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key2go · 4 months

Note

Hi! I love your writing. Do you have any ideas for an enemies to lovers w Spencer?

Ask and you shall recieve. Happy new year!!!

Summary: Spencer's mouth moves faster than his brain whenever he's around the Film Studies professor. She's smart. She's cool. And he's made a fool of himself in front of her.

So, to save him from heartbreak, he's decided he doesn't like her. It's a lie, and not a very good one.

Additional Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Language of Flowers, Professor Spencer Reid, professor reader

Criminal Minds, Dr Spencer Reid Masterlist - here

Daffodils

Summary: Spencer's mouth moves faster than his brain whenever he's around the Film Studies professor. She's smart. She's cool. And he's made a fool of himself in front of her.

So, to save him from heartbreak, he's decided he doesn't like her. It's a lie, and not a very good one.

For all of his life, Spencer thought he was an easy person to get along with. He had friends who were happy to have him around despite the fact that he often lectured them about everything and anything. Diana had raised him to be polite and well behaved, so he never failed to answer anyones questions with an appropriate response without hesitation. He wasn't vulgar. Didn't swear. Never stolen anything in his entire life. He did not drink or smoke, and drugs were a touchy subject these days.

Then, he met Y/N. She was a fellow professor at Marbury University and was renowned across campus - if she wasn't teaching, she could be found either helping the drama club film videos or doing follow up tutorials and study sessions for whatever students needed it - and was loved for it.

And she was pretty. Like, really pretty. Whether it was her skill at lecturing or her face, Dr L/N held the unofficial record for the most audited class. Dr Reid was second place - and for once he didn't mind getting a silver medal - and it would take him a while to close the gap between their class sizes. He'd heard about her in the staff room. All good things. A real glowing report card. Everyone loved her and for good reason, apparently. Their paths were yet to cross.

That was until he realised her lecture was directly before his every Monday at 9 and decided to be early - a full two hours early - to check out if she was as good as everyone said she was. And there she was in all her glory, the Dr L/N he'd heard so much about sat back on her desk and waved everyone as they walked in, the occasional student getting a 'Like your new haircut, Bethany!', 'Ready for class, Joe?' or even 'Did you get the email I sent you about the Paramount internship you asked me about, Darla?'

Okay, she was kind too. Kind and pretty. Kind and pretty and obviously smart enough to get a doctorate. Admittedly, she did have a doctorate in Film Studies, and Spencer wasn't entirely sold on the idea that Film as a subject was something worth getting a doctorate in. He liked movies.

A particular favourite of his was 80's Soviet parallel cinema - well, he was a fan of most forms samizdat (rebellious ideals and ideologies presented through art in an attempt to be an act of defiance in the face of the Soviet Union) - because there was so much so much poignant commentary and emotional depth that it was impossible not to love.

But why would you devote your life to silly little movies rather than maths and science and the study of thought - like Psychology or Philosophy - that can literally help save lives? How was knowing about the French New Wave ever going to be useful in real life? In pub quizzes, yeah, but where else?

"Hello, hello, hello everybody!" She greeted cheerfully and stood up, waving her arms around for emphasis. "Welcome my lovelies to our first meeting of the semester."

The black skirt she was wearing was long and frilly and had a pattern that mostly consisted of crescent moons and, most important to Reid, swished whenever she took a step. For the first couple of minutes, he didn't hear a thing she was saying because the swishing was far too mesmerising. It wasn't like him to avoid learning and put all his focus on the aesthetics of a person rather than what they were teaching him. Yet, he was doing just that.

Y/N didn't look like a stereotypical lecturer. Her outfit was far from professional attire. The aforementioned skirt was paired with a graphic tee with Indianna Jones and the word 'DILF' across the chest - and even though he had no idea what DILF means, Spencer knew it was something risque by how one of her students covered their giggle with their hand as soon as they saw it - and worn out bright red cowboy boots. She had smudged eyeliner that looked messy enough that she may have slept in it. Her hair was fluffy and untamed, but in that way that is obviously styled to look like that.

Weirdly, even though he was conforming to the standard he'd seen among his fellow lecturers, right then in the room with her, he felt like he was the odd one out.

"I know when I was going through school, all my professors kept assigning movies that college kids don't really want to watch," she began, leaning against the podium casually, her hands resting on her hips like she owned the place and he was nothing but an honoured guest. "One of my professors - his name was Mr Lockley - he assigned my class the film 'The Cure for Insomnia'. Has anyone heard of it?"

Silence. Once Spencer realised that her students didn't know, he was raising his hand.

"Yes, Dr Reid?"

Oh, she noticed he'd snuck it. And she knew his name. Cool. They did work together so it wasn't that outlandish.

"The Cure for Insomnia is the longest film ever made. It's 5,220 minutes long - that's 87 hours, or 3 days and 15 hours - and has no plot. Instead, the filmmaker read his 4,080-page poem," Spencer answered, looking around the hall, waiting for someone to tell him to shut up. He was also aware that he probably sounded like a total nerd, but he couldn't help himself.

No one did tell him to shut up. That was the main thing he loved about lecturing, he got to ramble and was paid for it. His students got to learn extra details and it's not as if they were going to tell him to be quiet like his friends at the BAU did.

She smiled sweetly, confirmed, "That is correct, Dr Reid," then returned her focus to the class. It made sense. Why would she pay attention to him when she had a job to do? It made a little pang in his chest appear but he ignored it because that was beyond unprofessional.

What could he do? Stand on the desk and demand that they have a conversation that ends with her saying, 'Wow, Dr Reid, you're so smart. Would you like to get coffee some more so you can continue to impress me with the sheer amount of knowledge you have stored inside that adorable head of yours?'

Her explanation continued. "John Henry Timmis IV, whose name sounds fancy but this guy was an unsung rock god who created music that he called 'heavy glitter' or 'destructo-rock', and for his movie, apparently he got his poet buddy, Lee Groban, to recite his very long poem then spliced that together with porn clips and heavy metal," Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she said the last sentence.

Instantly, a mumble went across the class, primarily because a teacher mentioned x-rated material, but she shushed them quickly by clapping her hands together. It was a casual movement, but one that got everyone looking at her once again.

"Can anyone hazard a guess what's weird about this movie, other than the run time?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a hand go up but she wasn't going to call on them, and so, Spencer was left with his palm facing towards the stage. Y/N amended her question, "Can any of my students take a guess? Dr Reid, I'd appreciate it if you'd give my class at least 2 minutes so they can Google the answer."

Once again, silence met her question until it was broken by a shy voice. A girl in the front row with curly blonde hair was looking at her expectantly. Y/N smiled encouragingly and nodded for her to speak up louder. "The film was lost?" The girl said hesitantly.

"Like always, Jennifer, you are correct!" Y/N exclaimed happily. Jennifer blushed, embarrassed by the attention and compliment but smiling nonetheless as Y/N moved on to another question. "The film was lost. The film was shown at the School of the Art Institute in Chicago Illinois, and it ran from January 31st to February 3rd. So when Mr Lockley set his essential viewing, he knew exactly who'd tried to do their homework based on their reaction when he asked what they thought of the film."

The lecture went on for another twenty minutes and for the entire time, Spencer was completely transfixed by Y/N. She spoke passionately and lit up as she explained things to her audience, and sometimes, when a particularly insightful answer came her way, Spencer was sure he could see the stars in her eyes. Her enthusiasm was infectious, it almost radiated off of her and filled up the classroom in an instant.

He couldn't help himself, Spencer found his eyes wandering over every part of her body, studying every inch of her before he'd had the chance to properly comprehend that he was being a creep. Appreciating beauty was one thing, leering at women he hadn't met before is another.

As her student piled out of the lecture hall, all chatting loudly as they walked out, Spencer waited. A group of girls surrounded Y/N and asked her a bunch of questions, and she answered them all like she was their cool older sister rather than someone who was paid to teach them things. Then they left too, and the pair were alone.

"Did you enjoy the class, Dr Reid?" she asked kindly, a smile tugging at her lips as she turned around slightly. She sat on top of the nearest desk and folded her legs under her, resting her elbow on her knee and her head on her fist.

"I've always thought of film studies as a throwaway field of study - if I were to study it, it would be more of a recreational degree than my other ones. But yes, you were very entertaining."

Shit. Her face fell. And he instantly regretted having said that. He hadn't meant to offend her. But he clearly did.

"You're a professor of...?"

"Psychology."

A second passed in which Y/N processed that. She blinked, looked at the floor and started fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

"But I probably should've picked Mathematics, Chemistry or Engineering because that's what I have my PhD's in. I only have a Bachelors in psychology - along with my other Bachelors sociology and my most recent in philosophy - but I have a lot of field work in the general area of psychology (or more specifically, Criminology) so I didn't feel as if I was under qualified for the position," he rambled, knowing his words were coming out of his mouth incredibly fast, like he had just poured everything out at once, but he was unable to stop himself.

