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somedaytakethetime · 5 months

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You know how sometimes you just feel like doing something? Or.. you know when you want to scream about something to someone but you have no one willing to listen because it's the 38th million time that you've said the same thing and they're tired of you? Well, I'm sure you do. So... yeah...

Notes and warnings: hm...... well.... 🚨🖐🏻⭕🔞🛑⛔.. does that work? It's another nasty one.. because.. reasons.. hm.. I hope you love eye contact and... 😙🙀.. and... 👇🏻✌🏻👆🏻🙀... and... more... there you have it... it's not gonna be much, you know? It's not even honest work, let's be real...

Word count: 2 343 words

"Should we even be here??" his lips only give you about three seconds to rush that out before they're back on yours. Smirking deeply, hands all over your body, he pulls back and says, in his low sexy voice, "Sweetheart..." it's so condescending yet so fond, "Ask me if I give a fuck.", his eyes are darker than usual, there's this aura of deep.. testosterone all over him. You don't need to ask. You know he doesn't give a single fuck. He never does. It doesn't matter what it is, he always sets out his own path. Does things his own way, doesn't care for rules or right and wrong. He decides what's right and wrong. And it's intoxicating. To follow someone that's so self assured, so confident, someone that doesn't care either or not it's okay to drag his girl down a hallway to the first empty corner that he finds because he wants alone time and he wants it now. He kisses you again, the conversation is over. There's no need for it, he wouldn't have brought you here if he didn't know it's completely isolated. He would have also never dragged you away from the party if he didn't know you want it too. He has this knack... this eerie talent of knowing you so well. Of knowing what you're feeling without a single word. He looks at you, sizes you up, observes you all the time, and he knows exactly what you're thinking. As if he can read your thoughts. It's almost creepy actually, but.. in a way it's really hot too. Like he is. He makes you so desperate even with just proximity. His lips burn marks into your skin as he kisses a path down your neck, hands pulling and tugging at your clothes to get where he wants to go. There's a commotion far in the distance, everyone celebrating the good results, but he couldn't care less right now. He's focused on the task at hand, smirks harder against your skin as his fingers slip into your jeans, inside your panties, and find you embarrassingly wet already. He lifts his head, he smirks like the devil himself, his eyes bright and piercing, "All of this for me, baby?" and you whine softly. You nod and whisper, a little embarrassed, "Yes, daddy." and his smirk grows. He's not one to admit that he likes the pet name, but he doesn't need to, the way he gets smug is enough of an answer. He's so smug constantly.. but even more so when his fingers sink inside you, curl and press against you, making you moan and tilt your hips towards him to push down against his hand. His eyes are fixated on yours, he doesn't say a word, just looks cocky as he moves. His hand twists and he somehow finds a way to cram it into your clothes, presses his thumb against your clit, tracing teasing circles, as he fingers you slowly. "Fucki- please.." is needy and whispery, your hands pull at his hair to get him closer, you rut against him and try to speed up. Everything feels overly sensitive and too hot. His body looms over you, cages you to the wall, the smirk drops and his gaze turns intense. Watches your face twisting with need and desperation, revels in the whines you try to keep inside but fail at times. Enjoys how it feels when you clench around his fingers, dripping all over his hand, begging for him to speed up. He won't. You don't have enough time but does it matter to him? Not at all. He only follows his rules anyway..

