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#the bau are idiots
mywilltodie · 11 months
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Rossi : Why are you like this ?!?
Prentiss : Becouse I have the Survial Skills of a Suicide Bomber.
Rossi :.....what?
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Hotch: *walks into JJ's old office to see Emily lying on a table and half of the bau office (not just the team) gathered around her dressed in black*
Hotch: What. Is happening?
Reid: We are recreating Emilys funeral for those who weren't there
Hotch:
Hotch: *quits*
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The year your turn eleven, everything goes to shit.
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goldenphoenix4 · 1 month
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bau squabbling like a family playing monopoly pt. 2
morgan, on the phone to garcia: just leave it alone until i get there
*garcia gives an unintelligible yet certainly bratty response*
morgan: hey- hey! hardhead, don't make me spank you when i get back
reid: don't listen to him, garcia! he's all talk!
*morgan hits reid on the back of the head*
reid: jj, he just hit me!
jj, preoccupied by case files: boys, behave, or i will ground you both
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cupidddd-d · 9 months
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fic where spencer & reader are both bi?? i never see bi spencer fics w/ fem reader :))
love your fics sm!! ty <3
hii!! tysm i'm so glad you love my fics!! sorry it took so long to answer, i've js been trying to get out of my writing slump :( but here it is i hope you like it!! so i introduce to you....
hey lol (with rizz)
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maturing was realizing that you were completely infatuated with spencer reid. and maturing was also realizing that helping each other pick up cute guys and girls together was definitely not going to help you rizz him up. which meant, as a whole, that maturing was realizing you needed to find a new way to bond with spencer.
because you had to admit, it was starting to hurt a little bit to watch spencer fall in love with all the men and women you would introduce to him (you were just a little too good at matchmaking).
and you felt a little bad for spencer, who spent most of his free time finding you possible dating candidates all around the country (the man was literally looking for your possible significant others as he was solving murder cases!) he seriously needed a break, especially considering how all of his work was for naught-- you were already in love with him.
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"so...spencer, i was thinking about changing up our location a little bit," you suggested as you gestured around the cafe the two of you frequented.
"i agree. i think broadening our horizons will allow us to widen our possible dating pool." spencer agreed. "perhaps a larger cafe?"
you cleared your throat nervously. "uh, actually...i was thinking maybe a nice restaurant? ju-just you and me, maybe mariano's on 32nd street? i hear they're having a couple's special."
spencer blinked. once. twice. you were getting anxious for him to respond, and frankly, you were ready to dive under the hardwood floors to never be seen again.
"what?" spencer blinked again.
you were internally screaming, crying, throwing up, ripping your hair out, and punching the wall. you really shouldn't have brought this up. you waited all this time for him to respond just for him to say 'what'???
you licked your lips and took a deep breath, steeling your nerves. "i guess i should rephrase that. do you want to just go on a date, you and me?"
you hoped he couldn't see that you were starting to sweat a little bit. was the cafe getting hotter?
"but...i thought we were spending all this time together to find partners for each other. i didn't know you felt this way." spencer said slowly.
what was that supposed to mean?? was he happy about you inviting him out or not?? you were already in too deep to take back your words, so the only way left to go was forward.
"i mean, yes, but during that time, i may have realized that your search was fruitless, because i already um...want...to date you?" you squinted at the end of your sentence,
spencer's cheeks blushed red. he looked pretty like that, and you were happy to have been the one to make him blush. "you....like me?"
you were starting to feel a hot flush start crawling up your cheeks too. "well...yeah. that's the thing i've been trying to tell you about this whole conversation. i want to go out with you. but if you don't want to, that's totally okay too. i don't want to pressure you or anything, but i just want to tell you that i do like you."
and it was then that you felt like you were about to faint. maybe it was just the stress of that whole conversation. or maybe it was the pink flush in spencer's cheeks, the slow smile spreading across his face, and the happiness in his lovely, lovely eyes.
"yes."
it was just that one word that made everything shine so much brighter. "okay, so um...mariano's on 32nd?"
spencer pressed his lips together to force his smile down. "yeah, that sounds great. friday at 5?"
you felt a matching smile creep onto your face. "i'd love that."
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js some fluff for the kids because the next spencer reid fic coming out won't be a happy one :)
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aperrywilliams · 2 years
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Birthday Wish (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)
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(Not my gif. Credit to the creator)
Author Masterlist
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.
Summary: Being in love with your best friend sometimes leads you to test the limits. Maybe you’re not as much in the friend zone as you thought.
Word Count: 4.7k
Warnings: This one is a softy. Tits are mentioned once (as a joke), and a boner is mentioned once, too (not explicit).
A/N: This one is about typical friends in love. I’m a sucker for that trope, and I’m sorry (no, I’m not sorry). Do you want to be added to the taglist? Go HERE
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*Reader’s POV*
Being in love with your best friend seems like a typical rom-com trope. I knew that. But not falling for Spencer wasn’t an option for me. I never stood a chance of thwarting that.
He’s sweet and handsome. By far, the most fascinating and intelligent guy I have known.
Maybe his social skills don’t go too far, but neither do mine. I guess that’s one of the reasons why we find a connection so quickly.
I joined the team four years ago and have been in love with Spencer since three.
My feelings have not gone unnoticed. By now, I think the whole team knows, except for Spencer himself.
Sometimes it’s hard for me to think he hasn’t realized it yet. Perhaps he is trying to avoid telling me he only sees me as a friend. Maybe the truth is he pretends to be oblivious, so he doesn’t hurt my feelings.
I don’t know what is worst, honestly.
But all the jokes or pep talks from Penelope, Emily, and JJ aside, I can’t bring myself to get my confession out with him.
Right now, I’m in Garcia’s with Prentiss, sharing a bottle of wine as I complain about my bad luck in the love department.
But the ladies don’t give up on me.
“Do what?!” I almost spilled the wine in my mouth at Garcia’s words.
“You did hear me, sugar plump. Just tell him. Boy genius is so oblivious that if you don’t tell him directly, he won’t notice. Unless you shove your tits in front of his face,” Garcia pointed. Emily snorted at the idea.
“Pen! Come on,” I groaned, sipping my wine to hide the crimson tinting my cheeks.
“Actually, it is not a bad option,” Prentiss prompted, backing up Garcia.
“What are you guys talking about? You know I can’t tell him! It would ruin our friendship.”
“You don’t know that!” Garcia squealed.
“Why don’t you test him? So you can be sure about his feelings, uh?” Emily suggested.
“And how do I do that?”
The only thing I thought to do was to tell him some way, but I would never dare to do it at this point.
“Have you flirted with him before? Acting all seductive?” Prentiss questioned. I narrowed my eyes, thinking about what the point was.
“No. Why should I?”
“Oh, come on. Then how do you know Spencer only sees you as a friend if you haven’t tried that yet? I mean, he’s a guy after all,” she shrugged.
I did know that. But it’s Spencer. He’s not like any other guy.
God, they are making me doubt and giving me hope for something I knew was impossible.
“I don’t know, Em. I mean, yeah, I had played the coquette card before but never with Spencer,” I stated, sipping my wine.
“Well, it’s time to try it then,” Garcia put a hand on my shoulder to give seriousness to her statement.
Jeez, what I’m about to do?
The plan was simple. I would start flirting with Spencer at every chance I could have and notice his reaction.
Yeah, very simple. For them, because for me, it was like being another person.
First attempt. One afternoon, I spotted Spencer at his desk with no coffee. Moving faster, I fixed a mug and strolled to him. Setting the item on the desk, he perked up his head to look who had left the precious liquid there.
“Hey, handsome. I thought that beautiful brain of yours could need this,” I said cockily. At the pet name, he narrowed his eyes but smiled nonetheless. It’s not that I never make coffee for him, but I usually just set the cup, point out how exhausted he looks, and leave.
“Uh- thank you.”
What now? Should I make small talk? He’s looking at me as if I want to say something. Shit. What do I do now?
“You’re welcome,” was the only thing I let out, quickly sneaking to the other side of the bullpen. I didn’t dare to look back at him. My cheeks were burning, and I was sure anyone could see it.
I tried again days later. We were in the jet, and I sat in front of Spencer. He was reading a book, and when he noticed my presence, he looked at me with a smile.
Fuck, every time I see that smile, my knees go weak.
“I didn’t see that one before,” I pointed. Spencer checked his outfit to realize I was talking about his purple cardigan.
“Oh, this one. Yeah. It’s new.”
“It looks great on you. It’s a color that suits you, you know?” I complimented, winking at him.
Spencer frowned with his cheeks a tint of pink.
“Thank you. I guess the others don’t look too good then,” Spencer deduced.
My eyes widened at the implication.
“No. No. No. That wasn’t what I wanted to say. I mean, you look good in every outfit. No matter what you wear, you’re attractive nonetheless.”
What am I saying, for the love of God!
“It’s not that I think you’re attractive. I mean, you clearly are. But it’s not what I notice about you all the time.”
Spencer tried to follow my speech as I stumbled over my words, but he seemed confused. I couldn’t blame him.
“Uh, I think I need to check the files from this case. Sorry.” I said as I hastened to move to the other side of the jet, hiding my face behind a manila folder.
I tried a few more times, but it was a waste of time. Every flirtatious comment or compliment didn’t have the desired effect. Spencer would be thinking I’m weird by now. And he would be right because I do feel weird.
-
“What do you mean by touching him?”
“Like something he could notice as different. Little touches, something subtle but he can Feel,” Emily suggested when I recounted my previous unsuccessful shots.
It seemed a bad idea, but I was already into this. And I must admit I was curious to know what Spencer was thinking.
It’s not that I didn’t touch him before, but I always do it with a friendly hug or squeezing his shoulder or arm.
Risky? Yes. But what could I lose? Besides embarrassing myself in front of Spencer and ending up being the idiot in love with her best friend who gets rejected by him.
We were on a case in Texas. Hotch assigned Spencer and me to the geographic profile. We were alone in the meeting room working. When he was drawing lines on the map, I subtly brushed his hand with mine pointing to some streets. He didn’t notice, so I did it again some minutes later.
“So what about these?” I asked. Spencer went silent for a couple of seconds before clearing his throat.
Shit. He noticed. Was he annoyed?
“Uh - yeah. It could be,” Spencer mumbled.
Was he nervous? Fuck. I couldn’t decipher his body language—what a waste of profiler I am.
Still, if I couldn’t know what was in Spencer’s mind, I knew my advances didn’t go unnoticed.
I confirmed it one afternoon when he left the precinct for a witness interview, and I needed to fill him with some last info. Without other thought, I ran and stopped him grabbing his hand.
I could feel how he froze on the spot before turning to see me.
His eyes darted to my hand holding his. Out of instinct, I retreated mine, blushing furiously.
His mouth opened and closed several times before saying a word.
“Is - uh. Is something wrong?” He asked, confused.
“Uh- sorry. It’s about Robertson’s daughter,” I clarified quickly so the awkward moment could be forgotten soon.
And so on. I think I lost count of the times I did things like that in the following weeks, and I only got a nervous Spencer and nothing in conclusion. Or rather, a single one conclusion: I was making things odd between us. Now it was common to see him stutter and blush around me.
Our movie nights turned kind of awkward too. Several times I could see Spencer inspecting me from the corner of my eyes. But he never said anything. Anything at all.
I was so frustrated that my only explanation was I fell into the friend zone for the rest of eternity.
Garcia, Prentiss, and JJ didn’t know how to cheer me up.
The idea of ​​a girls’ night came up, but I wasn’t really in the mood. Also, my birthday was just some weeks ahead, and I wasn’t in a celebration spirit this year.