Spencer wanted to apologise for offending her but that was the one thing his mouth wouldn't let spill.

"Did you feel qualified for your position?" he inquired, intending it to be a genuine question but when he heard it out loud, oh no, it sounded far too much like he was questioning the legitimacy of her employment.

Her eyebrows raised for the briefest moment as she stared at him, searching for the reason behind his words and not finding one. Then, once she made her judgement, she stood up, brushed off her lap and gathered her bag. "I have to go," she said abruptly, "Good luck with your lecture: I can hear your class arriving. I hope you find it more worthwhile than mine."

With that, she left without sparing him another glance. The door closed with a thud and Spencer took a minute or two to stare blankly after her, the feeling of disappointment washing over him as he watched her leave. Well, he'd fucked that up.

They'd occasionally see each other in passing. If Spencer ever did sit in on her lectures (which he did quite a bit), he didn't engage. Any time he happened to see her at a staff event and she would be kind and laugh along with their peers, but would become quiet whenever he was pulled into the conversation. So, after a while, he stopped trying to interact with her. Why would he? She was judging him based on one interaction - yeah, he'd called her life's work worthless during it - but that was just a slip up. If she stopped being so childish and let him speak to her, they could be friends.

Months and months went on. What was hope turned into hate. Did Y/N really think her job was more important than his? He literally used his knowledge to catch serial killers! What did she do? Write lengthy books about the Marxist interpretation of the Shrek franchise. Or the feminist allegory of Jennifer's Body. Or whatever about some niche movie that nobody's heard from and probably never cared about. Could she save someone's life with that?

Once upon a time, he'd planned to apologise. Now? Fuck that. Would she apologise to him about being so dismissive to him? Probably not. It was better that way. He lived a hectic life and if they were ever friends - or something more than that - she'd be indirectly dragged into a part of that. Besides, he didn't need any more friends anyway. It wasn't worth it. She wasn't worth it.

Sure, it didn't help that he did the occasional thing here and there to annoy her.

If she was in her office with students (which conveniently to the right of his), he'd play his jazz records a smidge too loud.

Any time she'd offer to show one of the investors or a prospecting customer around the humanities buildings, he'd pop up and listen just in case she got a fact wrong so he could correct her right in front of her guests.

And there was this one time he'd heard her promote some of the safer movie pirating websites to her students. She'd said that there was no conceivable way that a student was going to be able to pay to watch all of the movies she'd put on the essential viewing because they were scattered across all of the streaming sites. Spencer agreed with that logic. He still wrote the Dean an email about it though. It is illegal.

When the new academic year commenced, their disagreement with one another turned into a feud. It was over something so simple and easy to sort out that it was as if they were acting like children. It was a squabble for the sake of it.Both of them had been called to the Head of Humanities office the day before classes officially started to have a meeting about their new schedules and it had not gone well, mostly because Spencer had requested her usual time slot.

"I booked Taliesin Hall for 9-11 on Mondays like I've done every year since I started working here," Y/N argued, leaning back in her chair and throwing out her arms.

Why had he done it? To be a dick? Well, yes and no. He wanted to be a dick to her, but it was also because he'd moved apartments and his new place was further away. He didn't want the original time they'd given him for Monday mornings because he wasn't a morning guy and he'd have to get up early to make it on time.

Because Spencer was more accomplished and more people knew his name, he brought a lot of attention to the university just by being employed there. Therefore, if he wanted the hall at 9 on a Monday, he'd have the hall at 9 on a Monday. It didn't matter that Y/N had worked there for longer, or was more proactive about engaging with the uni's residents, or that she had more students than he did.

"Dr Reid, are you willing to change time slots with Dr L/N?" Dean Mitchell asked with a sigh. If he had hair to pull out, he would've at this point.

"No I am not."

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to deal with your current time, Dr L/N."

Spencer crossed his arms and leant back in his chair to mimic Y/N teasingly, unable to hide the smug smile from his face. This was a little different from their usual spats. They rarely ever argued. It was primarily Reid going out of his way to make her life just that bit more difficult and Y/N rolling her eyes but, ultimately, it didn't change much about her day.

On that day he managed to get a reaction. She let out a groan - one that was defeated and tired and almost seemed desperate - and tapped her foot a few times. Her hand came up to wipe the corner of her eye briefly as a couple of stray tears escaped. And it made him feel like shit.

"Thank you very much, Dr Reid," she replied sarcastically. He watched as she stormed down the corridor, muttering something about visitation times, and left the office.

Yeah, he'd won. He should've felt victorious. He didn't. There was something far too raw in her voice for him to truly think this was part of the fun little game he was playing on her. He felt awful. And guilty. And stupid for making her cry. This was something beyond just a schedule change, he knew that. And if he pretended not to care, eventually he wouldn't care.

"What was that about?" Mitchell queried, taking a sip from his tea and watching him intently as he put the cup down.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Technically, that was a lie. Spencer could use his profiling skills on Y/N to deduce as much as he could about her, but looking at her in a deeper way would mean that he would really have to look at her. He'd have to see that face for an extended period of time and not fall into her trap of thinking that she was the most interesting woman he'd ever met. Because she wasn't. How could she be? Y/N was just another person in a line of hundreds.

Instead of saying all that, Spencer shrugged nonchalantly and exited the room, waving his goodbye to Dean Mitchell as he left.

That night, he stayed up thinking and tossing and turning about what he said. He thought a thousand thoughts that night, but he kept coming back to one thing: he made her cry. He'd actually done that. Like a fucking asshole. What was he even trying to prove? That he was better than her? That she was missing out on him being in her life? Because, if anything, he'd purposely trying to fuck with her for months now and probably was better off before she met him.

He'd find out the reason why it had gotten to her so badly a few weeks later. It was time for the monthly staff meeting and there was one chair - that was usually occupied - unoccupied. Both of them were creatures of habit and always sat in the same spot so it was obvious when the chair in front of Spencer remained empty. He'd often kick the back of her foot - like an actual child instead of a fully grown adult man - to annoy her until she sat cross legged on the chair to prevent him from continuing. But, Y/N wasn't there. He was staring into space and not the back of her head.

Gordon Patel, one of the performing arts lecturers that Spencer had observed talking to Y/N often, leant across and whispered to him, "Y/N's not coming."

"Do you know why?"

"Her mother's getting worse."

Honestly, he had no clue what was going on with Y/N's mother and urged, "Yeah?"

"She's been bad for a while now." Gordon paused. "If I remember correctly, Y/N said she's in and out of the ICU. Y/N used to check up on her after work but 'somebody' messed that up."

A sick mom? A pang of empathy hit him hard at that comment. He could relate to that. And he'd made her life harder when she was in a situation like that, well, he felt like shit about it now. He nodded silently and tried to focus on his own discussion, though his mind was elsewhere entirely. If he thought he felt like shit before, he sure as hell felt ten times worse now. The whole thing with Y/N really was eating him up inside and he had no idea how to deal with it or where to go. He couldn't even talk to her without sounding like a complete idiot.

So, he didn't talk to her. Yet, Spencer was always watching - maybe it was a habit of being a profiler, or maybe it was because why would he pay attention to anything else if Y/N was there? - and he'd noticed that she was getting more withdrawn by the day. Even her smile wasn't genuine anymore. Eye bags were her new accessory.

Somehow, her passion remained. It was evident in her actions, even if they were short lived. She was still determined to teach and she didn't take no for an answer, especially when it came to her class. With everything going on behind the scenes, she'd arranged for her class to go on field trips if there was anything filming in the general area of the uni and was often seen out in the quad with a camera in her hands, aiding whichever student was deciding to make a film that week.

However, Spencer did allow himself to be a little kind to her. Every Monday right after her lecture she'd find a single daffodil on the desk in her office and was accompanied the first time with a post it note on top that read:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Although Wordsworth was talking about finding pleasure in the natural world - specifically a field of daffodils - to Reid, the natural world was filled to the brim with germs. There was no pleasure to him in dirt and trees and the flowers themselves. Replacing Y/N with daffodils was very doable. Just like the flower's meaning, he wanted to start over with her, to have a rebirth of their relationship.

There was still a lot of anger inside of him, all pent up because he'd been trying not to fall back into his routine of being a dick and it was becoming more tempting every time she ignored him.

Surprisingly enough, the one, the only, Penelope Garcia was the reason they spoke again. For New Years Eve, Penelope had gathered her nearest and dearest in her apartment. Emily had gone back to England. JJ was with Will and her kids at Will's mother's place. Hotch and Jack were with his sister in law and father in law. Tara, Luke, Derek and his family, Kate and hers, Spencer and a couple of Penelope's buddies that he'd never met before were all squished in her apartment, which definitely wasn't suited for that many people.