His eyes are on you. You can't even see him right now but you feel it. He's somewhere around, far away, there's dozens of people here and you're lost in the crowd, chatting with a friend that struck up conversation with you. And you can feel him looking at you. His presence is something you feel deeply all the time, you always find it's nearly ridiculous. 'This man had to put a hex on me, it's impossible to be this obsessed with a man..' it's not the first time it pops into your head, and every time it does it makes you want to laugh. Because it almost feels true. He's just a man, he can't be special, but somehow.. deep in your soul, you're entirely hooked on this one. Thoughts of him consume you day and night. His touches burn into your skin for hours. His kisses make your lips tingle just thinking about them. His.. you shiver and try to focus on the conversation happening, "Are you cold?" you shake your head, about to answer, when a strong hand suddenly wraps around your waist possessively, "She's always cold. But that's why she got me." he winks at his friend and leans down to whisper in your ear "Come with me.". Your face burns immediately, it doesn't matter how often he does this, doesn't matter how comfortable you are with him, nothing matters. When he wants to drag you away for some nefarious reason, your face always burns. With embarrassment. And excitement. His friend just smiles and turns to chat with someone else, as the same strong hand on your waist turns you around and leads you down an empty path. You end up at some storage closet this time. "How do you know about all of these places?? You know that's suspicious, right?" because it's starting to get alarming how he always knows where the empty, hidden spots are.. if you didn't trust him so deeply, if you didn't know his character so well, you'd start to wonder if he brings others to the same places. But he would never do that, he doesn't care about anyone else. It's.. flattering. Intoxicating too. How he's oblivious, flat out ignores other women. No matter what they look like or if they pay him attention. He just ignores them. His eyes only ever find you. The way they do now, intense and piercing, as he slowly kneels in front of you. "I like this dress.." his fingers are stroking the hem softly, yet his eyes won't move from yours. "Thank y-" his hands lift up the fabric, he twists it and tucks it up, into your waistband, as he pulls down your panties with his other hand. A soft, broken sound escapes your lips as your legs tremble slightly. Watching him lift one of your thighs, lips planting kisses on the tender skin, as he makes his path closer to your core, eyes still burning into you.. he nearly has you in tears. He has such a power over you, it's insane. At times you nearly hate him for how strongly he makes you feel about some guy, but that's all forgotten when his tongue darts out. You watch it, ever so slowly, making it's way to your soft, wet skin. Licking up the slickness already dripping out of you, mouth attaching to your body, said tongue making it's way inside to taste you deeper. Eyes still looking into yours, relentless, burning into your soul. He never looks away. Not just because he wants to see you as you whine, shake, fall apart.. but because he wants you to see him.

His eyes are always so intense, but especially during intimate moments. You get flashes of them all the time. His piercing gaze locked with yours. Always burning into you. As his fingers sink into your body, his tongue swirls around your clit, as his cock sinks deeper into you, as everything happens between you, every time. You've had so much sex.. fucked in pretty much every empty and secluded space he can find when the mood strikes you both.. tried so many positions but he loves being able to look into your eyes. He enjoys having you in any way, shape and form, but his favourite positions are always when he can look at you. He's made you addicted to eye contact. Sex isn't the same anymore if you can't see him looking at you, eyes burning with a possessive need you've never experienced before, etching his mark into your soul. You would never be one to want to be fucked in front of a mirror, too many insecurities for that, but.. with him behind you? Looking at you like that? Like he wants you, body and soul, wants to melt your bodies together so he never has to be apart from you? You don't care if you're in the mirror too, all you see is him. He pushes even deeper, adds to the arch in your back, makes you cling harder to the mirror for support. The broken whine you let out brings a grunted sound from him, his hand moves from digging bruises into your hip to snake up your front. Up up up, it makes it's way to your throat and wraps around it softly. Presses you even harder to his body, thrusts into you so deep your eyes go hazy and blurry. You can somehow still see him looking at you, heated gaze still locked on you. He nuzzles your ear, eyes never leaving their spot, his voice is low and rough, "You're mine, you know? You're all mine. And you look so fucking good right now.." his grip around your throat tightens slightly as his hips speed up, the hand on your hips moves down between your legs, circles your clit and makes your knees tremble. Your hands move from the mirror to cling to his forearms, desperate for support because your body is crumbling. There's a pleased rumble in his chest when you whine and clench harder, a nearly animalistic sound, and you feel dizzy. You're desperate to close your eyes, the dizzy pleasure getting to much to even see straight, but you'd never dare look away from him. His all-consuming eye contact is the best part of the experience after all.