“Nope. We are not going to let you get all blue for love. If he didn’t do anything for you at this point, it’s because he doesn’t deserve you. You will celebrate your birthday, and you will have a great time. We’re going to take care of that,” Penelope stated. Emily and JJ nodded in agreement. And even if I didn’t like the idea, I had no energy to argue with them.
To say that Garcia got away organizing my birthday is nothing next to all that fact entailed. First, she convinced me to have a party in a fancy club in DC, where she rented a VIP area. Also, she invited the entire sixth floor of the FBI headquarters. Finally, with the girls’ help, she made sure I chose the sexiest outfit in my wardrobe.
Although initially I felt a little overwhelmed, later I said to myself, ‘what the hell?’
I deserved to have fun and enjoy the night.
With Spencer or without him there.
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*Spencer’s POV*
Clubs have never been my scene. It’s weird to say it in that way. Not that I have a ‘scene’ I feel comfortable with. I just like simple things. Reading a book or watching a movie with (Y/N) it’s enough for me.
But tonight I had to be here. It’s (Y/N)’s birthday, and for some reason, she wanted to celebrate in a club.
I should recognize that she’s been acting weird lately, and I don’t know why. Complimenting me for almost anything I say or do and asking me random questions she had never asked. Telling jokes I could not understand, using pet names with me that she had never used before.
She even has touched me more than she usually does.
It’s not that bothers me—quite the opposite. I like having her close. We have been friends for a long time, and how can I explain it? I think I have feelings for her. I mean, she is amazing. How could I not have feelings for her?
Okay. Did I say feelings? Understatement of the century. I love her. That’s it. I am utterly in love with her. That’s the painful truth. Yeah, in love with my best friend.
The worst part is that I know she doesn’t feel the same. And despite Morgan’s encouragement, I know I don’t stand a chance with her.
How do I know that? It’s easy. For someone as unique as she, I’m just friend material.
That’s why I feel confused about the past weeks. Is (Y/N) acting weird because she knows I love her? And she doesn’t know how to react? Is she trying to be polite, giving me more attention before crushing my heart forever?
It’s painful. Being so close to her and couldn’t do anything about it. It’s so pathetic that my mind started to play tricks on me. Every word, every touch of hers sends to my body waves of electricity that I misread like mutual attraction.
God, I’m doomed to be the eternal friend in love.
But like a good friend, I’m in this club, enduring Morgan’s teasing.
“C’mon, pretty boy. You should tell her. All that you already told me? I think it is a good sign. She likes you back,” Derek insisted for the umpteenth time.
“No, Morgan. I know I’m misinterpreting the whole thing. She only sees me as a friend,” I clarified, sipping my scotch.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Reid. Why is it so difficult to believe that she could like you back?”
“Because she doesn’t. Period. And please, I don’t want to keep talking about it,” I grumbled. Morgan held up his hands in surrender.
“Okay. Okay. Don’t get mad at me. I’m just saying that-” He trailed off as his eyes got lost in something happening behind me.
“Wow,” Morgan exhaled, now openly focusing on the entrance. I turned to see what caught his attention, and I saw her.
I think my heart stopped for a couple of seconds.
She looked so stunning walking into the club. I’m sure my head started to spin.
Don’t get me wrong. For me, (Y/N) is always the most beautiful girl in the room. Gorgeous. Flawless.
But tonight, I was dazzled by her. And I don’t think that was the perfect word to describe it, honestly.
Dressed in a tight black dress with a revealing neckline, she pared the outfit with heels that spotlighted her legs - legs I shouldn’t be looking so focused.
Once she spotted us, a warm smile formed on her lips. God, those lips. They were tinted in dark red lipstick.
“Man, you have to make a move on her. You are going to lose your chance if you don’t,” Derek advised. He was right, but how could I? I didn’t want to be rejected. Not by her.
“Hey guys,” she greeted.
“Hey, little mama. Happy birthday!” Morgan cheered, hugging her.
I was so dumbfounded that I thought I could faint.
“I’m happy you could make it,” she said, now looking at me, arms open for a hug.
Did she really want to see me there? Sure, you foolish. You’re her friend. But remember, just her friend.
“Of course. I couldn’t miss your birthday party. Happy birthday, by the way,” I responded, hugging her tightly.
It was true; I needed to be there even if my mind wandered about her having fun with other people who weren’t me.
Am I a masochistic bastard? Yes. I am.
“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” she thanked me once we parted from our embrace.
I could have melted on the spot just from that couple of seconds in her arms.
Get your shit together, Reid.
Before I could say anything else, the rest of the team approached to welcome the birthday girl.
********
*Reader’s POV*
I tried not to focus so hard on Spencer. I tried. But he looked so good that my eyes couldn’t stop darting to him. When I entered the club, he and Morgan were the first ones I greeted, but for some reason, Spencer looked tense. Indeed, he looked tense most of the night. I intended not to think too hard about that, so I decided to have fun. It was my birthday. Right?
But I couldn’t stop wondering whether tonight would be even better if I could hang out with him like we were a couple. Being able to hug him lovingly and kiss him. God, how I wish I could kiss this man. Unfortunately, the reality was different. And that birthday wish would never come true in my life.
Assuming my defeat, I tried to take Penelope’s advice, and after ordering a few drinks, I headed out to the dance floor with the girls. Derek was the only one who followed us and started dancing with us.
Spencer sat in the booth, nursing a glass of whiskey. After a while, I stopped looking at him and began to feel the eyes of several men. It was strange because I don’t particularly appreciate having so much attention on me, but it felt good now. It felt good to be admired and noticed. Something I wish I had from someone else, but hey, that’s the way it is.
As the night progressed, my feet started to hurt. Dancing wasn’t something I liked too much, but liquor encouragement helped. At some point, I needed a break, so I headed to the bar to grab a drink.
Waiting for the barman to give me my tequila, I spotted Spencer in the same booth he was in before. He was alone, focused on his empty glass. I felt kind of bad because it was clear he wasn’t having fun. I knew Spencer doesn’t like clubs. I’m not too fond of clubs as well, but I gave in on Pen’s idea. After asking the barman for another drink, I strolled to where Spencer was, settling a scotch on the table for him and my tequila.
“Maybe you need this,” I pointed. Spencer looked at me and chuckled.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, grabbing the glass and sipping.
“Do you mind if I join?” I asked cautiously. It wasn’t my intention to mess with him. I already assumed my defeat.
“Of course not. Please.” he gestured to the seat. “Having fun?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I responded. Not so convincing, though. “And you?”
“Same,” he replied, darting his eyes to his glass.
Why didn’t he want to look at me anymore? Why was everything so awkward between us now? I hated this and didn’t know how to fix it. I should never have listened to the girls with this. But the damage was done, and I had to clear things up with Spencer.
I took a deep breath and jumped into the void.
“What’s wrong, Spencer? Did I do something bad to you?”
Spencer’s eyes snapped from his glass to me.
“What? No!” He squealed.
“So what happens? I see you constantly nervous around me, and we don’t talk like we used to. Please tell me if I did something wrong so I can fix it. I miss you,” I recognized, feeling my eyes going glassy.
“Trust me. You haven’t done anything wrong. Seriously,” Spencer stated. I frowned, not quite believing what he was saying.
“But something is up. Are you okay? Can I help you? You know you can trust me.” I insisted.
Spencer sighed as if he was looking for the right words to say.
“It’s just- uh. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m sorry,” he acknowledged, shooking his head.
“Hey, you can tell me,” I encouraged, scooting to his side and squeezing his forearm to reassure him.
Spencer’s eyes met mine, and we stared for a few seconds. I was hoping he could say what was in his head, but I could only watch as he began to shudder and stutter. I could swear I saw him turn white, even in the club’s darkness.
“Are you okay? You look pale,” I pointed, now touching his forehead.
Spencer’s eyes widened.
“Me? Oh, no, no. I’m okay. Uh, it just- uh, maybe the alcohol makes me feel dizzy?” And without prompting, he stood from his seat. I looked at him for some clarification.
“Spencer?”
“Uh- I think I need some air. I’m sorry.” He apologized, walking away in the exit direction.
If I was confused at the beginning, now it was worse.
Besides losing the chance to have the man of my dreams, I had now lost my best friend. Great!
What else could go wrong tonight? Wiping away the tears beginning to fall from my eyes, I finished drinking my tequila before heading back to where the rest of the team was.
What did it matter if my feet hurt? Maybe swapping one pain for another might do the trick.
********
*Spencer’s POV*
I was feeling dizzy, but the alcohol did nothing to do with that. It was because of her so close to me.
Smelling her perfume only made things worse. My thoughts wandered to scenarios where I could get lost in her fragrance, smelling every portion of her skin. God, if only I had the chance, I swear I would worship every part of her like the deity she is.
Those lewd thoughts made me so bothered that I could barely conceal the heat running through my body. Suddenly my pants felt embarrassingly tighter.
And then she asked me what was wrong. Fuck, she noticed, and now she wanted to know. I couldn’t admit the truth. I couldn’t say it when I was feeling the way I did.
I had to get out of there before I made a fool of myself. Without warning, I jumped from my seat.
“Spencer?”
“Sorry. I - uh. I need some air. I’m sorry,” I stuttered as I struggled to move to the exit.
The cold outside helped calm me down but, at the same time, made me realize what I had just done. I practically ran away, leaving (Y/N) possibly confused and upset.
I screwed it up.
I thought about going home. I didn’t dare go back to the club to explain something I didn’t even know how to explain.
I’m a fucking coward. That was the right moment to say everything. To confess my love.
Defeated, I sat on the sidewalk to lament my lack of courage while I saw couples making out around me.
I owed her an explanation. At this point, I didn’t know which was better, so I stood outside the club waiting for the first thing to happen: see her or freeze to death.
The cold was nothing compared to my regret. While in my head, I tried to think of what to say to her. Just in case she walked out that door. I was about to give up and go home.
Then I heard her voice.
“Spencer? I thought you left.”
I quickly got up from the sidewalk, brushing the dirt off my pants.
“Uh – well, I needed some air,” I repeated the same thing I said before.
“But it’s freezing here, and it’s been at least an hour,” she pointed, checking her watch.
“Kind of. But I’m okay. Are you leaving? It’s still early,” I asked, with my hands stuffed in my pockets.
“I - uh. Yeah. I know.”
There was something on her face that I didn’t expect to see. It wasn’t anger, and it wasn’t confusion. It was sadness. It broke my heart to notice it. She looked sad on the night she was supposed to enjoy and be happy. Was it my fault? I didn’t want to be self-centered, but I guess my erratic behavior wasn’t helping the cause.
Spencer Reid, you must apologize.
“I want to say I’m sorry. We were talking, and I just stood and left. It wasn’t right,” I said, taking a step closer. (Y/N) shook her head.
“It’s okay. I know I’ve made you uncomfortable,” she shrugged, playing with her purse’s strap.
“What? No! What do you mean?” I hastened to refute.
She did nothing incorrect. It’s been only me acting like an idiot all the time!
“Spencer, please don’t make me say it,” she grumbled, averting her gaze.
To say what exactly? Now, this was getting confusing for me.
“I’m sorry, but I’m lost. You did nothing wrong there,” I assured her.
“So why you left?”
“Uh. Well, I - I was-”
“Uncomfortable. I know,” she insisted.
“Yeah, but that was nothing to do with-” I tried to explain.
“I shouldn’t have listened to the girls,” she said under her breath, but I heard it.
“What?”
She sighed, a sad smile forming on her lips.
“What I have been doing in the past weeks. The flirting. All of it. I’m so stupid. I just thought- I don’t know.” My eyes widened. Wait, she said flirt?
“It’s silly. I’m sorry. But don’t worry, I won’t do it again,” she apologized, turning to walk away.