Spencer was sitting on the couch with Sergio pawing at his leg when the door opened, his brows furrowing as Penelope ushered Y/N inside with an excited, "You came! I missed you so much! Come in, come, come." Penelope was crushing Y/N into a hug at the very first opportunity she had. The pair stood in the doorway for a couple of minutes, slowly swaying in their embrace, until Penelope finally broke away with a big grin.

"Look at this dress! Look at you! You're so pretty that I might die!" Penelope cheered, pulling the other girl by the hips to inspect the leopard print cami dress she was wearing. Penelope even fiddled with the fabric right at the leg slit and Y/N smoothed her hands away before the whole party was unwillingly flashed with hot pink underwear. If that had happened, Spencer wouldn't have been all that disappointed.

"Me? Look at you, my lovely! Most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Y/N cooed, twirling her friend around once so her dress would swish around a little, then Penelope did the same for Y/N.

On anyone else, that dress may have looked tacky. Spencer knew that. He didn't know much about fashion but he knew that. On Y/N? Well, he thought it was gorgeous. His eyes raked over the rest of her as she hung her leather jacket up (that Spencer knew definitely wasn't warm enough for this time of year) and was pulled toward the kitchen by Garcia. Those legs. Her thighs, her hips, those breasts, those curves, those...

Spencer blinked. Like a teenage boy, he was ogling and it didn't matter if Penelope caught him or not.

From his seat on the couch, Spencer watched the two of them interact with curiosity. They clearly knew each other well. But how? When? Where? His brain was running through all possible circumstances that could explain Penelope knowing Y/N. He didn't even realise he was glaring in their direction until two strong hands clasped down on his shoulders. He was at a party with a fair few people, one of them was going to notice at some point.

"Pretty boy, did Penelope give away the last cookie? Is that why you're brooding over here?" Derek asked, shaking him lightly as if trying to jostle him from his thoughts.

"No."

"What's wrong with your face then?"

"Nothing."

Sighing dramatically and sitting himself down next to Spencer, Derek rolled his eyes and began playing with Sergio's ears. "What's Penelope done now?"

"She hasn't done anything."

If Penelope wasn't the issue...

"Oh, I get it." Morgan nodded, looking smug as he took his eyes away from Sergio for a split second. "You haven't been introduced to Y/N yet, and instead of doing it yourself and saying hi to a lady you obviously find attractive, you're here, sulking with poor ol' Sergio."

Right on the money. Spencer groaned loudly. Of course. Why was he surprised? Morgan was good at reading his mind. He'd learned long ago that there was nothing he could do to stop his buddy from finding out anything he wanted. Spencer turned and gave him a death glare.

"I'll introduce you to Y/N."

"I already know Dr L/N."

"Dr L/N, huh? Let me take a guess, you lecture at the same college?"

Derek knew he was right. Spencer's reaction told him everything he needed to know, but he still couldn't resist teasing him further. Spencer groaned, turning red in embarrassment as he ran a hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact completely and hoping to god that the conversation didn't carry any farther. If it did, he had to come clean.

But Derek had already begun laughing. "Come on, Pretty Boy." Derek teased, bumping him lightly. "Get up and talk to her."

Reluctantly, Spencer groaned louder this time but obliged and got up off the sofa with a deep sigh. It was time. He made his way into the kitchen and watched Penelope as she poured two glasses of wine, just lurking in the doorway until they noticed him.

"I made you some cookies," Penelope offered, hopping up on the counter and grinning at Y/N. "They're chocolate chip."

"My favourite."

"I know. Why do you think I made them?" Penelope reached for the tupperware of cookies and shoved them in front of Y/N. "Eat!"

Y/N said a quick, "Thank you, Penny. Love you, Penny," as she took a bite. Her eyes widened immediately at the sweet taste of the cookie, mumbling, "Soooooo good," through a mouthful of crumbs.

Just as Penelope was about to reach out to take a cookie, Spencer accidentally pressed his elbow into the light switch and plunged the whole kitchen into darkness, letting out a loud, "Ow!" because he'd hit himself right on the funny bone. He flipped the light back on. "Sorry, Pen."

"Spence! I have to introdu-"

"We know each other, Penny," Y/N cut in, placing her arm on Penelope in the hopes to calm her excitement down. The techie had been telling Y/N all about the Spencer she worked with and they'd often joked that Penelope's Spencer was miles better than the Spencer from Y/N's job. Weirdly, his last name had never come up. And alas, they were the same Spencer.

"You two know -" The penny dropped. "Oh. Oh! My dreams of the two of you becoming fast friends has been squashed flat." Penelope shook her head disapprovingly, sipping her wine and eyeing Spencer in disdain. She slapped him on the arm. "That is for being so rude all the time!"

Two more slaps on his arm soon came when all he did was whine in protest. After he got his own slaps for acting like a child, Penelope turned back to look at Y/N, who was hiding a little smirk behind her hand. "Spencer Walter Reid, you are going to be polite and kind to my very sexy friend or I will reveal your browser history to everyone at this party. Capeesh?" Penelope warned, looking like an angry pomeranian as she glared at him, a finger pointing between his eyes.

Spencer raised his hands in surrender. "Okay! Okay! Okay!"

"Say hi to Y/N. Nicely."

After a minute of silent awkwardness, Spencer cleared his throat and addressed Y/N. "So, uh, yeah. Hi."

"Hi?" Y/N repeated back with confusion written all over her face. She tilted her head to really look at him and that was it. He was suddenly even more self conscious and shifted uncomfortably on the spot under her gaze.

His eyes darted to Penelope's, who was looking between the two with a mischievous glint shining in her eyes. She wasn't a profiler but she'd known him long enough to read him like a book. The look on his face said it all. He was just a little boy pulling on the girl he liked pigtails.

"How, uh, how do you know each other?" he stuttered out to the girls, who immediately turned to catch each other's eye.

"You know I took you to the Dr Who watchalong at Noble's?"

Oh no, she likes Dr Who, too, he thought. That was another thing they had in common.

"Y/N here is a regular, just like me. We've been to how many Ren Faire's together now?" Penelope gushed, throwing her arms around Y/N and that action was very quickly reciprocated.

"Five."

"I swear it was six."

"We didn't go together the first time, we just happened to be at the same mead vendor and you didn't let me leave without forcing me to buy you a drink," Y/N reminded with amusement dancing in her eyes as she brushed Penelope's fringe out of her face with gentle fingers.

They were so affectionate to one another it was adorable. It was clear they had the kind of female friendship that was on the borders of lesbianism at times but most often was platonic. There was this yearning - not just for Y/N to act affectionately towards him - for himself to be open enough to be touched and petted and have hair lovingly stroked away from his face without retreating. He liked physical touch but there always was this barrier in the way that stopped him from allowing himself that joy.

So, yeah, he was a little jealous of Penelope. Who isn't? She's super cool and likeable?

"I count that time!"

"It's six then," Y/N conceded immediately, chuckling at Penelope's exaggerated pout.

From the other room, one of the party goers called out for their gracious host and Penelope rushed off to help, leaving the two professors to stew in the awkwardness of being alone together. Y/N looked to Reid and saw him looking nervously at his feet. He was biting on his bottom lip.

"Would you like a cookie?" she offered kindly, gesturing to the tupperware in her hands and holding them out to him when he nodded.

"...Thanks."

It was quiet again. Y/N shyly smiled in response as she handed it over to him and watched as he picked one out carefully and popped it in his mouth before making his way across the kitchen to lean against the counter opposite. They were both hesitant. It was only natural; neither of them wanted to make a scene at this party. Y/N didn't know what to say to him and Spencer seemed to notice.

"I've never been to a Ren Faire, what's it like?"

All the tension in her shoulders relaxed at once. She hadn't expected him to initiate a conversation but she was grateful for the chance to talk to him about something else. Anything else. So, she told him about her time at Ren Faire's, peppering funny stories about Penelope whenever it was a natural moment to do so, and was surprised when he listened to her.

Like, really listened with follow up questions and comments every once in a while. It was nice, she thought, to finally stop squabbling with Spencer after months of doing it nonstop.

"Maybe you can come with us next year?" Y/N offered, taking a sip from the glass of wine. She gave him a soft smile in return and then looked down at her glass, feeling a little bashful. The corners of Spencer's lips twitched into a small smile. "I'm sure Penelope wouldn't mind."

"Yeah, okay," He agreed. "I would love to try it out. Thanks for inviting me."

"And I understand if you have a case and need to go off halfway through. I'm used to it with Pen." Her fingers tapped against the counter. "I didn't know you worked for the FBI. Do you go by Dr or SSA?"

"Dr. I've worked in the BAU for so long now, but when I first started my mentor, Gideon, he made sure that everyone knew I was capable even if I was young and inexperienced." Spencer rubbed at his neck awkwardly, avoiding Y/N’s inquisitive stare. "He was a good man."

Was. She heard that loud and clear. It was a night of celebration, why would she delve deeper into the death of his mentor. One, she barely knew him. Two, it was a time to be happy. Three, they'd crawled their way from the awkwardness, she didn't want to accidently plunge them back in.

