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#spencer reid one shot
rynwritesreid · 3 days
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Okay, so i request a lot of smut but i’m gonna surprise you and request the most tooth rotting fluff you can write. Pregnant!reader x totally in love, acts of service!spencer. Do your thing 😉
A/N: I love all requests, but requests from my mutuals especially iluvreid, are my favourite. But sorry this took a long time, I am slowly getting through requests:)
Summary: it’s basically the request, but I’ve added in a little more detail about the pregnancy and yes I do believe Spencer Reid is a girl dad!
Content: pregnant!reader. I don’t think I have used pronouns in this, but Fem!reader just to be sure. Acts of service/loving!Spencer. Fluff. Mentions of morning sickness. Mentions of food. Heavy talk about pregnancy. Talk of Spencer been scared to be a dad, but reader reassures him.
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Spencer Reid had had both nightmares and dreams about becoming a dad. He did truly want to be one, but he also didn’t want to become like his dad or make his child suffer like he did while witnessing his mother’s mental health crisis.
 
But you had assured him that he would make an amazing father, and that all the stuff he was worrying about showed him that.
 
So, the day you showed him a positive pregnancy test, with a huge smile on your face, he knew he would have to put some of his fears aside because he had to take care of you.
 
*

For the first few weeks, Spencer would always wake up before you. He would get some water and put into the fridge, making sure it was chilled for you. He would get some ginger biscuits out from the cupboard and start making you a cup of tea.
 
Once he had heard you wake up and shuffle your way to the bathroom he would come in shortly after you to make sure you were okay. His heart swelled with love and pride as he watched you, his hand resting protectively on your back as you leaned over the sink. The worry etched on his face softened as you turned to him with a tired smile, grateful for his silent support.
 
“Are you feeling okay today?” Spencer asked, concern evident in his voice.
 
“I don’t feel as sick today, just a little queasy and exhausted, that’s all.” You grinned, reaching out to hold his hand. "Thank you for taking care of me, Spencer. I appreciate it more than words can say."
 
Spencer squeezed your hand gently, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I'll always take care of you, Y/N. You and our little one mean everything to me." He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back to let you finish up in the bathroom.
 
*
 
You and Spencer had discussed if you wanted to find out the gender of your baby when it came to the 22-week scan, and you both agreed you did. You didn’t care what gender the baby was going to be, but you believed Spencer would be the most amazing girl dad.
 
As you both sat in the waiting room, Spencer held your hand tightly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand. The anticipation of finding out whether you were having a boy, or a girl was palpable in the air.
 
When your name was called, you both walked hand in hand to the examination room. The sonographer greeted you warmly and began the scan. You watched the screen anxiously, feeling your heart race with excitement.
 
Suddenly, the sonographer smiled and pointed to the screen. "Congratulations," she said, "It's a girl."
 
Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Spencer, whose face broke into a wide grin. He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on your lips before turning his attention back to the screen, his eyes filled with wonder and love.
 
"We're having a daughter," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.
 
“You’re going to make the most amazing dad, Spencer. You already make the most perfect husband.”
 
Spencer Reid's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he reached out to caress your cheek, overwhelmed with emotion. The reality of becoming a father to a little girl filled him with a mixture of joy and trepidation, but seeing the love and trust in your eyes gave him the strength he needed to embrace this new chapter of his life.
*
 
You had popped around six months, and Spencer couldn’t get enough. He loved putting his hand on the bump and feeling the baby kick. He loved talking to you about baby names, and being able to talk to the baby knowing it would recognise his voice soon enough.
 
He also loved been able to take care of you. Anytime you needed anything, he would offer to get it for you. Even before you had gotten pregnant, he was an act of services person, but now his acts of kindness and care had intensified. Spencer had become even more attentive and thoughtful, always ensuring you were comfortable and taken care of.
 
 Spencer didn’t mind running out at odd hours to fetch your favourite ice cream flavour to giving you foot massages after a long day, Spencer made sure you were always comfortable and well taken care of. He had even offered to sleep in the spare bedroom, so you could have as much bed space as you wanted.
 
As your due date approached, Spencer's excitement and nerves reached new heights. He had meticulously prepared the nursery, painting the walls in a soft shade of lavender, and assembling the crib with precision. Every night, he would sit in the rocking chair, reading aloud to your growing belly with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes.
 
“Do you think she’s going to be more of a Beethoven or a Mozart fan?” you teased, watching Spencer's face light up with a mixture of amusement and adoration.
 
“Oh, I think she’s going to be a Vivaldi fan. But I also know she’s probably going to be the only one who can beat me at chess.” Spencer smiled at the thought, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. The idea of sharing his passions and interests with his daughter filled him with an indescribable sense of joy.
 
“She’s going to be smart person ever. Probably even smarter than you, so of course she’ll be able to beat you at chess.”
 
Spencer chuckled at your playful banter, his heart overflowing with love for both you and the little girl growing inside you. He couldn't wait to meet her, to hold her in his arms and show her the world through his gentle, intelligent eyes.
 