“(Y/N), wait!”
I stopped her holding her wrist gently. She turned to look at me again. Her cheeks were flushed red. I didn’t know if it was a mixture of cold or mortification.
“You – you were actually flirting with me?” I questioned, looking into her eyes.
“Spencer, please don’t play games with me. I’m really not in the mood,” she complained.
“I’m honestly asking. I don’t want to annoy you. Were you consciously flirting with me?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to determine if my question was genuine.
“Yes. That’s not the reason why you were awkward?” She asked, frowning.
“I mean, yeah. But because I thought it was my brain playing tricks. Why in the earth would you want to flirt with me?” I clarified. She scoffed.
“Are you kidding me right now? Spencer, I - ” she paused, looking afraid of what she wanted to say.
I expectantly waited for her to continue.
“Fuck it,” she cursed under her breath before looking into my eyes. “I’m in love with you. I think I have been from the moment I met you. It’s just that I admitted it to myself four years ago.”
“You- in love – with me?”
I think I might have passed out right then and there.
I was not giving credit to what I was hearing. Not in my wildest dreams would I have expected it.
“Yeah. And I didn’t know if I was misinterpreting our friendship. So I wanted to see if you felt something, but I ruined it. I know you don’t feel the same,” she lamented, with tears running down her cheeks.
“What? No! What are you talking about? It’s the opposite, actually!” I hastened to say.
I was ready to shout it from the rooftops.
“How is that?”
With a big smile on my lips, I took her hands in mine and squeezed them. She looked at me strangely.
“I love you. I fucking love you! Since- I don’t know – forever? Maybe the day you passed the glass doors in the bullpen for the first time. But I never dared to say anything because I thought you only saw me as a friend. And I was willing to live with that only to have you in my life,” I confessed.
She squeezed her eyes, trying to make sense of my words.
“Are you really...?”
“Yes! In love with you. Completely, body and soul. I swear,” I acknowledged, bringing one of her hands to my lips to kiss her knuckles.
“Fuck Spencer. I didn’t say anything either because I was sure she didn’t stand a chance with you!” She squealed.
“What good profilers we are, right,” I joked. She laughed.
Without complaining, I could feed on that laugh alone for the rest of my life.
Our eyes met again, and I swear I saw sparks coming out of them.
“God, you are so beautiful. You’re perfect,” I mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She blushed, looking down.
“Don’t say that. I’m far from that.”
I put my fingers under her chin to bring her gaze back to me, softly stroking her cheek with my thumb.
“No. You are. You are the kindest woman I know. So brave and smart. Always willing to help and listen. So funny, sexy, and gorgeous. I almost faint seeing you tonight, you know?”
She giggled as her hands rested on my chest.
“It’s good to know I can make you nervous for that reason and not because I’m freaking you out,” she pointed. I chuckled.
“You could never freak me out. I swear,” I declared, still stroking her cheeks and never breaking eye contact. She bit her bottom lip and then sighed.
“I didn’t think this was ever possible. Much less did I think it would be possible tonight,” she acknowledged. I narrowed my eyes.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, wrapping my arms around her shoulders.
“That this looks like a lot like my birthday wish,” she explained.
“Oh yeah? Does it look alike? What it’s missing to be the same as your birthday wish?” I questioned.
“The kissing part,” she giggled. I chuckled—God, how I love this woman.
“Don’t worry; we can fix it.”
Cupping her cheeks, I leaned to brush my lips tentatively over hers. Her arms flew to wrap around my neck as we started to kiss properly. It wasn’t long before our kiss deepened, and we openly started making out outside the club.
Her lips were on mine. It felt like heaven. If it was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up.
But the best thing? I knew it was real.
We had nothing to envy of the couples that were around us. This one was our bubble. One that took us too long to fall into, but I never want to get out of again.
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rebel-ezra · 9 months
Text
sometimes you just gotta binge watch a crime show and say "I would never do that" every time the victim does something stupid
2 notes · View notes
headkiss · 4 months
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something more
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pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader
summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.
word count: 6.6k
warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!
a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily
Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.
Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.
Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.
He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.
Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.
It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.
Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.
Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.
“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.
Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”
“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.
“I should really get this done-”
“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”
With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.
That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.
“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.
“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.
“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”
Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”
He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’
“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”
“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”
He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.
“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”
You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.
“Okay, put me to work, boss.”
“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.
“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”
Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.
He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.
Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.
Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.
As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.
When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”
Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.
“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.
“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”
Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.
In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.
“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”
“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”
“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”
JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.
You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.
-
Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.
You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.
It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.
You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.
Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.
The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.
“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.
“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.
“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”
And he still wanted to check on you.
“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”
“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.
“Get in here, Hotchner.”
You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.
So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.
Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.
You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.
Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.
“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”
He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.
He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”
You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.
“Who taught you that one, huh?”
“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”
“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”
He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.
During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.
“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.
“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.
“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”
And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.
By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.
“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”
“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.
On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.
You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”
You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.
Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.
You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.
In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”
“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.
“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.
This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.
He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.
-
The flight home from a case always feels the longest.
On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,
Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.
If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.
You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.
The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.
Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.
“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.
You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.
“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”
“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”
“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”
“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.
“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”
“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”
You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.
You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.
He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.
It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.
Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.
When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”
His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.
He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”
You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.
When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.
Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.
Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.
Hopeless, she thinks.
Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.
It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.
“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.
“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”
Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.
It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.
Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.
He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.
“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”
“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.
“We fell asleep, but we landed.”
“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”
“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”
Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.
-
You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.
It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.
That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.
Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.
You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.
“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”
Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”
He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.
“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”
Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.
“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”
“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”
“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”
Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.
“Really?”
“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“
“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”
When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.
He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.
You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.
Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.
You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.
You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.
As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.
“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.
He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.
“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”
“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”
“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.
“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.
“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.
On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.
“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”
Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”
He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.
He likes that idea, too.
Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”
First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”
Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.
“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.
“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.
“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”
Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.
And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.
-
You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.
You guess that this time might be up for debate.
When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.
Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.
“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”
“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”
“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.
In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.
So, your instincts weren’t so bad.
Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.
After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.
It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.
He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.
By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.
Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.
His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.
Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.
“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.
You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.
“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”
For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”
The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.
The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”
His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.
“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”
Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.
Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.
“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”
“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”
One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.
“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.
“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”
“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”
“If you say so, Hotchner.”
He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.
“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”
“Learned from the best,” you say.
You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.
Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”
Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”
Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”
-
+1
Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.
When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.
This year, you’re on a mission to change that.
While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.
You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.
Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.
Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.
While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.
“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”
Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”
You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.
“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”
He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.
Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”
For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.
No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.
So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.
You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.
Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.
When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.
“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.
Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.
“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”
Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.
“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”
Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.
It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.
His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.
You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.
It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.
When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.
“It’s perfect,” he says.
The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”
Similar words come from the rest of the team.
“Finally,” from Emily.
“About time,” from JJ.
“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.
A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.
Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.
And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.
thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3
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oh... you love me | spencer reid
spencer x fem!bau!reader summary: four times spencer realizes you love him + one time he realizes he loves you back (platonically, of course). genre: fluff! idiots in love! sloow burn with friends to (closer) lovers! warnings: none? i think. a/n: AAA, ngl, i am a little excited abt this one. i really (really really) hope you like it! i am not patient enough to wait until midnight, so here it is! happy valentine's, gorgeous! word count: 3.1k ish series masterlist
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i. (1st) friday.
You had only been on the team for a couple of weeks, but you had treated him with more kindness than he had ever received in his twenty-three years of life. Spencer doesn’t understand you, and he understands almost everything. He doesn’t understand why when your eyes meet, your first instinct is to narrow your gaze at him until both breaks in a smile. He doesn’t understand why you’re willing to listen to him talk about his interests. He doesn’t understand why you don’t shut him up when he goes off on tangents in the profiles. And, above all, he doesn’t understand why your gaze keeps such a warm space for him as if it was reserved.
But, for the first time in his life, he decides that it’s okay to not understand something. It doesn’t really matter. Not when being around you is so easy. His entire existence has felt like a knot too tight. But at your side, it is as if he was made of the softest silk in the world that slides in the elixir of the universe. He looks for you and his heart beats comfortably when he finds you in front of him, as always. Your brow is furrowed as you look through a folder. He decides to go help you.
“Hi,” he breathes, sitting on the edge of your desk. He puts his hands in his pockets so they don't stay hanging.
“Spencer,” you grin at him.
“You need help?” he asks, nodding towards the manila folder in your hands.
“Oh, no, don’t worry about it,” you quickly assure. “Besides, I don’t want Hotch to call you out again for helping me.”
Spencer just shakes his head. He doesn’t mind Hotch. No, if it means he can help you. “It was nothing,” he says, shrugging. He wavers, getting back on his feet. “Uhm- alright, I’ll let you work, then.”
“Wait!” you say, looking for something inside your bag. You take out two rectangular papers. “One for you and one for whoever you want. I won this, uh, giveaway for a Russian science fiction festival, but uhm, I didn’t realize the movies weren’t going to be subtitled.” You smile, cheeks hot with embarrassment. “But then I remembered I work with a genius who happens to love sci-fi and knows russian.”
Spencer stares at the tickets in your hand. This, without a doubt, takes the prize for things he doesn’t understand about you. Did you think about him? You not only pay attention to him, but you keep him in mind. Enough to thread his interests with him. Oh. Is he having a panic attack? Or why is his heart making so much noise? Norepinephrine. Dopamine. Serotonin. Cortisol. Oh. The chemicals of love. Is that it? You love... him? (And he loves you back?)
As friends, of course, he thinks a second too late.
“Spencer?” you call him, worry outlining your expression. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable- Sorry. I just- thought you’d wanted to go? It was silly, sorr-“
“No,” he says, perhaps too strong, high-pitched voice. He clears his throat. “No. Sorry. It’s… yeah. I’d love to go. Thank you. But uh…”
You look up at him. Nothing else holds your attention. He can’t take it. He clears his throat again.
“One ticket is enough,” he says. “You- you can use the other one, if you want.” There’s a pause. Your eyes are cautious, like you don’t want to misunderstand him. “I- I can whisper the translations of the movies for you. If you want.”
Oh, God. Why’d he say that. He’s going to ruin this friendship before it can properly start-
“I’d love to, Spencer,” you beam.
He lets out a shy smile, before finally taking the ticket out of your hand, which is now resting on your lap. He doesn’t think it too much and leans in to reach it. He reads the day: Friday, eight pm.
“Reid,” Hotch says, behind him. Spencer stiffens. “Why aren’t you on your desk?”
ii. chopsticks.
“Ey, ey, ey,” Morgan calls you out. “Not cheating, pretty girl.”
Spencer watches you smile softly as you shrug and he takes the fork you pass him under the table. His fingers brush yours for a few seconds and he is now filled with nervous laughter fighting to get out.
“What do you mean?” you ask Morgan, with trained innocence. “I just went to the bathroom.”
Spencer stares at his plate full of Thai food to avoid the stares of the rest of the team. He doesn't want to face them with blushing cheeks. He replaces his chopsticks with the fork that you just most likely asked for in the kitchen when you “went to the bathroom.” His lungs stutter with emotion every time you make small gestures like these. His big brain doesn't process the efforts you make for him.
“The rubber trick didn’t work out this time?” JJ asks him, her blue eyes catching the soft glam of the lamps in the restaurant.
“Uh, no. It didn’t work last time either,” he shrugs, rolling the noodles up and savoring his first bite of the night.
JJ nods, without saying more. He didn’t mean to, well, be mean. But what if he was? Should he apologize now? Or would that make things worse? He looks at you, searching for comfort, but you avoid his eyes. Oh. How can he managed to make things worse without saying anything? It has to be a special talent being this awkward socially.