But, Spencer didn't think of that.

"How's your mother? Is she still sick?"

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the change of topic. In all honesty, she didn't think he knew her mother had been ill. Why would he know that? Why would he care? For some reason, it became difficult for her to speak, to breathe. A lump began to form in the back of her throat which forced her voice to crack in surprise. She cleared her throat and took another swig of wine in an attempt to steady herself.

“Oh, I don't want to talk about that right now.”

"Not good, huh?"

Why didn't he let the topic slip? Shit! Shit, shit, shit! She looked down, avoiding Spencer's curious gaze as she fiddled with her fingers and tried to figure out what to say. She'd never been comfortable talking about it with anyone and especially not Dr Reid.

Some innate need to comfort her came over Spencer. He was never good at this sort of thing but he'd try. He'd try so hard because he'd been such a super dick and maybe - just maybe - being a super nice and comforting guy would help ease his conscience. If not, well, that was fine too. Because at least she would get some peace of mind and the weight of everything that happened would lessen a little bit. He was determined to make amends and he needed to start somewhere, so why not start now?

His hand was reaching for hers before he could second guess his decision but he didn't pull back. Instead, he laced their fingers together, letting his thumb rub over the back of her hand gently, a gentle soothing action that felt nice. The warmth radiating from his skin and the strength of his grip on her hand made her feel safe, secure and protected in its grasp. The gesture brought her back to reality.

The sound of the party was still roaring on the other side of the wall, the noise reverberating throughout the apartment but that was just white noise for the moment. Right now she could concentrate solely on Reid.

Her eyes flicked down to their intertwined hands then up to meet his. They were warm. Comforting. A soft sigh escaped her lips. His thumb caressed the back of her hand ever so gently and his gaze was intense as they held onto each other. His eyes were filled with a certain sadness that Y/N couldn't decipher but she did know that whatever it was, it could be found in hers too.

"My mom is sick too - schizophrenia and Alzheimer's is not a great combination - our situations probably aren't entirely the same, I don't think, but I do understand and relate to it more than most." He swallowed thickly, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to fall. His free hand gripped tightly around the edge of the countertop so it could keep him grounded. "I'm sorry you're going through this, I know the burden it is."

In a flash, her arms were around him, pulling him close to her. Spencer froze but soon melted into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her very, very slowly. He finally hugged her, his cheek resting atop her hair as he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his throat constrict at the overwhelming amount of emotions threatening to spill over.

Holy shit. She was hugging him. Actually hugging him. Physical contact! And even better, physical contact that didn't spook him into pushing her away. Even though they both knew that this wasn't how they normally acted towards one another, it was okay. They were allowed to hug even if they weren't exactly friends.

Their bodies stayed pressed against one another not saying anything for a while and, in that peace, Spencer's hand ran along the length of her arm, softly stroking upwards, until he got to her shoulder, then drifted down to her wrist, then up again, then down again, repeating the motion over and over.

"I'm sorry, I know you don't like people touching you," Y/N whispered, pulling away just slightly so she could look up at him properly. There was a hint of regret in her tone and that broke his heart. He quickly shook his head to dispel those thoughts.

"No, no. You're good," he reassured her and wound his arms around her waist again, bringing her closer to him. He hesitated briefly, not wanting to push her boundaries. "You don't have to apologise-"

"I do."

"No, if anyone should be apologising, it's me for being...this." He released one arm from around her torso to gesture to himself. "For being an ass, I mean," he amended. Y/N sighed, leaning her forehead against his shoulder, and closed her eyes. She couldn't help but chuckle at his attempt at an apology.

Yeah, he had been an ass.

Awkwardly, they disentangled from each other, not really knowing where to stand next since none of them had known quite how to behave around each other before now. Spencer stood up straight, clearing his throat in a hurry to seem normal, and Y/N mirrored his actions.

"Listen, uh...about the way I've treat-" He started, not looking Y/N in the eye because if he did, there was no way he would be able to stop his cheeks from heating up.

Confessing now would be a good thing. It would explain why he was a dick - although, did it really? - and help her piece together his motive. And, he just really wanted it off his chest. Maybe if he let the words out into the world, they might manifest into something good.

"So someone finally introduced you to the famous Dr L/N!" Derek cheered, interrupting Spencer and effectively distracting the both of them from the conversation they were supposed to be having. Reid's head dropped in anguish.

"Chocolate Thunder, how lovely to see you again," Y/N replied in an equally cheery tone and turned around to face him, being enveloped in a bear hug as soon as Morgan reached her. He patted her back lightly, grinning brightly. "Is Hank here?"

"I swear you like my child more than me? That hurts, woman!" Derek chuckled, letting her go from his hold. "Yes, my baby boy is here but you'll have to pry him from Penelope's arms to say hello."

It made sense that Y/N would know Morgan if she hung out with Garcia a lot. Before Savannah, Derek and his babygirl were attached at the hip whenever they didn't have a case or were in the process of finding a significant other since it's hard to explain to potential romantic partners that you have a platonic twin flame that you spend 24/7 with in and out of work without them getting the wrong idea. If Y/N had been friends with her during that time - which she was judging by the fact that Garcia limited herself to only one renaissance faire per year because that makes it extra special when you do finally go - she'd definitely know Morgan.

From where he stood, Spencer shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes trained on his feet, his hands in his pockets, and his expression unreadable. Morgan noticed and furrowed his brows curiously. He nudged Y/N's arm, mumbling, "Why don't you attempt to convince Pen to take a break? I bet Hank can do with a breather from all the bright colours," and Y/N did as he said.

She did do something she'd never done before, however. On her way out of the kitchen, she craned her head over her shoulder to shoot Spencer a smile and uttered a quiet, "See you later, Dr Reid."

With that, she left the two men alone. Spencer watched her retreating form with mixed feelings; on the one hand, her smile warmed him inside out. On the other hand, his confession still only existed in his brain, the words ringing loudly in his head as he tried to ignore the ache that settled deep within his core.

"Oooooooh, Dr Reid, huh? There's got to be some sort of catnip in your bumbling genius deal because that woman was throwing herself into your arms. I saw it through the door." Derek teased. "And I'm glad she did but please, for Pete's sake, get a grip already! I've seen you pine over girls before and I've only witnessed this for less than 10 minutes but this is ridiculous!"

Spencer winced in embarrassment, cursing Morgan silently to Hell and wishing that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

"I was going to then you interrupted me!"

"Oh sorry, player. My bad."

"...Morgan."

Morgan cackled at Spencer's scowl before getting back on track to ease his little brother, who seemed to be struggling even worse than before. "Hey bud, come with me, Tara has been arguing with me for the past hour and I need my encyclopaedia to kick her ass," he suggested with a grin, ruffling his hair in the process.

Time ticked on, and after what felt like forever - but was in reality just an hour or so - the countdown to the new year was about to begin. As everyone gathered around the tv, Derek and Penelope winked at each other.

5...

Garcia took Hank from Y/N's arms so they'd be free, ignoring her friend's confused complaint. Morgan guided Spencer by the shoulder until he was in pushing distance of Y/N, and then he proceeded to push the lanky man in her direction.

4...

Derek wrapped his arm around Savannah's waist directly afterwards, as if he hadn't just set things in motion.

3...

Y/N caught Spencer's forearms to steady him, and her fingers curled around the sleeves of his shirt, holding on tight so he didn't trip over his own feet and hurt himself on the way.

2...

Before it had reached the inevitable conclusion of the year, Spencer was ducking his head and capturing Y/N's lips between his. For the first few brief moments, she paused, startled at the sudden action, but soon returned the kiss nonetheless. Her hand slid under the collar of his, cupping the side of his neck as he tilted his head forward to deepen the kiss.

1...

It continued through to the new year. Although when the countdown did get to 0, there were other couples having a smooch. Garcia even gave Hank a big sloppy kiss on his cheek, causing his giggle fit to make everything even more hilarious. Morgan laughed out loud while watching their friends making fools of themselves - he'd given his wife a sweet smooch and pulled away to find that the two were still lip locking.

"Jesus, pretty boy, there are children around!" Derek joked, clapping his hands loudly.

The couple broke apart, blushed bright red in embarrassment and attempted to brush themselves off as inconspicuous as possible. Spencer cleared his throat, averting his gaze towards the floor for several seconds. When he raised it again, he realised that his friends were all giving him teasing thumbs ups and whoop-inducing cheers.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this," Spencer sighed, but his being was suddenly overcome with chuckles. Happy chuckles. 'Thank fuck I finally did that' chuckles. Because, thank fuck, he finally did it.

They were teased and good naturedly taunted as everyone began to leave, one by one. It was way beyond Hank's bedtime so Morgan and Savannah were the first to part, both being insufferably enthusiastic and encouraging towards Spencers. Kate and Co were next. Penelope's other friends all seemed to leave in one big herd.