"I love you so much, fucking hell." his forehead is pressed to yours, eyes locked as always, you're bunched in on yourself. You don't understand how you always end up this way... you were cooking dinner. Now you're half on the counter, half off, one leg tightly wrapped around him, the other dangling from the counter and desperately trying to stay put, one hand firmly gripping the countertop to keep from slipping, not that he'd ever let you, the other tangled in his hair in a painful pull. But he'll never complain, he enjoys feeling you do it even. It makes his scalp tingle, makes him feel as desperately wanted as he wants you. You're pressed so tightly, cramped together even if there's so much space around, but you want it this way. Want to feel him trying to crawl his way into your body.. more than it already is.. want to feel your lungs burning and struggling to take full breaths because he's so intense. Even with slow thrusts, he's too overpowering. His hands burn against your skin as they move around your body, like greedy snakes, trying to touch everywhere. Playing with your nipples, finding your overly sensitive clit, squeezing your hips, digging into the flesh of your butt.. teasing.. strong.. possessive. He grunts again, his voice is so low, so rough, tears burn in your eyes from how horny you are, how desperate you get for this man, "I really fucking love, fuck." he won't stop saying it. It's electrifying. Need grows stronger and stronger inside you, you're whiny, so whiny. On the verge of crumbling like a house of cards, you're irreversibly in love with this man. There is no other one for you. No other person could ever make you feel what you feel for him. He's.. "Fucking hell.. please, fuck, let me come.." he's everything. Overbearing at times with his need to keep you safe and protected, possessive and jealous in his fear to lose you because you mean the world to him, blindly supportive and encouraging of everything you set out to do.. revering and worshipful in his love and devotion for you... you've never been loved the way he loves you, and it's so addictive. It makes you love him deeper, want him harder and more desperately, and in turn it makes his feelings stronger too. Your energies feed off of each other like a Möbius strip, impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. You bite his lip when he kisses you, a nearly savage energy overtaking you, and he grunts but kisses you even harder, moves deeper, faster, makes your head spin. Your eyes open to find his burning into you, like always, and it slips from you so soft.. so easily.. "Daddy.." and he knows what you want, what you need, what you're asking for. Doubles his efforts, his body rocks yours, something shakes at the other end of the island unit and it's such a show of strength.. unrestrained male energy.. the testosterone that drips from him at times.. this is man that can be so subdued and calm, yet purely man in a way that's protective and comforting... makes you feel so deeply desired, so profoundly loved. You want to close your eyes as you fall apart but can't find it in yourself to stop looking at his, all the devotion he feels so painfully clear in his infatuated gaze.. he presses his forehead even further to yours, crumbles you in on yourself deeper, fucks you through the shakes that overtake you and follows you right down the abyss. He kisses you in a way that's all consuming, swallows your whines and presses his grunts into your soul too, holds you tightly until you feel you're a part of him, as you get completely lost together. Somewhere in the distance the pot is boiling over and making a mess of the stove top but neither notices, and quite frankly, in the state you're currently in? Neither would care.

#i interrupted the gift making/match watching because this won't leave my head...#do i apologise? i should apologise #and i lied the other day...#THIS is the most descriptive... most NASTY thing i've ever put into words on here..#and honestly?#i ain't even ashamed besties #take it or leave it #also yes i said what i said #I LIKE THE D WORD LEAVE ME ALONE #adventures in a clown's dreams #football imagine #football fanfic

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ceriseswift · 5 days

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𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂- 𝘀.𝗿.

pairing- s1!spencer reid x bau!reader

w.c.- 3.9k (wtf omg)

summary- spencer reid is your best friend. you’re in love with him, he wants someone else.

warnings- the jeid narrative in s14 pissed me off so bad i wrote this, miscommunication trope, reader obsesses over his hair (same), idiots in love, wingwoman!penelope

a/n- to be clear i am not a jj hater, i love her. i just don’t like what the writers tried to make happen between her and spencer

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the soft glow of the morning sun floats through the window, coating the bullpen of the behavioral analysis unit in a peaceful golden light. you bask in the soft start of your morning, a rarity in your line of work, sipping your coffee as your fingers clack against the computer keys. the peace of your morning is ripped from you suddenly, though, when gideon and hotch barge from their offices in quick pursuit of the conference room. the team immediately follows suit, scurrying after one another to follow the two men.

hotch stands at the head of the room, sternly describing the case file he’s just received. there is a serial killer in the d.c. area, obsessed with leaving texts of ancient egyptian script at the crime scenes. as an analyst for the bau, you’re assigned to stay in the conference room with spencer in order to help decipher what the killer is trying to tell authorities. you share a smile with the boy next to you, both eager to tackle yet another assignment together.

you were hired to the bau as a young academic fresh out of graduate school, the same year as spencer. you two initially bonded over your shared love of reading, of analyzing text. it’s this skill that’s made you an asset to the team. you can decipher handwriting left by criminals in order to profile them; you can understand and analyze complex documents left for you at crime scenes, just like in today’s case. you found a partner in spencer very early on. you two were assigned those kinds of analytical tasks often, and proved to be very good at it, good at working together, at being together.

