasion–but it wasn't anything that hadn’t been transpiring before the club case.

It was as if the ‘who can make the other person more embarrassed’ game had been turned into the ‘what can I do to make you squirm this time’ game. Like the rules of the game had somehow intensified and touching was now allowed and despite all of the things that ensued upon the new rule instatement, you still had not taken it further than work.

It kept you up most nights, and you wondered when this cycle of what are we would end–if it would take one of you getting into a relationship–though you were sure Spencer didn’t have to worry about you in that department–and although you hated it, the fact was that Spencer was the only one you could think about. It was as if the man had ruined sex for you altogether. 

You fucking hated Spencer Reid–and that fucking chifforobe. 

Your heart dropped in your chest. You refused to give Spencer the satisfaction of looking over at him–though he seemed just as surprised as you. At this point anything could happen–and by anything you mean anything. Because anything would be better than having to share a room with him again. You were so tired you could barely recall what that even meant.

But then again, a small part of you whispered, this could be your chance. My chance? You scoffed, my chance at what? Making a fool of myself? Because confronting him means admitting I can’t stop–thinking about him. And that, to you, would feel like admitting defeat. It’d feel like losing the game–oh and you really felt like you were winning! Winning at what again? God, you needed sleep.

“Are you planning on getting in the shower first?,” he asked as soon as you were behind the door, away from prying ears and nosy coworkers.

You let out a heavy sigh and held your arms up to stretch, yawning–“honestly, I might just head to bed, it’s late and I could really use the sleep.”

“Have you not been able to sleep at night?” He set his things on the bed near the window as you claimed the one near the door.

“You have no idea,” you murmured, although a bit more to yourself than to him.

“Do you know why?” He seemed genuinely curious–but as you faced him, all you could think was, if only you knew.

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’ and grimaced as you laid your back against the bed, arms spread like a starfish, your duffle bag discarded near your feet at the end of the bed.

You felt Spencer watching you, but for the first time in a while, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You quite literally had been running on nothing but coffee for the past day and a half–and you were in desperate need of some sleep–especially if you wanted to be at your best tomorrow.

“Here,” you hadn't heard Spencer approach you–you blamed his Hotch training. You cracked open an eye as he pushed you on your side. Your back burned at where he’d touched you, but it was quickly overshadowed when you heard him yank the bedspread down as hard as he could. “Come, on,” he huffed, pulling your shoes off and setting them beside your bag.

You forced yourself under the cover and snuggled, “the light?” you grumbled.

“First, your blazer,” he held out a hand. You whined but made quick work of ridding yourself of the fabric. “You sure you don’t want to change into something more comfortable–”

“Spencer.” You warned.

“Yeah, I hear you,” he reached for the lamp atop the bedside table–smaller than the one from the last hotel room you’d shared–the chifforobe near the window was smaller as well. He hummed as the thoughts faded in and passed through his mind.

Spencer found himself forgetting everything else as he sat in the bed opposite yours and leaned his arms on his thighs, watching you. A few minutes passed, but only when a knock sounded on the door did he realize he maybe shouldn’t be watching his coworker like a creep. Though, you weren’t really a coworker, were you?

Well–he meant you were–but you were also more than that, though he didn’t exactly know if your relationship had a name, he knew that it entailed things normal coworkers did not have. He knew what he wanted–but to outright say it felt like disrupting the sort of balance you’d gotten accustomed to–as if going out and actually attempting to take what he wanted would break the trance that had set over the two of you–it’d be throwing all the rule’s to the game away, and then what did either of you have left? Rules were important, if not necessary. He couldn’t chance it–not yet at least.

“Hey, oh,” Morgan tried looking around the room.

Spencer felt his eyes roll as he stepped into the hall and shut the door slightly behind him, careful not to shut it completely as he didn’t have the key card and he didn’t want to wake you up. “Yes?”

Morgan nodded behind him, “she’s asleep?”

“She’s really tired,” Spencer affirmed.

“Right,” his eyes fell back on Spencer, and for a second, he thought Morgan might be analyzing his form.

“Was there something you needed?” Spencer pressed, eager to head back into the room, unpack his suitcase, and head to bed himself.

“Ah, no, we were just going to order food–but I guess you don’t want anything either?”

“Uh, no, but thanks for asking.”

“Uh-huh,” Morgan once again glanced behind Spencer, whose irritation at the suspicion was steadily increasing.

“She’d not dead,” Spencer stated, though he meant it as a joke it came out rather harsh.

“Alright, pretty boy, I didn’t say she was.” Morgan chuckled, patting Spencer on the shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

Spencer made quick work of unloading his things, he thought about getting in the shower but feared it’d wake you. Instead, he debated on whether or not he should leave your things in you bag or do you a favor and put them away. He didn’t want you to consider him a snoop, especially with how you’d been looking at each other the past few weeks–and that undercover case.

His heartbeat picked up, and he couldn't stop thinking about it–it was the thing he fell asleep to at night; it was gradually eating away at him, and he couldn’t deny the way his body tensed whenever he recalled the image of you under the flashing array of lights–how you’d looked so…submissive.

He hastily shoved that thought to the furthest corner he could find in his mind and headed for your bag. He didn’t want to be brash with the way he put your clothing away, but he also didn’t you to wake up while he was holding your underwear–then he’d truly feel like a creep. 

He was halfway done when you mumbled something; he froze and he could feel the thump of his heart in his chest. Though it was still winter, he’d begun to sweat and had set his glasses aside because they kept sliding off the bridge of his nose. He’d been wearing them more often than not for the past few months as he’d found them to be a particular fascination of yours. It was now that he squinted and moved his hand around for them.

His footsteps carried him quietly across the room, near your bedside. “—?” He whispered and when you failed to respond, lifted a tentative hand to your cheek–though just before the pads of his fingertips met your skin, you mumbled something again–and this time, he could hear it. He fisted his hand and used the bedside table to hold himself up, and although he couldn’t see them, he knew his hands were turning white with how hard he was squeezing them.

Again. He wanted to hear it again–his prayers were answered as you shifted slightly, tugging the cover up to your neck. Skimming down your person, he bit his fist and tried to calm himself down. Again. He needed to sit down, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He felt it twitch–he needed to walk away right now. And he did, but instead of picking up where he’d left off with your clothing, he headed for the bathroom, not bothering to turn the light on as he shut himself in complete darkness.

Images of you, your stolen glances, and desperate touches filled his mind. He was particularly focused on the tired way you slurred his name in your sleep. He wondered what kind of dreams you were having, what you were picturing as you said his name like that. He muffled his groans as he stroked himself, using his fist to bite back anything that might escape the small confines of the washroom. His thoughts of you were possibly the only thing he allowed himself to go to extensive lengths with. His mouth watered at the mere concept of you and your twisting legs. He’d done this a considerable amount of times before–but this was the first time you were so close– a hairsbreadth away.

It felt both right and wrong, and yet the lines began fading into oblivion as he came closer to climax.

He whimpered into his hand just as he came. It was odd, he didn’t too much feel like a creep after he cleaned himself up, but upon washing his hands profusely and returning to put your garments away, he was once more–afraid of what you’d think if you caught him messing with your things.

Although a part of him felt it might have been because he wanted you to find him in that state, he tried rationalizing–but the more he thought about it–even as he now rested his head against a pillow–the more he found that ‘might’ to be absolute truth. 

You woke up to the smell of coffee. You stretched, yawned, and pried your eyes open. Rolling onto your side, you found Spencer devouring a book, his glasses at the tip of his nose. You smiled, thinking you were dreaming–but then his eyes shifted over to yours and your smile fell, you quickly understood this Spencer was real–oh no–your cheeks burned from last night's delusions. “Good morning,” he smiled. You groaned and sat up, your hands finding your cheeks, “what time is it?”

“It’s around six, you have,” he checked his watch, “an hour and thirty minutes, Hotch wants us ready before eight.”

You huffed and threw yourself back against the pillows. New Years had come and gone and you hadn't even celebrated...though, your mind with all the ways you could make up for it–you shook the thoughts away, now was not the time.

Five minutes later you were searching for your clothing, but your bag was practically empty, “did you move my things?”

Spencer choked on his coffee, “ah–yeah,” he motioned toward the chifforobe. You glared at it as he said, “It’s small, so some of our things are mixed, but you should be able to find whatever you’re looking for easily.”

“Thank you” You appreciated his simple act of affection, it made your chest ache.

“Yeah, sure.” Despite going back to reading his book, Spencer snuck small glimpses of you from the corners of his eyes.

As the hot water ran down your back, you found yourself thinking of Spencer, just a few feet away, you were practically naked and he could walk in at any moment, you felt an ache between your thighs, but you shrugged it off–or at least you tried to.