Tara quietly slipped out the door so she didn't have to fifth wheel since Luke was lingering around, looking as if he was going to be staying the night.

"I better go," Y/N stated, reluctantly pulling away from Spencer's side since he'd been trapping her against him since midnight. It was a consensual trapping, and Y/N was allowed breaks to get another drink or use the bathroom, but it was clear that he wanted her attached to his hip whenever he could.

His coworkers were astonished. Jaw dropping stuff. JJ would be so pissed she missed it for more than one reason.

"I could walk you to your car?"

"Y/N got the train, didn't you, sexy?" Penelope informed him with a smug grin. "She doesn't like driving."

Another thing they had in common.

"I got the metro too, would you want to walk there together?"

"If you're happy with leaving now, yeah... yeah, I'd like that, Spencer."

She'd never called him by his name before. It felt weird and wonderful, and so right. His name was like the sweetest, most wonderful sound in the world when it came from her lips.

"Okay, yeah."

He was beaming, and as soon as his eyes met hers, his dimples making an appearance. Penelope gripped Luke's hand far too tightly to restrain herself from letting out a ear piercing squeal of joy, and she looked like she was on the verge of bursting into happy tears at any moment.

While Y/N was in the process of gathering her belongings and bidding Penelope goodbye, he didn't move. He was frozen in place, watching her with a huge grin, as if he was afraid that I'd he broke his gaze or something, he would wake up alone in a lumpy bed and have to get to work on another gruesome murder case as soon as his feet touched the gross hotel carpet.

Luke slapped Spencer on the shoulder, physically saying 'time to go, loverboy', and pushed him towards the open door. Spencer stumbled a little and looked like he was going to say something, but he just shook his head and waited for Penelope to stop whispering in Y/N's ear before they made their escape.

It was so quiet.

Without all the music and chattering of party guests, it was so quiet. The air was cool and refreshing, and the world was practically asleep or too drunk to bother walking home. They walked side by side, at a leisurely pace, and it was nice. There was a smidge of tension - obviously, you don't make out with your coworker in front of a bunch of people without there being some unsaid things still lingering in the air - but it wasn't unbearable. If anything, it felt... comforting, almost.

They'd got to their train with mere seconds left to spare. The automatic doors closed behind them, and they were seated in the carriage as soon as they spotted free seats. There were more people on the train than in the streets, though the pair would've been huddled together even if the carriage had been free. Mostly because it was really fucking cold out.

"Are you cold?" Spencer asked Y/N as she pulled her coat tighter around herself. "Do you want my jacket?"

"No, no, it's fine. I'm fine."

Spencer didn't listen - he could literally see her shivering in her boots - and was tugging his coat off his shoulders for her.

"Spencer-"

"I'm trying not to argue with you anymore but I will. Please? If you're cold, I can help you with that."

And this time, she didn't protest as he slid his coat over her shoulders. "Thanks," she said softly, and he felt a little giddy. Even though his jacket didn't really go with her outfit, it was the best thing he'd ever seen. Y/N was wearing his clothes. His! He didn't even know how that was possible, but it was before his eyes so it had to be. He didn't know why it made him feel so damn good, but it did.

"Any time."

He couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear.

Coincidentally, they had to get off at the same train stop and, without verbalising it to her, Spencer had decided to walk her home. He was a hardened FBI agent (that was allowed to skip the physical tests because his brain was too valuable to rule out, but hey) and could walk home without being scared by all the shadow monsters that come out in the dark of the night. Plus, his apartment was in the same general direction.

During their walk, one completely normal streetlamp - completely the same as the rest of the others on the street - happened to be shining its light directly on a store that Spencer was very familiar with. Y/N, however, was more familiar with the item on show in the middle of the shop window.

"...Daffodils."

Daffodils can be found in almost any florist across the world. But it was the fact that the florist was named 'Wordsworth's', that twigged Y/N's attention. That paired with the poem meant that it wasn't so outlandish to assume that whoever left her weekly flowers probably got them from this shop. Out of the two of them, Spencer was the profiler but he could tell he was made.

The case of the appearing daffodils had been solved.

"How much money have you wasted on me?" she asked, eyes still fixed on the price sign right next to the bouquet in the window.

Spencer continued to grin at Y/N as she ogled at the flowers in the window, standing under the spotlight. It was nice to see her still be so enamoured with something he frequently bought for her. "It wasn't a waste," he announced, and he meant it. "You're worth it."

"I am?" she asked, sounding surprised. "I guess I kind of assumed you hated me before tonight."

A huff was released from his nose and averted his gaze to his shoes for a brief moment before he looked back up at her. She tilted her head a little, curious as to why he seemed so put out. "I'm really bad at dealing with my emotions," he clarified.

"Okay," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "You don't have to buy me flowers."

"I want to. I'll buy you whatever you want," he said without thinking.

Y/N laughed, the sound so light and carefree and getting closer to him until she was right before him, and for a moment, he didn't feel the chill in the air. Y/N seemed to think about it for a second, her expression flickering between amusement and nervousness, before she grabbed his face and kissed him.

It started out slow, lips barely touching lips, but it soon picked up pace until the kiss became frantic and Spencer lost his footing on a patch of icy pavement, causing them both to plummet to the floor. They hit the ground with an 'oof' and tumbled into a heap on the curb, Y/N falling on top of Spencer's chest.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, all of a sudden, they burst out laughing. Spencer leant on his elbows, grinning up at Y/N and feeling his heart rate increase at the sensation of her pressed up against him.

"Are you okay?"

"Shhhh... Just kiss me again."

So he did.

Eventually, they got up, cleaned their hands with the pocket squeezy sanitiser Spencer kept on him at all times and continued their walk home.

"Did you know that putting a bouquet in the fridge prolongs the lifespan of flowers?" Spencer began, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"Really? That's not true."

"The daffodils I have in my refrigerator say otherwise."

"You don't have daffodils in your fridge."

"I do too."

Despite how earnest he sounded, she still didn't believe him. Was it really believable that he filled up his fridge for weeks with a bouquet of daffodils for her? Because he liked her so much? What did he do with his food? Did the flowers contaminate it? Or did he store them in containers? Why would he do that for her when he treated her like he had before tonight?

"I could prove it to you, if you want?"

Oh. He subtly just asked her to his place without thinking - which was good, overall - but his apartment was in no shape to host guests in. There were books everywhere. Laundry strewn on the couch. One or two half drunk coffee cups left out on the kitchen counter. It was a mess. A clean mess, but still.

"You want me to come over to check out your fridge?" she asked him.

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, we could have a coffee and I have a tub of mango sorbet that we could share." He shrugged, pretending to be all calm and casual. "But only if you want to - no pressure - seriously, none. We can forget I ever asked if -"

"Show me your fridge, Dr Reid."

Being a homebody meant that Spencer was always excited to go home. He'd never been this excited before. They hoofed it to get out of the cold, and once they were indoors, they stood in front of an opened fridge to peer inside at the batch of flowers that took up an entire shelf. He didn’t have much else going on in there - why would he keep a lot of fresh produce when he is away for extended periods that they'd become rotten during? - but the daffodils was enough entertainment.

That night, the pair ate sorbet and talked. Really talked. Spencer apologised over and over for his behaviour, and though one night wouldn't erase multiple semester's worth of annoyance, it was a start.

And when the new term commenced, Y/N was expecting to see a single daffodil on her desk as she had the previous.

She didn’t. Not a single flower was in sight.

So, in her momentary disappointment, she reached into her drawer and pulled out her scrapbook to flick through all the flower pressings and post it note poems she'd glued in a fancy looking layout.

"I didn't know you kept them all."

Spencer's voice caused Y/N's head to shoot up from the page and found him in her office doorway with a whole bouquet of daffodils in his hand. Her eyes lit up and she beelined for him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"My train was late, petal."

"Excuses, excuses, Dr Reid."

"Oh, it's Dr Reid today?" he teased, leaning close enough to nudge his nose into hers. "Do you think sweet cheeks is too unprofessional, Dr L/N?"

"Maybe it is, sweet cheeks."

The flowers were gently placed on the nearest surface so Spencer could use both hands to cradle her cheeks and pull her in for a kiss. He smiled against her lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled in happiness. Because he'd done it. He'd actually done it. He'd gained her affection.

And now he had it, he was never going to let it wilt. It may have to go in the fridge for a moment or two, but it would always be brought back into the sunlight.

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key2go · 4 months

Text

The Monster’s Gone (He’s on the Run) - Spencer Reid

Summary - a night in with your boyfriend of four months leads to some disturbing secrets being spilled

Word Count - 3862

Warnings - angst angst angst, kind of graphic depictions of trauma, past non-con, supportive spencer, so much crying, making out, the beginning of smut, nudity, self-sabotage, blowjobs (kinda)

A small note - the backstory for this is based on my own personal experience so pls be kind when commenting/reblogging

Your boyfriend is perceptive by nature, not by training. He knows what he does not because he spent years studying (though it did help), but because it is impossible for him to walk into a room without noticing everything, and drawing to his own conclusions. Some might call this tedious, or difficult to live with, but this is your Spencer, and there isn’t anything you find tedious about him.