it wasn’t long before the mere sight of him started to give you butterflies, your chest constricting with affection. you cherish the late nights you’ve spent with him, in and outside of the office, inspecting documents and handwriting samples, the times where you’ve reached for the same file and your fingers brush together. movie nights at his place on the weekends, when you get so tired you allow yourself to curl into him, to let him wrap his arms around you, to pretend you’re something more. something in your stomach grows hot, and your palms start to sweat. you barely even notice that everyone else has gone off on their own assignments, leaving you and spencer alone in the conference room together. he sends you a million dollar smile and you get to work.

after a few hours of hard work, you suggest taking a lunch break. your lungs rejuvenate from the fresh air as you eat in the courtyard. you close your eyes and tilt your head up, feeling the glow of the sun warm your face, sighing as the vitamin d floats through your body. you can feel spencer’s eyes on you, and your heart kicks against your chest. how much longer you can take without confessing to him, you’re not sure. the limbo of being in love with your best friend is a torturous predicament to be in, especially when you work with him.

“hey, i need to ask you something,” spencer mumbles, and you see him pull out two tickets to a cowboys football game.

your heart now hammers against you, like a boulder spasming in your chest. your hands are sweating, shaking; is this it? could he be doing the hard part for you?

“gideon gave me these on my birthday. i don’t know if you knew this, but it’s j.j.’s favorite team. i was thinking of asking her on a date with them, but i haven’t watched a football game in over ten years,” he chuckles sheepishly, squinting his eyes down from the sun. “do you think it’s a good idea? i thought i should come to you since you’re my best friend, you wouldn’t steer me wrong.”

best friend. those words pierce through your gut like you’ve been shot with an arrow. you’re thankful his eyes are turned away from you, so he can’t see the infliction of those two fateful words.

“um-yeah,” you breathe out, barely audible, “i think it’s a great idea. it doesn’t matter if you don’t really watch football. if she likes you she’ll want to spend time with you, no matter what,” you fake a smile and pray to anyone that would listen to please convey the true message of your words, what you’re really saying. you know it falls on deaf ears, though, as you turn to throw your half eaten lunch in the trash, returning inside 30 minutes earlier than agreed upon.

“woah-where are you going?” spencer hastily cleans his things and jogs to catch up with you.

“i just think we need to get back to work. this case isn’t going to solve itself,” you shoot him a bitter smile, opening the door and not holding it open for him behind you, like you always do.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

j.j.? you think to yourself as you now delegate your portion of the work at your desk. the thought of being trapped in that conference room alone with him after your conversation at lunch unzips a shiver down your spine. your forehead is resting in your palm as your brain fights to focus on the case, and not drift back to spencer.

you were in complete and utter disbelief that the object of his affections has been j.j. this whole time.

j.j. is your friend, and you’re not mad at her. it’s not her fault that she’s the one spencer’s developed feelings for. you’re just completely caught off guard, utter shock clinging to every nerve in your body. you thought, after all of those shy smiles you’ve shared alone in conference rooms, the late night conversations on the jet, the nights you’ve spent at his place, that they meant something more. you’re just shocked none of it did, and that you’ve completely misread your entire relationship with him.

if gideon gave him the tickets, that means he sees what’s going on between them, too. you furrow your brows, squeezing your eyes closed at this revelation. god, you feel so stupid. how could you have let your own feelings blindside you from what your best friend actually wants? you have no future in profiling, that’s for certain.

you see a shadow looming over your desk from your peripheral vision, and you know who it is merely from the outline of his hair. you look up to find a sheepish spencer reid, seemingly nervous to even be approaching you. you hate that. you hate the idea of him on a date with j.j. even more, though.

“what’s up?” you try to sound interested, but you can both hear the restraint lacing your tone.

“i think i found something. we, uh-we need to gather the rest of the team,” he states.

his voice is quiet, small, his big brown eyes are boring into yours. you nod. the tension grows thicker the longer you stare at each other, eyes desperate to convey everything your mouths are too afraid to say. the file spencer was holding slips through his fingers, falling on your desk with a crisp clack. the noise cuts through the trance you find yourselves in, and you go red as a tomato, looking in your lap to avoid those lethal eyes.