You hadn’t had sex since that incident with Spencer a few weeks ago. You tried–by all God did you try–but you just couldn’t It led to a few arguments with the guys you’d taken home–and your credit, you did feel just a little bad. All the same, you simply couldn’t seem to get him out of your mind. It was like he was mocking or watching you every time you attempted it–he was that tiny, little voice in the back of your head feigning disappointment, saying you wouldn’t purge the sexual frustration unless it were him. Though you were a saint at keeping it hidden, your agitation only built.

The day was more or less: “Spencer, what do you see?” from Hotch and “—, if you were the unsub…” from Morgan. Penelope was on call a few times and you were so close, but it had grown late and you needed sufficient unwinding. After a group dinner in the hotel lobby that primarily consisted of takeout and the small meal provided by the hotel staff, you headed up to your room. Spencer stayed to grab one last cup of coffee before the staff closed the mailroom for good. Thus, with your alone time, you decided to wash off all the griminess of the day.

You were drying yourself with a towel when you heard him enter, “I’m almost done,” you shouted, “I think there’s still some hot water left.”

His lack of response piqued your curiosity. You threw your clothing on once you were mostly just damp and yanked the door open. You were pulling your hair back into a ponytail when he looked up. He’d just set his cup of coffee on the table near the lamp, which now that you noticed, was the only light that lit up the room, he had turned the big llight off.

“You okay?” You rubbed your face, dropping your hands to your side right after, “did you hear me?”

“No, sorry,” he frowned, “I wasn’t paying attention.” He stood.

“Oh, I just said–if you wanted to get in, there’s still hot water left.” You thrust a your thumb behind you.

“Ah, thanks.” You nodded and pursed your lips. “So, what book were you reading this morning?” You took up the spot Spencer had just abandoned.

He turned and watched you–filling the area. He caught the way your legs pressed together as you crossed them to sit more comfortably against the pillows, attention to the book he’d been reading that morning.

“I’m going to get in the shower,” he cursed himself as he felt desire pool in his throat. He wondered what it’d be like to kiss you, to touch you–to taste you. His mouth watered at the prospect and he felt himself harden just like the night before. His shower was quick as the water had gotten cold and had quickly ruined his mood.

“You lied to be,” he glared at you from the threshold of the bathroom door.

You bit your lip, but still, a smile graced your mouth, “sorry, I thought it would last.” He shook his wet hair around around, mimicking the actions a puppy would.

“What?” His eyes widened slightly and his eyebrows raised, “what did you call me?”

A hand flew to your mouth, your own surprise showing, “I–” of bloody course, you said it out loud.

He stepped forward, dropping his towel on the bed, “say it again.” It was odd, the way he said it–like it was both a question and a demand–or rather, a demand he questioned your willingness to obey.

“…puppy?” you tried laughing it off, “Sorry, it just came out–I didn’t mean t–”

“Didn’t you, though?” Came a mirthful reply. Spencer stepped forward, towering over you as he leaned down, bringing his face near yours, one hand on the bed near your hips, the other on the bedside table. “Is that what you’ve thought of me this entire time?”

And what the hell were you supposed to say to that? Game on is what Spencer saw in your eyes as you set the book on the table, your hand purposely roaming over his as you pulled it back. “No,” you stated, a nonchalant expression crossing your features as your eyes turned away from his, the move calculated, “only sometimes.”

Spencer didn’t think the table would be able to withstand him much longer, but it did as he thought of ways he might proceed. Eventually, he let go and instead wrapped his firm fingers around your nape, forcing your attention to his. “And do you think that now?”

He watched a Chesire grin take its place upon your mouth. “If I said yes, would that anger you, Dr. Reid?” The mocking was unnecessary, but it sure as hell was a lot more fun than if you simply addressed him as ‘Spencer’ or ‘Reid’.

The parental-like tone you took up furthered his new-growing erection. His hair still dripped with water and as a water droplet streaked down his face, you lifted your hand to wipe it with your thumb. His hand let your your neck go to snatch your wrist–God you wanted him so badly. This witty banter–you were already starting to find–just wasn’t enough anymore.

Your eyes reapproached his, they seemed to meet with the same level of desire, completely forgetting that there was a serial killer on the loose, your eyes dipped to his lips only once before you leaned forward–but while you did he pushed you back, your back hitting the bedframe and just as you caught your breath, you found yourself being deprived of air once more.

Spencer was hungry, he tasted like coffee and something minty. Your hands tangled through his hair and while he suffocated you in the only way you’d ever want to be suffocated, you tugged. It barely stopped him the first time, but the second and third had his eyes rolling.

When they found you again, noting the playful glint in your eyes, he vowed he would go as far as you’d let him tonight–and perhaps the night after that, he hadn’t quite thought it through, and at this time, he neither had the strength nor the want to do so. 

He began tugging at your t-shirt, but you grabbed his hand, “ah-ah,” you clicked your tongue, “you have to earn that.” 

He paused and took a step back, watching you now, your knees digging into the softness of the mattress; your mouth darkened with the visceral kisses he’d forced on you. Your eyes sparked with something he knew he’d never be able to find in any other woman. His lips quirked, his eyes were hooded, and his voice thick when he asked, “What do I have to do?”

The need in his voice was enough to shed you of your clothing right then and there, but it seemed you had a lot more self-control than he did in the moment. You tugged your hair out of the loosened, droopy ponytail it had fallen into and brushed it back, smoothing it out to appear just how you wanted it to. You felt his eyes on you, patient, but every second he was, was a second his lust grew, and the moment you gave him the okay–well, he honestly couldn’t say just what he’d be capable of.

“You seem agitated, Spencer,” you pouted, shifting so that your legs fell in front of you over the edge of the bed. His eyes tracked your movements as he used your bed’s bedpost to steady himself, “just how many times have you pictured me like this?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” came his frivolity response. To be frank, he knew the exact answer to your question, but the first thing that flew into his head and out of his mouth was–to be sure–an edging reply. He watched how you interpreted it.

In a moment of unconsciousness, you glanced at the chifforobe across from you. Spencer caught that shit.

“Oh?” He raised a brow, finding the confidence to step forward.

“Don’t get any ideas, Reid.” You warned, but he could see the arguments going on between your eyes.

“No, see: I think it’s your idea.” He corrected, a deep, rumble of a laugh fell from his throat, “So, what exactly did you picture me doing with this thing.” He snorted and walked over to it, running a hand along the cupboard. You bit your lit, your dreams coming into clear view as if they were a film playing in front of you.

“Spencer,” you stood both embarrassed and a little annoyed. 

You marched over to it at placed a hand on his shoulder–but then you were against the doors of the small chifforobe and Spencer was whispering just above your ear, “Was this it? Your sick fantasies of me? Did they include me having you against a wardrobe?”

Your breath caught and you wanted to hide your face because there was no doubt he’d be able to see the truth without you having to voice any sort of answer–but the jerk had his hand cupped around your jaw, and his grip was unimaginably strong for–well, him.

He smiled and tilted his head–and God only knew what that did to your resolve. Your knees weakened and you found yourself whimpering. “So, I guess that’s a yes.” You found just enough strength to narrow your eyes and look somewhat pissed. He nodded, “the shirt,” he tugged at the bottom.

You bit back a repost as he dropped his hands and stepped away, though he kept his distance close enough to where you felt his presence even after you’d lifted your shirt and he was out of sight. His eyes didn’t leave yours, you admired his stoicism; you’d already proved you weren’t any match when your eyes traced every line anytime you saw a sliver of his stomach, hips, neck, or forearms–okay maybe you had a bit of an obsession, but could it honestly be considered that when the look he was giving you screamed ‘wolf in sheep's clothing’? 

“What other things have you thought up in that horny brain of yours, I wonder,” he spoke almost to himself, but his ever-focused gaze told you he was quite literally asking.

“That’s not how the game works,” a cheeky grin reformed your scowl.

“Right,” he paused, turning his eyes to the ceiling for effect, “remind me?”

Your eyes roved from one eye to the other, and back again, searching for any hint of hesitation, “this foreplay is kind of starting to get old.”

“Yes, I can agree–” you cut him off midsentence with a ravenous kiss. You could swear you bit him more than once, but he wasn’t complaining. Your head lulled to the side as he trailed kisses up and down your neck, finding a spot he particularly liked just below your ear.

Your hands twisted in his hair, yanking, tugging, and pulling–whatever got the most responses from him, you were doing. You threw his shirt to the side and pushed him toward the bed. He braced himself using his arms, though they were swiftly in motion again, wrapping around your waist as you stepped between his legs. “What do you want?” You asked, attempting to catch your breath.