It is because of his perceptive nature that you’re forced to tell him the truth about yourself.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, just past four o’clock, but you’re already curled up in bed with Spencer because he’s just come home after a week away on a case and neither of you have a clue when he’ll be called away again. One of his old French movies is droning on in the corner of the room, but you’re not looking at it. You’re looking at your Spencer; at his barely stubbly jaw, his hair that's just beginning to curl at the ends, the way his lips move in sync with the words the actors speak on the screen.

“Did you know that in the original script-” you cut off his attempt at speaking by landing a rather forceful kiss on his chapped lips as he drew a deep breath in. It takes him by surprise, but it isn’t more than a few seconds before both of his hands are coming up to cup at your jaw and his tongue is pushing against your lips. You graciously let him in, manoeuvring one of your hands to tangle through your boyfriend’s unbrushed locks, pulling ever so gently and coaxing a whine out of his mouth.

The two of you remain like that for a few blissful minutes, breathing in each other’s air and tasting each other’s tongues. Eventually, you give in to your body’s desires and begin rolling your hips against his. Spencer stifles a gasp against your exposed neck and moves one of his hands down to grip at your waist, not harsh enough to bruise but enough to know that he’s there through the haze of your mind.

Again, these small ministrations carry on for the next few minutes, just the two of you in your own little bubble, safe from everything else in the world.

Eventually, Spencer grows more frantic, and so do you, chasing the friction his plaid pyjama bottoms give you, rubbing up against your cotton shorts and pressing against you just right. Your lips detach from one another, and you’re left panting into one another’s open mouths, grinning madly. What changes the whole ordeal for you is when Spencer begins pushing you by the shoulders, just gently, but you still find yourself sliding down, down the mattress until you’re surrounded by the long kicked away duvet between his knees and you’re face to face with a very obvious bulge. In the heat of the moment, Spencer must mistake your wide eyes for surprise at his size (which, in all honesty, is fairly impressive) and your quickened breathing in response to the intense make out from not seconds before. But neither of those things are true. You’re trapped in a whole other world.

“Down,” it’s gruff, and the hand shoving at your shoulder feels almost identical to Spencer’s. This time, however, you voice your concerns as soon as they arise.

“Gentle,” you remind him. It doesn’t work.

“Oh calm down, it’s not that bad,” and then he’s quiet, just the sound of his fly unzipping and then a choked gasp coming from your lips as he shoves his cock between them.

“Honey?” Spencer clocks onto something this time, but you’re already pushing it from the forefront of your mind. It’s not that bad, you remind yourself. You just shake your head with what you hope looks like a genuine smile, and busy your fingers by working on pulling his trousers down. Maybe, maybe if you do it this once, with Spencer, then it will all get better. You can trust your spencer.

And again, it’s okay for the first few minutes. You go through the motions, not entirely present but not completely gone. You find yourself wishing you could stop, but in that very same moment, Spencer is gripping at your hair and tugging you further down onto himself and all of a sudden, you’re right back there.

You try to pull back, desperate to relieve the sudden pressure against the back of your throat, but his hands keep you in place. In a bid to get his attention, you cover one of his hands with yours, but he doesn’t budge, not even when you dig your nails in. He just chases his high faster and faster, bucking up into the back of your throat. Maybe he just didn’t hear you, or maybe that’s just what you tell yourself to stay sane. But there’s no way he didn’t notice the tears dripping from your cheeks onto his body.

You’re pulled back to the present by a particularly harsh pull on your hair and a brushing of his tip against the back of your throat that has you gagging harshly and pulling away with as much strength as you can muster. Tears, the same tears as that night, fall in rivulets down your cheeks, welling your neck and falling all the way down to the hair at the base of your neck and the dips of your collar bones.

Distantly, you can hear Spencer calling your name, but you’ve gone numb. Everything is numb. Your ears are buzzing. Your fingers feel like strange entities attached to you. A pair of soft hands wrap around your wrists, and it’s only now that you realise you’ve been tugging on the roots of your hair. You squeeze your eyes closed as tight as you can, saving yourself from the disappointed gaze you just know Spencer is casting in your direction. Please don’t say anything, please don’t say anything, please don’t say anything.

“Honey?” Fuck. You keep your eyes closed, praying that he might just leave you alone. No such luck, “honey, I think you’re having a panic attack, is there any way that I can help you?”

Help you? You expect him to shout at you, maybe storm off into the next room as a punishment for ruining his orgasm, not to be so gentle. You take in a deep shuddering breath and blink your eyes open cautiously, immediately averting your eyeline from your boyfriend’s, shrinking away from his grip on your wrists, and he lets you do so without complaint.

“Okay, no touching,” out of the corner of your eye, you can see him nodding to himself, pulling himself further from you, but not so far that you can’t reach for him if you want to. He lets you breathe for a moment, reminding you gently every time it’s needed to stop pulling at your hair with a quiet but reassuring quip of ‘hands, sweetheart’.

“Clean,” you need to feel clean again. You don’t realise you’d said it out loud until Spencer stands up and offers a hand to you. It lingers in the air between you, and it’s clear he isn’t forcing you to take it. Still, you just avert your eyes again, tears falling faster than a waterfall and your ribs begin aching with the effort to keep breathing.

“That’s okay, honey,” he drops his arm without complaint, but you still flinch at the sound of his arm slapping back against his chest, “do you think you can follow me to the bathroom?”

You nod, and keep nodding even as you stand up because the repetitive motion is comforting even if it’s making your head throb and your vision unusable. You follow Spencer's feet as you trudge to the bathroom, only just registering the fact he’s gone soft again and is hidden back away in his pyjamas.

He pulls on the string to click the bathroom, and suddenly you’re both bathed in fluorescent yellow light, and you’re pinching back a wince at the sudden brightness. Spencer seats himself on the side of the bath, looking up at you without expecting you to look back.

“Do you want me to turn the shower on, or would you like to use the sink?” He points to each of them, speaking slowly so you can understand through your heaving breaths. You raise a shaking, tentative hand and point in the direction of the shower, to which Spencer beams with pride, “well done, honey. Do you want me to make it how you like it?”

You think for a moment, before shaking your head with closed eyes, “cold,”

“Cold? You’re cold, sweetheart?” A gentle sob lets him know that he isn’t correct, “you want the shower cold?”

You neither nod nor shake your head, but your crying decreases in volume just enough so that Spencer knows he’s correct. You take the next few minutes to try your hardest to bring your breathing back to normal, inhaling the pleasant scent of one of your shower melts dissolving as your boyfriend fiddled about with the temperature.

“Okay, honey, this is all ready for you. Do you need my help in there or would you like to be alone,” you indicate the latter, and he nods, “that’s okay, I’ll be just outside that door if you need me, do you want me to help you get undressed before I go?”

You contemplate your shaking hands. Would they be strong enough to pull the suddenly very heavy fabric of his hoodie over your head? Before you work yourself up too much, you give him a shaky, somewhat aggressive nod and hold your arms up in the air. It takes him a few minutes to completely undress you, pausing after removing each article to ensure you’re okay. When you’re eventually nude in front of him, his gaze doesn’t drop from your eyes. Logically, you should know that he’s doing it to ensure you feel safe in his presence, but all your panic-warped brain can comprehend is that you can’t suck your boyfriend’s dick without crying and now he won’t even look at you naked.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” His soft, somewhat unsure voice brings you back to semi-lucidity. You’re not quite able to choke back the chest bursting sub that rips from your throat at the thought of him leaving you. You squeeze your eyes shut and clamp a hand over your mouth in the hopes of quelling your embarrassment even by just the smallest bit.

Your knees buckle under the weight of your anxiety and you have to grip onto the porcelain of the bathtub next to Spencer’s thigh to keep from falling over.

It’s clear to you he doesn’t know what to do; his hands splaying across the lip of the bathtub, as if he’s about to stand, but he doesn’t, and his mouth gapes as if he’s about to whisper reassurances in your ear, but his voice fails him. He’s stuck, waiting for you to give him the smallest indication of what to do, what to say.

His prayers are answered seconds later with a bruising grip on his bicep, your eyes wide and shining with tears as you finally, finally make eye contact with him, and Spencer can physically feel his heart shatter with your next words.

“P- please don’t leave me, I can- I can do it better I promise, just let me try it again, I won’t- won’t mess up this time, just don’t leave me,” you wail up at him desperately, forcing your way down onto your knees and taking advantage of Spencer’s momentary shock to push his pyjama pants down to his knees and grasp at his now soft cock, “please, I can do it,”

“Oh,” he doesn’t quite manage to blink away his tears this time, and a droplet of his sadness lands on your cheek. You look up at him, and he crouches down to your level tucking himself away again despite your protests. His knees hit the floor just in front of yours and he reaches up gently to cup your chin in his hands, “honey I want you to listen to me, really listen to me, okay?”