“I think we should call her, Astrid Luna Reid.” You watched as Spencer's eyes widened with surprise before a soft smile spread across his face. "Astrid Luna Reid," he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue with a sense of wonder and warmth. "It's perfect. Our little star, our moonlight."
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ddejavvu · 3 months
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Hi Mei!! ♡ How about Reid dating a sunshine!reader who tells obviously wrong facts when he is in earsight, just to mess with him? Bc I think it would be so funny 😭😭 Anyway, have a nice day, and thank you so much for all your quality content, you're saving lives <333
"Oh my god Emily, you're never gonna believe this," You lean in towards the brunette grinning at you, but your voice stays loud enough for Spencer to hear across the desk, "I just found out that bowling is more dangerous than dinosaurs are."
Her brow dips but her lips quirk up, "Alright, you've hooked me. What's the punchline?"
"No punchline," You shake your head, feeling Reid's curious stare on the back of it, "In 2019 someone died at a bowling alley after slipping on the floor and splitting his head open. But in that same year, there wasn't a single death by dinosaur. Isn't that insane?"
Spencer is already piping up before Emily can properly laugh, but you can still hear her beneath his frantic, "Uh, honey, that's not- that's not exactly right. I mean, dinosaurs would be incredibly dangerous, if any of them were still alive. Which, in 2019- uh, they were not."
"Statistically speaking, Spence," You use his favorite phrase against him, but you're not sure he picks up on the teasing grin set on your face beyond the concern he's stewing in, "You can't argue with the numbers."
"Well- you can't, but in 2019, the number of dinosaurs alive was zero, so that's- that's the only number that really matters, baby, but if you wanted to read more about the risks associated with communal sports venues, I'd be happy to share some articles I've looked into on-"
"Ah, leave it to Reid to turn a sick-ass discussion about dinosaurs about the dangers of fun," Morgan scoffs. He wasn't in on your plan from the beginning, but he's happy to jump on the bandwagon, "Besides, the last Jurassic Park movie was made in 2022, so there were dinosaurs alive, duh."
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strawbeerossi · 6 months
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The Ballad Of Dr. Reid
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Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid
Description: When you zone out in the middle of one of your lectures, your professor asks you to stay after class to check in on you.
Content/Warnings: Power imbalance, Professor/Student, age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), minor hand kink, porn with little plot, heated kissing, fingering, spit, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (kinda, right?), reader gets a facial
Word Count: 1.9K
Kinktober Day Two: Power Imbalance
Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3
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You’d always had a liking for criminal justice, so taking the courses in college seemed like a no brainer. You really liked Criminology 1424. It was an interesting class, one that piqued your interest far more than the other classes you were in the process of taking. 
In addition to being genuinely interested in the subject, you were more interested in the professor of the class; Dr. Spencer Reid.
He was soft spoken for the most part, a little on the awkward side but that was okay. He was experienced from his fifteen years in the Behavioral Analysis Unit and would use cases he’d faced for examples in his lessons. His lectures were long and albeit pretty boring at times but you had no problem watching the man at the front of class talk, his hands emphasizing just how prepared he was for the topic at hand. You’d realized that there were topics he definitely enjoyed getting into, his body language and his overexaggerated gestures being proof of it.
You’d always thought the FBI and the darkness he faced on a near daily basis would exhaust him, make him harder and more stoic, the seriousness of the world on his shoulders. No, instead he offered smiles, helped any student who came to him, and was painfully oblivious to the amount of young men and women auditing the class just to admire the attractive professor.
It was like any other lecture, delving into the intricacies of triggers and what could bring them on. It was a lesson he liked, judging by his animation this evening. You’d done your best to keep up, to get plenty of notes jotted down due to this being on the impending final. However, you were too busy drooling over the curly haired beauty, his veined hands flailing with each word that fell from his lips. 
What you wouldn’t give to have those hands on your body, to feel the gentle touch of your professor as he was letting his fingertips memorize all the dips and curves of your body, to familiarize himself with how to pleasure you.
His hands on-
“Y/N? Are you alright?”
You were snapped from your thoughts. The sound of your name falling from his mouth was like sweet honey, drizzling over your eardrums as you could feel your face heat up from embarrassment. Great. Now the whole class is looking at you. 
“Y-Yes, I’m okay. I’m sorry, just, uh, not all the way here today.” You explained, slowly looking back down at the notebook covered in scribbles. So much for getting any work done today. 
The class passed by painfully slowly after that. Even the attractive man in front of you didn’t seem to speed up the clock. You’d sat quietly, giving up with the notes aspect as you’d switched to doodling on the edges of your notebook. You’d done your best to try and be one of the first ones out whenever your professor dismissed the class full of students. However your shoulders slumped with defeat when the sea of bodies filed out first.
There was no clean getaway.
“Y/N, do you mind staying back and having a chat?”
Fuck.
Mustering up enough courage to face the man you’d gotten distracted fantasizing about, you were approaching his desk. Even up close, he was a beautiful man. Even in his early to mid forties, he still looked delicious. “I apologize for getting distracted earlier. I was just-”
“Looking at me? Y/N,” There was a deep breath that left his lips. “You can tell me if this tie is ugly. My coworker Penelope insisted I wear it. I love her but some of her ties aren’t really my style.” 
He was joking, easing the awkwardness and the unknown tension filling the lecture hall. Maybe he’d been feeling the same way about you. He looked at you a lot as is, however you may have just been in a delusional state of mind right now. There was a hope that Spencer would reciprocate those feelings. “It’s not.. It’s a little ugly but that, uh, wasn’t what I was, uh, staring at.” You decided to just be honest. Worst you can do is transfer out of the class. 
Or run away to a new city, start over again at a new university. 
“Really?” 
“Really. Sir, with the risk of coming across as inappropriate, it’s hard to pay attention to you at the front of the class. It’s not a bad thing. You just always look…” You paused and gave him a once over. “Really nice.” You spoke. 
There was a blush that spread across the older man’s cheeks, an eyebrow raising. “You think so? At risk of sounding even more inappropriate and unprofessional,” He paused as he leaned forward a bit, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s hard to teach when you come in looking as beautiful as you do. Makes me just wanna stare at you the whole class.” 
The words were lower than usual, a rush of warmth going straight to your core from the mere compliment. 
“Plus when you come in with a new lipstick shade..” His lanky body was pushing off the desk before he approached, his fingers resting gently under your chin before tilting it upwards. “It drives me insane. You may think I don’t notice but…” This was crossing the boundary of teacher and student, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. “I do. Makes me think of these pretty lips wrapped around me, those eyes glossed over with pleasure.” He hummed, chuckling at the way your breath hitched, eyes locking with his. 
You didn’t know what came over you at this point, however you could help yourself as you were launching yourself forward, mouth smashing against his in a quick kiss that he seemed enthusiastic to reciprocate. His hands were gripping your waist, pulling your frame closer to his chest as the kiss filled with desire and hunger was escalating.
The next thing you knew, you were being sat against the desk at the front of the lecture hall, your eyes widening. “H-Hold on, don't you have another class??” She asked immediately as she let her hands squeeze the broad shoulders. “Yeah, in twenty minutes.” Spencer responded, hands trailing to the waistband of the pants you were wearing. The thought of having sex in a hall where anyone could walk in at any point was enough to send a shiver down your spine. You weren’t one for exhibitionism normally, however you weren’t gonna turn this down. 
“Fuck it.” Your words made a grin spread across Spencer’s face, his lips pressing a chaste kiss against your lips while working on getting your pants pulled off, panties following in one swift motion. Licking his hand, the older male didn’t waste any time before moving the wet hand between your legs, his spit working as lube as he wanted to make sure you were wet enough for the deed. Lord knows that he didn’t want you tearing at any point. 
The feeling of his fingers brushing against your clit had already sent electricity through your body, a light gasp escaping your lips. 
“Such a pretty girl, bet you haven’t ever had any man pay attention to you, huh? I can only imagine you’ve been with selfish little boys who haven’t even attempted to bring you to orgasm..” He sighed playfully, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips once more. He was addicted, drinking in your moans as his thumb was massaging your clit, one finger pushed deep in your weeping hole while he was working you open.
This was definitely something new, you didn’t really sleep around so the few times you’d engaged in casual sex were quick, rushed. You sure as hell knew that the past couple of dudes couldn’t even find your clit. You were intoxicated on his touch the small movements he made eliciting moans and gasps into his mouth. With your hips rolling against the touch, you let your eyes flutter shut. 
“As much as I hate to stop, we’ve got fifteen minutes and I’m dying to be inside of you.” He murmured against your lips, his hands moving to undo his belt before tugging his pants down his legs, boxers being pulled down soon after. The sight of his hard cock had your full attention. “Ready? You’re sure you want to keep going?”
“Yes!” You rasped, making him chuckle while his large hands were spreading your thighs apart, letting a trail of his spit fall onto your pussy before he was giving himself a few tugs. The thick tip of his shaft was spreading the spit onto your cunt, a hum falling from his lips. So pretty. God, I hate having to crunch time like this.” He groaned while letting the thick head push into your hole, your mouth falling open at the delicious burn that came with the stretch of your inner walls. If only you knew about your professor’s cock sooner.. All the stress of studying for quizzes would’ve been a million times easier.
His hips snapped without warning, a loud moan falling from your mouth while the male couldn’t help but chuckle as he quickly clasped a hand over your mouth. “Shh. Can’t have anyone hearing you.” His hand barely did justice to hide your moans and cries as his hips continued to roughly thrust, the desk rocking steadily with each movement.
“Fuck. It’s like this pussy was made for me, look at the way she takes my cock and is desperate for more. So greedy.” The vulgar words from your otherwise sweet and seemingly innocent man’s mouth was strangely attractive, attractive to a level that your inner walls were spasming around the hard cock nestled deep inside of you, so far you felt like he was hitting your cervix. Then again, you could’ve just been exaggerating. 
With your fingernails digging into his clothed shoulders, you could feel a knot in your stomach, tightening so tight that you felt like the floodgates were going to burst open. 
“I-I’m gonn-” You stuttered, words muffled against his hand while Spencer nodded. 
“I’m almost there. Cum for me.” His words were husky, tone dripping with ecstasy as he let out a low groan. 
As your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, the both of you were letting out a mixture of groans, mons and even a few whimpers slipping from the older man’s lips. It was all too much, finally letting the dam break as you were letting your head fall back, mouth agape as your thighs were shaking, your creamy arousal making a ring around his cock.
There was a little whine at the emptiness you felt when his cock wasn’t inside of you, the male opting to gently move you from the desk before putting you on your knees. “Look at you. Fuck. Stick your tongue out for me. Make sure you close your eyes too. I don’t wanna give you any infections.” Even in a huffing and panting mess, he looked out for you.
Doing as you were told, you let your mouth fall open while your eyes fluttered shut, the male groaning at the sight as he roughly fisted at his cock. There was only a few pumps before his cock was twitching, it being his turn for his head to fall back as he was painting your face with his spent. The load was a lot more than you expected.
Maybe he needed this just as bad as you did. 
As the act was coming to an end, Spencer was trying to catch his breath while tugging up his pants and boxers. He’d retrieved a few tissues from his desk before leaning down to wipe your face, a light hum leaving his lips. “Maybe you can talk to me about some extra notes you could add to your doodle book. Say over coffee tomorrow morning?”
“Deal.”
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Text
Secretly Mine
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Summary: Spencer and Reader have been seeing each other for a while without the team's knowledge
Category: Fluff
Couple: Spencer/BAU Fem!Reader
Content warnings: None
Word count: 1.5k
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Eight months have passed since your arrival at the BAU. You’re an integral part of the team. Hotch has been sure to let you know. You’ve stood out with your eye for detail at certain crime scenes, outshining even some of the team’s more seasoned members. Luckily, the academy’s rumors about the Quantico team’s bond have rang true time and time again, so competition and jealousy never became an issue. It only made them respect you and even open up to you.
One person who has particularly opened up to you is the genius of the group, Spencer Reid. The secret you learned: he’s a gentle kisser. Almost childishly chaste, but nothing seemed more fitting for his personality. What was surprising was the setting of your first kiss.
New York City police invited the team to investigate the terrorist cell killing random people across the city. Their attacks grew more volatile by the time you all arrived, placing bombs on government vehicles. One of these bombs hurt Hotch, and SSA Joyner did not survive the same blast. The results could have been worse, considering.
Your team faced the problem of uncertainty regarding who (if anyone) had been injured at that moment. Spencer was with Rossi at the police station while the rest of you were on the ground. That damn terrorist organization interfered with signals and transmissions all the time, and this was no different. You, by your luck, were the most difficult to get in contact with, despite being safe at Federal Plaza. You met with the team when it was safe to do so and all targeted areas were cleared. Most of you sighed in relief. Garcia even held your face, as if to make sure you were real, alive and, breathing.
Spencer held your face too, but not in the same way. You both took refuge by the water cooler, surprisingly where no one was present in a once-crowded New York City police station. You talked about what happened, Hotch’s current condition, and how long to expect these nerves to last. Your nerves didn’t settle, though, when Spencer’s knuckles brushed your cheek as he said, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
You didn’t blame these nerves, though, when you leaned into the touch, looking up at him with a smile. “I’m glad you’re okay, too.”
Spencer was cute, obviously, but workplace relationships are highly unprofessional and even a liability, if the case they just survived wasn’t enough proof of that. You’d think (well, you knew actually) Spencer of all people would know this. He knows everything. When you had a case in Baltimore involving the Ravens, he told you their name came from Edgar Allan Poe’s most famous poem. Then he explained the detailed theories surrounding his untimely death. Spencer believes it has something to do with cooping, whatever that means, you dared not to ask. There’s nothing he doesn’t consider.
So, Spencer must have considered all the odds of professional behavior in that moment by the water cooler since his lips delicately brushed yours. It was barely a kiss at first, until he leaned in for another, to where you could feel the warmth of his mouth and felt that he could do with some lip exfoliant. The last part you didn’t care about because it was practically over before it began. Neither of you said anything about it. Instead, you stayed there for a while, not touching or talking. Then Morgan told the team to pack up and get ready to go home.
Throughout the past month, you and Spencer have shared many kissing sessions. Not at work, though, because you both still have some sense. Kissing Spencer, though, tends to not leave you with much sense. His gentleness is not a front. His touches are tender and he’s never pushed you beyond your limits. It’s a good thing then that he’s a gentleman, so he earned kisses through dinners, movies, and day trips. It was something to look forward to in between grueling cases.
And it wasn’t even off work when Spencer would bring joy to you. There was a case recently in North Carolina that shook you more than you cared to admit. You didn’t want to mention what specifically, as it’s something you haven’t spoken about in a long time, but the team picked up on it quickly. They checked on you and even asked if you needed to sit out. You powered through and came to a satisfactory (for lack of a better word) conclusion. Afterward, Spencer invited you to ice cream. It was a welcoming change of scenery, despite the ice cream place being called Jack the Dipper. It was hilariously fitting, so it really wasn’t an issue. Spencer didn’t ask about what happened or what made you feel so disturbed. Throughout the night, he just made sure to ask if you were okay.
You haven’t been okay for a while. Not because of that case, but because it’s been three months now and you are still running around with Spencer without the team’s knowledge. The team might feel cheated (and Hotch might be pissed) because they are not aware of this information, but the uneasiness of all this was starting to settle in. The fear, the worry that this might just be all for nothing. Outside of the office, he shows that he cares. He knows things about you that you haven't revealed in some time. And apparently he has done the same. Bruises from harsh kisses around your bodies linger under work clothes from a weekend in, and the team has been none the wiser. And you’re not sure if you’re as okay with it as you thought you were.
The team went out to the bar on a Thursday, celebrating a government holiday the night before (i.e. a three-day weekend). The team took shots, bet money, threw darts, and Emily ended up with the most by closing. You would’ve coughed up more cash throughout the night if you were confident in your bets.
Spencer barely looked at you. Didn’t brush your hand or even stand near you for too long, like you had the plague or whatever Poe died from. It didn’t help the feeling in your core, and neither did the walk home. Morgan drove Garcia home, Hotch with Rossi, and J.J. with Emily. And of course, Spencer with you. When J.J. drove away after boasting about avoiding a ticket on an expired meter, Spencer didn’t hesitate to reach for your hand. It was nice, and as the weather grew colder, it was a welcomed warmth. But how could it not feel at least a little sour?
His apartment wasn’t far from here, so you walked. Your hands were laced the entire time, but he didn’t breathe a word and you couldn’t tell if that should make you feel better or worse.
It wasn’t until you climbed the steps to his door that he asked, “Are you staying the night?”
You swallowed. Unlike Emily, Garcia, and Rossi, you were on the side of tipsy rather than in dire need of a toilet to bury your head into. “Sure.” You said. “If you want me to.”
“Yeah,” He said, fiddling with his key and lock. “Of course I want you to.”
He finally opens the door and turns on the living room light. You barely had time to put your purse down before his lips were on yours. They were still chapped like the first time, except you could forgive that because of the growing cold outside. His hands hold your waist, they creep to your back. You couldn’t help but lean in, away from the door he pressed you into. It was when Spencer moaned in your mouth that you broke away. Catching your breath, you try putting together a sentence. But breathing is difficult right now for both of you. Spencer’s eyes are lazy and his breath still lingers with a scent of the mint gum he spit out when he showed up to the bar.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and you think it’s the start to an actual apology. “I was trying to stay patient.” He kisses you again, softly. And you kiss him back still. He moans again. “I want you.”
You swallow again. Your throat is so dry. “Spencer, I—”
“I want to tell them.” He interrupts.
You blink, it quickens as you take in the words. “What?”
His hands cup your face. He brushes the messy bangs from your forehead. “I want to tell them. About this. About us. I just…” He trails off. That is not something you’re used to seeing. “I want more time with you.”
As Spencer’s words sank in, you felt a mix of apprehension and longing, wondering just what could go wrong. A lot, in fact. But you have to believe he’s being honest. Why wouldn’t he be?
And with a soft smile, you reached for his hand and met his gaze. “I want that too,” you said, feeling the weight of it finally being lifted off your chest. “I’ve wanted that for a while.”
“I know. And I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you about it earlier. I was being selfish.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“But I would. Because it’s true. But that changes now.” The look on his face, the fully sober look on his face. He’s all in. “I will tell them you’re my girlfriend.”
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sailorholly · 19 days
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Appetizer
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Summary: A night out with the team takes a delicious turn.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x F. Reader
Warnings: Smut. 18+ only. Minors DNI.
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“Give me your panties.” Your boyfriend Spencer, commanded. He was different since he got out of prison. There was something dark about him now. You weren’t complaining. Sure, you missed the old Spencer, but now he was rougher with you.
The sex was good before, but now he didn’t treat you like a porcelain doll, afraid you would break even from the lightest touch. He was still sweet to you, but you would have to say the sex is better.
You look at him with wide eyes, reaching your hand under your dress to remove them. You place one hand on his forearm to steady yourself, pulling your feet out one at a time. You fold them, placing them in his outstretched hand. He puts them in his pocket, grabbing your hand before you leave to meet the rest of the team.
When you arrive, you take a seat next to Penelope. She beams as you settle in, telling you how beautiful you look. You order your drinks when the server stops by. Kristy, Matt’s wife is talking about their kids, but you stop listening when Spencer’s large hand caresses your thigh.
Your eyes meet his, he lifts an eyebrow at you. You turn back to the conversation, Spencer leans in, his hot breath tickling your ear, sending goosebumps down your arms. “I don’t want to hear a sound fall from those pretty lips. Do you understand?” You nod your head, breath caught in your throat.
“Alright love birds, get a room!” Penelope teases you. You smile and laugh, pretending you weren’t affected by Spencer’s words. You are suddenly thankful you chose a black dress, so nobody else would see your arousal flooding the fabric.
Spencer’s hand inches higher, so close to where you need him. You continue talking with the girls while Spencer talks about the case the team just solved with Luke and Rossi. You squirm, the anticipation making it hard to sit still. Spencer removes his hand, taking a sip from his drink.
You stifle a whine, pretending you have to cough. Spencer’s hand returns, higher than before. You wonder if he can feel your desire for him dripping down your thigh. Your silent question is answered when he rubs it into your soft skin. The heat from his hand makes you throb. If he would only move his hand a little to the left and put you out of your misery.
The server starts taking everyone’s orders starting with Penelope. She hands her menu to the smiling man, who acknowledges you. “For you, miss?” Spencer plunges two fingers inside you, and you can’t remember what you were going to order. You were lucky you didn’t cry out at the sudden intrusion.
The server smiles, but you can tell he is growing impatient. “I, umm.” You begin, but Spencer cuts you off. “She’ll have the steak medium rare.” He answers for you. You smile at him in appreciation as his slender fingers curl, hitting your g-spot.
You quickly grab your glass and bring it to your lips, trying to stay silent. His thumb slowly swirls your clit, and your vision goes blurry. You grab his arm, needing something to steady yourself. The server comes by with the appetizers for the table, giving you a sideways glance. For a brief second, you think he knows.
Any worries about that fade as quickly as they came while Spencer’s long fingers slide in and out of you. You’re silently praying that Penelope can’t hear the obscene squelching every time his fingers glide into you. She’s none the wiser, gushing to Tara about her latest date.
Spencer continues working you with slow strokes of his fingers, his thumb dragging across your clit in small movements. Your fingers dig into his leg under the table. You watch as he acts unaffected, eating the greasy appetizer with his free hand. You shouldn’t be this turned on in public, in front of your coworkers sitting right beside you.
The server returns with everyone’s meals as Spencer picks up his pace. He adds another finger, strumming your clit with his thumb. It’s an effort not to rock your hips into his hand when you are so close. His thumb works faster as he curls his long fingers once more, tipping you over the edge.
Your steak is placed in front of you, as your orgasm rips through you. You grip the table, needing to hold on. You’ve never came this hard in your life. “Are you alright, miss? Your face is flushed. Would you like some more water?”
“Y-yes please.” You manage to mumble as your pleasure fades. Everyone looks at you, Emily asks if you want her to go to the bathroom with you because you do look quite flushed. You refuse, blaming it on the restaurant being too hot.
After your refill of water, everyone starts to dig in. Spencer removes his hand from between your thighs, bringing his sticky fingers to his mouth. His tongue swirls around the tip of one of his fingers. “Mmm” he moans as your taste reaches his tongue. “If the main course is as delicious as the appetizer, I’ve found my new favorite restaurant.” He winks at you, wiping his hand on his napkin.
Tags