He laughed, but when he realized you were serious he almost snorted, “What do I–what do I want?”

“It’s a simple question,” you shrugged, “what do you want from me?”

Now–now his eyes dipped, “I want a lot of things.”

You bit back another grin. Somehow in the few minutes, you’d been running around the room talking about how horny you both were, you’d ended up on the bed, your head behind a pillow. Spencer was between your legs, mouth-watering. He’s waited so long, he honestly didn’t think this foretold moment would ever actually occur, but God, was he glad he’d been wrong. Heavy, sinful eyes skimmed your lower body as he fumbled with the top of your shorts. His hands were warm despite the dreary weather outside, likely due to his recent shower. They pressed into your thighs as he brought his face just above your lower stomach, his name fell from your mouth in a whine, leading him to push aside the cover of your shorts. He drug a few fingers over your center.

Your moans sliced through the rough tension that had fallen over the hotel room. “What?” His snort was low and sloppy, “Oh, is–,” one of his fingers gently slid over you and your eyes shut, “–is this what you want?” His eyes traced the arch of your neck that was most exposed, the one lined with the red marks he’d left. The twitching beneath his sweatpants pulled a groan from his lips.

He swirled his finger around, feeling your wetness was more than inviting. “Spencer,” you cried, eyes flying open at the loss of contact. 

“Be still,” he said, his voice wavering as he tugged everything off and discarded them on the floor. You watched him watch you–it wasn’t until you noted the way his eyes narrowed that you understood he was outlining your form–so that he could vividly paint it in his mind for a later purpose.

“I asked first,” you frowned up at him.

“You’re right,” he sighed, “here: let me show you what I want.”

Your breath caught as he lowered himself, his face coming right up to you, and with the way he was drooling at the sight, you could tell he’d been thinking about this for a while–it made you wonder if his desire had begun a lot sooner than yours had.

His mouth was warm, his tongue stroked up and down as far as they could go, and even when you thought he’d reached that point, he proved you wrong. Your hands knotted in his hair as you guided his head. His mouth was warm as he lapped up everything. You tried keeping your moan to a minimum, but when he stopped, your eyes popped open–had you done something wrong? But no, he was looking up at you with those desperate, puppy-like eyes, “please,” his whisper was grating, “I want to hear you.”

You swallowed, the ache building in you, “if that’s what you want,” you nodded.

And a few moments later, you were calling out his name in a way you’d never called anyone name. This was so new, you’d never had a guy worship you like this and you couldn’t fathom the fact that Spencer wanted to do it for your pleasure as well as his own.

You tried to hold it in, but your body had been desolate of attention for so long that you just couldn’t anymore. You could hear him slurp, and God did it do something to your brain chemistry– He considered you with clouded eyes. “Are you okay?” He frowned, pushing his body over yours.

Without giving him time to settle, you yanked his jaw toward your face with firm hands, he tasted like you and smelled of his shampoo–and yet, there was still the unknown Spencer scent that seemed only his skin could produce. You lined his jaw with kisses, your heart pounding in your chest with every new groan that escaped him.

My turn,” you huffed, definitely the cause of the lopsided grin that spread across his mouth. Though his hair was a mousy brown, in the dim yellow lamplight, it was as dark as the wood that made up the vintage furniture. It looked windswept or like he had just woken up–and perhaps he had. It was no longer a deniable fact that he’d never feel this good with anyone else, and he didn’t know how long this relationship with you would last, so he would milk everything he could out of it–and in exchange, surrender everything he had of himself.

It was only a few seconds later that you had him on his back, hands roving up and down his chest. You rubbed yourself against him, eliciting sweet sounds from his throat and friction from where you were just barely connected. You made sure to hold his gaze as you slid onto him. His jaw tightened and you could feel relief leave him as his chest fell. You tightened around him, trying to get used to him, you had to pause for a second–you couldn’t believe you were doing this–and in a moment of incompetence, you laughed.

“Sorry,” you lowered your chest onto his and began chuckling into his neck, “it’s just–what would the other think if they knew?”

Spencer pushed your shoulder away and held you above him, “I guess it’s a good thing they don’t, right?”

You nodded, but a small part of you wondered about what that meant for the after. Spencer groaned as you sat back up, you started slowly, hissing as you let him fill you. Spencer gave out his fair share of whimpers, but you wanted more, you wanted to make him cry.

You gripped his hair with one hand and the pillow beside him with another, you rolled your hips and wiggled every time you sat back down. Squeezing your thighs seemed to make him shudder the most, and when you added sucking to the mix, you knew you had him. 

“There it is,” your grin was devilish as you swiped at his cheek. He opened his eyes just in time to see you licking his tears off your thumb.

“I might ask what we are now,” you huffed a laugh as Spencer shut the bathroom door. He had been a complete gentleman about everything, cleaning you, massaging your shoulders. You’d never had such an experience, you’d never thought there could be more to having sex if you only had the right partner; now that you did, there was…but you were unsure about yourself.

You found your mind questioning all you knew about Spencer and what this all meant to you. You had asked him what he wanted from you, but did you even know what you wanted from him? Before, the question might have thrown you off–though Spencer had asked it, you weren’t taking him all too seriously. Now that you had more time to contemplate your roving thoughts, you knew the answer as if it had been written in your DNA.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed as he sat beside you, you were facing the window and the chifforobe.

“Well, what else would we be?” He paused, almost hesitatingly. You jerked your head toward his, eyes searching, and as the seconds of silence ticked by, he seemed to fade more and more into himself. When he turned his head and averted his eyes, saying, “I mean–if that’s not what you want–” you cut him off.

“No, I just–” you stopped yourself, unsure of how to explain the complications running through your mind, “I’m just not exactly sure what that means…”

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. You opened your mouth to clarify–probably more than necessary–but your words caught in your throat as Spencer stood and lowered to his knees in front of you. He was between your thighs, but there was nothing sexual about it–if anything it felt like the complete opposite kind of intimacy you had grown accustomed to with him.

His hands reached for yours, pulling them into your lap. He looked up at you with possibly the one look Spencer Reid had never given anyone. His eyes couldn’t decide which one of yours to focus on for the longest time, but when he did, his tone was guttural and almost choking, trusting. 

“The more time I spend with you, the more I feel I’ve always known you. These past few weeks–they weren’t the beginning for me.” Your mouth suddenly went dry, though you still tried to swallow. “I–I honestly don’t know when it started, but the more I felt drawn to you, the more I forced myself away. It–I don’t–I didn’t think I deserved to feel that way–I guess…”

You waited a few moments to ensure he was finished, your mind ran to look for the best possible response–but given the one-in-a-million situation you were in, your mind went blank. Instead, you rambled the first words that rolled into your mind just as you whispered the last, “I want you in every way, Spencer. It’s like–like you’ve bewitched me–”

“...body and soul,” he finished, “it’s…Jane Austen–sorry.” He cringed.

You threw your head back and laughed, then huffed, wiping a few tears from your eyes, “No, oh, no don’t worry. See this is why I love you,” Your heart came to an abrupt halt, and you felt as if you were dead, “no–I mean, I don’t–I mean, I–well, I do, but I mean–”

“It’s okay,” you followed his face as he stood and leaned down, his palm brushing across your face as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and leaned forward, “It’s okay, know what you meant,” the end of his sentence was muffled by another kiss.

“So, do you think they’ve caught on yet?” JJ asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Uhh, I’d say probably not.” Emily nodded.

“Would you like the share with the class?” Morgan raised a brow.

“Oh, I know this one,” Penelope hand shot up, her jewelry clinking against one another, “because — and Reid still think we don’t know.”

“I mean how could we not, though?” JJ huffed a laugh, setting her mug on the table in front of her.

“Know what?” Rossi smacked his lips, startling the group of four.

“Know…the complexities of…nail polish?” Penelope tried and failed to save the group.

All four members winced as Hotch appeared seemingly out of thin air and stated, “they think we don’t know about Spencer and —.” “What?” Rossi shook his head, following Hotch, “how could we not know? They’re so obvious.”

a/n: sorry for the wait, but i do proofread my fics because i just can't stand things not being as good as they could be–i'm a bit of a perfectionist lol irregardless, happy late new year !!

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

[ask-me-later23]

Can you write a little blurb about reader having a sleepy cuddly afternoon with Spencer?

Soft rays of light drifted through the curtains and across your face, a gentle reminder from the sun of its limited time with you. As much as you wanted to continue your adventures within your dreamscape, you were quickly stolen away, back to the real world. Back to the too small couch currently hosting you and your too tall boyfriend, Spencer. 