When the team’s conversation flows back to normal course, away from his lack of skill with chopsticks, Spencer searches your gaze again. You’re not participating much in the general conversation. And it’s not that you ever talk too much, actually, but you are always engaged-on and laugh at the jokes they make. Spencer ventures out and fumbles for your hand under the table. He finds your knee and he’s mortified that it can make you uncomfortable, so he lets go of it immediately. But then you look at him and offer him a slight smile. Your hand meets his halfway his retreat and you intertwine your fingers with his. The feeling of your palm against his, far from scaring him, reassures him into reality. It makes him self-aware in a nice way. As if he was grateful to be alive for the first time.
“You okay?” Spencer mouths without making a sound.
You nod right away. “Yeah,” you whisper back. “Is your food not good?”
“No, it’s great,” he assures you giving a gentle squeeze to your hand. “Thank you.”
“Well, how can it be a dinner if you don’t eat anything?” you smile, the spark of the joke shining in your eyes.
He softly laughs and nods, bashful. He wants to soak in your affection, even if he doesn’t truly know how to do that.
“Where are your hands, pretty ones?” Morgan then says, with a knowing glance and a smirk blossoming on his face.
iii. hand sanitizer.
You have been called by one of the states with the lowest police budget. The air is warm and dust settles on Spencer’s tongue. The AC smells stale. And the space you’ve been given to work is as small as a single cubicle back in the bullpen. These are difficult conditions for a germaphobe like Spencer. But he is trying to cope.
When Prentiss and Morgan arrive with the takeout, the tiny room immediately fills with burger-flavored steam. Spencer is going to throw up. He slips into the hallway in search of the bathroom. He tries not to think about how little they have to clean it when he sees the tartar accumulated at the base of the sink. He turns the rusty knob, but the water never comes. What. This is it. How they expect him to eat with dirty hands.
He sighs resignedly. His stomach growls, but he ignores it as he walks past the assigned little room. He leaves the precinct and breathes in clean air. He can always eat at the hotel, where there is water. And functional AC. And the atmosphere doesn’t stink of grease and sweat. The door sounds behind him and he turns, ready to explain to Hotch that he’ll be back in a second. But he finds you holding two bags of hamburgers in one hand and two ice cold sodas in the other. He rushes to help you.
“No, wait,” you stop him. You stick out your hip a little. “Beside my badge,” you tell him, “there’s hand sanitizer.”
The relief that runs through him is like a splash of cold water in the middle of this boiling pot of germs. He lifts the hem of your shirt slightly. The cotton feels soft between his fingers. Once the small plastic vase is in sight, he carefully removes it from the buckles of your jeans. Colorless, odorless, and alcohol-free. Spencer might cry. In fact, is he about to do it? His throat closes with emotion. Your affection wraps around him like a damp cloth: refreshing and clean. It’s hard for him to believe that someone could care so much about him.
Your love always takes him by surprise, no matter how long you’ve been friends. He can’t get used to you. Every time he enters the bullpen, it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time (even though you’re the first thing his eyes look for). He doesn’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t know how to explain you. You are that scent that reminds him of home but that he could never describe. You’re that ethereal to him. But you are also kindness materialized. You are gestures full of palpable consideration. Like the gel that he’s consciously sliding between each line of his palms.
“Thank you,” he says, although it’s such a short and meaningless phrase for what he actually wants to say.
“It’s nothing,” you brush off, passing him his burger and soda. “It is pretty crazy to eat with dirty hands, after all. You are just more sane than any of us,” you smile.
He shakes his head, laughing. That’s a first. Him being called more normal because of his phobia of germs, and not a total freak like he’s used to.
“You want to sit down?” Spencer asks you, looking at the edge of the sidewalk with some displeasure. But he can handle it if you prefer to eat sitting down.
“I’m fine,” you assure him, unwrapping your own meal.
“Wait!” he says. He opens the hand sanitizer again. “Your hands, please.”
You smile, amused. “Oh?” you joke. “Are you asking for my hand, Spencer?”
He knows you well enough by now. But he blushes anyway while laughing. “Hands. In plural, angel.”
iv. chocolate donuts.
Spencer has been frowning at the same spot for solid ten minutes.
“Pretty boy,” Morgan calls him. “She’s still not there.”
Spencer snaps back to reality and reluctantly tears his gaze away from your empty desk. “I’m gonna check Garcia’s office.”
“She’s not there either,” Morgan tells him, leaning back in his chair.
“Wh- How do you know that?” Spencer’s expression is near to pouting.
“Babygirl told me. I’ve already asked her,” Morgan shruggs. He’s enjoying this a bit.
“Well,” Spencer sighs in frustration. “Then where is she?”
“Why? Missing her already?” Morgan teases.
Spencer mumbles a shut up under his breath and buries himself in the remaining cases he has to review. Since he woke up, the day has felt against him. He missed his usual train. He doesn’t like the socks he picked out today. His tie is more crooked than normal. His cardigan feels rough. His coffee isn’t sweet enough. And now, you’re not here. He went to the bathroom for a second to splash cold water on his face, and when he came back you were no longer at your desk. Not that he was going to tell you anything important, but seeing you is always a kind of comfort.
He’s about to ignore Morgan and check Garcia’s office anyway when he sees you through the glass doors. He almost jumps from his seat to go meet you, but Morgan’s gaze is insistent enough to save him the guaranteed humiliation. He clears his throat and pretends his desk isn’t right next to Morgan’s.
“Oh, hi,” Spencer casually greets you when you stop by his desk.
Morgan huffs, biting a laugh back.
“Hey,” you answer back, sliding a brown paper bag across his desk.
“Are those…?” he asks, looking at you with stars in his eyes.
“Mhm. Fresh batch and all,” you grin at him.
A few blocks down from the Bureau, there is a bakery that sells the best chocolate donuts. Sometimes you two stretch your lunch time as long as you can and go for a treat. Most of the time it’s just you and him. But other times Penelope comes along. Or JJ. Prentiss, even, if she’s feeling it. But Spencer’s favourite times, he must admit, are when you two are alone.
He opens the bag and immediately the smell of chocolate melts his bad mood. But is that really what disintegrates his heart into a sugary puddle? Or is your detail the responsible? Or are you the reason?
Morgan leans over the cubicle divider and peels a piece of paper from the bag. The color leaves Spencer’s face and he looks at you in panic. You laugh and try to take it from Morgan, taking advantage of your position of standing.
“Uh-oh,” Morgan stands up as well, holding the paper out of your reach. “You guys are passing notes like high-school lovers?”
“High-school lovers?” Prentiss asks, pocking her head out of her cubicle with amusing curiosity.
Spencer is going to die.
“Morgan,” you laugh, shaking your head. “That’s just the receipt.” 
Morgan then looks properly at the piece of paper in his hand. You’re right. He laughs as well.
“But you should have seen the look on Reid’s face,” he jokes, nudging Spencer’s side.
“Here,” you cut him off, giving to him the other brown paper bag. “Take it to Penelope.”
“Alright, alright, mamma,” he rolls his eyes, smiling. “I don’t promise these are gonna make it to her, tho.”
Prentiss is behind him as they come out of the bullpen. “I don’t promise either.”
“You better leave some donuts for Penelope!” you warn, before turning to Spencer with a smile bright as the moon. He smiles back, unable to do anything else.
“Thanks for the donuts. You didn’t have to,” he tells you.
“Of course I had to,” you answer decisively. You take a post-it note out of your pocket. “This one isn’t a receipt.”
Spencer takes the note carefully in his hands. You know Morgan’s right when he calls you pretty boy, don’t you? ;). He laughs and folds the note neatly, so he can keep it forever in his wallet. He looks at you and finally understands that you love him. No, he still doesn’t know how to explain it. But he doesn’t need to. Instead, he takes your hand and tugs it, pulling you towards him. You let out a little sound of surprise. Spencer knows he’s never this affectionate. But maybe he should start being more so. He presses his cheek against your tummy, hugging you around the waist. It takes you a second to get over your surprise, but when you do, you run your fingers through his hair. The hug doesn’t last more than a moment, but the sensation stays with Spencer for the rest of the day. His socks look better, his cardigan is soft again, his coffee is just fine and now he has chocolate donuts. And you’re back at your desk. Today turned out well for him, after all.
+ physics magic!
It’s a slow day at the office. Spencer has finished all the paperwork he had remaining. You are about to do it. The clock hands are closer at midnight than at 10 pm. In reality, a few hours ago Spencer already finished what he had to do. But leaving without you feels wrong. Besides, he’s not going to let you take the train alone this late, that would be definitely wrong.
But he’s… bored. He already read all the books he has on his desk. In fact, he makes a mental note to bring new ones tomorrow so he has something to do. But right now? He doesn’t know how to kill time. Seeing you is always interesting, but he doesn’t think it’s too professional to watch you intently for the remaining time. Then it occurs to him that he can distract you for a couple of minutes. After all, breaks are important and allow the brain to be more productive if they are properly stimulated.
He digs into his satchel and checks that he has what he needs. A half-finished bottle of water. An aspirin. And a small tube. It’s perfect. He stands up excitedly, almost tripping on his way to your desk. You take your tired gaze off the folder you are reviewing and smile confused at the strange image of Spencer about to make little jumps.
“What is it?” you laugh, discarding the folder in your desk.
“You want to see something cool?” Spencer is confident about this one. Confident enough to use unusual words on his tongue.
You shoot your brows up but nod eagerly. “Of course.”
“Alright. Watch. I am gonna show you my magic’s secrets.”
Spencer clears a small space on your desk. He breaks the aspirin in two and drops the powder into the tube. He doesn't have a syringe, but he can manage. With extreme care, he pours a couple of water drops. He covers the small container and shakes it, then leaves it upside down. He looks at you with a huge smile. You give him back half of a one.
“Uhm, that was great?” you try.
“It’s not done yet,” he laughs. “Watch.”
You nod again and focus your attention on the experiment. You don’t do it reluctantly. Not even with boredome. There is no hint of mockery in your expression. And that’s when Spencer realizes how much you mean to him. How much you’ve done for his self-confidence just by being nice to him. How much he hopes to be able to return the favor sometime. At the table, the foam begins to bubble in anticipation at the base of the tube, and then it happens. The tube shoots out. The realization lands on his chest. Spencer realizes how much he loves you. You look at him amazed.
“That was great!” you beam at him.
Physically, he knows it's not possible. But Spencer feels like the stars themselves shine just on you. “Yeah, it’s great,” he smiles at you.
would you guys be interested if i open requests? not only for this reader, but for any other you have in mind. idk. let me know. I'll think abt it bc i don't know if would be able to deliver :( also, keep in mind i am not willing to write for smut. thanks for reading! means a lot <3taglist: @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 navs-bhat julesandro m-seh lolilkkk popbangcrash
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nereidprinc3ss · 1 month
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light of the morning
in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed
18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs
It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers. 
It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door. 
"Hi."
"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this. 
You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door. 
"Did I wake you?"
"How could you tell?"
"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"
"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."
"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."
He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.
You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth. 
"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."
His eyebrows dart up. 
"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"
When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it. 
"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"
His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack. 
"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"
"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."
You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety. 
"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.
He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."
It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement. 
"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"
"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."
You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care. 
"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."
Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves. 
You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone. 
"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"
"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you. 
"Spencer."
“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are. 
"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."
He looses a nervous laugh. 
"I know. We’ve just never really done this."
You frown at the darkness.
"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."
"Yeah, but… this feels different."
That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex? 
Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours. 
"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly. 
"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it. 
"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.
"Can I…"
"Yeah."
Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now. 
He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it. 
"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt. 