You hiccup your way through a nod.

“You don’t- you don’t ever, ever have to do that again, okay?” His eyes bore into yours, nodding along to his own words, “whoever made you think that way was wrong, and I will tell you everyday for the rest of my life if I have to. I will never let anyone hurt you like that again, okay? You’re safe with me, and you can always tell me no,”

“But- but what if-“ you choke down a sob, but Spencer brushes a calloused thumb over your cheekbone, shushing you ever so gently.

“No, baby, no what ifs,” he says it with a finality that has you biting down on your bottom lip and jerking your head up and down, but your boyfriend must tell from your face that you’re not totally absorbing the words coming out of his mouth, “okay sweetness, let’s talk about this later, you wanna get in the shower now?”

“Hmph,” is your only reply, and you’re glad Spencer’s so good at reading your face because he helps you stand up and hook your legs over the lip of the bath.

“Okay, I’ll wait right out here and you can take a minute to yourself,” he seats himself on the closed lid of the toilet, and keeps his eyes a polite distance away from your body as you step under the cold spray of the shower.

The shock of the cold spray forces you to draw in a deep breath, not quite stopping your hyperventilation but drawing it out enough so that your head stops spinning. You try not to think about it before sticking your head underneath the waterfall of ice cold water.

You close your eyes and press the heel of your hand to your sternum, hearing your heart rate gradually slow its pulsating in your ears. You’re face-first in the spray, but you make no effort to angle your head upwards, allowing the hair at the crown of your head drip frigid droplets of water down your nose and onto your chin.

Over the roar of the rushing water, you are only just able to hear the soft sounds of Spencer sniffling. You can’t bring yourself to look over, knowing that he’s crying over you, all because you can’t buck up and be a good girlfriend.

The next few minutes pass in relative silence, with you trying to ignore the concealed sounds of Spencer crying for the sake of your own sanity and him keeping a dillengent eye on you as you scrub your entire body clean of any evidence from the night's activities. When the time finally comes to turn off the water and step out, you find yourself keeping eye contact with your feet.

Before you’re even able to think of getting the towel off the hook next to you, it’s already been wrapped around you and you’re being lifted from the tub by Spencer. Wordlessly, he guides you back into his bedroom, hands hovering awkwardly around your waist, still unsure as to if you’d react badly to him touching you. He gets you sat down and sets about finding you some clothes. He holds up a pair of boxers to himself, then shakes his head and snatches up a set of grey sweatpants and one of his silly little casual shirts with a slogan akin to one you’d see in a Spiderman movie.

“Arms up for me, sweetness,” he gives the lightest tap to your elbow, prompting you to hold your arms aloft so he can cover you up, then allow your arms to drop down, dead from their lack of blood, “that’s it, can you budge your hips for me?”

You try your absolute hardest to lift your bum from the fitted sheet, but you only have so much strength left, and it’s only half a second before you slump back down again, but in that time he had managed to wrench the fabric properly onto you. You let out another sob; Spencer had to do everything for you. When would he realise that it isn’t worth his time?

“There we go,” he smiles, but his eyes are rimmed with fire, so you simply can't remove the trembling frown ingrained on your face. Spencer looks up at you, and his own frown takes over, “do you wanna tell me about it?”

You take a sharp breath in, and Spencer backtracks quickly, “y-you don’t have to, why don’t you go to sleep? I’ll go on the couch tonight, if you want. Whatever you want, I-I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to,”

“Will you lay with me?” You slump down on his bed as you say it, paying no mind to the fact that you’re on his side of the bed. You’ve gone numb. No longer are you sobbing or choking on tears. Still, though, hot streams of liquid sadness stream down your cheeks as you rest your face on your boyfriend’s memory foam pillow.

Spencer shuffles across the room, swiping at his face to clear it of its fog as you kick at the duvet until you’re able to wriggle under. He joins you, and a dull throb of sadness aches in your heart when you realise he’s nervous to get into his own bed. He’s facing you, but not touching you, letting you keep as much distance as you want but not expressly requesting it.

“Are we going to sleep, or are we just going to calm down?” It’s a fair question, in all honesty; he’s been on a case the last few days so he’s had even less sleep than usual, he fears that if he allows himself to relax too much, he’ll fall asleep while you’re working up the courage to speak. He’s never had an issue with waiting for you to gather your words; he loves being a person you feel safe enough to really speak your mind to.

You don’t answer verbally yet again, just reach a hand back and open your palm towards Spencer as an invitation for him to hold it. He does, and waits patiently. Minutes pass, then maybe half an hour, all the while Spencer is smoothing his thumb across the back of your hand, never attempting to do anything more.

Another ten or so minutes pass before you turn in his direction and slip into his arms, silently, slowly. He allows you to settle in before wrapping his arms around you, loosely so as not to restrict you. Still, he doesn’t push you into talking.

“It wasn’t,” your throat is hoarse, and you have to clear it before continuing, “it wasn’t what you’re thinking. I wasn’t, like, raped,”

Just the word has Spencer gripping you tighter, but still he just lets you speak.

“I mean- I could’ve said no, and, and it was just my mouth, so it’s not that bad,” you reason, “like, he was my boyfriend, and he was nice to me, so it was kinda my job to do it. I just, I think maybe I didn’t like it when he was rough with me, maybe that’s why I freaked out. I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time,”

He waits for a moment, to be sure you’re finished talking before he responds, “oh, honey,”

It isn’t condescending, the way he speaks to you; it’s as if it physically hurts him to hear your perspective. His voice is thick with something a more talented profiler than you would call grief. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before he continues, “I can go the rest of my life without ever needing you to do that for me,”

You eye him sceptically, but he continues without acknowledging it, “as far as I’m concerned, we never have to have sex. Not ever. Not if it makes you think of that, not if you think it’s something you should do,”

“But Spence-“

“No, no buts,” he asserts, followed by an apologetic, “sorry for interrupting, sweetheart, but I just don’t want to ever put you in that position again. That was scary,”

“I’m sorry Spence,” you can’t look at him directly in the eye, so you squeeze his bicep to let him know you’re being genuine, “I thought I would be okay, cos I was with you ‘n all, but then all of a sudden I couldn’t breathe and- and,”

You’re starting to get worked up again, so Spencer strokes between your shoulder blades, tracing along your spine as you recuperate.

“It’s not- I’m not afraid of you, Spencer, I don’t actually think you’d hurt me, I just couldn’t get that to stick in my stupid brain,” you bury your nose in his armpit, curling your arms around him and sighing as you finish speaking.

“Your brain isn’t being stupid,” he points out, in such a very Spencer way that you simply can’t stop yourself from smiling, “your brain is trying to protect you from suffering another traumatic event. Your brain just can’t tell the difference between someone you trust and someone you don’t, so it has the same base reaction and floods your system with adrenaline and cortisol, forcing you into a panic attack,”

You don’t really have the energy to respond to him any more, your panic attack combined with your boyfriend's soft-toned explanation has you yawning into his bare skin and moulding your body into his.

Spencer, noticing this, smiles to himself and presses a kiss to your head, “go to sleep, honey. We can talk more in the morning, if you want,”

You press your lips lazily to whatever patch of Spencer’s skin is closest to you and resign yourself to sleep, lulled into unconsciousness by the steady rhythm of your boyfriend's heart, and the never ending stroke of his three middle fingers between your shoulder blades.

Cm taglist - @mellozhi @aar-0n @spencereidapologist @halamet-chalamet @lubunnii

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key2go · 4 months

Text

Overshare

Summary: Y/n and Spencer spend the night together after a long case. Next day JJ and Penelope hear all about it.

Word Count: 2,147

Warning: implied smut, teasing Spencer, Y/n being a chronic over sharer, smooth y/n at the end, heavily inspired by Taylor Swift Wildest Dreams

Heavy breathing and moaning filled the air. The couple had been reunited for 4 hours.

First hour was Spencer watching Y/n work about within her bookstore. The store Dreamy Books was closing for the night at 11 o’clock. After Spencer had gotten back to the BAU and filled out as much paperwork as he could before he left to meet up with his girlfriend.

He called her and was told to go home and that she’ll meet him there if he wanted, only for him to refuse and show up at the store anyways. Y/n greeted him anyways and continued to close down for the night, saying goodbye to her employees and reshelving any stray books.

The next hour they went to get dinner and head home, Thai being one of the only things that sounded good. And once they reached home, the two of them had set up to eat. Spence went and showered and Y/n set up their plates.

They spent another hour eating and catching up on TV or what they had been doing. Y/n was doing most of the talking since Spencer didn’t want to talk about his case, claiming that it was a bad one.