Afternoons like this were rare with him, he was always on call and even when he was home you both were typically too busy to spend an afternoon doing nothing. You both got the afternoon off and while you had said it would be just a few minutes of rest, those few minutes turned into a few hours, which had developed into the entire day.

Spencer was still asleep, you try not to move too much and wake him. His insomnia refuses to let him sleep for more than a few hours, so you know he needs what rest he can get.

This was also your favorite time to look at him, when he had his guard down and looked the most at peace. The beams that drew you from sleep now dance across his curls, making them shine a golden color that reminds you of honey. Freckles are sprinkled across his skin. You remember how you used to make a game of kissing each of them when you first got together. The memories bring a soft smile to your face as you listen to his snores. 

As if realizing he’s being watched, Spencer finally stirs. His eyes flitter open, revealing the rich, brown color that always reminded you of dark, vintage books. The corner of his lips tilt up into a smile and he pulls you in tighter. 

“Good afternoon sleepy,” you mumble as you nuzzle into his neck.

He plants a soft kiss onto your forehead. “Sleep well?”

“As well as I can having to listen to your loud ass snoring,” you tease, sitting up to check the time on your phone. 

Spencer rolls his eyes and rests his head back against the arm of the couch, stretching his arm across his face to cover the light. “45% of adult males snore on a regular basis, and it only gets worse with age. You should really get used to it.”

“Guess I’ll just have to go find somewhere else to sleep then.” You act like you’re going to stand up, only to have Spencer jump up from his resting position and drag you back down with him, his grasp unusually strong for a man of his stature. 

“Not gonna happen.” His grip holds firm as you attempt to wiggle away, giggling.

“We really should get up and be productive,” you murmur into his chest where he currently has your face stuck.

“Productivity is for tomorrow, today is for sleeping and comfort.”

While your mind tells you that his logic is faulty, you can’t ignore how his sweater smells strongly of books and laundry detergent, or how comforting that smell is. You also cannot ignore the circles he is currently rubbing on your back, just underneath your own sweater. So, instead of protesting, you nestle in closer and shut your eyes once more.

“Sleep it is.”

You both drift off to sleep again, locked in each other’s arms and isolated from the outside world. When you inevitably wake again and hear Spencer’s soft snores, all you can do is smile.

[blackdollette]

₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ "𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢'𝐦 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫." | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bau!unsub!female!reader x dom!spencer

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 521

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: smut with a little plot, praise, dominant spencer, he get's a little forceful

“is this what psychotic girls like you fantasize about..? huh..?”

spencer’s chest pressed against your back, your saliva coating his fingers as he curled them against your tongue. how ironic was it that he was fucking the criminal that had cost him hours of sleep right on his personal desk?

you were what the BAU ranked a “stalker” class unsub. an erotomanic individual who had convinced themself that someone completely out of their grasp was head over heels for them. not particularly dangerous, but more than desperate to get a taste of what you had been longing for for countless years.

you had watched him in action for as long as you had served the fbi. every worthless factoid and obsolete piece of information he spat out tattooed itself in your brain, making you more whipped for him with each passing day. and by the time you got caught for your criminalistic tendencies, you wanted nothing more than to have his body against yours.

earlier in the day, he had asked you to stay late at the office with him, said it was private stuff that he wanted to discuss with you. but surely, the BAU’s boy genius had used his skills to see through your semi-flawless facade. and now he was dealing with you the only way he knew how.

and you had gotten exactly what you wanted, but at what cost? 

spencer’s cock slipped out of your hole, the tip swollen and red with anger as he teased your puffy entrance with it. he reentered with a deep groan, your pussy making an audible squelch sound as you toyed with your clit.

“i-i’ve always noticed you…” he started, “...giving me those eyes of yours during conferences… trying to get me alone at any possible chance…”

your face pressed into a pile of paperwork, mewls and moans and little sobs slipping from your parted lips. a harsh slap landed on your ass, making you squeal.

“...and you really thought you’d get away with it, huh? or maybe you just wanted this outcome. smart girl…”

the rapid, almost painful rhythm of his thrusts adjusted to a softer pace, the brutal abuse on your cervix reaching a halt. you panted greedily, arching your back against him in an attempt to feel him stretch you out again. he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, drawing sloppy threads of saliva from your lips.

“i wonder how the team’s gonna feel about this. i’d be a real shame if they found out about this little game you’ve been playing…”

your blood ran cold. it hadn’t even occuured to you that you had gotten caught in this scheme of yours. and now spencer had the power to ruin your life right in his hands. you opened your mouth, starting to beg and plead for his forgiveness, but his lips found yours and shut you up immediately.

he moved himself against you, feeling the vibrations of your whimpers jittering through his veins. he pulled away, taking your pretty face into his firm grip and staring daggers at you.

“then i guess they’ll just never find out… ”

[amell333]

Incorrect Bau quotes

*Reader getting off a call.* : ugh i don't have the energy for this.

Reader: Spence, can I stay at yours tonight?

Spencer: yeah sure… why tho?

Reader: my dad just called and said his crazy sister is satying at mine because they gotta help grandpa move back to the farm soon.

Hotch: …

Rossi: …

Reader: …

Reader: ok what is it!?

Hotch: I didn’t give you a call.

Rossi: and I’m definitely not moving to a farm�� I’ve never even lived on a farm!

Reader: … haha good joke.

Them: …

Reader: … wait you’re serious!? Omg fine ‘sorry’ I meant my blood connected family members. Happy now?

Them: Much better thank you. It gets a little confusing sometimes.

Everyone+Reader: …wtf just happened  

[neetpubby]

little doodles lalala while i was drawing my stupid ass fan fell down and smacked me in the head LOL

credit to TonyPepperoni73 on twt for the postal 4 redraw!!

[reidlover101]

The men in question!!

[poorly-written-poetry]

Criminal minds moodboard

[currently-reading-a-book]

A Tale of Two Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The seemingly shy Dr. Spencer Reid is interrupting you at the library, but don't let his quiet demeanor fool you...

Genre: smut

Warning: crime scenes; talking about murder, heated kiss, made up facts (let me know if I forgot something)

Word 1118 Count: words

A/N: As always, any criticism is very welcome. Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. English is not my first language. Not proofread.

Anyway, enjoy :)

✧ 🎀 -------------------------------------------------------------- 🎀 ✧

The building was huge. The dull grey walls ran through the whole building, seeming to never stop. You could easily get lost in one of the many departments of the FBI. An outsider would declare this building old and labyrinthine. However, for you, it was home or the closest place to one. Of course, you only have limited access as you’re just a trainee. You could only get inside the school side of the building, but you only needed the library to feel safe. Every possible minute of your free time you spend there. Being surrounded by piles of thick complicated books, trying to study every field of knowledge that exists. 

The sternmost part of the library was your favorite. Nobody was there and you could enjoy your peaceful solitude. This was also the part where unsolved closed cases were located. Reading through them, trying to find a repeating pattern, and making an accurate profile. Hoping the police can then find a suspect that fits the criteria. With this method, you have quite a success and solved relatively a lot of cases. That is actually how you got into the special program of the FBI. It all started when you were solving a case of strange murders your local police couldn’t solve. It turned out the priest took justice a bit too personally. You analyzed the victimology of the murders and started to make a profile. The police just needed forensic evidence, which luckily was found quickly. 

As you were nearly done with your profile on a murder case, in deep focus, someone disturbed your beloved peace. 

“You know sitting on the ground could raise your potential of getting sick by over 18%.” A shy voice stated.

Letting out a breath, you snapped your head around just to see a guy with long blond curly hair. You lowered your glance a bit and saw his ID Card. Your eyes shot open. You're on your feet within a few seconds. “This can’t be true, can it?” you thought.

“You’re Dr. Spencer Reid!”, you said, a bit too enthusiastic.

He backed up a bit, startled by your elation. He hesitantly nods his head. Of course, you heard of him, like everybody did. Maybe you liked him a bit too much, like not everybody did. 

He worked at the Behavioral Analysis Unit (BAU) of the FBI and was also a professor at the academy. One of his most impressive traits was undoubtedly his intelligence. It was hard not to be impressed by the breadth and depth of his knowledge, which set him apart from others. You would often hear amazing stories about how his mind solved cases. He was incredibly skilled at what he did and a huge role model for many, also for you. Working with him was always a dream for many and again of course you dream about it too, maybe even more than others. “Suddenly, you remember your position. You’re a forensics student and he was an agent, even a doctor to begin with. Another point would be that you had a crush and didn’t want to scare him away.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was too excited,” you slowly admitted, locking down.

Embarrassment was written across your chubby face. He took a step closer, gaining confidence. He smelled incredible, masculine yet fresh and pine. Just like you imagined.