"Goodnight," he whispers back. 
You fall asleep pretty quickly after that. 
------------------------------
It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.
Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache. 
But you’re just friends. 
Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away. 
"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep. 
"Five."
"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."
"Sometimes waking up early is okay."
His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—
He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt. 
Friends. 
"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."
"I don’t want to go back to sleep."
The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.  
"No? What do you want?"
Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer. 
The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.
So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?
Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips. 
"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"
"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"
You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away. 
Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words. 
"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing. 
"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"
He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words. 
You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you. 
"It’s fine. Thank you."
He continues chewing on his lip for a moment. 
"Did I just ruin the mood?"
"No," you laugh, "not at all."
"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again. 
"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses. 
He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck. 
"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"
"Kind of," you breathe.
"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."
Well, he’s not wrong there. 
You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later. 
You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you. 
Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you. 
Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum. 
"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."
"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders. 
"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs. 
You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 
Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans. 
"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want. 
He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close. 
"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course. 
He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty. 
You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway. 
When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently. 
"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."
You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt. 
You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about. 
"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further. 
"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway. 
"You must have me confused with someone else."
"Doubtful."
You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know. 
"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"
It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words. 
"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 
"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."
He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you. 
"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation. 
"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."
"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way. 
"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."
You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.
"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut. 
"Only for you."
Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating. 
"Only me?"
You moan an affirmation. 
"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"
"Yes!"
"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."
"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"
He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 
You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing. 
No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes. 
You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet. 
"You okay?"
All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb. 
"Need your words, angel girl."
"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing. 
"Yeah? Why so quiet?"
But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter. 
"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"
"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck. 
"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."
"An hour."
He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you. 
"I said 48 minutes."
But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure. 
2K notes · View notes
springtyme · 3 months
Note
Hi Sage! I was so happy when I saw you are gonna write for criminal minds! Can I request some soft smut with Spencer? Maybe his and reader’s first time together, they have to share a bed on a case or something like that. I love your writing so much and I would love to see how you’d write Spence ❤️ thank you for sharing your writing!!
𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ♡
Thank you so much for the sweet words and the lovely request dear anon! ♡ I had such a good time writing this, and I can't wait to write more for Spencer!
Spencer Reid x afab!reader || Masterlist || Spencer playlist
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summary: Having to share a room with one of your fellow BAU agents is not an uncommon occurrence, and that agent being Spencer is not new either. The two of you have roomed together on multiple occasions before, but all previous instances have been different from this one. In all those prior cases, you both had separate beds, but not this time.
word count: 7.3k
warning/tags: Smut! (18+, mdni!) Mutual pining. Friends/colleagues to lovers. Idiots in love. Slightly awkward. A hint of angst, but mostly just fluff. Nightmares. Wet dreams. Inexperienced (but not virgin) Spencer. Vaginal fingering. Unprotected p in v. Creampie. I haven’t had time to proofread so sorry if there’s any mistakes.
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In many ways the room is about as ordinary as any small town hotel room can be. However, one aspect instantly catches your attention upon opening the door - the room only has one bed… 
As you step further into the room, you exchange a bewildered glance with Spencer, both unsure of how to proceed. It is a big bed, more than enough room for the both of you to be able to sleep comfortably next to each other, but despite how good of friends you and Spencer are, something about it feels weirdly intimate. 
Having to room with one of your fellow BAU agents on cases is not uncommon, and sharing a room with Spencer isn’t new either. The two of you have roomed together on multiple occasions before, but previous instances were distinct from this one. In all those prior times, you both had separate beds. 
“I, uhm… I can sleep on the floor,” Spencer suggests tentatively, breaking the silence that had filled the room. His voice is hesitant, almost as if he’s apprehensive about suggesting such a thing.
You look at him, noticing the slight blush on his cheeks as he avoids eye contact. It is clear that he doesn’t want to inconvenience you or make you feel uncomfortable by overstepping any boundaries.
But there is absolutely no way that you’re going to let Spencer sleep on the cold, hard floor, especially after a long day of chasing down an UnSub. “You’re not sleeping on the floor, Spence,” you protest, shaking your head gently. “There is more than enough room on the bed; we can put some pillows between us if that’ll make you more comfortable,” you suggest. You can see his apprehension, his discomfort at the idea of encroaching on your personal space. 
In a way it’s very sweet, you know Spencer well, and you know how little he would enjoy lying on the floor, yet he is willing to give up his own comfort for you.
But at the same time you can’t help but feel a little pang of… Of what exactly you’re not sure. Disappointment maybe, or even longing? And a little irrational fear that maybe he actually finds sleeping next to you so uncomfortable that he would prefer the floor.  
You have tried to suppress your feelings for Spencer for a long time, you have had a crush on him from the moment you first joined the BAU three years ago, but the more you got to know him, and the deeper your friendship deepend the deeper your feelings for him also grew. 
You know that you’re being irrational, but you can’t help but wonder if Spencer actually feels uncomfortable by the idea of sharing a bed with you or if it’s something else entirely. As you continue to stare at him, hoping for a clue, Spencer nervously fidgets with the strap of his bag which he still hasn’t put down. 
“Sure, pillows…” he finally speaks, his voice trailing off. You can tell he’s hesitant, it’s clear that the idea of sharing a bed with you is not something he had anticipated or prepared for.  
You take a step closer to Spencer, trying to ease the tension that has settled between you. “Spencer, it’s going to be okay. We’ve slept in the same room many times before, remember? This is just a little different, but I’ll promise to stay on my side of the bed,” you assure him, offering a small smile.
Spencer glances over at you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he takes a deep breath andnodding slowly as he finally sets his bag down and starts to remove his jacket. His movements are deliberate, almost mechanical, as if he’s trying to distract himself from the tension in the room. Lost in your thoughts, you find yourself stealing glances at him. You watch his every movement, wondering if there’s more to his unease than just sharing a bed. As he hangs his jacket neatly on the back of a chair, you can’t help but notice the way his fingers tremble ever so slightly. 
“Do you want the bathroom first?” you ask, trying to break the silence and bring some normalcy back into the situation. Spencer looks up at you, his eyes reflecting gratitude for the distraction.
“Uh, yeah, that sounds good,” he replies, his voice slightly shaky. He walks past you towards the bathroom, his steps quick and purposeful.
While he’s in the bathroom, you take a moment to collect your thoughts, as you start to take out your pajamas and toiletries from your bag before going over to the bed, placing a few pillows in a row in the middle of the mattress. The tension in the room is palpable, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more going on with Spencer. You’ve always had a strong connection with him, but lately, there have been moments when you’ve sensed a shift in his behavior towards you. It’s hard to put into words, but there’s a certain longing and vulnerability that seems to surface whenever you’re together.
As you ponder these thoughts, Spencer emerges from the bathroom. He’s changed into his pajamas, checkered flannel bottoms and a long sleeved cotton t-shirt, his hair damp from his shower. You can’t help but notice how adorable he looks. There is something so soft looking over him like this, almost domestic and your heart skips a beat.
“Your turn,” he says softly, gesturing towards the bathroom. You nod and make your way inside, trying to steady your own racing heart.
The warm water from the shower helps to calm your nerves, but your mind is still filled with questions. What if there’s a chance that Spencer feels the same way? What if this shared bed situation could bring you closer together?
You finish your shower and step out, wrapping a towel around yourself. As you reach for your pajamas, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to stay calm and not let your emotions get the best of you, yes you have developed feelings for Spencer but first and foremost he is your friend and, and you can’t start assuming things. He is allowed to find sharing a bed with you awkward. 
When you return to the room, Spencer is already tucked into one side of the bed, the one closest to the door, his back turned towards you, and you can’t help but notice that he is far closer to the edge of the mattress than he needs to be. The only light in the room now coming from the bedside lamp on the side of the bed that has been assigned to you by Spencer.
You quietly slip into your side, letting the heavy comforter cover your body as you lay down on your back, looking over at Spencer’s back for a short moment before looking back up into the ceiling.  
The proximity between you is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking, as you lie there, so close to each other yet so far away. You take a deep breath before you break the silence once again. “Ready to turn off the light?”
Spencer shifts slightly, his voice barely above a whisper as he responds, “Yeah, sure.” You reach over and switch off your lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The only source of light now is the faint glow of moonlight coming shining through the blinds.
As you lay there, your mind starts to wander, replaying all the moments you’ve shared with Spencer over the years. The late-night conversations, the shared laughter, the times he’s been there for you when you needed someone the most. Each memory fills you with a mixture of warmth and longing.  
“Good night, Spence,” you utter softly into the darkness,   
“Night,” he replies, his voice barely audible in the quiet space and the room falls silent once again. 
You let out the softest of sighs as you close your eyes, finally letting yourself feel how tired you really are, slowly letting yourself try to surrender to sleep. 
· · ·
It’s still dark in the room as you wake up, only an hour or two have passed since you fell asleep, and for just about half a second you get to wonder what had woken you so abruptly before the reason becomes clear to you. 
It is Spencer who woke you. In the dimly lit room, his agitated body twists and contorts restlessly next to you. You turn around so you’re facing him, propping yourself up on your elbow so you’re slightly hovering over him, the darkness of the room shadowing his face, but as your eyes get used to the dark you notice the beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, his eyebrows knitted and his breathing erratic and shallow.  
Unintelligible, fearful murmurs escape his lips, carrying traces of an impending terror. With a gentle touch, you place your hand on his shoulder, hoping to offer some comfort as you try to gently pull him out of his nightmare.
“Spencer,” you say softly. “Spencer, wake up.”
His eyes fly open, wide with fear, his gaze darting around for a second or two, before they lock with yours which seems to calm him down a little. -
“I’m sorry, I woke you,” he mutters, his rapid breathing slowly coming under control. 
“Spence, it’s okay, I get them too,” you remind him. “We all do.” 
“I-I know… this one was just so real…”  Spencer takes a moment, his brows knitted as if he’s contemplating whether to share the details or simply let the disturbing dream fade away. “You were there,” he finally says, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I couldn’t get to you in time, I-I kept running but I didn’t get any closer a-and…” but then he stops, like he can’t get himself to continue.  
You feel how your heart clenches at his words, he had a nightmare about you…
“Well, I’m right here, and I’m okay,” you reassure him, offering a soft smile before you place a gentle hand on his shoulder as if to emphasize your statement, hoping to offer some comfort.
He places his own hand on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. 
“You think you can go back to sleep?” you ask him as you finally remove your hand from his shoulder. 
“Yeah, I think so,” he says and the two of you both lay back down on the mattress, but a short silence falls over the room before Spencer speaks again. “Would it  be okay if we removed the pillows?” 
“Of course,” you whisper back, removing the pillows. There is still a decent gap between you, but the cushioned wall is now gone. You yearn to close the gap, wanting to reach out for him, to comfort him with an embrace, but you just stay on your side of the bed. This can be enough, you can live with just being his friend, despite how your heart yearns for more. 
“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, now laying on his back instead of facing away from you like last time you said goodnight. 
“Goodnight,” you whisper back, “and, Spence?” you add.
“Yeah?”
“Remember you can always talk to me if you need it, I know how it feels.”
A beat of silence. “Yeah, I know, and thank you, it’s really nice to know that.”  
You let out a soft sigh as you finally close your eyes again. “Of course, that is what friends are for.”
“Yeah, friends…” he mumbles, so low you barely hear it. 
But you do hear it, and you ponder over it a little as you again begin to slowly drift off to sleep, and as you find yourself in the liminal space between wakefulness and slumber. Each breath you take seems to synchronize with Spencer’s soft breathing. In the darkness, your thoughts become even more encompassed by the draw you feel towards him, the yearning to hold him, to be held by him.