@cindylynn @potter-puff007 @multifandom-worlds @mochie85 @wheredafandomat @cynbx @lover-of-books-and-tea @lamentis-10 @zzumkii @megharat-barnes-reid @anonymously-ominous @kats72 @vivian-555 @itzdarling @emarich7 @nomajdetective @aelinismyqueen @wildernessflora @academiareid @loz-3
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de4dlyniightshade · 3 months
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I just imagine that like Spencer HATES being vocal but the boys so sensitive he can't help but moan like a whore
THISSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!! I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. DIE ON IT.
HEADCANON SEGMENT!!! :3
i just know he's fighting for his life every time you give him a handjob, his eyes squeezed shut while he grips anything he can, trying so hard not to let any sounds slip out but he just can't help but let out cute little whimpers and gasps.
prince(he's too cute to be a king)of overstimulation!!! he'd take it like such a champ, letting you milk him dry until he can't even think for himself, he'd just moan and whimper and beg.
would literally almost bust when you whispered something like "let me hear you, baby" and just can't help but moan like a SLUT
every time you two go at it at least one neighbour complains bcs he's just so loud, practically screaming your name over and over.
honestly for the longest time he managed to convince you he was just quiet naturally but his facade fell the first time you overstimulated him, which was completely by accident, spencer, unbeknownst to you, had already rubbed one out before coming over but you pounced on him as soon as he was through the door so he was still sensitive and reactive, you thumb rubbing his tip making him let out an almost pornographic moan.
one of your favourite things to do is touch him in public, like in a bathroom or changing room so nobody would see you but he'd have to force himself to be quiet so you wouldn't get caught, your rule being that he wasn't allowed to cover his mouth, he had to just keep quiet.
you'd never been with someone so vocal before and you honestly don't think you could go back, you were addicted to the way he babbled almost incoherently, the pleasure going to his head and making him speak his mind, which is when he said some of the sweetest things to you, like how beautiful you are and how much he loves you and the way you make him feel.
one time derek came to spencer's apartment to drop something off while you two were preoccupied, the sound of spencer's loud moaning and whining being very audible even from outside his door, which started the constant teasing and fake moaning around the bureau.
i honestly might have to write a fic abt this>:3
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shewroteaworld · 6 months
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I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't
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Premise: Brilliant sunshine!reader gets heat stroke on a case. Your best friend, Spencer Reid, is predictably worried about you. What he doesn't expect is to be forced to come to terms with his feelings for you.
Word count: approx. 3,200
TW: Brief mention of vomit and, perhaps, hospitals
(Y/N/N): Your nickname
Author's Note: Super excited to introduce brilliant sunshine!reader (aka, super smart sunshine!reader) onto my fanfic writing scene! Definitely willing to write more of her in the future if anyone is interested. Hope you enjoy!
“Does anybody have more water?”
“Where is the damn ambulance?”
Perhaps your job classically conditioned you to respond to Hotch’s “I’m seriously not fucking around” tone because your eyes crack open. 
Someone put weights on your eyelids and cranked the sun to extra-bright. The harsh rays burned your retinas and washed everything in a white blur. Did someone set off a flash bang?
“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” Miraculously, out of the screeching white, you made out JJ’s halo of blonde hair. 
“JJ?” You groaned. Even though you could barely see, it felt like the whole world was spinning, 
“Hotch, she’s coming around!” You recognized Morgan’s voice. “Welcome back to the world of the living, honey. We’re happy to see you.”
Your heart rate spiked. You never died. Did you die? 
“Yes, we still need a medic!” Hotch barked. 
You winced. “Wha?” Suddenly, your mouth couldn’t handle a one-syllable world. Even more alarming, your brain, the same brain that kept up with Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid,  couldn’t understand what the hell was going on.
 “What I do?” You whined. 
“He’s not yelling at you, honey,” JJ said like a kindergarten teacher. “You’re just a little out of it right now.”
“Is she conscious?” Another voice entered. Your head spun. “I brought more water.” 
You moaned to suppress a gag. Your eyelids drooped, and you relished in the break from the light.
“Hey, smarty pants, stay with us.” Morgan pat your cheek. “Let Emily get some water in you.” You couldn’t force your eyes open more if you tried.
Your friend Emily. That’s who the voice belonged to. 
Suddenly, JJ pulled your hair from your face, Morgan lifted your head, and Emily forced a water bottle to your lips simultaneously.  The blinding glare seared your eyes and your head spun. You wanted to sob and maybe vomit.
Your chest hitched with a shallow inhale. “Stop.” You whined.
“(Y/N), it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” JJ said.
“No!” You exclaimed.
“Honey–” Morgan tried. 
You thrashed against his hold, but your exhausted muscles couldn’t throw Morgan’s gentlest grip. 
“Maybe we should let her go.” Emily said.
“She needs water.” JJ countered.
“She’s disoriented.” Hotch cut in. “Let her get her bearings first, but don’t let her close her eyes.”
Gingerly, Morgan lay your body back on the grass. Your head swam, and your vision rippled as if you could see the heat waves in the California air. You tried to take a deep breath but choked.  
You sputtered. Every inhale led to a series of dry coughs. In your delirium, you thought of Spencer. Your Spencer. Where the hell was he? Did he not love you anymore?
Suddenly, Hotch loomed over you. His tall frame blocked out the brutality of the sun’s glare, which eased your headache and nausea but not your cough. His eyebrows were so deeply furrowed they formed a trench of wrinkles across his forehead. “Check her airway.” 
Suddenly, you stared into JJ’s blue eyes. Other hands tried to manipulate your body. You jerked.
“(Y/N), relax.”
“Honey, please–”
“Turn her on her side!” Morgan’s cut off by Reid, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard. 
***
Spencer Reid has survived many traumatic situations. 
He's cared for his schizophrenic mother. He’s been kidnapped. He recovered from a drug addiction. And those are just a few items from his dissertation-length “PTSD-Causing Experiences” list. 
But many of his worst traumas were a by-product of being a profiler– a job which allowed him to utilize his intellect to help others. He was willing to accrue trauma like Pokemon cards in exchange for applying his genetic gifts to create a safer world. 
Reid could have framed your heat exhaustion as another scare in the line of duty. But when Reid saw you, his brilliant girl, on the ground, his heart fell through his feet.
Then, he saw how his the team responded to your medical emergency.
When he witnessed you coughing and writhing on your back as the team leered over with water, he thought he might explode.
You could be asphyxiating, and the team could be letting you choke while forcing more fluid down your throat. 
He shivered as he sprinted down the steps of the local precinct and onto the grassy field where you lay. 
“Turn her on her side!” He yelled as diagnoses and courses of action fled through his mind on hyperspeed.
“We’re trying, she—”
“Spence?” You choked out through a coughing fit. He’s surprised his ears caught it.
Reid knelt next to you. “Let’s get you into recovery position.” He said, his voice suddenly soft as clouds. Reid gingerly pushed you onto your left side. “Off your back, there we go.” He bent your right leg and slid it in front of your body to prevent you from rolling onto your stomach if you lost consciousness. 
“Did she faint?” Reid asked the team. He couldn’t take his eyes from your face. 
“We think so. She was dizzy, so she laid on the ground. Then she was unresponsive for at least 40 seconds,” Emily said. 
Spencer pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Predictably, you were feverishly hot. “She’s burning up. Has someone called an ambulance?”
“Allegedly.” Hotch said, an edge to his voice. 
“We have, sir. They’re on their way.” A local police officer responded, exasperated.
Spencer’s eye twitched. “How long has she been down?” You whined, and he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He whispered. 
“In total, 15 minutes.” Hotch supplied. “Emily, pour some more water on her.”
“This was for her to drink.”
“Use one bottle to pour on her face and neck.” Spencer said. “I ran and got Gatorade. She should start with sips of that when she can swallow. Heat stroke can also be caused by salt depletion.” 
Spencer was conversing with a local officer over the safety protocols in the area when a pair of policemen walked into the precinct, gossiping about the FBI agent who “folded fast in the southern Cali heat.”
Spencer’s jaw had clenched. Maybe one of his team members was ill since they put in most of the grunt work to catch the unsub. He would’ve been more annoyed if not for the worry gnawing at his brain. What if they were talking about (Y/N)? She looked a little shaky right after her chase with the unsub, but Spencer didn’t get a chance to ask his friend if she was alright. And, stupidly enough, he forgot to text her to check if she drank any water post-case. Quickly, Reid excused himself, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and rushed to the field where your limp body trembled on the grass. 
“I’m going to pour some water on you, honey," Emily said. You flinched as the frigid water hit your hairline. 
“Breathe, relax.” Spencer said, shielding your nose. The last thing you needed was some accidental waterboarding.
Seconds after the water drenched your forehead, your whole body relaxed into the grass. “That felt good.” You smiled weakly. 
Spencer stroked your arm. “Let’s sit you up in a minute, okay? You should try some Gatorade before the EMTs get here.”
“EMTs? I’m fine.” You whined.
Spencer didn’t think it was possible for his eyebrows to crease further. 
“You’re not fine.” Gentler, he said, “and it’s okay not to be fine, sunlight.”
“But, I’m alive.” You tried to roll onto your stomach, but your bent leg kept you safe on your back.
Some on the team members chuckled, but Spencer didn’t find your delirium humorous. “I know you’re alive, sweetie. But you’re way too hot. I think you’re a little confused right now.”
“I’m just…” You winced. “I’m alive.”
The knot in Spencer’s chest tightened ten-fold. This could be heat stroke. At the very least, you had heat exhaustion. You were dehydrated. You were delirious. 
Best case scenario: you were ill for a few days. Worst case scenario: You had vital organ damage.
Just as he’s about to call 911 himself, JJ interrupted him. “Look–ambulance lights. Help is on the way, honey.”
“You hear that, (Y/N)? You’re gonna be fine.” Morgan said. If only Spencer felt that confident. 
“Spence…” You blocked your eyes from the light with your limp right hand. “I’m scared. I don’t feel well.” 
“Oh, (Y/N), I know.” He cupped your shoulder and hoped you could feel his love for you through his palm. That sent a jolt down his spine. He wasn’t supposed to comfortably think those thoughts about you.
You were sick. This wasn’t the time. He leaned over your body. He gave you plenty of breathing room, but his torso was  parallel to your hip so his eyes could meet your watering ones. “Hey, take a breath for me, Smartie.” 
Your nickname for him slipped from his tongue so easily it spooked him. Suddenly, he noticed his thumb stroking over your cotton t-shirt. He should stop. The whole team was watching. He was being was too intimate; he'd face stupid quips from Morgan for days. He kept stroking anyway.
He observed your chest rise and fall. Your breaths were shaky but deeper. He relaxed a tad. Vital oxygen was reaching your bloodstream.
“(Y/N), can we try something?” Spencer asked.
“Yes. Maybe. What is it?”
The knot in his chest loosened. You responded immediately and with more than two words; you were becoming more lucid. 
“Can you sit up and have some sips of Gatorade? I got your favorite flavor. At least, if your favorite flavor hasn’t changed from three years ago.” It most likely hadn’t. Once your opinion settled, it was frustratingly hard to erode your verdict. 
“I can’t…I don’t know.”
“I know sitting up is hard. I’ll help you. And I’ll prop you against my chest. I’ll hold your weight when you can’t.”
“KK, Spence.” Your childlike tone tugged at his heart strings.
Spencer and Morgan lifted your limp body from the ground. They manhandled you into a sitting position with your head propped on Spencer’s shoulder and your body tucked between his thighs. 
One of his arms stabilized you while the other raised a cold bottle of orange Gatorade to your lips.
After nine sips of Gatorade, you spoke again. 
“Orange.” You took another sip. "My favorite.”
He smiled into your hair. “When have I ever lied to you, (Y/N/N)?”
***
Spencer nearly created a crater in the linoleum floor of the ER waiting room with his bouncing heel by the time the doctor came back with an update. 
“She had a mild case of heat stroke. We currently have her on fluids, and she’ll need lots of rest for at least the next week.” Doctor Bahamani concluded. 
“No signs of metabolic dysfunction? Any respiratory distress?” Reid checked. 
Doctor Bahamani smiled knowingly. “She’s going to be just fine, Doctor Reid.”
“Can I see her?” Spencer asked. 
“Yes. Only two at a time, please.” 
Spencer didn’t care who volunteered with him. He moved without thinking. An outpouring of gratitude for his eidetic memory flooded him. Through the thickest brain fog, he could trust his recollection of the hospital to bring him to the correct hospital room.
The security staff practically had to drag him away from your bedside after the ambulance ride. They might have thrown him out of the ER if not for the flash of his FBI badge.
Something nagged at him as he sped past the nursing station. 
You were going to be fine. The ER doctor confirmed it. Yet his heart was still pounding and he could barely refrain from running. Even more odd, he wasn’t ashamed of his irrational behavior. 
So what if a doctor deemed you were okay? It was you. And he saw you groggier and more out of it than you'd ever been. And who knows how thorough the doctors were with their examination? It was completely reasonable to worry for one of his closest friends. 
He just couldn't believe you were alright until he checked you over with his own hands and his own eyes.
***
When you grinned at him from your cot, Spencer wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry.
Tears glazed your eyes. But, your gorgeous smile was back. 
“Spencer?” You asked, brow raised and head cocked. 
He’d been staring too long. He looked like an idiot, lamely standing in the doorway as if he were the one with heat stroke.
“Straighten your head. Your neck is probably tight.”
You smiled, but this time it was tight-lipped and painful-looking. “You’re too worried.”
He watched saline drip down your IV. “Of course I’m worried, (Y/N). You got heat stroke.” With a deep breath as a shot of courage, he sat in the chair by the head of your bed.
There was nothing odd about sitting with his best friend at the hospital. 
His chest twisted at “best friend” and his resolve collapsed. He couldn’t deny it anymore. 
He liked you. He really, really liked you. He actually might even–
“Luckily, I got out pretty unscathed.” You snapped Spencer out of his spiral. “A little dehydrated. Achy. Might feel sick for a few days.”
“Or weeks.” Spencer corrected.
“Trying to look on the bright side here, Doctor.” You smirked and Spencer swore his right ventricle tightened.
Then, your nose scrunched and Spencer's wiped clean of any concern about his cardiac health. 
“What hurts?”
“Just a little achy, Spencer. I’m alright.” 
He shot you a look. He knew all your excuses. He knew you went to self-harming lengths to not worry people. 
“You’re not alright.” He reached for the red nurse-call button. 
Your eyes widened in surprise. “Okay…my body aches, Spence. And the IV burns. But they’ve already told me that’s normal. No need to take nurses away from an emergency.”
The nurses at the station desk didn’t appear to be rushing around for anyone, but Spencer feared this wouldn’t behoove his case. 
“They can give you pain medication, if you want.”
You hesitated, and immediately Spencer pressed the button. When you smiled weakly instead of bickering, his worry grew tenfold but not without a rush of heat flooding his entire body. 
In Morgan's words, he’s down bad. 
“How are you doing, sunshine?” As if he’d been summoned, Morgan appeared in the doorway. 
Spencer stepped back from your cot. The part of him riled from Morgan’s “sunshine” moniker wants to shove his hand into yours. Spencer thought he hid his annoyance well, but something about Morgan's smirk told him otherwise.
“Um…”
Morgan’s smirk fell. “You feel that bad, huh?”
You chuckled sadly. “Do I look that shitty or am I an open book today?”
“You never look shitty,” Spencer said. A tsunami of blood rushed to his face.
“Anyway,” Morgan said, “Do you want anything, Beauty Queen? I can grab you some jello.” 
“Jello sounds nice.” You said, and something in your voice was so vulnerable and naive Spencer wanted to wrap you in his arms as tight as he could. Which was illogical. That would only hurt you further. 
He shook his head as if that would remove the thoughts from his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can check up on your labs at the nurse’s station. I’ll make sure they’re giving you the good drugs.” He smiled.
You laughed– a genuine laugh– and Spencer’s heart soared. “Thanks, Spence.”
“I’ll go grab your jello,” Morgan said.
“Hold on, you should stay with her just in case she needs anything," Spencer said.
“I’ll be fine, Spence.” You said, but Spencer was not prepared to take "no" for an answer.
“If you boys wants to run her some errands, I’ll stay.” Emily stood in the doorway. “JJ is coming soon too– she just got a phone call from a very frantic Penelope.”
Your nose crinkled. “Oh no.” You groaned, but you were smiling. 
“Oh, yes. Be prepared for some mother henning," Emily said.
“Garcia can’t be any more mother henning than Reid," Morgan said. 
Before his face could turn redder than a baboon’s bottom, Spencer fled.
He’s only two yards from the nursing station when Morgan intercepted him at the end of the hall. 
“So, you’re going to make your move, right?”
Spencer's body temperature plummeted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He tried to shoulder past Morgan, but he was no match for his grip strength. “Reid, c’mon. You like (Y/N).”
Part of him wanted to laugh. “Like” seemed too simple of a word to describe the symphony of feelings (Y/N) started in him. “It’s…” He’s too tongue-tied to lie. “It’s complicated.”
You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. You’re brimming with empathy. You’re everything Spencer could want. And it scared the shit out of him. Because that meant there’s even more to lose. And if he lost you, there would be no one to blame but himself. It was better for his psyche to not go there with you– to step back from the line rather than risk what would happen if he failed to make it work in the end. 
And what if you got hurt? What is you fell in the line of duty? Or worse, what if someone targeted you because of your romantic tie to him? Spencer's already experienced the pain of losing a soulmate-- a concept he wasn't even sure he believed in-- once. He wasn't not sure if he could survive it a second time.
There was too much unpredictability in his life. He chose a dangerous profession. He was gifted a ticking time-bomb of dangerous genes. He’d never forgive himself if he inflicted onto you the pain he’s been through; losing loved ones, whether through death or mental illness. 
Morgan's expression turned sympathetic. “Reid, you should give it a shot. Our lives our hectic. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”
Spencer blinked to block tears from welling. “I just want her to be happy, too.”
“And who says you don't make her happy?”
“His idiotic genius brain.” Rossi appeared from around the corner.
Spencer froze. “You heard?” His face flushed yet again.
“Just the tail end. But Reid…” He trailed off.
Morgan took the hint. “I’m going to get (Y/N) some jello. With my charm, I could negotiate for some whipped cream.” 
“Don’t get whipped cream on it. She’s lactose sensitive,” Spencer said.
Morgan's stupid smirk reappeared. “Gotcha, Reid.”
Rossi took Morgan's place. Once Morgan was out of sight, he began his speech. “You love her. Don’t get in your own way.” Rossi put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “And (Y/N) is an incredibly intelligent woman. Don’t insult her intelligence by thinking she can’t decide who is or is not worth taking a risk. And for what it’s worth…a man like you is worth the risk.” 
Rossi left Reid staring at his back. 
For the longest time, Reid convinced himself he refrained from asking you out to protect you from himself and his hefty baggage. And that’s not completely untrue. 
But suddenly, he realized he was primarily trying to protect himself from exposing his vulnerabilities to you this whole time. There’s never been a person whose opinion affected him like yours. There's never been a life he's wanted to protect more except perhaps...Maeve.
But just like it’s up to you to decide who’s worth the risk, it’s up to him to decide as well.
And if today taught him anything, shit happens. And if you slip through his fingers, he doesn't want it to because he wasn't brave enough to make a first move.
And being your person was more than worth the risk of rejection.
Author's Note: Thank you to so much to everyone who stuck around through my hiatus! I appreciate every single one of you! You're super cool :)
Happy to be back! Inbox is open to chat about writing and take requests! Please check pinned "Blurb Requests" post before requesting! (Will update the post as my boundaries update!)
Have an awesome day or night, wherever you are in this crazy world. I am incredibly thankful you spent part of your precious life reading something I penned.
Forever grateful,
shewroteaworld
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radioactiveinvisible · 2 months
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hold you | spencer reid
spencer x fem!bau!reader summary: you're not having your best day- truth be told, you are having a break down in the bureau's bathroom. lucky for you, spencer is there to hold you. genre: angst (?), kinda hurt/comfort. and slow(est) burn with best friends to (eventually) lovers! warnings: uhm. reader is pretty hard on herself. also, it wasn't really my intention but there's a harassment situation. (a non consensual kiss). i think... that's it? if not, let me know! a/n: hi! this is very very self-indulgent. but hey!, at least we have a little comfort with spencer, right? also! while i was writing this a friend texted me out of nowhere to say me that i'm enough. AND- i wanted to tell you guys the same. if you are a little too much like this reader then- know that you are more than enough. know that you are capable. know that you are loved. word count: 1.9k previous | masterlist
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You are always wondering if you are enough. The volume of the question has changed over the years, but it has never been just muted. And today your head is going to explode from how loud insecurity screams. There is no way to reconcile with yourself. Not today, at least. You’ve avoided any remotely reflective surface, because the moment you look into your eyes, you know you are going to break. So your computer’s brightness is at maximum. It burns your eyes and somehow you hope it does. So you never have to see you again.
You don’t know whether to be grateful that today is paperwork day or not. Yes. It’s probably better. You wouldn’t want to risk the life of a victim in this overwhelmed state. The only thing at risk here is Hotch’s patience when he finds out that you haven’t made as much progress as you should. But, oh well. Maybe you should consider quitting. This would also save Hotch some headaches. And you know you’re being dramatic and thinking about world’s endings, but what else can you do when you want to rip your heart out to see what’s wrong with it. Does it work like all other hearts? Do you work like all the others? Are you embraced by the general sadness that eats a little of the souls every day? Are you your neighbor’s dark circles and his baby’s screams? Or are you a self-inflicted punishment for never being the version of yourself you imagined when you were five?
The glass that covers your desk catches your gaze. And you don’t see any further. Suddenly the lines of the real world blur and you’re doing your best to make it to the bathroom before the floor disappears. You hear your name in a worried hush, but maybe it’s you trying to save yourself from your thoughts.
You’d like to hold Penelope responsible for this, but you know she’s not to blame for anything other than being her sweet self. Instead, you are guilty of being you. Sometimes you would like to stop carrying yourself, but where are you going to leave you? Who would carry yourself for you? Clearly not the guy from yesterday.
You lower the toilet seat and press your palms against your eyes until they hurt. But surely it also hurts rivers to be squeezed by compresses. You are drowning. And Penelope just wanted to help you. Between the two of you (and Morgan) it’s no secret how you feel about Spencer. And according to her sixth sense, he feels that way too. Only he doesn’t know. Because being a genius doesn’t ensure you’re not stupid, apparently. So Penelope encouraged you to tell him how you feel. Clearly, you didn’t accept. Why would you jeopardize the best friendship you have. So, Penelope cheered you to date someone. “You shouldn’t be lonely, my sweet girl,” she told you
“I am not,” was your reply. Because you aren’t. You think.
“Mhm,” Penelope said. “So, when you are not here or with Reid, what do you do? Who do you hang with?”
“Well- with you. We hang out, right?” Your smile wasn’t that convincing. Penelope just rolled her eyes. “Hey! We do hang out. And with this job there isn’t really spare time, so.”
Okay. You know Penelope attends- no, she organizes a support group. That she also has a crochet club. That she plays online with friends. That she occasionally trains with Derek. That she is learning to play the violin. Yes. Her life is as full of colors as her office. And yours in comparison... it does look a little personal? But you wouldn’t say lonely.
“Listen, I’m not saying you start dating this guy, just talk to him,” Penelope smile was nothing but gentle. You couldn’t say no to her. So, when you sighed, she knew she had won.
At eight o’clock last night, then, you were sitting in a park with a boy Penelope had talked to in her violin classes. He seemed decent enough to her in the ten minutes of conversation they had. The right amount to present it to you, it seems. But you were nervous. You’re not good around new people. You are your most awkward version. You never know how to sit without feeling uncomfortable. Or how to speak without sounding foreign. Every action is thought twice before doing it. But his gesture looked kind, so you smiled at him. And he smiled at you. And he let you talk and talk and he barely looked at his phone. You wouldn’t say he was paying attention to you, but hey, who really wants to hear about how time is affected by gravity?
You should probably have shut up. You should definitely have shut up. But Spencer’s watchful gaze watched you from the back of your mind and you knew he would listen. And, most certainly, he would gently correct you on any incorrect thing you may have said. And then he would recommend books to you. Or he would read them to you himself. Or he would offer you to watch a documentary and go get chocolate donuts. And- why was the guy kissing you?