“I see you’re trying to solve the “Lucifer Case” and have you gotten any further with it?”, he asked, trying to break the awkwardness.

You look into his eyes, trying to read him. Confused why he would show any interest in you, you try to find out any motive by analyzing his body language, but you can’t find anything too convincing. A moment later he was standing beside you, looking through the files spread around you on the floor.

“I was just about to finish my profile before you interrupted, Doctor Reid”, you told him quietly. Your shyness got the best of you. 

“Oh, please call me Spencer, Y/N”, he responded promptly, “and I apologize for interrupting you.”

Your cheeks heated up. Looking at him shocked, he looked back smiling. Too astounded to notice that he had called you by your name, which you hadn’t told him yet. 

“Wait, how do you know my name?”, she questioned him embarrassingly late.

His smile got bigger. Even though he was close before, he reduced their distance some more. Now your back was pressing against the bookshelf, unable to escape his intense gaze. 

“Your reputation precedes you, Miss Y/L/N.” he hushed seductively. 

You swallowed hard, staying quiet. “What could this mean?”, you thought to yourself. Everybody in the study facility always said Spencer Reid was a shy nerd, but now you’re standing in the library with him towering over you.

“I was very impressed by your profile of the Cryptic Puzzle Killings,” he whispered into your ear, “it was a genius profile.” His voice was sending shivers down your spine.

“Doctor Reid,” you stuttered, but then interrupted you.

“it’s Spencer, remember?” You couldn’t think straight anymore. “I was holding back too long, I couldn’t resist any longer Y/N, please forgive me for my bad-mannered roughness,” he muttered as his lip brushed faintly over your neck. This was the moment your breath stopped. Am I dreaming? 

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he muttered as he placed sloppy kisses around my neck.

“No, don’t stop.” That was the only thing you could say; his hands feeling too good on you. How he griped your hips pressing your hips more into his clothed erection. Feeling his touch like hot burns all over your body.

“I needed to use this opportunity,” he breathed .

As you wanted to reply to his confession, all of a sudden, another voice was calling for Spencer.  Your cheeks flushed even more at the thought of getting caught with Spencer at this situation.

“Spencer, I said I would talk to her!” A stern voice was speaking with such authority. 

Spencer quickly stepped back, taking all his warmth with him. You were looking around, overwhelmed with the situation, trying to figure out what was happening. Still feeling hot after your heated situation with Dr. Reid. Spencer was now around two meters apart from you, smiling at you shyly. His duality will kill you someday. 

“Hotch I am here,” he quickly yelled back.

Whispering a quick apology to you before the tall black-haired guy showed up before us. His firm eyes looked into yours. He was standing in front of you with a straight face. Frankly, he seemed like a strict guy who didn’t understand any jokes. You’re starting to get the feeling that you did something bad. Your mouth got dry.

“Are you Y/N/Y/L/N?” the man asked you.

You nodded your head skeptically. Unsure of what consequences it might bring.

“I am Aaron Hotch, Supervisory Special Agent and Unit Chief of the BAU,” he continued, “And I am asking you Y/N to join the team of the BAU.”

Your head began to spin. 

[reidsbookclub]

Foolish one – Spencer’s Version

To read y/n’s version click here

She was walking out of Hotch’s office the first time I saw her, my eyes directly focusing on her kind smile. What would it feel like to have a smile from her given to me? I was so focused on her I did not see Anderson walk in to the BAU kitchen, bumped into him and spilled my coffee on myself. This was not happening, clumsy Dr. Reid making an appearance today when she’s here why? Why must I always be the nerdy, lanky, clumsy genius that no girl ever likes.

As I scrambled to wipe the coffee from my shirt, I heard a soft chuckle from behind me. My heart rate picked up, and I knew who it was before even turning around.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was soft, laced with amusement but also genuine concern.

I turned, my face burning in embarrassment. Y/N stood there, her kind eyes sparkling in the fluorescent light of the BAU. Her hands were tucked into the sleeves of her sweater, giving her an endearing air of shyness, but her expression was open and warm.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine. Totally fine. Just... coffee and I are usually best friends but we are have a complicated relationship at the moment," I stammered, my words running together. My cheeks burned even more, and I could only hope she wouldn’t notice. Who was I kidding? She definitely noticed. She seemed to notice everything, with those observant eyes and that patient smile.

"Well, maybe coffee isn't the best for you right now," she teased gently, her eyes drifting to my stained shirt before meeting mine again. I was stunned for a moment, caught in the ease of our brief exchange.

I wanted to say something witty, something that would make her smile like that again—at me this time, not just at my misfortune. But instead, I could only manage an awkward laugh. The kind of laugh that would play over and over in my head later, keeping me awake.

"You know, if you need help getting that stain out, I have some tips," she added, nodding towards my shirt.

"Thanks, but I think it’s a lost cause. Kind of like me," I muttered the last part, hoping she didn’t hear. But of course, she did. Because why wouldn’t she?

Her brow furrowed slightly. "Lost cause? I don’t think so, Spencer."

She said my name so easily, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how perfectly it fit coming from her. It was in that moment, hearing her say my name like that—like I was someone worth knowing—that I realized how far gone I really was.

"I mean, it’s just a coffee stain," she continued, but there was something more in her tone, something that felt like reassurance. Something that made me feel like maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t invisible to her.

But that was foolish thinking. A girl like her? She was out of my league in every possible way. She was confident, kind, and effortlessly charming. Me? I was the nerdy genius who spent more time with books than people.

I watched her walk away, heading back to her desk, but not without throwing me another small smile over her shoulder. My heart leapt, despite myself.

You are not the exception. You will never learn your lesson...

And I knew it. I knew she couldn’t possibly see me the way I saw her. But every time she smiled at me, I let hope creep in. Every kind word, every glance—it all made me hold on, even when I knew I shouldn’t.

Because maybe someday, she'd see me the way I saw her.

Tagging some friends I know are still active because idk who still is from my taglist

@samuel-de-champagne-problems

@boldlyvoid

@reidsaurora

@thedancingcostumeyoungadult

@reid-ingandweeping

@foxy-eva

@writer-in-theory

@milla984

@sadgirlml

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Falling Into Place

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

Word count: 1.1k

Pairning: Aaron Hotchner x Agent!reader

Summary: Y/n navigates the evolving dynamics of her relationship with her boss, Aaron Hotchner, as their children bond during a soccer game

______________________________________________________________

A few months had passed since that first day when you brought Ava into the office, and things had shifted in small but significant ways. Hotch was no longer the distant, almost hostile boss you first met. He was warmer now, more approachable, especially when it came to Ava. You often found him engaging with her when you had to bring her around, and she had taken a shine to him as well, always lighting up when he appeared. He’d even helped with some babysitting emergencies when you were stuck at work—a gesture that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team.

Still, nothing much had changed beyond that. There was no crossing of professional boundaries, though you'd be lying if you said you didn’t catch yourself thinking about him in ways you probably shouldn’t. You chalked it up to the fact that he was a single dad, tall, handsome, with that authoritative presence that always made you weak in the knees. But he was still your boss, and getting tangled up with Aaron Hotchner wasn’t an option.

Today was Ava’s first soccer game, a moment you’d been waiting for ever since she started training with the girls’ group. She’d been so excited in the days leading up to it, constantly talking about her new friends and the little drills they did at practice. As you dressed her in her tiny soccer uniform—complete with matching socks and the cutest pigtails—you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable she looked.

“Mommy, do I look like a soccer star?” she asked, spinning around in her outfit.

“You look like the cutest soccer player I’ve ever seen,” you replied, crouching down to kiss her cheek.

It was a warm summer day as you both made your way to the soccer field. The air was light, and you wore a breezy short summer dress that felt perfect for the occasion. As you settled on the sidelines with other parents, you noticed a few appreciative glances your way, but your attention was solely on Ava.

The game was adorable—kids running around, occasionally kicking the ball in the wrong direction, laughing and falling over. There were no winners, no losers, just the sheer joy of playing. Ava was doing well, her little legs pumping as she chased the ball with determination. You couldn’t have been prouder, clapping and cheering for her from the sidelines.

As the game was wrapping up, you suddenly spotted Hotch making his way over, Jack and Rossi in tow. Jack, now ten, looked excited as always for his game, and Rossi was carrying a bag of equipment, cracking jokes along the way.

“Well, look who it is!” Rossi called out when he saw you, his voice warm. “The next Mia Hamm, right?”

Ava waved at Rossi with a grin, and you laughed. “She’s definitely working on it.”

Hotch approached with a smile, though it was subtle as ever, and Jack immediately ran up to you both. “Hi, Ava! That was a cool game. You play soccer like me!”

Ava’s eyes lit up. “Really? You play too?”