Suddenly, you feel a shift in the bed, and your heart skips a beat. Did Spencer just move closer to you? You open your eyes to find him curled up, facing your direction. His features softened, no longer affected by his nightmare, but now relaxed in sleep. It takes all of your willpower not to reach out and touch his tousled curls, to trace the contours of his face.
But you don’t. You don’t want to risk jeopardizing the friendship you share. As much as you yearn for more, you’re determined not to overstep any boundaries. 
With a heavy sigh, you turn away from Spencer, facing the wall instead. Your emotions are in disarray, swirling within you like a tempestuous storm. The closeness you currently have, even if it’s just a hair’s breadth away, feels agonizingly bittersweet.
As you drift closer to sleep, nestled in the comfort of the bed, you feel a sense of contentment and tranquility. Despite the uncertainty and longing, there is solace in the silent presence of Spencer beside you. And for now, that is enough.
· · · 
You are stirred from sleep once again later in the night. This time, it is a gradual, more peaceful transition into consciousness. A sense of warmth and snugness engulfing you, making you fill with a sense of complete safety and comfort, your eyes still closed and your mind still groggy from sleep. 
As you slowly emerge from your drowsy state, it takes a moment for you to identify the source of your comfort. As time passes, and you’re pulled enough out of your sleepy daze you start to become aware of the gentle movements against your body, and you start to perceive the muffled sounds emanating from beside you, and confusion is washing over you for a short moment before you remember where you are. Remembering that you’re in a hotel room in a small town in Nebraska, a hotel room which you’re sharing with Spencer, a hotel room that only has one bed…   
 Your eyes flutter open as Spencer’s arms squeeze you a little tighter, your back is pressed up against his chest and your legs are tangled under the warm covers. His steady breath gently fan the back of your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin, grazing just over your pulse point. 
And it is now, as you are being pressed tight up against him, that you feel it. How he gently is rocking against you. How the outline of his hard cock is pressing against the curve of your ass. You let out a faint gasp, as a warm shiver runs through you right down to your now throbbing cunt. 
Your heart skips a beat, overwhelmed by the intensity of this unexpected intimacy from Spencer. You are not completely sure what to do, what Spencer would prefer you to do in this situation. There is no way you’re gonna be able to wiggle out of his embrace without risking waking him. You should probably wake him, right? 
You can’t believe that this is really happening, that you really are in this position with Spencer right now. But you know that you can’t read too much into it, that people just get wet dreams sometimes, that this is just a physical reaction. He didn’t even want to share the bed with you in the first place, and you were the one who insisted on it. As much as you dread having to face him in this position, you really should wake him. 
You know Spencer, you know that he will feel embarrassed when you wake him, but it will be nowhere near as bad as the betrayal he will feel if he finds out that you didn’t stop this. 
Taking a deep breath, you start to gently nudge Spencer awake, careful not to startle him. “Spencer,” you say gently, slightly wiggling in his embrace as you try to face him. “Spencer, wake up.” 
As he stirs, his eyes flutter open, and he looks at you with a mixture of confusion and sleepiness, before a look of absolute horror overtakes his face, his eyes filling with panic. His embrace immediately loosens, and he quickly pulls away from you. The distance between your bodies, making you feel a sudden pang of emptiness as he bolts off the bed. 
“I- I’m so sorry,” he stutters, his voice frantic. “I don't know what came over me. This isn’t... I didn’t mean to…” His words trail off, and he looks utterly mortified.  
“Spence, it’s okay,” you try to reassure him, watching as he begins to pace back and forth in the small room, and start to gather his belongings, his eyes darting around the room anxiously, as if searching for an escape. “Spencer?” you try again, hoping to bring him back from the edge of his spiraling thoughts. You get out of the bed, your bare feet hitting the cold floorboards. 
But Spencer doesn’t seem to even hear you, he just grabs his bag and starts stuffing his belongings inside, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. “I-I’ll leave,” he begins, his voice strained with guilt and embarrassment. 
“Spencer, please,” you say softly, stepping around the bed to get to him. “You don’t have to leave.”
He is halfway through the bathroom door by now, his bag dropping from his shoulder. Tears are pooling in his eyes, his expression tortured. “I can’t stay,” he says, his voice quivering. “I made you uncomfortable...”
“Spence,” you try again, now standing only a few steps from him. 
“No… I made you uncomfortable, and I-I’m so sorry, I just- I mean- or no, I didn’t mean…” he begins to ramble before giving up and burying his face in his hands. 
Your heart aches at his words, at the pain in his eyes. You never wanted this to happen, never wanted to make him feel like this. “Spence, you could never make me uncomfortable” you say, trying to keep your voice as steady and comforting as you can, your heart thumping loudly in your chest. 
“You don’t have to say that,” he begins, but you cut him off before he can start spiraling even more than he already is. 
“I do, Spence, cause it’s true. You haven’t made me uncomfortable, okay?” you need him to believe you, you are colleagues and you’ll have to see each other everyday, but also, and more importantly, he is your friend and he means so much to you, you just can’t lose him. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I promise. Please, look at me.”
You take a step closer to Spencer, reaching out for him, gently placing your hand on his trembling shoulder. Sensing the depth of his distress, you speak softly, attempting to soothe him further, and he finally looks at you, his damp eyes filled with shame and embarrassment. 
“I... I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he stammers, his voice shaky. “I never wanted to make you uncomfortable or take advantage of you. I don’t even know why I…”
You interrupt him gently, placing a hand on his cheek to bring his attention back to you. “Spencer, listen to me. It’s alright.” 
He searches your eyes, seeking reassurance. A moment passes before he finally speaks. “Are you sure it’s alright?” vulnerability shining through his words.
“Yes, Spence… It’s alright,” you feel sad, because as selfish as it is, you do wish your words weren’t true, wish that it did mean something, but you have to ignore that for now. It’s not fair to be selfish right now, what you need is to comfort Spencer and reassure him that it’s okay. You have to ignore how good it felt to feel him against your body, having him grinding against you, having his lean arms around you…
“What happened... It was just a physical reaction and I don’t hold it against you. I know you didn’t mean for it to happen, and it’s not like you can control your dreams,” you offer him a small smile, one that you hope will convince him that you mean what you’re saying, but it feels bittersweet as you say your next words. “I know it didn’t mean anything.” 
Spencer’s shoulders visibly slump as he absorbs your words. He still looks deeply conflicted, but your reassurance seems to have calmed him down slightly. “That’s not true…” he murmurs, he sounds unsure, almost shy as he says it, yet there is a determination flickering in his hazel brown eyes. 
That’s not true..? You wonder if he is going to disagree with your statement about not being able to control dreams and launch into an extensive explanation of the technicalities of lucid dreaming, but what he says instead makes your heart flutter and fills you with a sense of hope. “It did mean something,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.
Your breath catches in your throat at his words. The room feels charged with tension, the air thick with uncertainty. You take a step closer to him, your hand still resting gently on his cheek. “Spencer, what do you mean?” you ask, your voice soft and filled with curiosity. And a realization courses through your body, he didn’t just have a wet dream, he had a wet dream about you… 
He takes a deep breath, his eyes locked with yours. “You mean so much to me. My dreams, my nightmares, my…” he trails off, a pink blush spreading across his cheeks, my wet dreams, his blush is telling. “My waking thoughts, they always end up being about you.”  
You feel your heart swell, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling within you. Spencer’s words hang in the air, leaving you momentarily breathless. Unable to contain your own feelings any longer. You close the last distance between you, so close that you now can feel the heat radiating from his body, your hand sliding from his cheek to the back of his neck. Your touch is gentle, craving a connection, desperate to convey your own emotions. “Spencer,” you whisper, your voice filled with a tenderness you can no longer hide. “It’s the same for me.”  
Spencer’s eyes widen in surprise, his breath hitching in his throat. It takes a moment for his words to find their way back to him. “You...you feel the same way?” he says, almost breathlessly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deception. “You’re not just saying this to make me feel better?”
You shake your head, your voice filled with sincerity. “No. I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t mean it.”
Relief floods his features, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. His pretty, pretty lips which look so soft and so damn kissable… “Oh…” is all he manages to say, his voice filled with soft gentle wonder. 
You can see how the weight is slowly lifting off of his shoulders, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of relief and happiness. He reaches out to take your free hand in his. He moves his other hand to your waist, at first not  fully committing to the touch, his fingers gently ghosting over your pajamas, but with a soft smile of encouragement from you he gently places his palm against you, and his touch sends a wave of warmth through your body. 
The room seems to shrink, the world outside becoming distant and irrelevant. At this moment, it’s like the two of you are the only two people left on this earth. Spencer’s lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something more, but the words remain trapped in his throat. Instead, he leans in, his breath mingling with yours, and then, his lips brush against yours in the softest, most tentative of kisses.
It’s a moment of pure vulnerability, and raw emotion. The kiss is a little hesitant at first yet filled with longing. The warmth of his lips against yours creates an electric current that surges through your entire body, igniting a fire within you. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him, as if he never wants to let you go. The possessiveness in his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself losing all sense of restraint. 
In this moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. All that matters is the connection between you and Spencer, the warmth that courses through your veins with every touch and every kiss. You feel how heat is pooling in your stomach.
 Your fingers tangle in his hair, lightly tugging on the wavy strands, making him gently moan into the kiss as your other hand finds its way to his face, caressing his cheeks as if trying to convey all the feelings you have bottled up inside.
The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate and desperate, as if both of you have been longing for this moment for far too long. It’s a dance of tongues and teeth, a melding of souls, and you can’t help but lose yourself in the sensations. The taste of his lips, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the way he pulls you closer as if he wants to merge your bodies into one.
Desire courses through you, igniting a fire within that consumes every rational thought. You press yourself flush against him, unable to stop your body from slowly grinding against him as the need for more contact intensifies, making Spencer moan into the kiss, which only makes your own desire for him grow even stronger. Every touch, every movement sends a jolt of anticipation through your body, the friction between you building a deliciously tantalizing tension.
The need for more becomes unbearable, but your lungs start to burn and you finally break the heated kiss to get a breath of air. His lips hovering mere inches from yours, his breath warm and ragged. The room is filled with thick tension as you lock eyes, the intensity between you crackling with electricity. You take a moment to steady your own breath before asking him, a little shyly, what you want to know the most in this moment. “Wanna tell me about your dream?” 
Your words hang in the air, a challenge and an invitation, as you search his gaze for approval. He looks into your eyes, his own filled with a mix of desire and vulnerability. “How…”  He takes a deep, steadying breath, before continuing. “How about I show you instead?” 
You feel your heart skip a beat at his words, a rush of excitement and anticipation flooding through you. Without hesitation, you nod your head, your voice barely above a whisper as you respond, “I’d like that.”
You reach for his hand, guiding him towards the bed. As you lay down, he hovers above you, his eyes filled with a mixture of passion, desire, and a hint of vulnerability. The vulnerability only makes you want him more, to show him that the connection you both share is real, that it’s more than just a passing moment of lust.  
You place a hand at the back of his neck, drawing him down towards you, and his lips meet yours in another fervent kiss. The weight of his body pressing against you sends a thrill through your veins, a delicious ache building between your thighs. You bring your legs up, wrapping them around him, making him let out a low grunt. 
His mouth leaves your lips to instead trail down along your jawline, down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. His movements start out slightly clumsy, but he is very quick to adapt and adjust, finding a rhythm that suits both of you. You tilt your head back, giving him better access, surrendering yourself to the pleasure that ripples through your body with each touch of his lips. His hands move up the sides of your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
“Fuck, Spence,” you whine. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging gently, urging him on. His lips find their way to your collarbone, and he nips at the sensitive flesh, causing a gasp to escape your lips. The sensation sends a jolt straight to your core, and you can feel yourself growing wetter and wetter with desire for him.