You’ve never kissed quickly. You’ve never kissed much, either. Only a couple of times and it was not a feeling you would be eager to repeat. So you pulled away. “Uh, I'm so sorry- but I don't really-” his lips on yours again. This time you stood up from the bench. “No.”
“C’mon. I’ve been hearing you for what? An hour now? We can at least kiss,” he also stood up.
You took a step back. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but-“
And in that moment you saw how his expression turned into a smug one. And you don’t know how you didn’t see it before. His next words didn’t take you by surprise. “Whatever. You are not that pretty, anyway.” But they hurt you anyway. Because suddenly you weren’t an FBI agent, just you. And you were a teenager again, without your badge on your hip to make you feel grounded. You turned around and staggered in misery for the rest of the night.
Sitting in the Bureau’s bathroom, with tears stuck in your throat, you know it’s not about the guy. Something must be wrong with you if your pain is deeper than your indignation. You know several ways to disable an UnSub, but when a guy tells you that you’re not pretty you stay still. Correction, that you’re not that pretty... That pretty to what? To be heard? To be treated like a human being? To be respected when you say no? That you’re not that... what? That you are not, simply.
The first sob sounds far away. You wonder if there’s anyone else in the bathroom. If someone else is suffering. Should you stand up and go help her? Your hand stops on the door latch. You find it curious that it’s shaking. And then your whole body is shaking. It is you who breaks down in tears. You become an uncontainable liquid. Who is going to empty you back into your body? Will there be a body left?
You see his Converse peeking beneath the doorframe before hearing him. “Hey,” Spencer softly calls you through the door.
You stop breathing to hush your cry.
“Please,” Spencer says. “Please, open the door.”
Please, Spencer, go away. Please, please.
You hear him sigh. “I’ll stay here until you are ready.”
Another sob escapes you. And Spencer thinks he feels his heart break. As soon as he hears the door latch, he yanks it open and the next thing he knows, you’re in his arms. Spencer drops both of your satchels before tightening his arms around you. He doesn’t know how to start comforting you, but he figures holding you is a first step. He settles his head on top of yours and traces patterns on your back with his open palm. He receives each wave of your sadness with the firmness of the coast. Your salty foam makes a hole in his heart and he wishes he could drink it so you never have to feel it again.
“I don’t want to go out like this,” you murmur into his cardigan.
“You don’t have to. We can walk like we are,” he whispers back.
You let out a muffled chuckle. And he takes that sound into his heart. “No, we can’t. We would trip over.”
“And I’d catch you.”
You stand there for a couple more minutes, without saying much more. When he feels you slowly peel away from him, he immediately searches for your eyes. They’re red and swollen, but they still look like the prettiest he’s ever seen.
“Here,” he says, taking off his glasses to put them on you. “To hide it a little. Maybe it’s only until the elevator that you have to wear them.”
You look at him confused. Spencer bends down to pick up your satchels and hangs them up again on his shoulder.
“We have the day off. I already talked to Hotch. That’s, uh, why it took me so long to come for you”. He brushes a stray hair behind your ear. “Let’s take you home.”
Your eyes look bigger through his glasses. He smiles at you. And you hug him again. Without thinking too much, Spencer kisses the top of your head. “C’mon,” he says. He hooks his arm with yours all the way to the elevator, shielding you as much as he can from being seen by anyone. Spencer regrets not driving to work, because then he can’t take you faster. But when your head finds its home on his shoulder and your breathing is heard rhythmically in the middle of the crowded wagon- he discovers that he can let out the air he’s been holding. He doesn’t know what happened. He doesn’t know what made you so unhappy. He doesn’t have to know now. But as long as he can be here, with you, it’s okay. As long as he can hold you, it’s okay.
bonus!
It’s not until several hours later, when you’re almost asleep on his chest, that you tell him what happened yesterday. You don’t tell it as an explanation for your moment today. That has years of accumulation. But you tell him like something you would because, well, he’s your best friend. And when you tell him, nothing changes in the room. His arm is still around your waist, holding you close to him. The murmur of the television remains. The lamp light is still on. But everything feels different. Spencer’s breathing is controlled instead of natural. You adjust yourself to see him directly in the face.
“Hey,” you call him.
“Y’know, he did harass you. And it’s most likely you are not the first girl that he has harassed. We could open a file on him,” his using his trained calm tone.
“Spencer.”
“What? You should file a complaint, also. We can go right now if you want,” he says as you feel him move to stand up.
“Spencer, wait-“
"No. I don’t want to wait.” He looks desperate. “Who does he think he is? Treating you like this- kissing you without your permission! More than once! I don’t want to- And tell you that you’re not that pretty! As if you weren’t the prettiest girl ever. I want to- I want to, find him.”
Spencer only sees red. And the glasses aren’t exactly the problem. He is scared of the damage he imagines doing. He doesn’t want to think what would have happened if-
“Spencer.” You put a hand on his shoulder to bring him back. “Tomorrow we are going to ask Garcia to digg into him, okay?”
Spencer just nods. You shouldn’t be calming him down. It is not fair for you. He forces himself to lie down on his couch again and both of you settle into your previous position. “Tomorrow,” he repeats. He can wait one night. “Until then, tell me about gravity.”
You snuggle. “You already know everything there is to know.”
“Please?”
You sigh, feeling a warm hand hug your heart. “Alright. The speed of light is always the same, but the distance is curved by gravity...”
taglist: @mirdnightmass @monstrosityinside @nervousmumbling @sunflowersndpeaches s0urmarvelwispystarss405rryavis-writeshqsyrrupwishyoudaskmehaileycannotcometothephonernlololololooolook69redros3y@stargirlsturniololoveriamburdenedpleasantwitchgarden queermaxwooo becauseimamirrorball13 smashleywow cultish-corner zeida lou-the-confused-bisexual chaosemia l4venderia jupiteroftheuniverse keenstudentsuitcasegarden nomajdetective bohemianrhapsody86 sabage101 nugget1234567 @minaxre @anidiotwhoreads @classyunknownlover @stcrrjoon @lomzy5 @stargirlls-world @sevikasblackgf @logicalhorror @bluepuppethidinginafilingcabinet @splatteredpurplepaint @nickfurys-supersecretboyband @dreamsarebig @00arlala @always-reading @hpstuff244444 @wispystarss @crazycat-ladys-blog @coldheartedmar @waywardhunter95 @sucker-4-angst @ferrjulie @mdanon027 @moonys0chocolate maskayoo aforaceisthename valriri guacam011y gain0-0shi (hi! i am so so grateful that you like this thing enough to want to get tagged :c makes my heart warm. i hope you like this little piece as well! and i really hope i am not forgetting anyone).
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railingsofsorrow · 6 months
Text
Recharging. . .
[spencer reid x reader]
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summary: spencer's best remedy is his little family.
pairing: s.reid x f!reader (+ eden reid!)
w.c: 3.8K
warnings/content: fluff; cuteness overload; children; spencer is a girl's dad; discussion of a case; mentions of death and traumatic events; this is basically a hurt/comfort blurb; mentions of pregnancy; mentions of marriage; crying.
A/N: is anybody in need of some fluff? this was supposed to be a short drabble.... enjoy this old WIP as I finish some of my requests.
loosely inspired by ocie elliott's take me home
want to read more works about this au?
→ day-off
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You stopped the low humming to the song as you eyed the rearview mirror to check on your kid. The familiar scratching against your seat warning you she was awake.
“Hey bub,” you take advantage of the red traffic light to dive your hand back and tickle her bare feet. She'd always kick off her shoes the first chance she got. Your favorite sound echoes through the car: her giggle. “You were just napping, where'd that energy come from?” you refer again to the tip of her feet bumping against your car seat. Another reminder that she was getting bigger every day.
Eden raised her arms, wriggling her little fingers like she did when she was excited for something. You were pretty sure she got that from Penelope, you always saw they do this whenever she came over to your place.
“We're visiting daddy!”
A laugh bubbles out of you. Eden left you amazed by her perception of things. Although the route from your apartment to the BAU wasn't that strange for her anymore, given that you and Spencer drove a lot to drop each other off with her in the car.
“Are we?” You turn on an avenue, humming. “I didn't notice.”
Eden looks at you through the rearview mirror, “but you're driving, mommy. You need the GPS. It's in your head.”
“Is it?” You're amused at your toddler's choice of words. “Okay. Yes, we're visiting daddy at work. We've come to pick him up because he's very tired from a case and it's not good to drive while you're tired, right?”
“Right!” She nods vehemently, craning her neck to check on the view through the window. “And he needs me to recharge his bats.”
You finish parking your car and a smile curls up the edges of your mouth. Eden can't say the word batteries so she shortened it to an easier version which is bats. You still have to teach her what the word actually means.
“That's right,” you say, taking off your seatbelt and opening the door. By the time you reach the backseat, Eden is grinning like the Cheshire cat. Her excitement never ceases to rub off on you, even though you enter this building most of the days in a week. “Hi, baby.” You cooed, welcoming your child in your arms after unbuckling her seatbelt. Her light brown curls that you have no idea who she got it from tickle the side of your face as she snuggles to your chest to stare at the tall FBI building.
“Shoes on. Coat on. All warmed up. Shall we go up?”
An eager Eden exclaims a loud YES and that's enough for you to start walking.
From “Spencer”:
[6:34 p.m] No need to pick me up, angel, I can drive. I am not that tired.
[6:35 p.m] Is Eden still at your mom's? I can pick her up on the way.
This is the mutual feeling you have on workdays. Not in a million years you'd understand how hard it was to be away from your daughter for more than one day. Until it happened.
It makes your heart break when you're not able to tuck her into bed or pick her up at school to see her excited little legs run towards you. In spite of the fact that Spencer and you manage well to alternate days at work so she always has one of you close by, it's difficult to not see her every day when a case takes either one of you out of the city.
You can only image how much he misses her after being away for four days.
You left the messages unanswered and click on another chat instead. Light of my life with a bunch of hearts is the one you're looking for. Penelope somehow stole your phone someday and changed her contact name to this; you never changed it back, just left as it was, it suits her anyway.
“Smile.” You request Eden as you lift your phone to take a selfie of the two of you. Her grin exposes her two missing front teeth. “Done.” You kiss her cheek and adjust her in your hold to type another text, waiting for the elevator to reach your desired floor.
To “Light of my life 💗❤️💕”
[6:38 p.m] incoming at five... four... three...
You hit send right as the elevator doors spread open.
Just as you step into the bullpen, it's as if a switch has flipped because your daughter promptly tucks her face into the croak of your neck, her cold nose making your shiver slightly. Her hands clinging onto your blouse.
Eden gets shy under watchful eyes, no matter how many times she visits the BAU.
Penelope is walking briskly out of her office, her hands wriggling into your direction as she catches sight of you and the bundle in your arms. Every eye in the bullpen turns to you because of the commotion.
You haven't seen your husband yet.
“There is pumpkin!” That's the reason that pulls Eden out of her shell. She practically throws herself out of your arms and into her favourite aunt's arms. “Oh, hello, hello, my beautiful niece, whom I have missed so much!”
Eden is giggling and you can't help but smile softly at the scene. Soon, your friends start approaching one by one. It doesn't take long for Eden to have at least two new toys in her hands. Emily and Derek are competing which one she likes best.
“She's so big.” JJ entwines her arm with yours.
You sigh, leaning closer to her, “Yes, she is.” You say, observing Eden play with Emily. “Henry as well! How is he by the way? We haven't had a playdate in so long.”
JJ nods, “He's great, my sweet boy.” Her eyes hold a fondness that you relate. “And that's true. We have to set up a date, catch up on things that aren't murders and blood.”
“Preach, Jayge.”
Your laughter dies down when the two people missing from the group appear. Your eyes met Spencer's and his whole body seems to relax as if it physically pained him to stand and seeing you just helped him take a breath of fresh air. Luke greeted you with a side hug and was immediately captured by Eden's endearing spell, as expected. Although, once Spencer entered her line of sight, no one else mattered.
Spencer let his satchel drop to the ground without a care so he could scoop Eden up as she jumped into his arms. His sullen demeanor converting into a cheerful one in a blink of an eye. This is what Eden means by “recharging”.
You watch the reunion with a growing smile, deciding to approach them a little later.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Spencer says while peppering kisses at her cheek, her little nose and her forehead. Eden could only reply with giggles as her whole face became red at the overwhelming love she's receiving. “Daddy missed you so much, did you know that?” And the crack in his voice goes unnoticed by her, but not by you, so you take advantage of everyone's distraction to step towards your little family.
Eden is giving her dad a butterfly kiss when you get to them. That's her way of saying I missed you to any of you when you come back home.
“Hey,” you squeeze his arm in a gentle touch, grabbing his attention. “Tough one?” your question is discreet, only meant for him. Eden is fortunately too busy with her new stuffed toy that Derek is showing her to notice anything else.
The dimmed spark in Spencer's eyes along with the red outline of his eyelids are everything you need to know. You don't need words — you never needed words to understand Spencer — but he provides you a meek yeah and swallows hard. The only thing that seems to be holding him back from crumbling down is the fact that he's holding his daughter.
In an attempt of comfort, you pull his free hand to yours, intertwining your fingers and giving it a tight squeeze. Just for him to know that you were there and it's okay now.
He repeats the action, the corner of his lips pulling slightly. His attention is quickly stolen back to Eden, who starts listing possible names to the new friends that uncle Derek and auntie Emily had gifted her.
They discuss the matter until you bid everyone goodbye, a playdate, a babysitting afternoon and a girls night out scheduled. Trying to take Eden from Spencer was foolish, he didn't want to let her go. No matter how tired he was. Better yet, she didn't want to let him go either.
“I think grapes would be a great name, E.” Spencer praises her daughter's naming skills as he buckled her up in the safety seat. “What about this one?” He grabs the green bunny and places it in front of his face, his voice in a high-pitched tone to imitate an animal's voice. “What will you name me after, miss Eden Reid? I am green and I like carrots!”
Eden's bright caramel eyes glint with joy and she pulls the bunny to her chest, holding it tightly. “I know what I'm going to call them.”
“You do?” You were starting to be curious as well.
“Mr. Greenie.”
“You're so clever.” Spencer and Eden shared accomplice smiles and you see everything of him in her at that single action. It was in the nose scrunch whenever she found something particularly funny, in the spark of mischief in her eyes and even the outline of her mouth which you never stopped noticing from the moment she was born. Eden carried a lot of mannerisms and features from you but those things? They definitely came from him.
He's not even halfway to the driver's side when you steal the keys that he had stolen from you when you were in the building. You've known each other for ten years, for three out of those ten you have been married and Spencer still thinks he can be slick with you.
“You're riding shotgun today, pretty boy.”
His eyes are filled with amusement as you walk by and give his butt a soft squeeze.
“Really?” He says, leaning on your window. You had already turned the engine on when you give him a serious look. “It's a long drive. You already drove all the way here.”
Giving him an eyeroll, you muse, “It's not that long, Spence. And you're tired. Just get in.”
Quantico wasn't far from your home, but ten minutes in the road was enough to send Eden to dreamland. You were certain she had fallen asleep when her humming to Angeleyes, that was playing on the car radio, stopped.
You suppose Spencer has fallen asleep as well, until you stole a glimpse at him during a red light to see he was just staring out the window. A far away gaze.
His mind was far. You could feel that. You two enjoy the silence but it's not like that. This is not the kind of silence you want to bask in after a tiring day of work. No, this is different. It comes with the type of things you face at work, the voices in your head that claim they know what's best.
You know that silence. You've drowned in it once.
A gentle breeze caused a few strands to slip out behind his ear. He was letting his hair grow longer again. You liked it, it suited him.
“Hey.”
Your knuckles grazed his cheek softly, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear. Your hand lingered at the nape of his neck and he let out a sigh, leaning back in a way that you knew he needed that kind of touch.
Good thing your love language is physical touch.
“You want to talk to me about it?” A whisper.
Spencer refrained from a verbal answer, but he reached up for your hand, lifting it to his lips to place a prolonged kiss which translated to I'm glad to have you.
“Not now,” he said, caressing your palm. Definitely later then. Your communication can be non-verbal sometimes and that's one of the great parts of your relationship. You knew that some days words were hard, so the touch and the eyes fulfilled the void of a voice.
He gave it a delicate squeeze and that's when you realized the light had turned green, so your attention was back to driving.
At some point, you could feel a comforting weight at your right thigh. It was the familiar warmth of Spencer's hand, something that he liked to do whenever you drove. Good thing his love language is physical touch.
“I got her.” He practically leaped out of the vehicle once you parked, walking around the other side to get Eden.
Your asleep child didn't so much as flinch while being picked up. You caught her little arms embracing his neck as you locked the doors of your car, her shoes on your hand and Spencer's satchel on another. He tried to fight you on that but you just ignored him.
“Sleepy head,” you mouth to him as the elevator went up. Eden's big eyelashes fluttered lightly when you kissed the top of her head.
The corner of your husband's lips quirked up, “Just like her mother. Sleeps anywhere.” He said, not breaking eye contact, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Rolling your eyes, you hummed, “Don't know what you're talking about.”
The apartment was quiet, an unusual occurrence at this time of the day. Normally, Eden would be rambling about her day when one of you arrived from work — I learnt about seagulls today and we made a drawing; grandma made cookies!; Teacher Susan read a story about a princess saving her kingdom, I want to be like her someday. Isn't it like what you do, mama? I want to be like you — a range of subjects mixed with her occasional endless energy of a child. Some nights, she wouldn't stop running around until she tired herself — and both of you — off.
Today was different. She was asleep before you even arrived home, it was way before 8 p.m and the apartment was quiet, no toys scattered around, no ink stain on the floor. She was into painting nowadays which is a rather messy hobby for a kid, but you'd indulge your daughter's wishes anytime. She is a kid, she should be messy.
“I love you, bub.” Your ears pick up Spencer's faint voice from the entrance of Eden's bedroom. You perched up at the wall, careful enough to make yourself unknown. Not wanting to disturb the little father-daughter moment. “I'll always be here.”
That was something that didn't need to be said out loud because Spencer showed that every day. He didn't spare love demonstrations regarding you or Eden, he never had. Although you know part of the reason beneath that promise. Some people haunt us forever, even when they are no longer present in our lives. His father still walks somewhere in the corner of his mind, no matter how many times you tell him that he is not him.
“Is the whole bathroom drenched or...?”
Spencer chuckled, seeking for your hand to pull you closer as you stride to your bedroom.
“It wouldn't be Eden if she didn't make an entire spectacle during bath time.” He said. “But I cleaned it up, so don't worry.”
“That's true.” You eye his soaked shirt attempting to contain a smile. “Guess you already took your shower?”
“You're so funny,” Spencer murmurs dryly.
“Yeah, well,” you shrug nonchalantly, slowly encircling your arms around his neck. “Wasn't that why you married me? Or was it for my good looks? Nah, it was definitely my terrific sense of humour, wasn't it?” A peck on his lips. “You can admit it. I won't be mad.”
“Ego the size of a lake, that one.” He mumbles, burying his face in the croak of your neck and practically locked you in his hold.
You started to message on his shoulders to ease whatever felt heavy in his chest. At least, until he let you in.
It wasn't until after you both showered separately to finally call it a day and laid down to rest that he broke his silence.
“A little girl died. We couldn't get to her in time.”
Oh, kids.
Now it all made sense.
A shiver went down your spine at the thought.
“Oh, Spencer...” if the tone of your voice translated anything, it was that you understood. His body was entangled to yours when you tried to diminish a bit of his pain by showing that you were there. “I'm sorry, sweetheart,” you said into his curls. The moist sensation in your pajamas top let you know he was crying, but you didn't give it a second thought. It was what he needed.
“I could only think of her and I—” he said shakily, suddenly leaning away to cover his face. “Any rational thinking went down the drain.” His croaked out, drying his tears in the harshest way possible. You pulled his hands away from his face, replacing it with your softer touch.
“Spencer.”
“I can't even— even grasp my head around—”
You cut him off, “good. Don't do that. Because it's not real. Spencer,” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you so he could focus on something that wasn't the disruptives thoughts in his head. “Eden is here, in the room next to ours, safe and sound.” That seemed to calm him down lightly, but you could see the conflict in his gaze.
“I wasn't fast enough.”
“It was not your fault.”
“You weren't there.”
You sigh, “I don't need to physically be there to know that you, as well as the team, did your best to crack the case, Spencer. As you do in every other case we have.” The hardest part of this job was still the loss that you had to live with. The guilt. The shame that, despite doing your best, you wouldn't be able to save everyone. “As we always do.” Sometimes, you needed some convincing too.
“I know it's hard to believe what I'm saying,” you forehead was touching his and your eyes were shut. “but it's the truth. You have every reason to feel that way, it never gets easy to face what we face every day. But, Spencer. It was not your fault. You did what you could, please trust me on this, okay?” Please, don't blame yourself. You don't deserve it.
“Our little girl is right next door, sleeping with her favourite plushie. Safe. Because we make sure of that every single day.” You know it's not that simple, to not doubt the dangers that run in the world, probably in your street, but you can't live in fear and you don't want your daughter to live in fear either. “And I'm right here. we're not going anywhere.” You won't lose us.
“Yeah,” he croaks out, releasing a batted breath. “Yeah, I know.”
Slipping an arm around your middle to bring you closer was the indication you needed to understand that he was hearing your words. Your husband settled for accepting your warmth for the time being, you were playing with his curls, gently brushing them away from his face.
That's all he needed, really. You. The home and family you have build together. Nothing else.
“You know,” you say, thumb traveling across his jawline until it reached the tip of his nose. “People keep saying she has your nose and I think I'm starting to see it.”
His body shook with laughter, causing his eyes to crinkle slightly.
“Oh, really? You're starting to see it now?”
Your lips curled up at the edges, “Yes.” You lied, poking his ribs, earning a glare. Your smile only widened. “No. The nose is clearly yours.” He raised an eyebrow and shrugged.
Spencer leaned close enough so he could press his lips to yours.
“She has the outline of your mouth, though.” He tucked a strand behind your ear. “And your eyes.”
Soft padding against the floor pulled you out of your trance and you knew who was at the door before looking through the open space of the door that's been left ajar.
“Is that a ghost that I'm seeing, angel?”
You decided to enter Spencer's playful undertone.
“Mhm. Good question, I think that's definitely a squirrel or something. Look at the red and yellow paws.”
Eden's mismatched socks flashed your eyes in the dim light of your side table lamp. Her soft giggling made you smile instantly.
“What are you doing up, sweetheart?” She curled up to his bare chest as soon as he scooped her up to hold her on his hip. “Mhm?”
She grabbed both of his cheeks, forcing him to lean down so she could say something to him. You observed them with a curious gaze. “It's not a squirrel,” Eden whispered. Spencer's face broke out into a grin, “tell mama it's me.” Spencer nodded and dutifully did as asked.
“Oh!” You exclaimed, acting surprised. “It's you, bub? With these tiny socked feet, I almost didn't recognize.” Eden's shrieks as you pepper her whole face with kisses. “You want to sleep with mommy and daddy tonight?” It's your turn to whisper as if it's a secret, but it's loud enough for Spencer to hear it as well.
Eden nods shyly, resting her head on her dad's shoulder. Her feet wriggling lightly. Who could ever resist those sweet doe eyes?
The three of you then lay down in your bed, Eden engulfed between Spencer and you. Hopefully, she wouldn't kick and turn all night like she commonly did. She was sleeping through the entire night alone in her bedroom, though some nights — like today — she would sneak in to yours.
Just like you expected, the toddler fell into dreamland with your soft chatter about random things you did during the day and what you needed to do during the upcoming week. You cracked a smile at her slight parted lips and wild curls dispersed on your arm which her head was laid on.
“Thank you.”
Your attention drifts from a sleeping Eden to Spencer. His eyes carried their usual light again. They now glinted with a familiar pride rather than the heavy darkness it was drowning in earlier in the evening.
“What for?” Your whole demeanor softened at the way he was looking at you, heart swelling with love.