Jack nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’m on the big kids’ team. You wanna watch me play?”

Ava nodded eagerly, turning to you with wide eyes. “Mommy, can we stay and watch Jack?”

Before you could answer, Jack turned to Hotch. “Dad, can Ava and her mom stay a little longer? I wanna show her how good I am.”

Hotch’s gaze flicked to you, and you felt a flutter in your chest at how he effortlessly commanded attention, even in a casual setting like this. His eyes lingered on you for a moment—just a moment too long, and you swore you saw something flicker in them. You knew the look. He was trying hard not to ogle you in your summer dress, and the thought sent a wave of heat through you. But you had to push it aside.

“I don’t see why not,” Hotch finally said, clearing his throat. “We’ve got a little break before Jack’s game.”

As you sat back down, you couldn’t help but watch Hotch as he got involved with coaching Jack’s team. There was something undeniably attractive about seeing him take charge, giving instructions to the kids with his calm authority. His voice was firm but patient, and the kids clearly respected him.

Your eyes drifted over him—his strong, broad shoulders, the way he moved with confidence. It didn’t help that some of the other soccer moms on the sidelines were obviously eyeing him as well, whispering amongst themselves and giving him glances that were far from subtle. You couldn’t really blame them. Hotch was tall, dark, and ridiculously handsome, and here he was, being the perfect father and coach all at once.

Still, you had to shake the thoughts out of your head. He was your boss. You couldn’t afford to have the hots for him, especially with all those moms practically drooling over him.

Rossi, ever the observant one, noticed you watching Hotch and sidled up to you with a knowing grin. “He’s good with kids, isn’t he?”

You shot him a look. “I’m just watching the game, Rossi.”

“Sure, you are,” he replied, winking. “And I’m just here for moral support.” He glanced over at Ava, who was talking animatedly with Jack. “You know, Ava’s lucky. She’s got one hell of a mom. And between you and me, if Hotch wasn’t so damn focused all the time, he’d see it too.”

You flushed at his words. “Rossi, I—”

He raised his hands. “Hey, just saying. I see how he looks at you. And how you look at him. But you know, I think Ava wouldn’t mind if her mom found someone good.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his comment, and you looked away quickly, focusing back on the field. Rossi always knew how to get under your skin, but you appreciated his protectiveness.

As Jack’s game began, Ava tugged on your arm, asking if they could play together after the match. You glanced at Hotch, who overheard and gave you a small nod, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“I don’t see why not,” Hotch said, his gaze meeting yours again. And for a second, just a second, you felt the weight of everything between you—the unspoken attraction, the shared moments with your kids. It was all there, simmering just beneath the surface.

But for now, you pushed it aside, watching as Jack played his game while Ava cheered him on from your lap. You couldn’t help but sneak glances at Hotch every now and then, the way he handled himself as a coach, as a father. It was a dangerous game, letting yourself feel anything more for him, especially with all the other women around who clearly wanted his attention.

But something about the way he looked at you today—the way his eyes softened when they met yours—made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he was feeling it too.

[first-edition]

My Everything

Spencer Reid x Pregnant!reader.

Sum: You begin crying about feeling useless nearing the end of your pregnancy and spencer comforts you.

Cw- fluff, mention of pregnancy, crying.

Dont cancel for me on the grammar this is just a super short little Drabble.

Your husband sits on the couch reading as you walk past him trying to hide your sniffles yet your observant lover looks your way seeing you hurry into the other room.

”love?” He calls you but you ignore him. He puts his book down and gets up from his seat following where you went. You pace silently in the kitchen your hand on your raised stomach through the extra large sweater and your other hand presses to your face.

“Hey? Whats wrong?” He asks walking up to you. Just him asking what’s wrong causes the tears you were holding in to pour down your cheeks.

“Hey..hey y/n? You okay?” He asks hurrying to you placing his hands on your cheeks pulling you to him.

“I-im sorry.” You cry out wrapping your arms around his waist as he pulls your into him kissing the top over your head.

“No no do not be sorry what’s wrong hon? Are you feeling okay?” He asks again. You shake your head.

“You wanna lay down your feel nauseous?” He asks

“N- no i..i feel useless.” You sob.

“What are you talking about?” He asks leaning back to look down at you your blotchy face and tear stained cheeks.

“I just f-feel like i c-cant do anything..o-on my own becuase i just feel so weak...” You sob out he kisses your forehead before looking back at you.

“You dont have to do anything on your own right now or ever you have me hon.” He gives you a reassuring smile although it hurts him to his core that you feel this way.

“Y-yeah but i dont wanna, rely o-on you all the time. I- i feel bad, like…like im a burden” You sniff out as he pulls his sleeve of his sweater up and over his hand wiping off your tears.

“Dont do that. Dont feel bad. I would do it a million times over again for you, I love you, i love taking care of your you’re not a burden love.” He says letting his sleeve go to brush his thumb against your cheek knowing you need his touch and not a sleeve.

“I just feel s-so useless right now.” You say sniffing wiping your eyes with the back of your hand covered in your sleeve which is now darker with your tear from earlier.

“You’re not useless, not at all. You’re re growing our child. You’re doing the most important task you can possibly do! You are my everything.” He smiles widely then proceeds to kiss all over your face making you giggle.

“Dont. Feel. Bad.” He says in between kissing your lips making you smile and tear subsiding.

“sorry.” You apologize.

“Dont. Be. sorry.” He kisses you again.

“Okay.” You answer.

“I love you and if you need help im always here.” He says its is true spencer has taken just as much time off from the fbi as you have taken off from your job to be hands on with you as much as you need. From helping you step into the shower or put on your shoes and socks. Hes the best husband anyone could ever have and hes so lucky to have you.

“I love you too.” You smile looking up at him placeing a kiss on his lips making him smile.

[batbitten86]

what if this fictional man’s dick is the only cure? what then? i have to die without it?

[ask-me-later23]

Weathering the Storm.

Spencer Reid x Reader in which Spencer comforts reader while they work through their intense storm anxiety.

Warnings: severe anxiety/fears of thunder and lightning.

A/N: I know this isn't everyone's cup of tea but hurricane is currently hitting FL and this is how I am coping. It might not help everyone but it helped meeee.

The noise was too much. It was all too much.

Between the quick flashes of light, the intense roars that followed, and the incessant scraping of branches against your window, it was all just too much.

It didn’t start off slowly, as you were used to with storms. No, this morning it seemed like the perfect fall day when you went to get coffee just down the block. You could even remember enjoying the soft breeze that brushed against you as you walked. This all seemed so far ago, so far away. 

The clouds rolled in quickly, followed in suit by the zips of lightning in the distance, and the grumbling that seemed to mock you. You hardly made it back inside before they began taunting you in full force. 

At any other moment you might have found this scene humorous. You’ve seen true horrors everyday, come face-to-face with real life monsters on a regular basis, yet here you are: sobbing and quivering over a thunderstorm. Brought to your knees by mother nature. 

But it is not any other moment. Right now you can’t even think straight. All you can focus on is how loud everything is. You clamp your hands over your ears in attempts to muffle the world around you, but it seeps through. It always does. 

A loud rapping at your door startles you, forcing out a loud whimper. Panic begins to set in. What happened? Is someone hurt? What’s going on? All questions you had no answers too. You hear the raps again, softer this time.

Suddenly, through the panicked haze, you remember Spencer was supposed to come over and drop off some case files. You attempt to move towards the door from your corner, but find all of your limbs refuse to answer to you anymore. Your fingers remain clenched to your head, and your legs are stuck curled up in front of you. Another whimper escapes your lips.

A moment passes and you think he gave up on you and left, but then you can hear the soft creak of the door being opened. How did he get in here? What if it isn’t him? What if it’s an intruder? What if-

“Y/N? The door was unlocked, I thought I heard something. Are yo-” Spencers concerned voice suddenly halts and footsteps begin rushing over to your currently hunched over body. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” You feel him kneel down next to you, a warm hand places itself on your knee, but your body jerks away from the sudden contact. His gaze burns a hole into the top of your head, but you can’t force yourself to look up and open your eyes. 

Suddenly another loud BANG goes off outside, sounding every single alarm inside your head once more, and you recoil from the noise. You hear Spencer readjust on the cold floor.

“The storm,” he whispers. Despite the softness to his tone, there is no question or uncertainty to his voice. 

You hear more shuffling, followed by footsteps walking away, and are suddenly worried he’s going to leave you. He didn’t sign up to be here for this, for you. He just came to drop off files. You might have a close bond but that does not mean he’s obligated to help. A soft sob escapes your lips, and then you hear the footsteps coming back towards you. 