She mainly talked about business and having a friend's date with Penny and Jen. Spencer listened intently, happy to be home with his Y/n. His gaze was loving and longing, the unsub’s victims had looked like Y/n. It didn’t help that he could only call her at night, so he would worry all day. Spencer’s smart mind loved to play tricks on him, making him think that all the women were her.

Y/n had reached across the table, grabbed his hand. She saw the far away look in his eyes like he was lost within his head. “Honey? Are you there?”

Her voice was sweet, loving, something that he was all too familiar with. He squeezed her hand, coming back to the present.

“Yeah, I’m here.” Spencer responded, glad to have his rock with him. He tried to sound convincing but it didn’t work. Y/n had gotten up and walked towards him.

Spencer followed her with his eyes, she ran her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp, making him hum in approval. He leaned into her touch, allowing Y/n to pull him into her.

His sitting height makes him tall enough to have his head within her breast. Spence inhaled her scent, missing the sweet smell of her perfume. She knew that the case seemed to hit a little close to home.

“As long as you’re out there taking down the bad guys, I’ll be safe.” Y/n reassured. Knowing particularly hard cases left him spaced. Away from reality, away from her.

She tilted his head up, meeting each other’s gaze. Spencer’s gaze held love but now they held lust. Being away from his love made him want her even more.

Y/n’s eyes mimicked his own. She leaned down and kissed him, the first was sweet. The next was also sweet but it had a need. A need that was not ignored.

Spencer grabbed onto her waist, pulling her onto his lap. He was not going to let go, not for a while.

The last hour was spent within the bed. Both of them satisfying the need that had built.

Y/n and Spencer had laid together wrapped up in each other's arms. Spencer had his head resting on Y/n’s chest, softly kissing against her skin.

“Careful now, you might get me going again.” The tease was clear as day within Y/n’s voice. They both knew that they were too tired to have another round.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Spencer replied, his kisses didn’t cease, but they stayed away from her sweet spots. He was tired, he wanted to just fall asleep within her arms for as long as possible.

Y/n kissed his head and continued to get comfy, she was glad that her Spencer is home. Glad that her bed is warm with his body in it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning light shone through, the sage curtains still being drawn open from the day before. Spencer shifted in his position, not welcoming the sunlight. He reached towards Y/n, wanting to cuddle some more before the both of them had to start their day.

As his hand patted slightly warm sheets he rose his head and watched as Y/n applied light make up in the bathroom connected within the master bedroom.

“Hey baby. I tried to be as quiet as possible, hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, it was the sun. Where are you going?” Spencer asked, raising slightly.

“Brunch with Jen and Penny. They were able to spare an hour or two before heading to work and Sophie is opening the store so I can be a little late.” Y/n rubbed her lips together after applying a gloss. She turned towards Spencer and smiled.

He smiled in return, taking in her pretty appearance. Y/n had kneeled on the bed and kissed Spencer three times before leaning back and grabbing her phone on the bedside table.

“I’ll give you a text when I get there and when I head to the store.” Y/n offered, knowing how paranoid Spence can be. A lot of the victims that he’s seen have been plucked off the streets, he didn’t want that to be her.

“Okay, I’ll text you when I get into the BAU.” Spencer replied. As much as he wanted Y/n safe, she wanted him equally as safe.

Y/n grinned at his response and grabbed her purse. “Okay, I love you and I’ll see you tonight.”

“I love you more.”

Y/n blew him a kiss and walked out, Spencer had caught it as he watched her go. He listened to the front door shut and then laid himself back down.

Spence checked the time before closing his eyes. He didn’t need to be in the BAU until noon and it was only 10. He closed his eyes wanting to get a little more sleep before having to get up and start his day officially.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n had walked into the small cafe and saw the two blondes at a table waiting for her arrival. Y/n thought she was late seeing that the two were already there.

“Oh, am I late?” Y/n asked, her voice sounding upset.

“No you're not late, we had just got here. Penelope was first I think.” JJ said. Having known Y/n the longest, the woman’s distaste for being late is something she’s always had.

“Oh good.” Y/n’s charming smile returned as she placed her purse on her chair and went to give each woman a hug. Penelope’s happy smile reflected her own as the two embraced. A squeeze and a sway was how they hugged. The two giggly at their reunion.

Y/n switched to JJ, careful of the baby bump that’s forming. The two shared a happy hug before the h/c moved to her seat across from them.

The girls chatted happily about many things from Penelope’s knitting projects to JJ’s baby and how her and Will are doing as well as Penelope and Kevin.

With the conversation of relationships in the air, both women turned toward Y/n and began the questions.

“So you mentioned that you started seeing someone a while back,” JJ leaded, making Y/n aware of what they wanted to ask. “What’s he like? Where’d you meet?”

“Is he good?”

“He’s kind and smart. We actually met at my store, he wanted to try something new, something he’s never read before. So I gave him a fantasy.” Y/n recounted a smile on her face when she remembered Spencer walking in looking lost and flustered. “He finished it in a day. I was so surprised.”

The FBI agents listened intently to Y/n as she talked. Her happy smile made the two women smile in return. As JJ listened she remembered Spencer reading something during a small break. It was almost like he was drawn to it.

“Awe, that's so cute. It sounds like a romance book.” Penelope cooed, but her previous question was unanswered and she was not going to give up that easily. “But is he good?”

Y/n had intentionally ignored Penny. She didn’t want to share too much, but her persistence was annoying and admiral. Y/n flushed a little before she searched for an explanation that could satisfy Penny’s curiosity.

“Well I’d say he’s real good.” Y/n grinned giddily, still slightly flushed. “We had spent the night together. His hands were in my hair, his clothes were in my room.”

“No way!” Penelope squealed. It sounded just like a romance novel and Penelope wanted to get her hands on it ASAP.

JJ listened intently, always wanting to know the latest gossip. She listened as Y/n described her boyfriend, disregarding the sexual details. Even though JJ isn’t a trained profiler, she can put things together.

And what she found was equivalent to gold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JJ and Penelope arrived at the BAU around the same time. Both of them discussed what had occurred at brunch, especially since the topic of their discussion had walked right into the bullpen just as they did.

Spencer walked into the BAU looking at his phone. A smile playing onto his lips, he was texting a reply before putting his phone away. He looked up as he walked towards his desk. He felt the eyes on him only to see JJ and Penelope looking at him.

His eyebrows frowned before he kept moving. Spencer became comfortable within his desk ready to do a work day. However, before he could even get his coffee JJ and Penelope had swarmed his desk. This caught the attention of Emily and Derek who were actually working.

“Hey Penelope, didn’t you have fun at brunch today?” JJ asked, she was baiting him, seeing if he’ll put everything together himself.

“You know what JJ I really did. Especially since we got to meet up with Y/n after so long.” Penelope said, playing along.

It seemed to be working, Spencer’s head popped up at the mention of his girlfriend's name. He didn’t want to be so obvious but his mind worked faster than most, maybe even too fast.

“Me too. And isn’t it great that the guy she’s seeing is so kind.” JJ continued, noticing Spencer’s change in posture.

“She said ‘kind and smart’. That they met at her book store, isn’t that romantic.” Penelope recounted.

Spencer now knew. He knew that the names of Jen and Penny were nicknames (like he suspected) and those nicknames were for Jennifer aka JJ and Penelope. His co-workers. His girlfriend’s best friend’s were his co-workers and he never knew.

“Plus she said that he was good.” JJ teased. Spencer flushed, Y/n had a bit of a problem with oversharing. Not that he personally minded but when it came to others he preferred she’d at least keep some information to herself.

“Yeah, they spent the night together too.” Penelope continued to tease. She saw his flustered appearance. Derek and Emily had caught on already. They watched with amusement as JJ and Penelope teased the kid genius.

This was way better than paperwork.

“What did she say exactly?” Emily asked. She wanted to see how far this will go before he cracked.

“‘His hands were in her hair. His clothes were in her room’.” JJ recited. Spencer’s flustered expression had grown even more. At this moment, he wanted to have never left Y/n’s apartment. That the two of them spent the day together instead of doing anything else.

“What else did she say?” Derek prodded, amusement clear on his face.

Before anything else could be revealed about himself Spencer spoke, “What was discussed between JJ, Penelope and my girlfriend should be private. So let’s leave it at that.”

His tone was snippy, wanting to stop everything. The group laughed at his response, knowing he meant no harm. JJ and Penelope gave him a small squeeze of the shoulder and uttered an apology for the teasing.

Spence waved them off before pulling out his phone and texting the topic of his teasing.

‘I love you so much but do you always talk about our private life with your friends?’ After he hit send, a reply came within 3 minutes.

‘Sorry my love :( ’ Before he could reply another text was sent.

‘But at least everyone knows you’re my handsome man ;) ’

Spencer grinned and sighed lovingly at his girlfriend’s message, making the teasing almost worth it. His phone buzzed again and in came one more text, one that left him smiling for the rest of the day.

‘You’re something I’ll relieve constantly, like a wildest dream.

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