“This,” he says, eyes falling on Eden. “For this. Her. You.”
You blink, the sudden urge to cry is being hold back by a thread. You don't know how to react.
“You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.” And he's said that before. When you first confessed and he said he felt the same. In your wedding day. When Eden was born.
“And you are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Spencer.” You manage to whisper beneath the crack in your voice. He lifts his torso to kiss both of the single tears that slipped out of your eyelids, caressing your cheek lovingly. “I love you.”
“I love you too, angel.” His mouth stretches into a soft grin. “And I love the life we have built.”
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taglist: @lilyviolets
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A/N: will never forgive the show for not making this man a dad.
2K notes · View notes
mxauthor · 3 months
Text
Not Of The Imagination
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Summary: Spencer claims he has a girlfriend. Derek does not believe him at all.
Word Count: 1,614
Warnings: fluff, a bit OOC Derek
Derek Morgan is a ladies man. He knows how to talk to women, charm them into a flustered mess and get a number from them with ease. His charm is a weapon, something he knows how to use better than his gun. 
Spencer Reid is not a ladies man. He rambles people away and becomes flustered so easily that people think his skin tone is red. 
Derek Morgan is a charmer. Spencer Reid is the charmed. 
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Friday afternoon. Everyone was ready to go home and spend the weekend doing whatever they wanted. Weekend plans were the topic of conversation at the moment with the bullpen attendees.
“So pretty boy, where are you doing this weekend?” Morgan asked. A teasing smile playing on his lips. Derek Morgan wasn’t a bully. He was anything but a bully, however, he was a brother. And brothers are known to tease their little siblings to no end. And Spencer was lucky enough to become Derek’s little brother. 
 “There’s this Korean Film festival happening throughout the next week. All foods, music and movies will be played in korean. Which is exciting since my girlfriend had wanted to brush up on her language skills and I thought this would be a great surprise for her.” Spencer missed the look of surprise on his friends faces when the word ‘girlfriend’ had left his mouth. Especially Morgan’s face. 
“Girlfriend?” Emily questioned softly. She was still a bit new to the team, but this was the first time a girlfriend was mentioned, especially attached to Spencer’s name.
“Wait what! Spencer, you have a girlfriend?” Derek questioned in disbelief. It’s not like he didn’t think that Spencer couldn’t get a girlfriend, but it’s still a complete shock that the shy, can’t talk to college kids his age, stuttering mess actually has a girlfriend. 
“Yeah, Her name’s Y/n. We’ve actually been dating for about 3 years now.” The goofy grin that broke out onto Spencer’s face was convincing enough for the women. But apparently not enough for Derek. 
“Really?” Spencer could hear the disbelief in Derek’s voice. He knew that the proclaimed ladies man, didn’t believe that he ‘scored’. But Spencer really didn’t care if he believed him or not. 
He still had you at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered to him. 
“Okay, what’s her last name?” Morgan asked.
“L/n.” Spencer answered without hesitation. He had a feeling that some of the asked questions are going to be the same that his mother asked him when he confessed that he was seeing someone. 
Derek nodded, trying to look convinced. “What’s her-” 
Before he even had the chance to finish his next question Spencer beat him to it. “She’s working as a barista at the moment because she’s going back to school to be a teacher. We met when we were 20 and started dating at 22. She’s kind and patient. She also really loves me and we are talking about moving in together after she graduates with her masters.” 
The small group was stunned at the flood of information. Emily, JJ and Penelope all began gushing about his girlfriend, happy that their resident genius had found someone that is making him happy. 
Derek, happy for his brother, still didn’t believe him. The girl sounded perfect for him, too perfect. Almost like he had conjured her up. 
“Do you have a picture of her?” Penelope was the first to ask. 
“No, sadly. All the pictures we have together are taken on her phone and they don’t transfer well when she sends them to me.” Spencer explained. The women deflated a bit hearing his explanation. 
“How convenient.” Morgan muttered. Penelope was the one who heard him. She snapped her head in his direction, fixing him with a glare. Derek only held his hands up in mock surrender. 
The group slowly began to disperse when paperwork began to pile up on each of their respective desks. The new shift of conversation began to fizzle out. Everyone now began to focus on the important work ahead of them before they could go home at 6. 
Except for Derek Morgan. The new revelation, still fresh in his brain. The Spencer Reid, the boy genius that stutters when given a simple compliment, has a girlfriend.
He has to see it to believe it at that point.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Derek didn’t get his confirmation until 3 months later. When he had almost forgotten that Spencer had claimed he had a girlfriend. 
A beautiful h/c had walked into the bullpen with a visitor badge clipped to her turtleneck sweater. She had a drink carrier in on hand and a plastic bag in the other. 
She stood near the glass doors, clearly looking for someone. A small frown appeared on her lips as the object of her delivery seemed to not be in the room. 
Morgan saw the contemplation on her face whether she was on the right floor or not. She took a step back towards the double glass doors, before Derek got up to give a helping hand. 
He calmly approached the pretty woman before calling out to her, “Excuse me miss, is there something you need help with.” 
The h/c turned at his voice, Derek could see slight recognition within her eyes. A small smile graced her lips before she spoke, “You must be Derek Morgan.” 
The named man furrowed his eyebrows. He had never met this woman before in his life, even if he had Derek would’ve remembered her face. 
The woman saw the confusion on his face as well as the slight guard he put up after she said his name. The h/c’s realization kicked in and her panic set in. “Oh no, I’m not dangerous. My boyfriend had told me a lot about you. Even showed me a photo of you. Well not of you but a group picture and pointed you out. And I’ve always been good at remembering faces. So when I saw you I just knew that you were Derek Morgan. Again I’m not dangerous.” 
Her lengthy explanation reminded him of the resident genius that was approaching the two of them. 
Spencer was very confused when he saw Derek Morgan speaking with his girlfriend of 3 years. He was even more confused when he saw her panicked expression and the slight wave of her hands as she tried to explain something. 
Spencer pulled open the glass doors to the bullpen and turned towards the interesting conversation that was happening. He didn’t get much of it, just the last bit where Y/n said ‘I’m not dangerous’. 
“What’s going on here?” The brunette male asked. He looked between his favorite people waiting for one of them to answer. 
“Oh, hello love. I was just coming over to see if you wanted to have lunch with me. I had a half day at work for class but then my professor canceled class last minute because he wasn’t feeling well.” Y/n had gestured to the food in her arms at the mention of lunch. 
She had swung by their favorite Thai place. Having not been there for a few weeks because of Spencer’s busy schedule and Y/n’s guilt for eating it without him. Spencer smiled widely at the offer of food and his lover for his break. 
“I’d love to honey. We can eat at my desk if you’d like.” Spencer offered. Grabbing the drinks from her to make the load easier to carry. 
Derek watched the exchange between them. Only putting everything together when you call Spencer ‘love’. 
“Holy shit she’s real.” He had meant to say it in his head. But the statement slipped out, causing the two of you to look at him with confusion. 
“You didn’t think she was real?” Spencer asked.
“Well, no. Just that she sounded really perfect for you so I had a hard time believing it at first. But then I met her and she literally reminded me of you.” Derek tried to explain but it didn’t sound all too convincing. 
Spencer and Y/n looked at each other before laughing. Y/n had just met Derek and he thought she was someone that Spencer made up. Their giggles made Derek feel stupid.
And that’s something he doesn’t feel often (not counting the times Spencer made him feel stupid). 
Y/n had calmed down first before holding out her free hand for Derek to shake, “Hi, my name is Y/n L/n. I’m going back to school to be a teacher but currently I’m working as a barista. I’ve been told I’m patient and kind. Spencer and I have been dating since we were 22 but we met when we were 20.” 
Y/n then spared a glance at Spencer before asking, “Same intro you gave him right?” 
Spencer nodded with a smile before kissing the crown of her head, “Yep same one you gave to my mom.” 
Derek looked between the young couple content on the evidence presented to him. Derek took Y/n’s hand and shook it giving a greeting of his own, “It’s nice to meet you Y/n. I’m Derek Morgan and I’ve become Spencer’s big brother. So don’t you go breaking his heart.” 
The toothy smile was answer enough, but Y/n couldn’t resist her response, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 
Spencer had excused the two of them to go eat lunch at his desk. Spencer was happy that his lives were starting to blend together.
He’s especially glad that his favorite people were able to meet each other once and for all. Even though one of them thought the other was a figment of his imagination.
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astrophileous · 6 months
Text
Every Single Day
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Synopsis: When his daughter demands him to tell the story of how the two of you met, Spencer can't help but oblige.
Warning(s): dad spencer🥰, established relationship (eventually), parent-child relationships, alcohol consumption, brief interaction with a douchebag, made-up astronomy facts, made-up places, idk if there's any cursing but I'll throw it in here to be safe, implications of sex and nsfw themes (minors be advised), pregnancy, mentions of illness, mentions and/or implications of character death, topics of loss and grief, angst and fluff because I love the best of both worlds👍 (pls lmk if I missed anything)
Word Count: 7700-ish
Author's Note: hi 👋 I'm back again with another dad!spencer fic bc apparently I'm a sucker for him. I got a lil carried away with this one lol but anyways, I'm also writing this for the meet cute challenge hosted by the amazing and talented @imagining-in-the-margins so pls go head to her profile and show some love cause she's a peach ❤️ don't forget to leave a LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG
Criminal Minds Masterlist
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The air smelled of freshly brewed coffee. Against the wind, shades of crimson and orange swayed on the trees. Fallen leaves crunched underneath his feet to the cadence of his leisured steps.
Two deep breaths, in and out. Spencer Reid greeted autumn with the deep longing of an old friend.
Next to him walked a source of light bigger than the sun, jumping and bouncing excitedly on the sidewalk. Her tiny fingers emitted warmth inside of his hand. There was a skip to her step that reminded him of the innocence he had long lost. The innocence she now possessed.
Spencer loved this little girl beyond everything he had ever known.
"Puddle, Dee."
The tiny bundle of joy jumped to escape the small pool of water, grinning up at her father, who then began ruffling her hair until she evaded his onslaught with a shriek.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Pumpkin?"
"You never told me how you met Mommy."
Spencer glanced down at the 6-year-old, dressed gorgeously in her favorite floral dress, complete with a sweater that had entailed a hearty discussion about humans' perception of cold. It was only after he bribed her with the promise of a chocolate cupcake from Wakey Bakey did Spencer finally convince her to wear the woolen piece of clothing.
His daughter stared at him with a radiant smile peeking out behind a curtain of hair. A smile which Spencer always argued had belonged to you, even though the rest of Diana Aurora Reid was the splitting image of her beloved father.
"Surely I've told you before, Dee."
"Nuh-uh."
"Of course I have."
"No, Daddy. You haven't."
"Pumpkin, you know I don't forget stuff ever," Spencer said, looking at the little girl who was swaying along to the rhythm of her footsteps. "I used to tell you that story all the time. Back when you were still a baby."
Just as predicted, Diana let out a dramatic gasp as if Spencer had uttered the most offensive thing known to mankind; like claiming the earth was actually flat, for example. Spencer couldn't contain his grin upon seeing her reaction.
"But Daddy, that was so long ago!"
"Do you not remember, Dee?"
Diana shook her head.
"Fine. But Mommy must've told you the story already, right?"
"She has, but--"
"But?"
"But I wanna hear it from you."
Little Diana knew that her father could never resist her puppy dog eyes, especially garnished with that adorable pout on top. Once upon a time, you declared it sickeningly cute and annoying whenever Spencer would pull the same trick on you. When Dee started doing the same to him, you had simply laughed and kissed his cheek, letting him get a sweet taste of his own medicine.
Spencer smiled at the young girl next to him, squeezing her nose and relishing in the gleeful squeal that echoed from her chest.
"What do you wanna hear, Pumpkin?"
Diana held her chin, seemingly deep in contemplation before deciding, "Everything, Dad! I wanna hear it from the start."
"The start, huh?" Spencer hummed thoughtfully, his mind already reeling back to the first moment he ever laid eyes on you.
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The story began on yet another ordinary Friday night.
Luck was on the BAU's side when the team managed to wrap the case they had been working all week just before Friday afternoon. By the time the sun was setting, their jet was already high up in the sky, en route from the state of Delaware to Quantico, Virginia. Spencer was looking forward to going home at a reasonable hour for once--maybe catching up on the four reading materials he had promptly pushed aside after his team was called to Delaware to work on the latest case--but that plan dissipated when Derek Morgan suddenly appeared by his side.
"Drinks. Tonight. Everyone's coming, and I'm not taking no for an answer," Derek said before dragging a reluctant Spencer away with him, ignoring the protests that the younger man kept grumbling under his breath all the way to the team's favorite bar.
Spencer just hadn't known it yet, but later down the road, he would spend the rest of eternity thanking Derek Morgan for dragging him along that night.
The Friday night crowd at Shaw's was borderline brutal, but fortunately for the team, a booth in the corner became vacant the moment they stepped into the threshold.
Two hours later, Spencer's fellow teammates weren't even close to calling it a night. The last chorus of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" by Whitney Houston had just finished blasting from the speakers when Derek sauntered back to the booth, twirling a flushed Penelope Garcia in front of him. Spencer slipped out of the booth to allow them in--preferring to stay on the most outer seat instead of crammed between his tipsy friends' bodies--before sitting down once more.
"Hey, Genius," Penelope called, waving her empty beer glass in front of Spencer's face. "Be a darling and get me a refill, will you?"
"Garcia--" Spencer quickly snatched the glass from her hand before she could send it smashing against someone's head, "--are you sure you want a refill?"
Penelope scrunched her nose. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I think you're plenty drunk already."
"I'm not that drunk," Penelope denied, giggling when an unexpected hiccup interrupted her slurred words. "Derek, tell the beautiful Doctor I'm not that drunk."
"She's not that drunk, Reid." Derek grinned. "While you're at it..."
Spencer could only sigh when Derek slid his own empty glass across the table.
It was past 10 o'clock at night, and the crowd of people in the establishment seemed to have doubled in the couple of hours that the team had been there. Spencer had to squeeze himself through the ocean of patrons flooding the bar, barely able to move his limbs without other people's arms or elbows bumping against his ribcage.
Spencer was waiting for the bartender to complete his order when he happened to glance towards his right, catching sight of the concealed panic that triggered every profiler bone in his body.
Any other person would have taken one look at your face and presumed that everything was alright, but Spencer knew better. He recognized the frantic movement of your eyes, the tight press of your lips, and the impatient knocking of your fingertips on the counter. He only caught the tail end of your voice before discreetly listening to what the man you were talking to had to say.
"--so, unfortunately, I can't."
"I told you, Baby. My Veyron runs at over 260 miles per hour. We can go to Red Clover Hill and get you back home safely by twelve. It's simple math," the guy slurred smugly.
"Actually, that's not true."
The drunken man turned around at Spencer's interruption.
"Excuse me?"
"The Red Clover Hill State Park is approximately 229 miles away from here. Though theoretically, you could drive your Veyron at its maximum velocity, which is around 268 miles per hour, it's very unlikely you'll be able to maintain that speed for the entirety of the ride, considering the terrain you would have to go through between here and there. The fastest you can probably get to the park is in 60 minutes, give or take, and that's being generous. You would have to drive back to D.C. as soon as you arrive at the park if you wish to be back by twelve. It's just realistically impossible."
The man in front of him couldn't be less impressed by Spencer's lengthy rant.
"And who the hell are you?" the drunken guy said, pinning Spencer with a stare that was clearly supposed to be intimidating.
Spencer didn't even flinch. "No one. Just a guy who happens to know a lot about... simple math."
Your loud cough tore Spencer's attention away from the drunk man and towards you, who looked ready to burst from the laughter you were holding underneath. Even under the terrible lighting of the bar, Spencer could still pinpoint the hint of unspoken amusement glimmering inside your eyes.
"Sorry, Bill," you said to the man. "I really do need to be back home by twelve tonight. Maybe some other time?"
Bill didn't need to be told twice. He received the message loud and clear.
Spencer watched the other man scurry away, tail between his legs, before your charming smile enraptured him once more.
"Thank you for that. I was beginning to think he might never leave."
"Happy to help." Spencer smiled thinly, scratching the back of his neck even though the spot wasn't itchy. "What did, uh, why did he want to take you to Red Clover Hill, of all places?"
"Oh. That was... partially my fault." You grinned innocently. "I didn't know he was gonna be an insufferable drunk when he came over, and I was in the middle of watching this."
You pulled out a silver tablet from your lap. Spencer took a peek at the screen, seeing what looked like a live feed of the night sky--over North Carolina, judging by the visible constellations on the vast scene--stamped with the day's date at the bottom of the footage.
"You're watching the Roux-Nell?" Spencer deduced after gathering the facts: the live feed of North Carolina sky, the mention of Red Clover Hill State Park that harbored one of the highest grounds in North Carolina, including a collection of some of the most sophisticated telescopes in the country; you must have been planning to view that night's sighting of the Roux-Nell comet, its first time since the last one in 1927, and only its third one in history.
"Yes! How did you... don't tell me. You're an avid astronomy fan, too?"
Spencer's responding smile only made you beam even brighter.
"Anyway, that guy earlier, Bill, he approached me and asked what I was watching. So, I started talking about the Roux-Nell and about how I wish I was at Red Clover Hill right now since everyone keeps saying it's one of the best spots to view tonight's sighting. I thought he was genuinely interested until he started talking about his Veyron this, his Veyron that. I didn't even realize until a whole five minutes later that he was talking about his car!"
When you finally finished explaining, your eyes locked with Spencer's hazel ones before you seemed to cower shyly.
"Sorry. I can get a little excited when I'm talking sometimes."
"No! Don't be, it was--" Spencer stopped himself before he could complete his sentence.
What was he about to say?
Insightful? Entertaining?
Endearing?
Eventually, Spencer opted to settle for something safe and simple. "I get that way too, sometimes. A lot of the times, actually. So you don't have to apologize."
The fire flickered back inside your gaze following Spencer's admission. It burned brilliantly beneath the kindness you radiated, forged by the sharp intelligence he could see shining out of your eyes.
"So--" Spencer cleared his throat, attempting to shift the conversation in order to distract his racing mind, "--why did you tell him you needed to be back home by twelve?"
"Oh, that? I told him I'm donating blood tomorrow morning, so I need to at least get seven hours of sleep for the night."
"That's a clever lie."
You tilted your head slightly at his statement. "What makes you think it's a lie?"
"Because you're here. Nobody drinks alcohol before they're supposed to donate blood."
Your eyes flashed with surprise. "Not bad, Mister. You're very perceptive."
Spencer shrugged, trying not to appear too flustered by your casual compliment. "It's what I do."
You raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his reply.
"I'm a profiler."
"Profiler?"
"With the FBI."
"FBI, huh?" You hummed, something akin to intrigue swirling in your eyes. "So, you study criminals? Trying to decipher their way of thinking, why they do what they do. Dissect their past history for any related trauma, maybe even pinpoint a psychological stressor that could trigger a criminal behavior, that kind of stuff?"
Upon hearing your response, it was Spencer's turn to be intrigued. "Exactly that kind of stuff. How did you...?"
Grinning sheepishly, you pulled a professional badge out of your pocket, holding it up in front of Spencer so he could see the emblem covering its surface.
"Edgewater Psychology Center," Spencer read the words aloud, understanding dawning on him as he found your eyes once more. "You're a psychologist."
"Guilty as charged."
Spencer couldn't fight off his amused smile. "That explains it, then."
"You know," you began, leaning further against the bar counter to shorten the distance between you and Spencer, "I've never met a profiler in person before. Most of my colleagues, they have consulted on a federal case at least once in the past few years, but the bureau hasn't yet contacted me so far."
"Really?" Spencer took a step forward, closing the distance by a mere inch. "Sounds like a big loss for us. We're idiots."
You bit down on your bottom lip to suppress a smile, your gaze flicking between Spencer's own lips and eyes. For the shortest of minutes, nothing else existed in Spencer's world but you; your smile, your scent, and your kind eyes. You were a magnet carved out of his wildest dreams, and Spencer, well, he might as well have been made out of the purest of irons.
But before Spencer could get lost deeper in your relentless gaze, a shout of his name slashed through the air from across the bar. Back at the booth, Derek was waving his hand frantically in the air, stopping only when Spencer signaled him to sit back down and that he was returning in a minute.
"I have to go." He smiled tentatively, apologetically.
"Oh?"
Spencer tried not to revel too much over the small dip of disappointment at the edge of your voice.
"My friends. They, uh--"
"Oh, no, it's alright. You don't have to explain," you told him gently. "See you around, Mr. Profiler. Hope you have a great night."
With that said, you went back to watching the live feed on your tablet while Spencer, begrudgingly, trudged across the room with two refilled beer glasses in his hands, back to where his friends--minus Rossi and Hotch who were conversing among themselves at one of the standing tables--were waiting.
"Finally," Derek groaned once Spencer slammed the glasses down on the table.
"Who was that?" Emily asked as he slipped into the booth.
"Huh?" Spencer followed Emily's gaze, finding you perched up at the very end of it. "No one."
"No one?" Emily's eyebrows rose. "She didn't seem like no one from where I was sitting."
Spencer took an insanely large sip of his leftover beer.
"Holy shit, you like her, " Derek muttered. "He likes her. Pretty boy's got a crush."
"No, I don't."
"Yeah? Tell that to those red cheeks of yours." JJ chuckled.
Instinctively, Spencer touched his own cheeks as if he could physically feel the change of colors on his skin.
"I'm just tipsy," he tried to reason.
A collective scoff reverberated through the entire booth.
"What's her name, Spence?" JJ asked.
When a full minute ticked by without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment from Spencer, Penelope reached out and slapped the man right across his shoulder.
"Ow!"
"You didn't ask for her name?!" Penelope exclaimed.
"It didn't come up!"
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say, Reid," Emily noted before sipping her margarita.
"Nope. I'm not having this. Not tonight. Look at me, Sunshine." Penelope grabbed Spencer's face in her hands, forcing him to stare directly into her glasses-rimmed eyes. "I'm not letting you spend the rest of the night like this. You will get your cute little tushy out there and talk to that girl. You will get her name and also her number, maybe even ask the nice pretty lady out while you're at it. Now, have I made myself clear?"
Spencer barely managed to swallow his nerves before he offered Penelope two tiny nods.
"Good. I don't wanna see your face back here if you're not at least pocketing her phone number. Now shoo."
Penelope sent Spencer flying across the bar with a dramatic stumble. By the time he reached your side, Spencer was nothing less than a stuttering mess and a thundering heart.
"Hi," Spencer breathed out once he found your welcoming eyes.
"Um, hi?"
"I'm Spencer."
"Okay... Spencer?"
"Reid. Spencer Reid." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, it's just... I realized while I was sitting over there--well, my friends actually made me realize--that I, uh, never got your name. Which, you know, of course I never got it because I didn't ask. So, I was coming here, wondering if maybe you'd like to give it... to me?"
You blinked once. Twice.
By the third blink, Spencer wished the earth would open up and devour him whole.
"You want my name?"
Spencer nodded.
"What are you planning to do with it?"
"Call you?" At your bemused expression, Spencer quickly elaborated, "Not call like call. I meant referring. Yep. That's it. Although, maybe if you want to, I would love to call you as well. Sometime. And perhaps, you know, ask you out... on a date?"
Spencer swallowed the lump of nervousness in his throat. In front of him, you were pretty, even with the conspicuous scrutiny in your eyes as they assessed Spencer as if he was some sort of an enigma. Embarrassment burned hotter through his veins with every second that passed by. He was merely two exhales of breath away from dashing out of the door when you finally spoke up.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