“Shhh… It’s okay.” You feel him sit back down next to you. “You know it’s actually a myth that lightning can’t strike two places in the same spot. There are hundreds of places where lightning can strike twice. The Empire State Building gets struck about 100 times a year.” He moves closer. “Astraphobia is the actual name for an intense fear of thunder and lightning, and it is the third most common phobia in America. However, your actual chances of being struck by lightning are about 1 in 12,000.”

Slowly, you feel him brushing your back gently. This time you do not flinch. 

“In 1955 there was this huge thunderstorm in Belgium that set off over 40,000 pounds of explosives left over from the battle of Messines in World War 1. But the only casualty was a single cow.” You are enveloped in warmth that you didn’t know you needed as he slowly places a blanket over your shoulders. 

You can slowly start to feel yourself relaxing as you focus on his words. You stop shaking and your breathing begins to slow. “There’s a thunderstorm that forms regularly over Tiwi Islands that they named ‘Hector the Convector’ from September to March.” He pulls you in closer, hugging you tightly with one arm through the blanket. You slowly regain feeling into your limbs and lean into him. 

“Aristotle used to believe that thunder was caused by a collision of the clouds,” he continued his rambling as he cupped his other hand across your face.

“Thank you,” you manage to croak out. He wipes the tears away from your face and you finally manage to look up at him. His disheveled curls looked all over the place, yet framed his face perfectly. His brows were pushed together and the corners of his lips turned down in concern. “You don’t have to stay…it’s okay.”

As if wanting to make you seem a fool, mother nature sent another loud roar your way, causing you to shrink right back into his arms. “I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.” His arms gripped you securely. 

You both stay there for the rest of the night, even after the clouds dissipate and the storm calms. You don’t say much, just sit wrapped in each other’s arms in comfort.

[blackdollette]

"riding the ride." | spencer reid

get free. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: it was a win-win for you. you could finally shut spencer up, and managed to get a good orgasm too.

fill out the taglist form!

female!reader x spencer

word count: 1.6k

contents: cunnilingus, cum-eating, snowballing (inverted), not proofread

date night. the one night a week where neither of you were working late and finally had the chance unfold in each other’s arms.

as cool breeze blew through the living room window as you flipped through tv channels, spencer’s arm wrapped around your torso as you rested your head on his chest. “what do you feel like watching tonight?” you asked, his thumbs rubbing slow circles onto your flesh. “i don’t mind, baby. i’m not picky.” you nodded, clicking the down button on the remote and landing on a reality show.

spencer hissed and you looked back at him. “what’s the matter?” you asked. “i don’t mind it, but i’m just worried about you. you know i found a really intresting article about reality tv. statistics show that around 47% of people use them as guilty pleasures and 92% of that is the female population who admit that they feel pressure to conform to the unrealistic beauty and relationship standards portrayed in the shows. besides, everything is one-hundred percent staged anyway.”

with each word he spoke, you felt braincells getting killed off in your brain. you nodded, consdiering what he said. “alright then. no reality tv, got it.” you scrolled further down the tv guide, landing on a horror film this time. but he spoke again. “are you sure you wanna choose that, babe? horror movies have been proven to desensitize viewers to violence, major disturbances and other dangers, which may all end up messing up your perception of risks.”

you felt your eye twitching as he droned on. you decided to find something that he couldn’t nitpick and analyze. you click on a weather forecast. boring, monotonous, but no dangers in sight. or so you thought. “did you know tha-” you rolled your eyes, snapping at last. “god, don’t you ever get tired of working that mouth of yours?” 

you squirmed at how provocative the statement came out. surprised at your outburst, spencer smiled proudly. “i have yet to, darling.” his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you in even closer to him. you rose an eyebrow, eyes narrowing at him ever so slightly. “is that a challenge, spence?” he caught a glimpse of the cheeky grin on your face in the corner of his eye. 

as the weather man blabbed on in the background, your face lit up as an idea popped into your head. you clicked the off button on the remote, making the tv screen turn black. you crawled so that you were fully sat on his lap, your hands starting to play with his hair as you whispered in his ear. “i’ve got a better idea for date night…”

spencer reid, the human computer who could sense even the slightest change in atmopshere seemed to be having a malfunction as you gently pressed his face into your chest. his breath heat up, the warmth seeping throug the thin fabric of your tank top. you moved your hips against his lap, taking the air from his lungs. “how about i put that tongue of yours to good use..?”

it was at this moment that he knew he was powerless. his hands were at your waist, clinging to them like he was afraid to let you go. his eyes trailed down to where your two body connected, taking in the sight of your legs in those little pajama shorts. he brought his hand down and began twirling the drawstring between his fingers, gazing up at you with those deep brown eyes. he tugged at the waistband, silently begging for the shorts to come off. you grinned, seeing that he was finally lost for words. “use your words, spence…” you never thought you’d have to tell spencer to speak, but here you were, watching as he struggled to formulate basic english.

he pressed his chin into your soft chest, muttering under his breath. “can you take ‘em off, hon..?” his biceps flxed slightly under his t-shirts as his grip tightened. you dug your thumbs under the waistband of your shorts, giving him a teasing glance of your bare hips and listening to his breath hitch.

you grinned as his eyes widened like saucers at the sight of your panties. “why don’t you lie down for me, spence.” he nodded, following your command in an instant like an obedient puppy. you stood up from the couch, his eyes glued to your body as you finally took off your shorts, letting them fall to the ground before kicking them off your feet.

the tension in the room grew thick enough to cut through as you lowered yourself onto his chest, not wanting to move too fast. spencer was panting like a dog, eyes triling down to where you cunt with covered by that pesky little strip of fabric. he longed to tear it with his teeth, to finally have access to the honey between your legs.

you slowly rose up once again, crawling slowly until you were hovering over his face. spencer’s mouth watered at the area of saturated fabric that was the perfect telltale of your arousal. your hips swayed slightly, hypnotizing him and making that familiar sizzle burn in this grey sweatpants.

a taste of heaven was just a touch away, and he didn’t know how much longer he could wait. you took a deep breath. “a-alright, just lemme know when you’re rea-” he couldn’t bear the torture any longer. he grabbed your ass, tearing off your panties and connecting his lips with your dripping cunt. 

completely taken by surprise, you yelped, gripping the couch cushion as your whole body tensed. he was going at it like a starved dog, his tongue greedily lapping up all your juuices as he tossed the leftover fabric of your panties to the side, his hands kneading the soft flesh of your ass as he flicked his tongue over your puffy clit.

he groaned deeply as he finally tasted you, desperate to have you. his pulsating cock twitched in his pants, begging to be let free. he bucked his hips into the air, moving against anything he could. “you taste so good, baby…” he muttered into your pussy, moving a hand down to rub quiet circles on your clit.

you tossed your head back in pleasure, grinding against his face as he found the perfect rhythm between his tongue and his fingers. he jutted his tongue in and out of your hole, hasilty bringing a hand down to his sweatpants and needily palming himself through the plush fabric. the contact made his vision go starry, the abundance of pleasure doing wonderful things to his head.

he snaked his hand into his pants, whipping out his precum-glazed cock. the tip was red and swollen from being neglected for so long. he gave himself a few lazy strokes, more focused on your right then than anything else. 

his tongue ventured deep inside of your hole, desperate to taste every fold and crevice. you were sure that he wasn’t even breathing at this point. he was completely drunk off the taste of your body. he pumped his cock at a more rapid pace, feeding his moans into your core and sending powerful vibrations through you.

the base of his hand slapped against his balls each time he went back down, his thumb ghosting against his tip when he came back up again. the living room filled with the succulent noises of him devouring you like your were his last meal.

your back arched as he suckled your hard pearl between his lips. you attempted to rise up from his face to let him have a breath of air, but he gripped you even tighter. “c’mon baby, i’m not done yet…” he had your cum pouring down his neck, grool bubbling from his lips and nostrils. he was making an absolute mess of you, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

his hips violently thrusted into his fist as the sounds of your moans and whimpers fueled his desire even more. he growled into you, eating you up like a starved predator who had finally caught its prey. your legs clenched aorund his head, nearly suffocating him. you rode his face rapidly, tits bouncing through your tank top.

the sight from above made him run wild. he moved his hand from your hip, sneaking it under your shirt and starting to knead your breasts, toying with your hard nipples.

you were so close to reaching such a satisfying climax. every nerve in your body was responding to his intimate touch, never wanting him to stop. your hands grabbed his hair as the band in your stomach snapped, utnring you into a screamed mess as thick white liquid cascaded out of your pussy.

he hungrily lapped up every last drop, not wanting to let a single drop go to waste. his cock had ejaculated hot strings of cum so far that they had hit your back, painting you like a piece of art. he took his time finished you off like the last scoop of a sweet dessert before finally letting you off his face. as you got back to your feet, he sat up and pulled you into a sloppy kiss, feeding your cum into your mouth and groaning softly. “...see how good you taste, my love..?”

your lips began to swell at how deeply he took you in, the heat in your body reaching an all time high. after several long minutes, he pulled away from you, a string of saliva connecting you two before breaking. he looked down, seeing the cummy mess on his t-shirt. but it was nothing compared to what streamed down his neck. you giggled softly, patting him on the cheek. “such a messy boy…”

he stood up from the couch, picking up your shorts for you. “how about we take this date night to the shower? would you like that, baby?” you smiled, nodding as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. he walked away with you, a smle on his face and a sticky mess flowing down your inner thighs.

author's note: thank you everyone for 1,000 followers! never thought i'd live to see the daythat i reach my longest goaal

[amell333]

His own personal desk pet. S.R

HELLO this is my fist ever fic pls Iwould love to hear what you guys think and i hope you will like my first ever fic! enjoy!