His fingers dip beneath the hem of your shirt, skimming along the curve of your waist, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You arch your back, silently begging for more, and he obliges, his hands slipping further up until they find your breasts, his thumbs rubbing softly over your hardened nipples. A low moan escapes your mouth, and his lips find yours once again, swallowing the sound and pouring his own desire into the kiss before pulling away to speak. “We… we weren’t wearing this much clothes… In my dream.” 
As the words tumble from his lips, you feel a surge of anticipation flood through you. The desire to match his dream, to fulfill his fantasies, takes hold of you. With a breathless chuckle, followed by an encouraging smile you nod and begin to undo the buttons of your pajama shirt, slowly revealing your bare skin to his hungry gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he watches the fabric slip off your shoulders and expose your breasts fully to him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and reverence. 
Spencer’s hands tremble slightly as he reaches out, gently cupping your breasts, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His eyes never leave yours as he experiments with different pressures and strokes, learning the map of your body through touch. Each caress sets you ablaze, igniting a fire within you that only he can satisfy.
“I...I never imagined this could be real,” Spencer admits, his voice laced with awe and reverence. “To have you like this, to be able to touch you, it’s beyond anything I ever dreamed of.”
His words melt into the air, caressing your senses as you guide his hands down your body, your breath hitching with each movement. The heat between your legs intensifies, the ache growing unbearable as his fingers brush against your heated, still covered core.
“Then let’s get rid of the rest of our clothes,” you whisper, your voice filled with anticipation and desire. With shaking hands, you help Spencer undress, removing his shirt and pants after he has shed you of your own pants. 
The air is thick with tension, as the only things that are now covering the two of you being your own panties and Spencer’s gray boxer briefs. You swallow, the sight of him making a hot shiver run through your body, right down to your throbbing cunt, making you squeeze your thighs together. The imposing size of the bulge in his underwear only adds to the anticipation that swirls inside you. The dark spot of precum on the gray cotton, making you drool and without a second thought, you slide your hand down to where his arousal strains against the garment, palming him gently through the fabric, a low groan escapes his lips, the sound music to your ears. 
“Shouldn’t we get these off too?” Your voice takes on a sultry tone as you gently squeeze him through his underwear. 
Another groan, this one a little more whiny, falls from his lips, as he nods eagerly.       
You let out a gasp as he follows your suggestion, and slides off this last item of clothing. His hard cock springs free, hitting his stomach. He is big, thick and throbbing with a bead of precum at the tip that you would love to lick off of him. You have never seen a more mouthwatering cock in your life, and if it wasn’t because you were so damn desperate to have him inside of you, you would get on your knees and choke on him in this instant. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a really pretty cock, Spence?”  
“N-no…” 
“Well, you do,” you assure him. Spencer’s cheeks flush by your bold compliment as you reach out for him. “Now come here, pretty boy,” you say, pulling him down on you again and he doesn’t hesitate, capturing your lips once again, but not before telling you how beautiful you are.
“Can’t concentrate sometimes, you’re so beautiful, it’s distracting,” he murmurs between kisses. “And you’re always so sweet to me, to everyone, and so fucking sexy,” he whispers against your lips. The warmth of his breath sends a shiver down your spine, intensifying the electricity between you.
You smile into the kiss, feeling an overwhelming surge of affection for Spencer. His words touch a deep, insecure part of your heart that you rarely expose to anyone. It’s moments like these when you realize just how lucky you are to have him in your life, and how deeply you want him to play an even bigger role than he already does.
Breaking away from the kiss, you gaze into Spencer’s expressive eyes, his pupils blown wide with lust and affection. “I could say all that about you too, you know” you confess, sincerity lacing your voice as you bring your hand up to push a stray curl away from his face. “You can be very distracting too, Dr. Reid,” you whisper, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you gently rut your clothed pussy up against his erection as you address him by his title. 
A desperate grunt escapes his lips as he feels the friction between your bodies. He leans his forehead against yours, his voice husky with anticipation. “God, you have no idea how badly I want you,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire. You can feel his body trembling against yours, the need radiating off of him in waves. 
“Me too, Spence,” you pant, you are now grinding against him in a slow, sloppy rhythm, “need to have you inside of me so bad.” you confess. “Do you have a condom?”
Spencer’s eyes widen slightly at your question, a mix of desire and concern flickering across his face. “No… I didn’t think... I-I mean, it’s not something I… I didn’t expect...this,” Spencer stammers, his cheeks turning pink. “I didn’t think we would…”
“It’s okay, Spencer,” you say, your voice filled with understanding, gently cupping his face in your hands, you take a little pause before continuing, “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean... so if you want…” you trail off, wanting him to be the one to make the decision   
Spencer takes a moment to process your words, his expression shifting from surprise to relief. He exhales a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. “I-I’ve never done this without a condom…” he confesses, blushing even more, “not that I’ve done this a whole lot…” he says, his voice filled with vulnerability.
You have been unsure about how experienced Spencer is but his honesty and vulnerability only make you appreciate him more. You stroke his cheek gently, comforting him with your touch. You are just about to tell him that it is okay, and that you don’t have to do anything he is not ready for and that you can stop if he isn’t feeling like doing this anymore, but Spencer speaks before you have a chance to say any of this.
“But I want to do it all with you,” he says, his voice filled with determination and longing. “I trust you.”
His words send a surge of warmth through your body, a reassurance that he is fully committed to this moment and to exploring the depths of your connection. You lean in, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss, conveying both your love and desire for him.
Now that you finally know how it feels to kiss him after having pondered over it for so long you just can’t stop, his lips too intoxicating, too addictive. “I trust you too, Spence,”you murmur against his lips, your voice laden with affection and honesty as you spread your legs, inviting him to take the next step.
Spencer’s eyes flicker with a mix of desire and admiration as he brings his hands down to skim over the thin, and by now soaked, fabric of your panties, you arch your back, silently begging for more.
A hungry expression dances over his features before he slides the fabric aside, his touch sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. His fingers trail through the wetness already pooling between your legs, spreading out your arousal as he circles your clit. A shudder runs through you, your back arching off the mattress as pleasure courses through your veins. He continues to tease you, his touch feather-light yet impossibly intense.  
“You’re so wet,” he says intrigued, and you find his fascination utterly endearing. 
“Well, it’s all for you, Spence,” you moan in response as Spencer’s fingers glide over your slick folds, his touch becoming more purposeful and assertive. The anticipation builds inside you, a mixture of desire and nervous excitement. You watch Spencer’s face for any signs of hesitation or uncertainty, but all you find is a hunger that matches your own as he slides a finger inside of you. Your breath hitches as he curls his finger, hitting a spot deep inside that sends a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. You grip the sheets, your nails digging into the fabric as Spencer adds another finger, stretching you and filling you up. 
The room fills with your moans and gasps, the sound of your pleasure mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers working you. You can feel your walls tightening around him, a signal that you’re close to the edge. Sensing your impending release, Spencer leans down, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss as he continues to thrust his fingers inside you. The combination of his touch and his kiss sends you spiraling over the edge, waves of ecstasy washing over you. 
You cling to Spencer, your body trembling with pleasure as he guides you through your orgasm, his fingers never faltering in their movements. As your climax subsides, he withdraws his fingers slowly, his gaze locked with yours. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as the intensity of the moment washes over you. 
“That was...amazing,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe. You smile, feeling a surge of pride and contentment wash over you.
“You’re amazing,” you reply, your voice filled with love. 
“I want to be inside you so badly,” Spencer confesses, his voice filled with desire and urgency. His eyes bore into yours, pleading for your permission. You can see the vulnerability and longing in his gaze, making your heart swell with affection for him.
With a nod, you give him your consent, silently urging him to take the next step. and he gets up on his knees. His erection stands tall, glistening with anticipation. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he slowly positions himself between your legs, his hands trembling slightly as he supports his weight above you, his  gaze never leaving yours.
As he slowly enters you, a rush of pleasure courses through your body. Inch by inch, he fills you, stretching you in the most delicious way. A low moan escapes your lips, the sensation overwhelming yet incredibly satisfying. Spencer’s eyes never leave yours, his expression transitioning from concentration to blissful surrender.
Once he’s fully inside you, he pauses, allowing you both to savor the feeling of being intimately connected. You run your hands over his back, sending shivers down his spine as you guide him to start moving. With each thrust, waves of pleasure crash through you, igniting a fire that burns brightly between you.
“Spencer,” you whisper breathlessly, your voice filled with need, “you feel amazing.”
He whimpers in response, his rhythm picking up as both your bodies move in perfect synchronization. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, a raw display of the passion simmering between you.
The room is filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding, the bed creaking in rhythm with your passionate movements. Spencer’s thrusts become deeper and more assertive, his movements guided by pure instinct and the desire to please you. He holds nothing back, giving himself to you completely.
“You’re so tight,” he groans, his voice filled with a mixture of pleasure and disbelief. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”
You dig your nails into his back, urging him on. “Don’t hold back, Spencer,” you gasp, your voice laced with urgency. “Give it to me, all of it.”
Your hands roam his body, tracing the contours of his lean muscles, urging him on with every touch. His lips find yours in a desperate kiss, each one filled with a mixture of love, desire, and a hunger for more. The intensity of your connection drives you both toward the edge, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. 
His thrusts become harder, deeper, and you cry out, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body. Pleasure builds within you, radiating outwards in waves, threatening to consume you entirely.
“I’m close, Spence,” you manage to utter, your voice strained. “I’m so close.”
He increases his pace, his movements becoming erratic as he chases his own release. You can feel the tension coil within him, the way he desperately clings onto the edge, on the verge of falling. And then, as if in perfect unison, the dam breaks. The pleasure crashes over you both, engulfing you in a tidal wave of ecstasy. You can’t help but let out a series of desperate whines and moans as you feel the warmth of his release filling you up as he pumps you full of him, coating your walls with his cum. You cling to each other, riding out the waves of your orgasms, the walls of your pussy convulsing around his cock, your bodies trembling with the intensity of it all.
Spencer collapses onto you, his weight pressing you further into the mattress. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close, basking in the afterglow of your shared intimacy. As your breaths finally steady, he lifts his head and gazes into your eyes, a tender smile playing on his lips.
“That was... beyond words,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “I’ve never felt this connected to someone before.”
You stroke his cheek lovingly, your own smile mirroring his. “Me neither, Spence.”
He leans down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, pouring all his adoration and gratitude into it. 
And as you both lie tangled in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth and intimacy you have just experienced, a feeling of contentment washes over you. It is a feeling you have longed for, a feeling of being truly seen and accepted by another person, and you know that for a long time that longing has been for Spencer and only Spencer. 
“I am so grateful for you, Spence,” you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. 
Spencer’s eyes softened, his gaze locking with yours. “Thank you for being patient with me. Before meeting you I honestly never thought I could feel so comfortable and safe with anyone.”
Tears well up in your eyes. The depth of emotion in his words touches you deeply. You lean in to capture his lips in a tender kiss, a kiss filled with love and gratitude.
Spencer shifts, gently pulling out of you and sliding to your side. He scoops you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. The rise and fall of his breath against your skin is soothing, creating a sense of comfort and security on a level that you have never felt before.
You curl up against him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I’m so happy there only was one bed,” you whisper, the words spilling from your heart without hesitation. Spencer presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Me too,” he reply, his voice filled with emotion.
Thank you for reading! If you feel like it, please leave a comment or reblog to let me know what you thought of it ♡
@sadroses98
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mywilltodie · 6 months
Text
Rossi : You’re ignoring all your problems.