“let’s go,” you mutter, walking past him without so much as a glance.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

over the course of the next week, you spend many work hours nursing your bruised ego in penelope’s batcave of an office. as the two analysts of the team, a lot of your work overlaps, so hotch didn’t raise a brow at the sudden change in your routine, not working with spencer so much. you’re able to tell her about everything going on with him during your brief moments of down time, when you’re filing paperwork or doing light research.

“oh. my. god.” she gasps, aware of your feelings of him from the start, “babe. no way,” she swivels her chair so she’s fully facing you, “i’m sorry! i thought he was into you, too,” she frowns, handing you a unicorn plushie from her desk drawer, “here, take mr. unicorn. he’s the best man on the planet.”

you chuckle sadly and squeeze the soft animal, utilizing its comfort as much as you can. “thanks, pen,” you settle your cheek on the squishy animal’s head and look at her sadly, eyes glassy and big, “i think it was too good to be true. he’s almost too perfect, maybe this is a sign.”

you see her deflate at your defeated tone, her hand reaching out to grab yours, running her thumb over your skin. you stay like that for a moment, allowing yourself to feel the complex emotions you’ve suppressed throughout the week. you’ve only spoken to spencer two or three times this week, about work things only, and it’s wednesday. each day that passes like this weighs heavy, like an anvil on your heart. the feeling is so overwhelming you have no choice but to suppress it until you get home, lest the floodgates are unleashed in the same vicinity as the perpetrator.

paperwork it is.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

that following monday, you sit, stewing at your desk, desperate to blend in to the background. you think back to one week ago, one week since you’ve had that fateful conversation with spencer. you nearly have whiplash from how fast things have changed in only a week. you yearn for the softness of that morning, of the blissful ignorance in thinking that you actually had a chance with spencer reid. your heart aches, the vulnerable throb in your chest paralyzing you. you rest your chin in your hands as your eyes mindlessly drift over emails you missed from the weekend, willing your brain to not work so hard unless absolutely necessary.

you’re snapped out of your pity party by the click of a door unlatching, the soft patter of converse on tile filling the bullpen. your eyes involuntarily follow spencer as he barges in. he’s impossible to ignore, clad in the most adorable button up/sweater vest combo you have ever seen in your life, walking full speed ahead with a scowl planted firmly on his face. the look on his face is so wholly unfamiliar, a look of hurt masking his usually soft features, the light in his eyes gone. the contrast is enough to shock you back to life once more, now registering a flustered penelope hot on his tail. the click of her heels echo through the bullpen in a desperate attempt to keep up with a man who is nearly a foot taller.

“spencer-wait! ugh!“ penelope grunts as spencer falls into his desk chair, immediately using work as a means to deflect. his back is to her as he sifts through the files littering his desk.

you study him from where you sit, his brows furrowed, his shoulders slumped, and lips in a tiny pout that pokes and prods at your heart. penelope gives up quick, turning away with a grunt and a look on her face that read ‘don’t ask’. on her way past your desk, though, she leans in and whispers, “meet me in my office after our meeting,” making your eyes go wide and your heart pick up in speed.

you use the new case to distract your mind from what could possibly be going on with spencer, and opt to stay back with penelope during this case. when you make your decision known in the conference room, spencer flinches. you just barely catch it out of your peripheral, you’re not sure you would have even registered it had garcia not smacked you in the thigh immediately after it happened. hotchner’s eyes flit from you, to penelope, then to reid. morgan coughs. the team is then dismissed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“she brought you to the date?!” you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“yes! i had no idea it was the date,” penelope gushes. you’re setting up materials for the case, waiting for the team to land for more information. in the meantime, she fills you in on the weekend, “i’d just assumed it was a separate event. it never occurred to me that she would invite another person to that. poor spencer’s never been so disappointed to see me,” her tone turns a bit guilty at that, and now it’s your turn to flinch at his name.

“that’s insane, why would she do that?” you ask, bewildered.

“to be honest with you, i have a few ideas…” penelope teases, setting up her computer for the day.

your eyes narrow into slits as she files her nail, feet up and resting on the desk as the rest of her equipment loads.

“what?” you breathe out, even though you both knew.