!!English is not my first languge!!

summary: Spencer like having you sitting near or on his desk, he like being able to have you close to him so he can hold you, but sometimes forgets you're not the only onse there. but can you blame him he loves having his own personal desk pet. especially one as cute and pretty as you. but just bc you can doesn't mean others can.

pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Content Warnings: none really just dr Reid being cute and needy. And reader being a litte embarrassed. just fluff yk.

Spencer had never really liked the idea of physical contact with another person. He didn’t like handshakes nor sitting too close to people where they were almost touching. Going his way out to mostly avoid having to touch another person. You could say he is a bit of a germophobe if you would.

But that was before you.

Everybody at the BAU knew Doctor Spencer Reid had a massive soft spot for you, ever since you walked in the doors at the FBI, the moment he laid his eyes on you he knew he was hit, Spencer had fallen for a person he didn’t even know the name of at the time, hell even the whole FBI knew how much he liked you, everyone except you. For a member of the BAU you had an extremely impressive knowledge on criminals and murder, but when it came to love you were facing a wall almost stupid on the subject of love.

You were so oblivious that you never noticed how all of his rules was thrown out the window the second you it came to you. You never noticed how his touches would linger on you’re shoulder when explaining something to you or how he would scooch closer to you when you all set at the round table going over a case, or in the jet how the seat next to you was always reserved for him. You never saw how he would stare at you with his adorable big brown puppy dog eyes like if he didn’t, he would be striped of all life.

Being the same age and having common interests made the two of you inseparable from the start, oh and ofc Spencer’s massive crush on you. You two had been best friends for almost 6 years now and in these last 6 years Spencer’s crush had only been grooving bigger and bigger.

“Earth calling Doctor Reid! You there pretty boy? Or are you too busy making lovey eyes to you’re crush over there?” Morgans voice snaped Spencer out of the spell like trance you had put him in.

“What?” not really hearing what he said, Spencer only then looked back at Morgan, locking eyes with him. Spencer’s eyes getting used to looking at something closer again needed some time to adjust. “Sorry? what did you say again? I didn’t quite hear you.”

Snickers could be heard from not only Morgan but also JJ, Emly and Rosi, “Man she got you hooked pretty boy huh? You sure that shot to the leg didn’t effect your braid as well?” spencer still confused didn’t  get time to answer before the sound of  JJ’s voice broke the laughter.

“Guys Hotch just texted we got a case”

And only a few minutes later there they were sitting around the round table explaining the case. You sitting next to Spencer, like always. No one really had seats around the table that was theirs, but you and Spencer did no one had ever mentioned it or even talked about it, but everyone on the team knew it. it was an unspoken rule. No one sits next to Spencer unless it’s you.

Spencer scooted closer to you while the quick briefing was happening, not really completely listening but enough to drop his point of view on the different point’s of the statements on the murders here and there, before randomly info dumping something only just related to the case at hand, no Spencer was far to busy loving the heat you’re  body gave off you’re arm touching his. He loved how warm you were. But once again he was broken from his thought’s by a voice.

“Ok guys wheels up in 20”

Spencer turned his head to you. You’re pretty face already looking at his face. “So see you on the jet. Save me a seat ok” it wasn’t really a question because you know he would he always did.

And like always there you were sitting next to him, you where almost sitting on his lap with how close together you were sitting, but neither of you minded, his hand around you’re waist and chit resting ever so gently on you’re shoulder.

You didn’t fly for long before landing and getting of the jet. The drive to the small town station wasn’t that bad either, it was a small town on a big land a lot of desert with not so much town. When you and the team walked in Spencer’s hand still hadn’t left you’re body it was still ever so gently resting on the small of you’re back.

Having been introduced to the sharif and the people you were going to work with. Next thing was splitting into teams on who were going where and doing what, and with Spencer’s injury it was not hard to see he was going to have to work from the station.

“So who’s staying with Reid at the station?”

Darek was quick to shot a look between you and Spencer before saying. “actually I think Pretty boy is going to be most comfortable staying here with Y/N here more then any of us others” Spencer stopped and looked over at you expectingly.

The other’s looked over to you. You feeling and uncomfortable feeling having all eyes staring at you waiting for an answer Hotch’s voice sounded “Y/N? you’re ok with staying here with Dr Reid?”

“Of curse I’ll stay here with Spence! Can’t have him getting lonely now can we.” You said with an adoring smile on you’re face. “Grate you two stay here and see what you can find on victimology and see what’s may connect the victim in any way’s. sharif could you find a desk for the two of them they can use as work station?”

“Sure yeah of curse, I’ll go find 2 desks for the two of you-“ he was quickly cut off by Spencer. “No one will be fine, we have no problem sharing a desk.” Quick looks was shared between the team. You’re voice rung out. “yeah one is fine I have no problem sharing a desk with Spence.”

“ very well then, I’ll go find and clear a desk you guys can use. In the meantime you can just wait here.” The sharif went off to find a desk you could use. Not even a minute later he came back, and showed you and Spencer to the desk. “well we should get started now huh?” you asked Spenser. He responded with a nod and a dorky smile.

Hours later you were sitting on the desk with you’re legs crossed with a Spencer leaning up against you’re thigh. The news had in someway slipped out to the press and the phones were going off like crazy. “ We know who his next victim is. I’ll go outside and deliver the news to the team.” And with that you hopped off the table and walked out the back door.

and around 5 minutes later a female cop walk up to the desk you only 5 minutes ago were siting on. “So I se you’ve been working hard huh you deserve a teat here I brought you some coffee from the coffee machine.” Handing the Warm cup To Spencer he thanked her knowing damn well he wasn’t even going to thing about drinking it.

Spencer didn’t pay much attention to her or what she was saying to be honest, that was until she leaned half sat herself on the desk not only that but a little too close to him touching his arm. Spencer almost panicked but calmed himself. “please don’t touch me nor sit on my desk I’m a bit of a germophobe.” He said as calmly as he could

“A germo-what? But you let that other girl full on sit on the desk and she was touching you? That doesn’t make any sense buddy.” She said almost offended. “ yeah but she’s different. She’s so much different then you.” With that said she stormed off. And didn’t approach the team again especially not Spencer or you.

 But at the end of the day you caught the killer. And was packing up to go back home. You and Spencer was the fist in the jet. “spence?...” Spencer was confused by the tone and turned around. When he did he did see a smile on you’re face like always you’re expression was impossible to read. It scared him. What if he had did something wrong? Had he done something to make you sad or mad? He didn’t know and he couldn’t read you. It scared him.

“spencer am I different to you then others?” the question made him panic. “Wh-what are you talking about of course not-“ he was quickly cut off by you’re voice. “Spence I heard what you said to the female cop.” Silence the only thing there could be heard was the steps you took to take you closer to him.

“ you- you heard that?! I can explain ok! It’s no because you’re different! I mean you are diff-“he was cut off by the soft touch of you’re lips on his. He was surprised but quick to kiss back, scrabbling with his hands to hold the sides of you’re face. “I like you Y/N. I like you a lot, I would even say I love you but I would want to scare you away like that.” “I like you a lot to but..” he was quick to think of the worst. “but?...” “ but I would love you if you took me on a date.” The smile returning to his face. “of course! Of course I will” hugging you with a smile.

The happy little session you had was cut off with a loud “fucking finally!” you and Spencer turned around to see the whole team standing there. You were embarrassed. Realizing they had probably seen it all or at least most of it. “my man! So you finally got the girl” ohh man this was going to be a long flight home for you and Spencer.

AGHHHH MY FIRST FIC!!  I really hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. and I wish you beautiful ppl a good morning/afternoon/night:33333