Smiling, you produced an old receipt seemingly out of thin air and asked the bartender to lend you a pen, scribbling something down as soon as you had it between your fingers. When the tiny piece of paper emigrated to Spencer's hand, the Cheshire cat in him jumped out once he noticed the ten digit numbers written neatly underneath a name he could only assume as yours.
"Will that be enough, Spencer Reid?"
"For now," Spencer replied before grabbing his wallet and shoving the paper containing your name inside. "I'll call you."
"You better."
After Spencer's departure, you returned your attention back to the tablet in front of you. Barely five minutes later, though, your serene watching session was once again interrupted. Only this time, it was by the ringing of your phone.
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is Spencer."*
Surprised, you swiveled your head left and right, stopping once you spotted Spencer standing on the other side of the room. His eyes were trained towards you, and behind him, a booth of four people seemed to have directed their attention at you as well.
"Spencer?"
"I know this is very untoward," he began, "but would you like to go out with me?"
"Boy, you certainly don't waste any time at all, do you?"
"I believe it's called being efficient," he countered, making you laugh. "So, what do you say?"
"Sure," you answered, enjoying the way Spencer beam at you from across the room. "I would love to, Spencer."
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A breeze blew gently against Spencer's face, caressing the tendrils of curly hair that had fallen over his forehead. Diana's little fingers started to grip his tighter as the wind strengthened.
"Did you take Mommy on that date, Daddy?"
"Of course," Spencer replied, reminiscing the exact day when he had picked you up in your apartment, sweat glistening on his palm as he clutched the bouquet of flowers in his right hand. "We went to see a Mark Rothko exhibition at the National Gallery of Art, and before I took her home, we stopped by Wakey Bakey to buy some lemon tarts."
Diana gasped. "Wakey Bakey?!"
The little girl's reaction compelled a chuckle from Spencer's chest. "Yes, Pumpkin. Wakey Bakey."
"What happened after that, Daddy?"
"What do you think happened after that, Dee?"
"Um--" Diana pursed her lips, deeply lost in thought, "--did you become girlfriend and boyfriend?"
"Yes, we did."
"And you got married?!"
Spencer laughed at Diana's apparent excitement over the prospect of her parents getting married. "We did, yeah, eventually. After I proposed to her."
"Oh! Oh! The proposal!" Diana exclaimed, jumping up and down in the middle of the sidewalk without a care in the world. Spencer had to tug her back towards him before she could harm herself or the other pedestrians. "Tell me! Tell me! Tell me about the proposal, Daddy!"
"You wanna hear the story about how I proposed to your mother?"
"Yes, please!"
Chuckling to himself, Spencer mumbled a quick fine before his gears had started turning towards a specific memory in his mind. Spencer was sure, even without his eidetic ability, there was no way he could have ever forgotten about the day in question.
The day you agreed to have him as your forever.
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Spencer had fallen in love with you during the first date, right around the time of yet another one of his animated ramblings, where instead of shaming him to shut the hell up, you had simply stared at him in awe and said, "You're pretty when you talk."
The young agent was sure he couldn't get rid of the blush adorning his cheeks for at least an entire week.
By the time the fifth date rolled around, Spencer was absolutely certain that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It wasn't a surprise, then, that a few weeks before your first anniversary came up, Spencer had pocketed a diamond ring with a promise of forever on the tip of his tongue.
Combing the courage to take this historical leap was easy. Difficult was trying to conjure up the perfect proposal plan that he would deem worthy enough for someone like you. There were no rooms for mistakes. Spencer wanted everything to be perfect because he believed you deserved nothing less.
Which was why, in moments of desperation, Spencer ended up turning to his fellow teammates in the FBI for help.
"I don't know if I'm the right person to ask about this, Spence. Will only ever proposed to me after finding out about Henry, and we only got married after I thought he was gonna die on the field," JJ explained. "It was never the most ideal of situations, but I would never change a thing even if I could."
Unsatisfied with JJ's answer, Spencer proceeded to find the BAU's tech genius in her bat cave.
"Go big or go home, my friend," Penelope said following a 10-minute hysteria she erupted into upon learning about Spencer's intent to propose. "Splash out on the bottle. Don't hold back on the grandeur. Spend all of your savings if you have to."
"Garcia--"
"Fine, maybe not all of your savings. You should leave some for the wedding."
Spencer spent weeks mulling over Penelope's advice.
Working as an FBI agent didn't pay as well as most people thought it would, and Spencer's tendency to collect first edition books wasn't exactly an affordable hobby. It meant that as much as Spencer wanted a proposal filled with the greatest grandeur--just as Penelope had suggested--he didn't have a fat enough balance in his bank account to make his ideal proposal concept a reality.
And Spencer probably would have spent the limited fund in his savings down to its very last cent, had it not been for Derek catching him browsing through the internet for the cost of a hot air balloon ride.
"I just want to give her the perfect proposal," Spencer admitted after he finished revealing everything.
"Kid, it doesn't matter," Derek said. "Don't you see? She doesn't care about hot air balloons or any kind of grandeur. She only cares about you. There's no such thing as a perfect proposal. You're just using it as an excuse to put off asking her 'cause you're scared of what she's gonna say. But you don't need to. You two are so devastatingly in love, it's disgusting."
In the end, grandeur wasn't even present in the room when Spencer decided to pop the question.
On that particular night, Spencer arrived in his apartment just a few minutes before midnight. His aching muscles were calling for sleep as he toed his shoes off, but his footsteps soon ceased when he caught sight of his dimly lit living room.
You were fast asleep on the couch, face illuminated by the television light. Spencer's movements were careful as he knelt in front of you, studying the soft and hard edges of your features like historians would an ancient scripture. He couldn't help it when his fingers reached out on their own accord, brushing the softest of touches against the high point of your cheekbone. Inside its cage, Spencer's heart started to stir.
You were so beautiful.
Even after one year of being together, Spencer was often still taken back by how lovely you were. He adored every detail of your being, most fervently the scars that littered your skin in a constellation of stars. All of the places in your body where your scrutiny had wandered in a fleet of insecurity were the same places that Spencer wanted to worship for the rest of his life. In his eyes, you were eternally magnificent, and this thought clouded Spencer's mind as he went to shake your shoulder gently.
"Spencer?" Your groggy voice sounded meek in the comfort of Spencer's apartment, the same one he had been sharing with you since you moved in three months prior. Your lips tilted with the tiniest hint of a smile at the sight of him, and Spencer thought he would melt when your fingers instinctively reached for his face. "You're back."
"I'm back," he confirmed, leaving a trail of kisses on your palm. "Why aren't you in bed, my love?"
"I was waiting for you," you admitted. "I have something to say."
"Really? Me too."
"Hm?" Curiosity flared in the center of your eyes. "You first."
Smiling, Spencer leaned down to steal a quick kiss before saying, "Marry me."
Your breath hitched.
After a few seconds of silence, your nervous laughter filled his ears. "Right. That's a nice one, Spencer. Very funny."
"I'm not joking, sweetheart."
Spencer reached into the inside pocket of his satchel, pulling out the velvet box that had weighed down his bag by several grams for the past few weeks. Any remnant of sleep you still had in your eyes was instantly washed away the moment he opened the box to reveal a pretty ring sitting inside.
"I've had this for a while now," Spencer admitted. "I kept putting off asking you because I believed I wanted everything to be perfect, until Derek knocked some sense into my head and made me realize that I was just afraid of taking the leap. He's right, as always, but don't tell him I said that."
Spencer paused at your teary laugh, relishing in the melodic sound that made his heart nearly burst in two. "My love, I don't need the perfect proposal when you're the promise of a perfect life. Any life with you is the one I want to live for the rest of my time, and I want to start living that life from this point onward. What do you say, sweetheart? Will you marry me?"
Spencer never thought the word yes could sound so incredibly spectacular.
The celebration had started right away, commemorated by the shedding of clothes from each other's bodies, finalized by panting breaths and entangled limbs beneath rumpled sheets. You lay on the bed with your palm on Spencer's chest, his own hand tracing invisible patterns on the vast canvass of your skin.
Spencer watched as you stared at the ring circling your finger. "Do you like it? We can exchange it for a new one if--"
"Spencer Reid, don't you dare."
"Apologies, ma'am." He grinned, continuing the random patterns he was drawing on your skin before he spoke again, "By the way, you said you also have something to tell me."
You looked up at him with a blinding smile before scooting out of Spencer's arm and reaching for the nightstand. When Spencer saw what you had rummaged out of the bedside drawer, Spencer thought his heart had forgotten how to beat.
"Is that--"
"Surprise," you murmured giddily, handing over the object in your hand into Spencer's awaiting palm. "I found out yesterday, but I wanted to tell you in person."
Spencer sat up on the bed, staring with disbelief at the small item in his hand. He only realized he had started to cry when a drop of tears fell down, blurring the two tiny pink lines in his vision.
"This is... you're..."
"I'm pregnant, Spencer," you professed.
Just an hour earlier, Spencer thought the word yes was the best thing he could ever hear falling from your mouth. But as he held you in his arms, his lips catching yours once more in a heated kiss, Spencer realized that you had many more surprising admissions waiting to be said out loud.
And Spencer couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life listening to every single one of them.
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"Daddy, are you saying I was already in Mommy's belly when you proposed to her?"
"Yes, you were, Pumpkin," Spencer said, smiling at the blatant curiosity in Little Dee's eyes. "You were a surprise we didn't see coming."
Diana's responding smile was a picture of satisfaction. The father-daughter pair continued to walk down the street until Dee's voice tore through the silence once again, "Daddy?"
"Hm?"
"I thought you said a man and a woman can only make babies after they're married."
Spencer's footsteps halted on the pavement.
The silence must have stretched for only a partial of a minute, but the expectant stare Dee was nailing against his face, along with the internal panic that had short-circuited Spencer's brain made it seem as if the world had skidded into a standstill. Frantic eyes darted everywhere for a chance at rectification, and Spencer couldn't stop the words from tumbling off his lips when he saw the worn-down sign of a florist up ahead.
"Dee, would you like to buy some flowers for Mommy?"
The little girl squealed an excited yes before skipping the few steps left towards the flower shop. Spencer let out a relieved breath at having narrowly escaped such a harrowing crisis.
Once Spencer stepped into the shop, a multitude of fragrances immediately enveloped his surroundings. Diana was lingering back and forth around the vibrant displays when Spencer approached, her tiny eyebrows frowning in the most adorable way as she assessed the rows of flowers in front of her.
"Have you decided yet, Pumpkin?"
"Can we get some of Mommy's favorites, Dad?" Diana requested, pointing her tiny finger at the display of flowers she knew to be your favorites. "And then we can add some of these daisies, too!"
Spencer couldn't fight the smile blossoming on his face as he asked the florist to assemble a bouquet made out of daisies--Dee's favorite type of flowers, the same one printed all over the dress she was wearing--along with your favorite flowers in the center. Diana stared in awe at the deft work administered by the florist, her mouth forming an "O" once the bouquet was wrapped and ready to go.
"Do you think Mommy will like them, Daddy?"
"I know she will, Pumpkin," Spencer answered earnestly, his memory replaying that first time he had come home bringing the same arrangement of flowers in his hand.
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Spencer came home to the apartment in utter disarray, and yet, it still was the best view that he had ever witnessed in his entire life.
Ever since his office was transformed into a nursery, the books he previously kept in there had to be relocated to the living area. Most of them had gone by now--some donated, and some others sold at second-hand bookstores--but piles of them still littered in various corners of the room.
Apart from his mountainous collection of books, small trinkets also covered every available surface of the place. From the empty nursing bottles in the kitchen sink to the breast pump on the counter, and the tiny socks on the coffee table to the pacifier jammed between the sofa cushions; every single one of them contributed to the mess that his apartment had become. Yet as he paused to inspect every inch of the place, Spencer couldn't find any other emotion besides warmth flooding his chest.
Muffled footsteps padded towards the living room before you appeared from the hallway with a freshly bathed Diana in your arms. As soon as your eyes locked with his, the crease between your eyebrows automatically vanished.
"You're home."
"I'm home." Spencer grinned before welcoming you into his embrace.
He stole a quick kiss from your lips before bending down to smother a 7-month-old Diana who yelped in glee when Spencer began attacking her with kisses all over her face.
"She's been fussy since yesterday," you told him. "I think she missed you."
"Did you, baby? Did you miss Daddy?" Spencer cooed. "I can take her for a few while you rest. You look tired. Are you feeling okay?"
"Gee, Spence. What a way to a girl's heart."
"You know what I meant, sweetheart."
"It's fine, Spencer. I just got a headache, but it's all better now that you're here."
Spencer smiled as he kissed your free knuckles. "If it's any consolation, you're still the most heavenly creature that I've ever laid eyes upon."
A sneaky laughter rumbled past your chest. "Fine. I'll let you go just this once," you said before letting Spencer take a yawning Diana into his arms.
As Spencer carried Dee towards the couch, you noticed a bouquet of flowers lying next to the kitchen sink in the corner of your eye. You glanced at the young genius with a discreet smile before aptly transferring the flowers into a vase.
"These are pretty," you commented, joining your family in the living room. You put the vase in the middle of the coffee table amidst the books and various baby clutters before dropping yourself against Spencer's side.
"They're your favorites."
"I know. As usual." You smiled affectionately. "And daisies. You've never bought me daisies before."
Spencer's eyes gleamed. "I bought the daisies for Dee."
"Oh?"
"I think daisies are gonna be her favorite."
"You do, huh?"
"One hundred percent."
Spencer's eyes looked up from Diana to you then, whose own gaze had been kept intently on your husband and daughter. Darkness embellished the area underneath your eyes, and Spencer couldn't help but count the lines of fatigue that seemed to have multiplied on the contours of your face. Even then, Spencer thought you had never looked more stunning than you did at that moment; as his wife, the mother of his child, and the woman who owned the sole reign of his heart.
Confusion wandered into your eyes when you noticed Spencer's stubborn stare. A surprised squawk escaped your lips as Spencer unexpectedly captured them in a rather long kiss. When he pulled back, Spencer looked the very image of a man who was drunk on love.
"I love you. You know that, right?" Spencer confessed as he squeezed your hand twice in his palm.
"Spencer, what's going on with you?"
"Nothing. I just--" he paused for a chuckle, seemingly trying to find the right words to say before he could continue, "--I owe my life to you, sweetheart. For all of the times you have pulled me out of the darkness, to the light you've brought into my life. You and Dee are the reason I keep on breathing. Without the two of you, I'm nothing."
"Spencer," you breathed out. "Where did all of this come from?"
"I don't know." He shook his head. "I just wanted you to know how grateful I am to have you in my life and that you've brought Dee into ours. Everything worth fighting for about me is because of you."
The telltale signs of tears began to cast a shadow over your eyes. You pressed your hand to Spencer's cheek, feeling the rugged sensation of his newly shaved stubble stroking your skin. Spencer melted into the warmth of your touch.
"You're giving me far too much credit here, Spencer," you whispered. "Everything you are has always been your own doing rather than mine. All I ever did was cheer you on from the sideline. You would still have become the person that you are today even if I weren't in your life."
Spencer physically shuddered at your last statement. "Don't say that. I can't even begin to imagine a life without you in it."
"Well, even if such day does come, when I won't be a part of your life anymore, I know you're gonna be just fine. Because you'll have Dee with you--" you stroked Diana's head lovingly, "--and I know that the two of you will give each other enough love and strength that you won't even notice I'm not around anymore."
The frown on Spencer's face deepened.
"You're not allowed to leave me. Ever," Spencer decided childishly.
"Fine. I won't. But you have to remember--" you brought your palm towards Spencer's chest, feeling each rhythmic thrum of his heart which seemed to flutter ever so slightly underneath your fingers, "--I'll be right here if you need me. Always."
Spencer's own hand landed on top of your hand, entwining your fingers together without ever tearing his fierce gaze away from yours.
"Always."
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The sun was shining down in flimsy rays when Spencer and Dee finally walked past the familiar gate. Glimmers of gold sneaked past the reddish leaves on branches before falling upon the ground.
Next to him, Diana was humming a melody that Spencer recognized from one of your specially curated playlists. Her little hands struggled to carry the gigantic bouquet that she couldn't wait to present to you. It didn't matter that the bouquet itself was nearly as tall as she was, Diana still refused to let Spencer assist her.
"I wanna give Mommy the flowers myself," she had told Spencer in a manner that reminded him too much of your own stubbornness.
After a couple more minutes of walking, Spencer's reverie was soon broken by the excited squeal coming from the little girl beside him.
"Mommy! Mommy!"
Diana dashed into a sprint before words of warning could fall from Spencer's lips. He watched intensely as Diana's little feet moved upon the ocean of fallen leaves on the ground. Her tight grip around the bouquet never wavered even when she ran up the grassed hill, all the way towards the destination in her mind.
All the way towards the headstone with your name written on it.
When Spencer finally got there, Diana was kneeling next to your grave with panting breaths, but the smile stretched on her lips was the biggest one that Spencer had ever seen.
"Hi, Mommy. I'm back with Daddy," Diana announced. "Daddy, go say hi to Mommy."
"Hello, my love." Spencer smiled before taking a seat next to his daughter.
"We brought flowers, Mommy! They're your favorites. I added daisies to make them prettier." Diana beamed before putting the bouquet against your headstone. "You're not gonna believe what happened in class yesterday!"
As Diana animatedly began to recount the funny incident in her classroom--somehow involving a boy named Patrick and a cup of slushie--Spencer watched over her with a permanent smile on his lips. The little girl loved to talk--a trait she obviously acquired from both of her parents--and Spencer knew just how much you used to adore listening to Dee's rambling at any time of day.
It must have been at least ten minutes later when Diana's story eventually whirled to an end. Her attention instantly shifted to the family who was paying their own respect just two headstones over, a small squeak of puppy tumbled from Dee's lips before she dashed towards the boy with a golden retriever pup beside his legs.
Spencer shook his head affectionately at his daughter's antics.
"I know we were just here a couple of weeks ago, but Dee wanted to tell you about the slushie incident herself," he said. "And, well, I can never deny the chance to visit you, love."
A loud laughter boomed a few feet away. Spencer watched as Diana ran around jubilantly with the little boy and his dog. The boy's father waved at Spencer from the distance, which he replied with an acknowledging nod.
"She's getting so big, sweetheart. Sometimes, I just wanna stop time and keep her as my little girl forever. I wish you were around to see how much she's grown." Spencer smiled ruefully. "I can't believe that it's been more than a year since you were gone."
Spencer thought back to the last few moments you spent on this earth. How just a few months prior, the doctor had advised you to stop the treatment and take a rest at home instead.
The chemo isn't working, was what the doctor was really saying. You should be spending as much time as you can with your family.
So, that was exactly what you ended up doing.
Spencer had quit his job at the FBI shortly after you were diagnosed, opting to take a full-time job of teaching where the hours were more humane and reasonable. The day you were discharged from the hospital, Spencer made a vow to himself to make every day as memorable as he could, and he was keeping true to it. Those last few months were filled with countless road trips, an unforgettable weekend at Disneyland, and visits to various museums across the states. Spencer made sure that each day was charged with love and laughter, a perfect day culminated by an equally perfect night, with you falling asleep in the safety of his arms.
Until one morning, when Spencer woke up to your cold and lifeless body lying by his side.
"Do you remember what you told me once? About how Dee and I would never notice you were gone because we would have each other?" Spencer recalled. "You were wrong about that, sweetheart. Your absence is the first thing I notice every time I start my day. The moment I open my eyes, I notice that you aren't lying next to me on the bed like you're supposed to be. I notice the cold imprints on the sheets where your warmth used to linger. I notice you in every corner of our home, but most importantly, I notice you in Dee."
Spencer glanced at his little girl, playing and running around a pile of fallen leaves with her newfound friend and his pet dog. His heart floundered at the scene.
"Everyone keeps saying that she's an exact copy of me, but I see glimpses of you in her more and more every single day," Spencer admitted. "She's the only anchor I have left now, my love. Without her, I'm lost. I try constantly, with whatever strength still resides in me, to give her everything she would ever need. Shower her with every ounce of love I have left in my heart."
A lone tear cascaded down Spencer's cheek. He quickly erased it away with a wry chuckle.
"What I would do to have a minute with you again, my love. I hope you know I'd give my heart and soul to have those extra sixty seconds just to stare at your beautiful face. To hold you in my arms one last time. I try my best to fill the void that you left for Dee's sake. Some days are difficult, and I keep thinking about how much better it would be--how much better off she would be--if it were you here with her instead of me. I'd trade places with you if I could. I fear that all of me would never be enough for her, because she needs you. We both do."
Spencer inhaled a breath, forcing the imminent wave of tears from breaking the dam he had masterfully crafted since the moment you were gone. He promised a long time ago never to allow the grief to consume him.
He still had his daughter to think about.
"I'm beginning to think people are wrong when they say time makes everything better. The pain never lessens. It just becomes bearable with time. Dee makes it bearable," Spencer confessed. "I can only hope I'm doing the same for her."
"Daddy! Daddy!"
Spencer hurriedly wiped away any sign of tears from his face before he caught Diana in his arms. Her innocent laughter was a balm to the gaping wound in his chest, and Spencer allowed himself to bask in the bliss that his little girl brought to his life.
"What is it, Pumpkin?"
"Look what Brian's mom gave me!"
Spencer looked at her tiny hand to see a plastic daisy ring gracing one of her fingers. He looked up towards the family in the distance, mouthing a thank you to the mother who waved him off with a smile.
"It's very pretty, Dee."
"Like me?"
The young dad chuckled. "Yes, very much like you."
"Like Mommy, too?"
Spencer's smile softened. "Very much like Mommy, too. Yes."
The exhilarated smile Diana rewarded him could probably light up the entire state of Virginia at night.
Five minutes later, Spencer found himself bidding you a goodbye, with Diana promising to visit again very soon to give you an update over the slushie incident that supposedly got Patrick in a lot of trouble at school. The air was getting even chillier as the two walked the path they had taken after arriving at the cemetery. Spencer tugged Diana closer to his side once he saw the familiar gate lurking a few feet ahead, keeping her safe while simultaneously seeking her warmth.
"Daddy?" Dee's voice arose shyly once the pair had reached the main street.
"Yes, Pumpkin?"
"I miss Mommy," she admitted quietly.
Spencer's fingers instinctively tightened for a split second around his daughter's hand. "I know you do, Pumpkin. You just need to remember, even if she's not physically with us anymore, that she's always watching over you and keeping you safe."
Diana nodded her head understandingly. "Do you miss her, too, Daddy?"
"Every day, Dee." Spencer smiled, glancing back towards the gate of the cemetery behind him. "Every single day."
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rynwritesreid · 4 months
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Take a ride| Spencer Reid
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A/N: First of all, I hope that this is suitable compensation for everyone affected by my last fic. Second, my next non-requested smutty upload will be Sub! Spencer. And lastly, thank you so much for all the love guys, I am slowly working through your requests. Jag älskar dig 🫶🏼
Summary: You love to challenge authority, always knowing when to stop pushing buttons. However, you decide to see how far you can push Spencer before he gets angry enough to do something about it.
Content: Fem!Reader. Smut. Dom!Spencer Sub!Reader. Oral (both f & m receiving). Thigh humping. Fingering. Light bondage. Angry Spencer. Semi humiliation kink. Edging/overstimulation. Bratty reader. Power imbalance kink. 18+
Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation
Spencer knew what he was getting into when he started dating you.  You weren’t defiant, per se, you followed the rules but only when you thought necessary. You didn’t mind getting lectured by Hotch, in fact, Spencer thought it was something you enjoyed.
 