“come on,” she kicks her feet off the desk and swivels to face you, frozen in front of a box of files, stricken by what you both know is coming next, “it’s you. he has feelings for you, for sure. j.j. knows it too, everyone does. we all see it.”

“really?” you once again can’t believe your ears. relief floods your veins, the rush too sweet to pay attention to your conscious, desperate to sprinkle some guilt in there. you don’t care, though, not after the pure and utter agony of the past week.

“yes, of course! he likes you, i have no doubt about it,” penelope states matter of factly.

you round the corner of the desk and come to sit on a chair opposite her, “what makes you say that?” you’re unintentionally severe, palms resting flat on your thighs, leaning into her as to not miss a word. luckily for you, though, penelope is just as intense.

“it became clear to me when i saw them interact at the game. yes his ego was bruised a little, but he was light, airy. almost relieved. nothing like how he came in today,” she remarks, and your brows knit together in confusion.

“so you’re saying he was at ease with her, but nervous and grumpy when he had to be around me. that doesn’t make any sense,” penelope rolls her eyes at your denial, but you’re quick at the defense with a new argument, “and he told me gideon gave him those tickets to ask her out on a date. it’s her favorite team.”

you cross your arms across your chest and lean back, “i appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, penelope, but if the best profiler on the team could tell he likes her, then he likes her. not me.”

just saying it causes the crack in your chest to reappear, callusing your heart once more.

“ugh, no!” she exclaims, “you two are the most stubborn people i’ve ever met in my life, i swear!” she rolls her eyes and turns back to her now fully loaded equipment as your jaw hangs open in shock.

“what is that supposed to mean?” you lightly scoff.

“all i’m saying is that he was relieved that j.j. brought me, that he was being rejected. after the initial disappointment passed, that is. you’re going to have to get the rest of the information from spencer himself,” she decides, just as her phone starts to ring. saved by the bell, damn her. “talk to each other. you miss each other. everybody can tell and it’s getting sad, like watching two lost puppies roam aimlessly without each other.”

before you can give an answer to her crazy analogy, she turns away from you and flips open her cell phone, “talk to me!” she chirps, and hotch’s stern voice brings you back to the task at hand. you’ll simply have to talk to spencer later. great.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the team was able to land back at home that same night, luckily closing a quick case. after penelope says goodbye to you and spencer, you’re both the last ones in the bullpen. you two anxiously glance around, desperate for anybody else to be there, to break the suffocating tension between you two, thick and heavy with unanswered questions, words unsaid.

as you walk past spencer’s desk, he goes to walk with you, next to you. you haven’t been this close in proximity to him in a week, and the smell of his cologne, his aftershave, makes you heady. you both stop at the elevator, unsure who should go first. you decide on impulse that it has to be you, you can’t take this any longer. you turn to face him, and say the first thing that comes to your mind,

“she brought penelope?”

had it been anybody else, you may have kicked yourself for shoving your foot squarely into your mouth, but it’s spencer, so he laughs. it’s an eye creasing, cheeks bunched up, teeth showing kind of laugh, and you have no choice but to laugh, too. there’s a pang in your heart as this familiarity dawns upon the two of you once again. you’re desperate to keep it, so much so that you don’t move when the elevator dings and the doors open. neither of you do. you stand there, taking each other in, cheeks warm and breathing heavy, as the doors slide close once again.

“yeah. yeah, she brought penelope,” he remarks, red ears hiding behind his slickened hair. your eyes focus on one particular lock that’s fallen over his forehead, nearly in his eye. a sense of longing pierces your heart like cupid’s arrow, you fall in love with him all over again.

“you should wear your hair curly more,” you croak. spencer is unphased at your sudden change of topic, and sends you a small smile.

you’re the only one on the team that’s seen him with his hair curly. you revel in it any time you’re lucky enough to get a glimpse, when you’re sharing a hotel room or his couch on movie night. a strange nostalgia seizes you as you take in his hair, not realizing how much you’ve missed it, missed him until you’re standing there, taking all of him in.

“maybe i’ll start,” he says back gently, another silence falling between the two of you.

“l-listen, i have something i need you to know,” he says, turning to face you, tone growing more confident as he speaks, “gideon told me to ask out j.j. because i’ve been heartbroken over you for weeks.”

time stops.

“heartbroken?” you’re incredulous. “why? what did i do?” you’re nearly panicking, racking your brain for what you could have done to your best friend.

“n-nothing really. i think i heard you talking to penelope about me one day, about how you don’t see me in that way,” he stutters a bit, his head turned down to hide his flushed cheeks, “i thought there was something between us, but after hearing that-i-i just assumed you didn’t feel the same. it made sense, girls like you don't typically go for guys like me.”

your heart cracks in your chest, “spencer,” you whisper out, “don’t say that,” it’s all you can muster. he’s the most beautiful man on the planet. you’ve never been so sure of anything.

he rolls his eyes and you want to shake him until he believes it, “well, he gave me the tickets to try and put myself out there with someone else. j.j. is great, don’t get me wrong, but she’s not you. no one is,” he says, eyes boring into yours.

you take in every word falling from his lips, your brows marrying together. your brain is flying at a mile a minute trying to remember the conversation he’s talking about. suddenly, you stop. your gaze turns to him, eyes wide as the memory comes to you. it had to have been two months since then, but you knew that wasn’t a problem for spencer. if he overheard, he remembers every word out of your mouth.

you were chatting with penelope in the empty conference room. it was a monday, and you had gone out on a date the weekend before. he was the topic of conversation right before spencer came in, how he was ‘so cute’ with his ‘brown eyes and curly brown hair’, how he was ‘the perfect height- like 6’1-6’2’. and yet, you only liked him as a friend. the reality was, you were searching for spencer in every man you pursued, and none of them ever measured up to him. how could they?

“spencer,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands, “i went on a date that weekend. that’s who i was talking about. not you,” the last part comes out in a whisper as realization dawns on spencer’s face, uncertainty dancing through his big brown eyes.

“why didn’t you tell me you had a date?” he asks, puzzled, “is that why you couldn’t come over for movie night that weekend?”

your heart breaks even more, if that’s possible at this point, you wanted to be there. you wanted to be there so badly.

“i had convinced myself that it would never happen. you and me,” you start, and his eyes grow even wider than before, “i was looking for you every time. in every date. that’s why i never told you. it would never work out anyway, because they weren’t you. i wasn’t brave enough to admit that to myself until just now, i guess,” you grow a bit sheepish as you finish your explanation, your eyes glossy. your gaze finds the floor to avoid his piercing gaze. those eyes will kill you one day.

“what does that mean?” he says, so gentle, so spencer.

“it means i’m in love with you. i have been for years, since we started together,” you gush, tears finally falling over your lash line at your confession.

his eyes shut too, a gentle flutter of lashes against his cheek. you see a tear escape down his cheek, too.

“i love you, too. god, i love you too,” he whispers, moving immediately to scoop you up in his arms. he presses the elevator button again, finally getting you two out of there. he keeps you in his arms, carrying you into the elevator, refusing to let go as he squeezes you tight, legs wrapped around his waist as the doors close shut behind you.

as you descend, you reluctantly put your shaky legs on the floor, pulling away slightly to find his gaze.

“hi,” you whisper, biting your lip to try and suppress the cheesy smile taking over. you fail, grinning so wide and so bright, you’re afraid you might blind him.

“hi, beautiful,” he whispers back, brushing your hair back softly with his hand. he then cradles your jaw in his palm, pressing his soft lips against yours.

it’s a gentle kiss, but a passionate one. you both wish desperately to convey every single time you wanted each other, how long you’ve loved each other.

spencer pulls away from you for a brief moment to ask, “do you want to be my girlfriend? i think maybe we should try dating each other,” his sarcasm has you grinning from ear to ear.

“i think that’s the most genius idea you’ve had yet, doctor,” you lean in to kiss him again. he groans at the title, lips surrendering back into yours.

the ding of the elevator breaks your kiss, and you can’t hide your cheesy grins as you walk into the parking garage, your pinkies linked together.

“do you wanna come back to my apartment tonight? we can watch a movie?” spencer suggests nervously, like you’d say no. god, you love him.

“that sounds perfect,” you smile, pulling him in for another kiss. you can tell he’s expecting a light peck, but you deepen it, your hand finding the nape of his neck. your lips softly click together as you move against each other, your tongue just barely slipping into his mouth.

“see you at home,” you wink and get into your own car, leaving a flustered spencer reid in your wake.

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