Spencer knew you would not be someone who would easily submit to anyone or anything. He knew you were going to be a challenge, he just underestimated how much of a challenge you were going to be.
 
It wasn't just your defiance that fascinated him; it was the way you effortlessly challenged authority without ever crossing the line. You had a knack for bending the rules while still managing to stay within their boundaries. It was as if you had an innate understanding of when to push back and when to surrender.
 
Even though you loved pushing Hotch’s and the FBI buttons, you loved pushing Spencer’s more. Normally you wouldn’t take it too far, just far enough where you knew you were in for a treat later on. Spencer would normally overstimulate you; he loved hearing you beg for forgiveness, saying sorry over and over again until all you could do was moan.
 
But you wanted to see how far you could take it with Spencer, what he would do. You decided to play it safe to start off with. Every time he spoke, you would roll your eyes. At first, he didn’t seem to acknowledge what you were doing, he would simply carry on talking. Though after about a day of doing this, he would glare at you.
 
But instead of discouraging you, his glare only fuelled the fire within you. You craved his attention, even if it meant pushing his limits. So, you intensified your defiance, not holding back anymore.
 
As Spencer continued to talk, you let out an exasperated sigh and crossed your arms, openly displaying your disinterest. The room fell silent, all eyes on you and Spencer. His glare intensified, a mix of frustration and intrigue evident in his eyes.
 
"Is there something you want to say?" he finally asked, his voice slightly strained.
 
You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "Oh, I'm sorry," you replied sarcastically. "I didn't realize I had to be interested in every little thing you have to say."
 
Spencer's jaw clenched as he fought to maintain his composure. He wasn't used to being challenged like this, especially not by someone he cared about. He didn’t say another word to you, he just took his eyes away and talked to the rest of your peers.
 
Once everyone had gone back to their desks, Spencer walked over to you. His eyes never leaving yours. “Roll your eyes one more time at me, and so help me God.” You could feel the tension in the air as Spencer stood before you, his voice low and controlled.
 
You knew you were starting to get to him, but you knew you could still take it further. “I thought you were an atheist, Spencer. Why are you asking God for help?” Even though your question was rhetorical, you asked it with a level of sincerity.
 
"Enough, Y/N," he growled, his voice full of warning. "You know exactly what I meant."
 
You could sense the shift in his demeanour, the underlying intensity that had been simmering beneath the surface. You had pushed him to his breaking point, and yet, you couldn't help but feel a strange surge of exhilaration coursing through your veins.
 
Spencer took a step closer, his proximity only heightening the charged atmosphere between you. The air crackled with unspoken desire and unyielding defiance. There was a part of you that wanted to relent, to submit to his authority, but another part revelled in the power play that unfolded before you.
 
"And what if I don't comply?" you challenged, your voice laced with defiance. "What will you do?"
 
He didn’t answer straightaway, so you answered for him. “Exactly, nothing. Maybe you should go back to your desk and get some work done before Hotch complains.”
 
Spencer's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and desire as he watched you, the challenge in your voice only serving to further ignite the fire within him. He could feel his control slipping, his usual calm and composed demeanour unravelling at the sheer audacity of your defiance.
 
With a calculated move, he took another step closer, closing the distance between you. His voice dropped to a low whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "You underestimate me, Y/N," he said, his tone laced with a dangerous edge. "But I assure you, I'm more than capable of making you comply."
 
He walked back to his desk, not allowing you to have the final word. You could see that you had rattled him, and that only fuelled your determination to push him further. You wanted to see how far he would go, how much control he was willing to relinquish.
 
For the rest of the day, you played it cool, focusing on your work and pretending as though nothing had happened between you and Spencer. You barely looked up at him, you wanted him to think he had won for now.
 
But as the hours ticked by, you could feel Spencer's eyes on you, his gaze burning into your skin. You knew he was silently contemplating his next move, strategizing how to regain control over the situation. And you were eager to see what he had in store.
 
Finally, as the workday drew to a close, Spencer stood up from his desk and walked purposefully towards you. His steps were measured, his expression unreadable. When he reached you, he took hold of your arm firmly but gently, guiding you towards the exit.
 
"Where are we going?" you asked, feigning innocence even though you had an inkling of what Spencer had in mind.
 
He didn’t answer, he didn’t even look at you. “Spencer, where are we going? I wanted to go to Rossi’s tonight, he’s teaching us to make homemade linguini, remember?” He still remained silent though.
 
“Are you ignoring me? How mature Spencer.” Spencer's grip tightened on your arm as he led you outside, away from the prying eyes of your colleagues. The cool night air brushed against your skin, adding a layer of suspense to the already charged atmosphere between you.
 
"Enough, Y/N," he finally spoke, his voice laced with both frustration and desire. “You’ve being testing me all day. And I think it’s time someone reminded you who’s in charge here.”
 
“No one’s meant to be in charge in a relationship, but if you want, I can go grab Hotch, I mean he is the one in charge after all.” Spencer’s eyes narrowed, annoyance and irritation flashing across his face. He had reached his breaking point, his patience worn thin by your relentless defiance. Without a word, he grabbed your waist and pulled you into him, his grip firm and possessive.
 
"Enough games, Y/N," he growled, his voice dripping with authority. "You push me, you challenge me, but do not mistake it for a lack of control."
 
He leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning across your ear as he whispered, "You want to play? Fine. But just remember, I always win."
 
“You don’t always win. I mean you haven’t won today. And what about Rossi’s?”
 
Spencer's gaze bore into yours, his intensity unwavering. "Rossi's can wait," he replied, a hint of mischief in his voice. "Right now, I'm going to remind you who's in charge."
 
He walked you over to his car, letting go of your arm so he could open your door, a gesture he always did, not matter how angry he was with you.
 
You slid into the passenger seat, still unable to hide the smirk playing on your lips. Spencer closed your door and made his way to the driver's side, taking a moment to compose himself before he started the engine.
 
As the car roared to life, the tension inside the vehicle matched the charged atmosphere between you. Spencer's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles turning white as he navigated the streets with a precision that mirrored his meticulous nature.
 
You decided to break the silence, you wanted to apologies to him, not because you were actually sorry but because you wanted him to think you were. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I was just bored today, and I thought it would be fun seeing how far I could take things. But I now realise that’s something I shouldn’t have done. So, I am truly and utterly sorry.” Your voice calm, but low, so it seemed like a real apology.
 
He remained silent, his eyes never leaving the road. “Spencer, please respond. I didn’t mean to anger you, I thought you would find it fun.”
 
“I don’t want to hear excuses, or fake apologies. You obviously need to learn a lesson.” Spencer's voice was cold, devoid of any hint of forgiveness or understanding. The atmosphere in the car became suffocating, the tension thick enough to cut through with a knife. You swallowed hard, feeling a twinge of unease crawl up your spine.
 
As Spencer continued to drive, the surroundings began to blur into a blur of streetlights and passing buildings. His steely gaze never wavered from the road ahead, his control unyielding and unwavering. It was as if he had transformed into someone else entirely, someone you had never seen before.
 
You glanced at him cautiously, trying to gauge his reaction. The anger in his eyes was still palpable, but there was something else there too—a hunger that made your breath hitch and your heart race. You could feel the heat between you intensifying, an electrifying current that left you both exhilarated and apprehensive.
 
"Spencer," you whispered tentatively, reaching out to touch his arm. Your fingers brushed against his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from it. But before you could say anything more, he abruptly pulled his arm away, his gaze still locked on the road ahead.
 
"Don't touch me," he snapped, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. The sharpness of his tone startled you, causing your hand to retract back to your side.
 
Once he had pulled up to his apartment, you didn’t wait for him to open your door, and simply jumped out and waited for him. As you stood outside his apartment, you could feel the tension between you and Spencer reach its peak. The air crackled with anticipation, each passing second heightening your desire for him. You knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for, the culmination of your shared lust and pent-up frustration.
 
Spencer finally emerged from the car, his tall figure casting a shadow over you. He eyed you intently, his gaze burning with a mix of anger and longing. Without saying a word, he walked towards you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards the entrance of his building.
 
He pulled you up the stairs, not even letting go off you to open up his door. Once inside his apartment, Spencer slammed the door shut behind you, his eyes never leaving yours. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced across the walls, amplifying the intensity of the moment.
 
“Spencer, I said I’m sorry. What else do you want me to do?” Spencer's silence hung heavy in the air as he continued to hold your wrist tightly, his grip unyielding. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in around you, intensifying the sense of anticipation and unease. You watched as his eyes bore into yours, searching for any hint of sincerity in your words.
 
His voice was low and gravelly as he finally spoke, his tone laced with a mix of frustration and desire. "Sorry isn't enough, Y/N. Words won't be sufficient to teach you the lesson you so desperately need."
 
He paused for a second, trying to come up with a good enough punishment. “The only way you’re getting off tonight, is my thigh.”
 
"Are you serious?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The intensity in his eyes was enough to confirm that this was no idle threat. He meant every word.
 
“I am very serious. Remember, you did this to yourself. If anything, I’m going too easy on you. Maybe I shouldn’t let you cum for the rest of the week, or make sure you struggle to walk for the next few days.”
 
You gasped, the gravity of his words sinking in. As much as his punishment excited you, it also stirred a deep sense of vulnerability within you.
 
"Spencer, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and apprehension. "I didn't mean to push you this far. I just wanted... I just wanted to feel your control."
 
A flicker of understanding flashed across his eyes, but he remained resolute. "Control is not something to be taken lightly, Y/N," he said sternly. "It is earned and respected. And tonight, you will learn exactly what it means to surrender."
 
He led you to the living room, fingers still wrapped tightly around your wrist. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation, every second stretching out into eternity as you waited for his command.
 
"Undress," he ordered, his voice firm. A small part of you wanted to tell him that if he wants to see you naked, then he should undress you himself. But you knew then that would be pushing it a little too far.
 
He stood still, watching you as you unbuttoned your blouse, revealing a light blue lace bra. His eyes scanning your body, his tongue licking his lips. He looked at you as if you were prey. As you moved onto your trousers, his eyes followed. It was almost humiliating. He was staying fully dressed, while watching you undress yourself for him.
 
Your heart raced as you slid your trousers down your legs, feeling exposed under his unwavering gaze. "You look beautiful," Spencer murmured, his voice low and husky. His eyes continued to roam over your body, taking in every curve and dip, fuelling a fire deep within you. You couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at his words, even though you knew it was merely a precursor to the punishment that awaited you.
 
“But when I said undress, I meant fully.” His voice had gone back to being cold.
 
You hesitated for a moment, uncertain of whether you were ready to bare yourself completely. The room grew colder as you stood there, shivering slightly under his gaze. With a deep breath, you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra, letting it slide down your arms and dropping it to the floor.
 
Spencer's eyes darkened with a mix of desire and dominance as he watched you undress. The air crackled with tension, the anticipation thickening with each passing moment. You kicked off your panties, finally standing before him completely exposed and vulnerable.
 
You watched as he walked over to his sofa. He sat himself down and open his legs slightly. He patted his thigh, as if he were asking you to sit on it for him.
 
Taking a step forward, you approached him with a mixture of trepidation and longing. You felt the cool air brush against your bare skin, heightening your senses. With each fleeting moment, the anticipation grew, electrifying the atmosphere.
 
You positioned yourself in front of Spencer, his thigh invitingly raised and awaiting your compliance. Slowly, you straddled him, feeling the heat of his body radiating through his clothes. The contact sent a wave of electricity coursing through your veins, causing you to inhale sharply.
 
Spencer's hands found their way to your hips, gripping them firmly as he guided you onto his thigh. The pressure against your core was immediate, eliciting a soft moan from deep within your throat. The friction of his thigh against your sensitive flesh sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, making it difficult to suppress the moans that threatened to escape your lips.
 
"Ride my thigh, Y/N," he growled, his voice laced with a raw hunger that sent shivers down your spine. "Show me how badly you want to be controlled."
 
Spencer's hands tightened their grip on your hips, guiding your movements with precision. Each motion sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, building the tight coil of desire within you. The room filled with the sound of your moans, mingling with Spencer's low groans of pleasure.
 
As you rode his thigh, the intensity of the moment consumed you. The room fell away, leaving only the two of you entangled in a dance of desire and control. Spencer's hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he guided your movements with expert precision.
 
“Is this all it takes for you to actually listen to me? You just want to cum huh?” He chuckled.
 
You only seemed to be able to nod your head, the only thing leaving your mouth were moans. “Maybe I should have asked you to grind against my shoes instead, you seem to be enjoying this too much.”
 
Your body trembled with a mixture of pleasure and desperation as Spencer's words sank in. The thought of grinding against his shoes sent a surge of excitement through you, despite the humiliation it would bring. You were at his mercy, completely under his control, and you craved more.
 
Spencer's grip on your hips tightened as he felt your body tense with desire. A wicked smile tugged at the corners of his lips, reflecting the dominance that radiated from him. With a sudden surge of confidence, he released your hips and reached down to unbutton his pants. The sound of metal against metal echoed through the room as he unzipped his fly, freeing himself from the confines of his trousers.
 
You watched with hungry eyes as Spencer's erection sprang free, standing proudly before you. A shiver ran down your spine as desire pooled between your thighs, the ache for release growing stronger by the second. The anticipation was palpable, hanging thickly in the air like an intoxicating fog.
 
"Get on your knees," Spencer commanded, his voice low and commanding. You obeyed without hesitation, the need to please him overpowering any remnants of resistance. Your knees sank into the plush carpet, bringing you eye level with his throbbing length.
 
You could feel his gaze burning into you as you took him in your hands, stroking his length firmly. A groan escaped from Spencer's lips; his head tilted back in pleasure. The power dynamic between you had shifted completely, and you revelled in the sense of control you now held.
 
With every stroke, Spencer grew harder in your grasp, his desire evident in the way he gripped onto the edge of the sofa. You marvelled at the way he responded to your touch, relishing in the way his body reacted to your every movement.
 
You leaned in closer, flicking your tongue against the sensitive tip of his cock. Spencer's breath hitched, a low growl rumbling from deep within his chest. He tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding you as you took him further into your mouth.
 
Your lips wrapped around him, the taste of his desire lingering on your tongue. You reveled in the power you held over him, eager to please and satisfy his every need. Your tongue glided along his length, tracing the veins that pulsed with his desire. Spencer's grip on your hair tightened, his hips canting forward, urging you to take him deeper.
 
The intensity of the moment consumed you as you surrendered completely to him. Each thrust of his hips brought you closer to the edge, your own desire building with every flicker of your tongue against his sensitive flesh. Your senses heightened, the sound of his moans filling the room, mingling with your own pleasure-filled gasps.
 
Spencer's control wavered as he neared the precipice of release. His grip on your hair became tighter, guiding you with an urgency that matched the rhythm of his thrusts. The powerful waves of pleasure coursed through him, radiating from every inch of his being.
 
As Spencer's release neared, you could feel the tension in his body intensify. His breaths became ragged and irregular, and you could sense that he was on the verge of losing his grip on control. With a final, desperate thrust, he released himself into your mouth.
 
You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste of him as his essence filled your senses. The primal satisfaction that filled the room was overwhelming, leaving you both breathless and intoxicated with desire.
 
Spencer collapsed back onto the sofa, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You rose from your knees, licking your lips and savouring the lingering taste of him on your tongue.
 
Spencer knew he wasn’t done with you yet; he knew this wasn’t a proper punishment. Spencer's eyes burned with a renewed determination as he met your gaze. Despite the intense pleasure that still lingered within you, there was a hunger for more, an unquenchable longing that pulsed through your veins.
 
"Get on the bed," he commanded, his voice low and commanding. The room seemed to dim around you, shadows dancing against the walls, as you obeyed his command.
 
The bed beckoned you, its soft sheets invitingly cool against your heated skin. You climbed onto it, positioning yourself on all fours, ready and exposed for whatever Spencer had in mind.
 
Spencer stood up from the sofa, his eyes fixed on your vulnerable form on the bed. He moved towards you slowly, the anticipation building with each step. As he reached the edge of the bed, he trailed a finger lightly along your spine.
 
He reached over to the nightstand and retrieved a length of silk rope, his eyes never leaving yours. With a swift motion, he secured your wrists together, binding them tightly but not painfully. You tested the restraints instinctively, feeling the rush of helplessness mingling with arousal.
 
With your wrists secured, Spencer moved to the foot of the bed, his gaze darkening with a predatory hunger. He wasted no time, his hands trailing up your legs, skimming over the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. A shiver ran through you, anticipation coiling tightly in your core.
 
His touch was teasing, tormenting, as he neared the apex of your thighs. His fingers danced along the edges of your arousal, but never fully delved into it. It was a maddeningly slow torture that left you trembling with need.
 
"Please," you whispered, unable to contain the desperation in your voice. The ache within you was unbearable, the longing for release. Spencer's lips curled into a devilish smile, relishing in the power he held over you. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Patience, my love. I deserve patience after the stunts you pulled today.”
 
His fingers continued their torturous dance along your inner thighs, inching closer to your throbbing core. Every brush of his fingertips ignited a fire within you, intensifying the ache for release. Your body quivered with need, yearning for his touch to finally grant you the satisfaction you craved.
 
Finally, Spencer's fingers made contact with your slick folds, teasingly skimming against your sensitive entrance. A gasp escaped your lips as he dipped a single finger inside, drawing out a slow, deliberate stroke that had you arching your back in sheer ecstasy. Each movement was precise, calculated to push you closer to the edge without granting you the climax you so desperately sought.
 
"More," you begged, your voice filled with a desperation that matched the wildfire burning within you. Spencer's eyes gleamed with delight at your plea, relishing in the power he held over your pleasure.
 
With a wicked smile, he added another finger, curling them inside you expertly, hitting that spot that made your entire body quiver with every stroke. The intensity of the pleasure built rapidly, transcending everything else in the room. Your moans filled the air, mingling with the sound of his fingers slipping in and out of you.
 
But just as you were on the precipice of release, Spencer pulled his fingers out, leaving you gasping and reaching for something to cling onto. The sudden emptiness made you whimper with frustration. Spencer's eyes held an intoxicating mix of dominance and satisfaction as he watched you squirm on the bed.
 
"You don't get to come yet," he murmured huskily. "Not until I've had my fill." Spencer's words hung in the air, teasing, and taunting you. Every fibber of your being throbbed with desire, yearning for release. The hunger in his eyes reflected your own as he positioned himself between your spread legs.
 
Lowering his head, Spencer's hot breath fanned across your sensitive flesh. His lips brushed against your inner thighs, peppering soft kisses along the way, deliberately avoiding the centre of your need. The anticipation was agonizing, a delicious torment that made your body ache for his touch.
 
Finally, his tongue flicked out and traced a slow circle around your swollen clit. A gasp escaped your lips as pleasure surged through you. He continued to tease, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucks that had you writhing beneath him.
 
Each flicker of his tongue against your most intimate place intensified the fire within you. Your hips rocked instinctively, seeking more friction, more pleasure. But Spencer held firm control over your pleasure, denying you the release you so desperately craved. He continued his torturous ministrations, never relenting, never granting you the satisfaction of that mind-numbing climax.
 
Your body trembled with every stroke of his tongue, your need escalating to a maddening frenzy. The room was filled with the symphony of your moans, your pleas mixed with the wet sounds of his mouth on your throbbing core. The tension coiled tighter and tighter within you, threatening to shatter your sanity.
 
Spencer's hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place as he devoured you with an insatiable hunger. You were at his mercy, surrendering yourself completely to his touch. The pulsating waves of pleasure radiated through every fibber of your being, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
 
Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, when the ache for release became unbearable, Spencer pulled away.
 
Your whole body cried out in protest at the sudden absence of his touch. You whimpered, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Spencer's dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched you, revelling in the control he had over your pleasure.
 
"Please," you begged, your voice dripping with need. "I need to cum."
 
Spencer's lips curled into a wicked smile, knowing full well the power he held over your satisfaction. He crawled up the bed, positioning himself over you, his hard length brushing against your thigh. The hunger in his eyes was palpable as he captured your gaze.
 
"Oh, my love," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "I'm not done with you yet. I want to watch you unravel completely."
 
His words sent a shiver down your spine, desire pooling between your legs once again. Spencer grasped your wrists, releasing them from their restraints, allowing you to wrap your arms around him.
 
With a swift motion, Spencer positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with the head of his throbbing length. The anticipation was maddening, the need for him to fill you overwhelming every inch of your being. You let out a soft whimper, begging him to take you, to quell the ache that consumed you.
 
But Spencer relished in your desperation, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with a hunger that matched your own. It was a battle of dominance and surrender as your tongues danced and clashed, melding together in a frenzied embrace.
 
When he finally pulled away, his lips trailed down your neck, peppering heated kisses along the curve of your throat. His breath was hot against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. As his teeth grazed along the sensitive flesh, a bolt of pleasure shot through you, electrifying every nerve ending.
 
With agonizing slowness, Spencer entered you, his hard length filling you inch by inch. You gasped at the delicious stretch, the feeling of him stretching you to your limits. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, a mix of pain and ecstasy that had your body arching off the bed in pure bliss.
 
He began to move within you, his thrusts slow and deliberate. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body, intensifying the ache for release that had been building within you for so long. Your fingers clenched against the silk restraints, the sensation of being bound adding an extra layer of arousal.
 
Spencer's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, hitting that spot deep inside you with every powerful stroke. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, mingling with your moans and gasps.
 
Your senses were completely consumed by the pleasure, nothing else existing except for the connection between you and Spencer. His gaze locked with yours, his eyes filled with an intensity that matched the blaze within you. Every movement, every thrust, carried you further and further into a state of raw ecstasy. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of desire.
 
As Spencer's rhythm became more erratic, your body responded in kind, meeting his every movement with unyielding fervour. The bed rocked beneath you, a symphony of creaks and moans echoing through the room. Sweat glistened on your skin, the scent of desire mingling with the air.
 
Time lost all meaning as pleasure coiled tightly within you, ready to unravel at any moment. The fire burned within your core, threatening to consume you whole. Spencer's fingers dug into your hips, his grip possessive yet exhilarating.
 
With one final thrust, the dam broke.
 
An explosion of sensation ripped through your body as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your nails dug into his skin. He quickly followed you, releasing his seed deep in you.
 
He pulled out and had a look a triumph plastered across his face. “I think we should probably get ready to leave now, huh?”
 
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ddejavvu · 6 months
Note
Reader commenting on Spencer’s hands being cold, and he starts excitedly rambling about the best ways to heat them up, like putting them under armpits. Only to get completely thrown back when she stuffs his hands in her under boob to keep them nice and warm and strong :) <3
Your eyes are drawn to Spencer's hands when he starts curling them into fists, rapidly clenching and unclenching them in the chilly Chicago air. You're sitting cross-legged on the stoop of a witness's home, waiting for JJ to return from questioning her. She'd been uneasy with such a heavy government presence in her home, and you don't blame her for it, so you'd elected to stay outside with Reid.
"Cold, Spence?" You ask, and he nods sheepishly, his curls flying.
"I'm trying to get circulation back to my fingers," He explains, shaking his hands out for a brief second before curling them again, "Moving your fingers gets your blood flowing, but there's only so warm I can get in 30-degree weather."
You smile sympathetically at him, watching as his nails dig into his palms once more with a curl of his fingers, "Maybe we can bribe JJ to get us coffee on the way back to the precinct."
"They never give me the sugar I ask for," Spencer laments, shaking out his fingers once more, "I think they think I'm trying to steal their supply, but I really just like having eight packets in one cup."
The snort that you let out releases a puff of visible breath into the cold morning air. As it dissipates Spencer tries breathing into his hands, but his skin is still pale, nail beds dangerously close to turning purple, and you sigh resignedly.
"Come here, Spence," You hold your hands out, and he looks curiously up at you. His head tilts just barely to the side, and you're reminded of a confused puppy.
"Give me your hands," You urge, emphasizing the way that you're holding yours out. He does so without question, but you can tell that you've certainly improved circulation to his face, because his cheeks are blazing hot with a rosy blush when he obeys.
"Body heat really helps," You promise, unzipping the fabric of your FBI windbreaker. You hold both of Spencer's hands in your free hand now, but when your jacket is properly unzipped you lead his hands straight to your torso. They're posed on your ribcage, and Spencer stills, watching the way that they touch you with wide eyes.
"Under- there," You slip his hands up an inch, letting them slip into the space beneath your bra, your skin flushed with natural heat that soaks into Spencer's veins like sunlight to a wilting plant. Contrary to the body heat now flooding his limbs he's frozen, eyes wide and jaw slack as you stuff his hands beneath your chest.
"That better?" You ask, shimmying slightly in place and jostling his hands. Your bra slips further over the backs of his hands and only makes them warmer, enveloping him in even more of your body heat. He gulps, you actually see his throat bob, and nods silently, still leaned forwards to take in more of your warmth.
"Thanks," He breathes, trying very hard, and failing very miserably, to pretend like he's not about to combust.
You're almost certain that his hands are barely thawed at all when JJ steps abruptly out of the front doors of the building, and her boots skid to a stop in front of you and Spencer. You glance up at her with a warm smile, but Spencer yanks his hands away, wringing them out in his lap with wide eyes.
"Uh, she was- we were just... my hands-" Spencer babbles, and the more he struggles, the more her smirk grows over her face.
"His hands were cold," You explain, reaching out to grab them once more and squeezing the barely-tepid skin, "Let's hurry and get into the car, we can turn the heat on full blast."
You've seen Spencer exhibit a mild jog while chasing unsubs, his gun held at his side like it's a bag of bricks, but he skitters to the SUV faster than you've ever seen him move, leaving you and JJ behind on the steps of the apartment building.
"So, did he put his hands there, or did you?" JJ asks, and you don't need to see her face; you know from the mirth in her voice that she's still smirking as you stand up.
"I did," You grunt, trying very hard, and failing very miserably, to pretend like you're not about to combust, "He was shivering, JJ. What was I supposed to do, let him freeze to death?"
"No, no," She raises her hands in a gesture of surrender but her voice still contains that sadistic amusement, "You're right. A word of advice, though: next time, stick his hands between your thighs. It's a lot warmer down there."
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moonstruckme · 2 months
Note
spencer reid waking up the next morning and reader's chest is cOVERED in hickies/bruises and he is freaked out and is so sorry that he hurt reader, and she has to talk him off a ledge bc she just bruises easily? thank you!
Thanks for requesting!
Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 728 words
Spencer’s wanted to get you like this forever. In his apartment, in his bed, with the pale morning light washing over your features. Your face is all smoothed out, placid and pretty against his pillowcase. Your eyelids twitch as you dream. Spencer’s never put as much stock into dreams as some other psychologists, but he really wants to know what you dream about. He hopes you remember enough to tell him. 
You stir a bit, rolling onto your back and letting the covers slip down from where you’ve been holding them tucked them underneath your chin. Spencer’s chest warms at the sleepy movement, but he pauses at the mark that’s revealed just above your collarbone. The bruise is stark and angry in the early sunlight, red turning to purple. Spencer’s heart contracts. Is that from him? He doesn’t remember treating you so cruelly. 
He holds his breath, brushing gently over the spot with his forefinger. It has to hurt. How could he have done something like this without knowing? He remembers kissing you there, sucking a little, but nothing that would leave a mark like this. 
You shift at the touch, and the sheet falls another few inches. Two more, one on your shoulder and another just below the first. Spencer sucks in a breath. 
You hum and roll towards him, eyelids peeling open. “Spence?” 
Spencer’s working the sheet out from under your arm, trying to get another look at the bruises. Trying to prove to himself that he did actually see them. 
“Spence,” you say again, groggily. “What’re you doing?” 
“Sorry I—” He lets the sheet go, trying to collect himself. “I just—I saw the hickeys, from last night, and I—”
“Oh, are they bad?” You push yourself upright, letting the sheet fall away completely. 
Spencer is aghast. He’s lost for words. He needs to be thrown into federal prison. 
Bruises cover your chest. Your collarbones, your breasts, the undersides of your breasts, your shoulders—all of it. Spencer doesn’t recall marking you up so thoroughly. He hardly recalls kissing you in half these places. 
“Oh my god.” He looks at your eyes, repentant. “Sweetheart, I had no idea I was being this rough with you. I’m so sorry.” 
“Spence,” you laugh. “It’s okay.” 
“You should have said something if I was hurting you. I never want to do anything like—”
“Hey,” you cut him off, and you’re still smiling, which he thinks is really rather inappropriate. He’s desecrated you. “It didn’t hurt, okay? I was fine, and I’m still fine. I just bruise really easily.” 
Spencer feels his eyebrows bunch disbelievingly. “This easily? These look like they could have been done with a pellet gun.” 
You shrug, looking a bit bashful as you pull your shoulders up around you. He’s willing to bet you’re fighting the urge to cover yourself with the sheet.
He covers one of the marks on your shoulder with his thumb, watching your face carefully. “Does this hurt?” he asks, pressing on it gently. 
Your eyelashes don’t so much as flicker. “No,” you say honestly. 
Spencer feels like his chest might collapse in relief. “Jesus. That really scared me,” he admits. 
Your lips twitch. “Yeah, I could tell. Sorry for freaking you out.” 
“Sorry for defacing you,” he responds, pressing an especially gentle kiss to the side of your neck. “And for waking you up with my freak out.” 
You let your smile bloom, bright and endearingly kind. “I don’t mind,” you say.
Spencer analyzes you, contemplative. “You know, that sort of bruising could be caused by an iron deficiency. Or a lack of vitamin C.” 
“Mhm?” You’re completely uninterested, leaning forwards to kiss his chin. You nose at the stubble on his cheek. 
“How would you feel about having some spinach in your eggs?” 
You sit back. “You’re going to make me eggs?” 
“Well,” Spencer smiles sheepishly, “first we have to go to the store for spinach and eggs, and then yes. If you want, I’d be happy to make you eggs.” 
“Okay,” you say breezily, swinging your legs out of the bed, “but if you’re only doing it so I’ll stop bruising, you should taper your expectations.”
“There’s no way I’m letting this happen again,” he says. “I can’t mark you up every time I kiss you.”
You hum. “I never said I minded.” 
“I mind.” 
“Well, to each their own.”
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strawbeerossi · 6 months
Text
Magic Touch
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Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid
Description: When you hurt your back in the field, Spencer offers to give you a massage. Then he tells you a little fact about men and women who orgasm without sexual stimulation during massages.
Content/Warnings: Talks of field injuries, talks of orgasms, massaging, Spencer’s expert hands are mentioned like 4 separate times, cumming untouched (sort of).
Word Count: 1.3K
Kinktober Day Eight: Massage
Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3
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There have been plenty of tumbles in the field that left you sore for days on end. It came with the territory, plus you weren’t exactly the most agile. It was after you had solved a child abduction case, the child was safe in police custody while you had a chase with the unsub in question. You’d seemed to have pulled a muscle or something, being in so much pain that you were laying on the floor of the living room when you’d gotten home. 
“Why are you on the floor?” Spencer asked, an eyebrow raised as he couldn’t help but chuckle. “My back.” You groaned, face being muffled by the fluffy rug that your face was resting on. “It’s that bad? Do you think a backrub will help?” The idea of his skilled hands was heaven, honestly.
“Maybe..”
“I’m not sitting on the floor. Come on.” He chuckled, hands held out towards you so he could help you to your feet. The way you winced made him do the same out of sympathy pains. “I know it hurts. We will get you sorted.” He assured, one hand gently resting on your lower back before walking to the bedroom alongside you. “After this, I may have to get you some ice or maybe a heating pad. I think we have one..” He was mostly murmuring to himself, his brain figuring out what exactly he needed to ensure that your back got better as fast as possible.
“Go ahead and get undressed. Lay down.” He assured while he was heading to his bedside drawer to fish around for a bottle of lotion that surely had to be carelessly tossed in there. The feeling of the smooth container was what prompted him to pull out the half full bottle of lotion. “I was looking for that!” You grunted, making Spencer put his free hand up in self defense. “You threw it in there, not me.” He chuckled while heading over to sit on the edge of the bed after you’d stripped down to your underwear and laid on the mattress, cheek squished against your pillow. “Please fix me.” You begged in a playful tone.
Spencer was shaking his head with a chuckle, rolling up his sleeves before he was moving to squirt a generous amount of lotion into the palm of his hand. “It smells really good. I think this is the rosewater one that mom gave you.” He spoke while rubbing his hands together.
You shivered at the feeling of the cold lotion on his hands hitting your bare skin. Even with the warmth of his hands, it wasn’t enough. “Cold,” You groaned. “Oh shush, you big baby.” Spencer commented while his palms were flat against your back, his firm touch pulling a soft moan from your lips. “Better?” He asked, chuckling as he continued to put pressure into your back as his hands glided across your skin with ease. 
“Much better.” You slurred. The pressure was heaven sent, his hands doing more than making you drool when you linger too hard looking at them. He was useful for some things. “Good.” He responded in a soft tone. 
Like any man, Spencer’s generosity began to play to his own benefit. His hands were slowly moving to your lower back as he continued on with his good deed for the day. “Spencer.” You warned, feeling his hands moving to play with the waistband of your panties, a light hum leaving his lips. “What?! I’m helping.” He commented, trying to use that sweet little innocent tone of voice as his hands were gripping a good handful of your ass, making you squeak softly while lifting your head. 
“You are such a man.” You scoffed, although you offered a smile as he was leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “I’m just giving my girlfriend a massage! I have no idea what you are talking about.” He mused, hands continuing to trail down to your thighs while generously rubbing them, nudging your thighs apart with a soft hum. “You should ask me to do this more often.” He spoke, his hands working your thighs while you were already feeling the arousal smack you right in the face. 
“Did you know that there are some men and women who can orgasm from just a massage alone? It’s actually a really interesting study.” You weren’t fully listening, the circles in your inner thighs making your body hot, face flushed. “I think that we should test the theory.’ he’d suggested, making your head nod slowly. “We should,” You were letting out a groan of satisfaction as Spencer was squeezing your thighs with a grin. “Good! I’m gonna try not to touch you sexually even though.. You make it really hard not to.” he chuckled, putting pressure into your thighs again before his hands were moving to your legs.
Now, normally massages get people in the mood regardless. After all, there's a reason why people joke about only wanting a backrub when they get pregnant. You’d never heard of anyone cumming on the sole basis of having their body worked and no sexual contact, however the sensuality of it made sense. That’s why you were squirming in your spot from the skilled, large hands on your body. 
“I’m gonna move to your hips.” He informed, dragging his fingertips down your body. The moment he was putting that pressure, your mouth was agape as a loud moan echoed through the room, which Spencer took as a perfect sign to continue caressing your skin, which was hot and now had a thin layer of sweat. “Oh fuck,” You cursed, making your boyfriend chuckle. “Feels good? You look so sexy right now. Who would’ve thought that I could turn you on just by massaging you? Think you can cum like this?” He’d asked, your face buried in the pillow under your head as you were completely transfixed on the expert hands gripping and rubbing at your body. 
“I have an idea,” He began and pulled his hands away, gently rolling you onto your stomach. “Hi there.” He cooed, chuckling at your glossed over eyes and fucked out expression. “I’m gonna do something that I know you like. It may be breaking the rules just a little bit but I wanna see that gorgeous face when you cum.” He mused, hands grasping at your hips again, however this time he let them slide up your torso. You know what was coming the moment that his gaze had fallen on your breasts.
As his hands were cupping both tits on your chest, he was letting his hands knead at the balls of flesh and fat, thumbs swiping over your hardened nipples. “Look at you falling apart right now.” He chuckled, one hand moving to tweak your nipple and elicited a whine. “I’m gonna cum, Spencer.” 
All of the overwhelming touches and the both of you learning your pressure points was actually a fun experience. You would opt out of only getting a massage next time but hey, it was an interesting study. His hands found themselves at your hips again, that seemingly being the best place to touch you. 
It took a few times before you were letting out an airy moan, head tilting back as your hands came down to grip at his wrists. Your thighs were shaking as you hit your peak, panties being soiled with your creamy arousal as Spencer had the pleasure to watch the cloth dampen. 
“Holy shit.” You huffed out, making Spencer laugh. “Well, I hope that helped your back.” He mused, leaning down to press a kiss against your lips. You had gently rested a hand against his chest after parting ways. 
“Should we try to make you cum from just a massage? I don’t wanna brag but I’d say I’m pretty good with my hands.” You teased, making the male crinkle his nose with a smile.
“Well, I am a man of science. It would be wrong to deny a scientific experiment.”
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gtgbabie0 · 4 months
Note
Hi! :) could you write fluff spencer reid x pregnant bau reader on a gala of sorts at their work where he is all careful and protective with her
-Spencer Reid x reader
Of course lovely, it’s a little short but I hope you enjoy nonetheless! 💕
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“Give me your hands sweetheart,” Spencer says, pulling you away from everyone else as he takes out a small bottle of hand sanitiser from his pocket. You do as he says without saying a word, you learnt the hard way not to question him any more.
You watch with a soft smile as he squeezes the bottle, the liquid is cold against your palms and you’re quick to rub it in. “Have you eaten yet?“ he asks, bringing a protective hand to settle against your lower back nudging you closer to him.
“Mhm, don’t worry David did let me go hungry” you smile reaching to tuck his hair behind his ear, he smiles gently as he leans into your touch.
He knows he has a habit of over-worrying, especially when it comes to you and you can’t blame him considering how much he’s lost in the past, perhaps that’s why you felt riddled with guilt after you had snapped at him this morning, immediately diving into teary eyed apologies.
“Good, do you need to sit down?” He smiles, he can’t help but ask. His palm soothes your back as he watches you roll your shoulders.
Your hand rests against your bump when you feel your baby kick, interrupting your train of thought, your eyes light up and you don’t waste a moment, bringing Spencer’s hand to your belly.
“We’re fine” you smile, watching his face practically beam with amazement.
“I know- I know” Spencer whispers, as if he's trying to calm any wondering thoughts he has, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
In all honesty, Spencer wasn’t sure he was ready for a child when you had first told him, and he still doubts himself from time to time but there’s something warm that blooms within his chest when you ask him to get whatever odd foods you’re craving or when you gently tug his hand to feel the baby kick.
“You’ll tell me if you need anything, yeah?” He whispers, and you can tell by the way he approaches the question that he’s being careful not to swamp you with his worry.
You immediately lean into him, pressing a kiss against his cheek, “Of course I will” you promise, taking his hands in yours.
You watch as his eyes scan across the room, and you know for a fact that he’s checking for anything that might end up being dangerous for you. He’s already baby-proofed the entire house… just for you.
“You know what? Maybe some fresh air” you suggest, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea the room was quite stuffy after all.
This seems to get his attention, his eyes finding yours once again. “Okay, yeah we can do that” Spencer smiles, his hand settles against the small of your back as he guides you through the room.
The room was dimly lit and packed with people from different precincts, and the mixture of light chatter, music and trying to watch over you was starting to become far too overwhelming for him. He was ready to go home a long time ago.
Your hand grasps his arm as you both walk side by side, your path abruptly stopped by someone who clearly wasn’t looking where they were going as they walk straight into you.
Spencer has never been quick to anger as he was in that moment, immediately pulling you behind him as he confronts the younger man with a scowl. “Watch where you’re going” he snaps as he looks back at you, making sure you're okay before looking back at the very obviously inebriated man.
“I- I’m sorry I didn’t see her, I-" he tries to explain himself, panicked as he makes eye contact with you. Spencer doesn’t let him finish his sentence.
“Wasn’t looking where you were going?” He scoffs, and you take the initiative to reach for his hand, trying to stop this from getting out of hand.
You let out a sigh of relief as you notice Derek walking towards you with a soft smile, “I got this” he mouths at you, before nodding to Spencer.
“Come on Spence” you whisper, tugging on his hand as he notices Derek, he gets the memo and he turns around to you. His thumb soothes over your knuckles and his heart seems to find a calmer pace, he takes a deep breath once he realises you're okay.
His eyes soften as you pull him towards the door, the cool air against your skin alleviates your stress and you're finally able to breathe. “Are you okay, you’re not hurt?” He asks, sitting down next to you on the bench, he takes his blazer and drapes it over your shoulders.
“Yeah I’m alright, are you? looked like you were about to start throwing punches back there” You rest your head against his shoulder, enjoying his body warmth that blankets over you as he wraps an arm around you and it only drives you to shuffle closer to him.
“I should’ve brought my cane” he chuckles, his cheek resting against the top of your head, and you both break out in laughter at the idea of him weaponising his cane.
The pair of you stay like that for a moment, enjoying the peacefulness of the cool evening. “I think I’m ready for bed” you tell him and he’s already calling a taxi.
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