Reid : I know.
Rossi : You also know it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism?
Reid : I’m ignoring that fact as well.
Rossi : ........
189 notes · View notes
hotch: why were you arrested this time?
morgan: for being too hot
emily: charges were dropped due to a lack of evidence
531 notes · View notes
reiderwriter · 6 months
Text
The Us That Could Have Been
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU Reader
Requested: yes - role reversal of the player!Spencer fic I posted here!
W/C: 5.7k
Summary: They say if you want to get over one man, you have to get under another. Spencer isn't so sure why he dislikes the idea of you doing that quite so much.
Warnings: Mentions of Maeve, spoilers for S8, mentions of minor character deaths, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, angst.
A/N: I'm not going to apologise for this one... Have fun.
Find the rest of my masterlist here.
If you were a genius, you’d know that it took you three hours, twenty-three minutes, and six seconds to fall in love with Spencer Reid. If you were a genius, you’d also know that it took him five years, seven months, twenty-seven days, and two hours to the second for him to break your heart. The thing you were learning about geniuses though, is that they were the most oblivious people on the planet. 
Her name was Maeve, he had told all of you. And he needed your help to save her because he was in love with her. And of course, you went along with it, you tried your best even while your heart was cracked in two because at this point, you couldn’t stand the desperation on his face. The day he told you about her, only days before he died, you cried in the arms of Penelope Garcia for hours, letting her console you as you felt your world get flipped upside down. 
“I don’t know why I’m feeling like this, god, Penelope. Five years, and I knew, I knew that if he liked me like that something would have happened already, but I just…” She rubbed your back as you laid your head on her shoulder, letting your tears fall freely as the sobs wracked through your body. 
“I’ve been in love with him for five years and he never even noticed, and… Penelope he hasn’t seen this girl before and he’s desperate for her. What about me is so unlovable?” Your voice cracked as you broke down again, burying your head in your friend's arms as you let all the emotions hit you at once. 
“Y/N you listen to me right now. You are not unlovable, you have never been unlovable. If Spencer cannot see what is right in front of him, then he is an idiot. You are the most amazing thing that has happened to him, you’re a great friend, you’re smart, you’re beautiful-” 
“I’m not her. Penelope, I… I want to be her-” She held you as you emptied yourself for hours, crying until you were so physically exhausted that you just couldn’t anymore. You couldn’t say that you stopped crying per se, just that your body ran out of emotions to sustain you. 
“Okay, Y/N, here’s what you’re going to do now,” Penelope said. She’d heard you out for long enough, but she wasn’t going to let you be miserable for long. 
“You’re going to pick yourself up, take care of yourself. Get a haircut, dye your hair, whatever you need to do to get some change. And then you’re going to do your goddamn best to forget him, because if he’s too stupid to realize how special and amazing you are then he really doesn’t deserve you.” You sniffled a bit and nodded at her words. 
“And then, you’re going to get back out there. Y/N, when was the last time you went on a date?” 
“I don’t know it’s been… The last one I can remember was before I entered the BAU. I’ve just been so busy-” 
“Bullshit. You’re going to put yourself back out there and find a man, or multiple men, who actually value you and want you. A wise scholar once said the best way to get over a man is to get under another.” 
–X–
A year later and you’d probably taken Penelope’s words to heart a little bit too much. Maeve had died at the hands of her stalker not even a day later, and you felt terrible for Spencer, but he’d pushed you away, he’d pushed everyone away, so you’d decided she was right. 
Your first date had been a few weeks later, and you’d have liked the fact that you’d taken him back to your place and then immediately kicked him out and never seen him again after that to stay a secret. But the BAU copycat didn’t let any of your business stay within the team for long. He had pictures of you with the first guy, the guy from a week later, and the guy after him as well. By the time you’d figured out who the copycat murderer who’d sent you all Zugzwang-themed threats was, he’d got pictures of you locking lips with five separate one-night stands.
The team had said nothing about it, of course, except Hotch’s private aside asking if any of the men in the pictures needed informing about the situation. You’d had to admit to them that you’d not seen any of them since, and, with no reaction from Spencer, you’d felt almost vindicated in taking this step. 
If he didn’t care then, in those tense months where you were all leaning on each other for support, reeling from the death of Erin Strauss and the attacks on the team, closer than you’d really ever been before, then he wouldn’t ever care. 
The thought was freeing. So you’d kept up with your constant stream of men, not letting them get close enough to hurt you in the way that Spencer had, using them and discarding them like broken toys, ignoring that maybe it was you that was the broken one. 
It took a year for him to notice it. A year of you coming in with suspicious bruises on your neck that you laughed off, a year of your newfound confidence, a year of your conscious distance for him to notice that he missed you. It was slow at first. In those first few months, he just accepted that of course, you’d been seeing people. He’d assumed from the photographs everyone had seen that you’d been dating the entire time he’d known you, the feeling unsettling him a little, but he thought that was only because he’d never noticed. 
Now it was all he could notice. The way you’d walk in sometimes smelling unfamiliar, having showered at a hookup's place before taking off, the way you were suddenly open to the flirting by the local PDs on your cases. The way a sadness seeped into his chest every time he saw you with someone else. Envy wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with, so it took him stupidly long to name the emotion. 
You were back at O’Keefe’s after a local case successfully closed, and if you were drinking a lot, no one mentioned it. No one except Spencer, who’d made it his objective to keep you safe and by his side the entire night, for reasons he couldn’t even name. It was stifling, having him constantly hovering over you. 
“Spencer, lighten up a bit, have a drink.” You smiled up at him, trying to get him to loosen up so you could escape the way his sudden care was making you feel. The bartender was eyeing you up from his place behind the bar, and while you were usually careful not to get involved with men whom you’d likely run across again, you were throwing caution to the wind that day. 
“I’ll have a drink if you drink some water and slow down a bit, Y/N.” He handed you the glass he’d retrieved earlier and you sipped it slowly, squirming under the care in his gaze. He ordered a drink, and you eyed up the bartender as he did so, pushing Spencer’s hand off your hip as he approached, offering him a smile. He looked between you and the unfamiliar man, and felt a cold flash in his veins, waiting for his drink and then pulling you away back to the table with the rest of your friends, tangling your hand with his. 
You pulled out of his grip but followed him dutifully. He guided you into your seat quickly, brushing your hair out of your eyes before falling back into conversation with the rest of the team. You hated the way he could still make your heart stutter, still have you feeling hot all over from a single touch, and you felt trapped in the booth, screaming for a way out. 
Your chance came an hour later, when he excused himself to the bathroom, and you excused yourself as well, running back up to the bar. When he came back, you were gone.
“Where is Y/N?” He asked with a scowl, cursing himself for letting his eyes off you for even a second when you’d drank so much that night, having come back to suggest you turn in for the night, getting ready to offer you a ride home. 
“Y/N? By now, she’s either in the back room with the bartender or she’s convinced him to get off early and head back to hers,” Morgan chuckled, taking a swig of his drink. “Took her only two minutes of conversation to have him inviting her out the back entrance, she’s been gone for like five minutes now. 
The constricted feeling settled in his chest again, as his scowl deepened. Not knowing why he was feeling so goddamn destroyed by that statement, he let his head hang and left the bar himself, taking himself outside to get in his car and go home. Unbeknownst to him, you watched him leave from the alley behind the bar, the bartender placing open-mouthed kisses on your exposed neck as you buried your worryingly consistent feelings in the scent of bourbon and lust. 
The next week is rough for both of you. You laugh and play along with Morgan’s jokes about your game, keeping an eye out for him the entire time and ending all the conversations as you feel him enter the room or step closer. It doesn’t stop him from hearing it all, though, all the details about your sex life tormenting him, as he boils with anger at how wreckless you’re being with your constant stream of guys. 
“Mama, you were on fire last week. Took you only two minutes to disappear with that guy, you’re going to have to let me in on your secrets,” Morgan laughed from his perch on your desk. 
“Sorry, a magician never reveals her secrets, and what I do is definitely magic.” Your tone was suggestive and set the man off in a booming laugh, but with your back to the door, you hadn’t heard Spencer’s entrance. 
“The secret is that men are more accepting of casual hook-ups with strangers than women,” he snapped at you both, beginning to ramble as you both looked up at him in shock. 
“Okay, kid, I was just joking-”
“When surveyed over 75% of men said they would be willing to have sex with a complete stranger, vs. 0% of women, and while that’s just one study, there are multiple others that I could quote that have similar results.” 
“Spencer,” you chastised him, but he didn’t stop.
“What? Did you want to know when posing the question of an affair to people in a relationship that 18% of men reacted positively to having casual sex with a stranger, and surprisingly 4% of women also reacted in the affirmative? Did you ask that guy if he had a girlfriend before you fell into his bed, Y/N?” 
“Okay, that’s enough, Spencer, take a walk. I don’t know what’s up with you today, but that was out of line. Hotch is looking for you in his office.” The words came from Morgan, but he kept his eyes locked with yours as he was scolded, memorizing the look of pain in your eyes as he finally backed away. 
He didn’t know why he did it. He knew it would hurt you, and yet he continued anyway, even after you’d begged him to stop. He was hurt, and he didn’t know why, and he didn’t think he had any reason to be hurt, and somehow it was all because you’d been in the back of his mind constantly for as long as he could remember. 
–X– 
“Okay, girl’s night, my place, tomorrow night. There are no cases, and I managed to get Hotch to agree to let us put our phones on silent for the night, so it’s just me, you, JJ, and Blake, a bottle of wine and some good old-fashioned girl talk, what do you say?” Penelope asked you gleefully in the break room one day as you both prepared your drinks for a busy day of paperwork ahead. 
“I’m sorry, Pen, I have plans already.” You grinned up at her as she pouted, promising to make it up to her another time. You didn’t offer an explanation though, just excusing yourself back to your desk and letting her know that you’d make it up to her another time. 
Reid took your place as soon as you vacated it. Almost obsessively, he’d been following you around like a lost puppy since he’d exploded on you the other day. 
“I know you said girls’ night but… Could... Could I come? I think I need some uh, girl talk?” He asked Penelope, an awkward, embarrassed look on his face as he smiled tensely. If anyone knew what was wrong with him, recently, it would be them. 
Last year, he’d have said it was you, but the distance he’d felt recently, combined with the fact that he was almost 90% sure you were the root of his problems had him desperate for other opinions. 
“Oh. Are you sure, Spencer, we’ll be talking about all kinds of gross women stuff?” 
“I was raised by a single mother. I’m sure nothing you say could gross me out. Please?” She nodded her approval telling him what time to get there and to bring his beverage of choice, knowing he didn’t really drink wine all that much if he could help it. 
He turned up twenty minutes late, after spending a great deal of time pacing outside of Penelope’s apartment building wondering if he had any right to unburden himself on them like this. Pacing he wondered whether you’d actually showed up despite your mysterious plans and whether this had been all for naught anyway. 
When he eventually knocked on the door, Penelope opened it and greeted him with a warm hug. “We were wondering when you were going to knock on the door, one more minute and we were going to come out to get you.” 
JJ stood up to hug him, wine glass in her hand, and Blake offered him a wave from her perch on the couch. He took off his scarf and coat and accepted the glass of water Penelope offered him, settling into a chair opposite the three women. 
“Penelope said you wanted advice about something?” Blake was the first to enquire, the three of them getting straight into it, not letting him chicken out of it. 
“Yeah, I think so. Lately, I’ve been having these, I don’t know, weird feelings…” 
“Oh god, I thought I was a few years out from having the talk with someone,” JJ joked, but Penelope shushed her quickly after a quick snicker, letting him continue. 
“I’ve been… I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been acting really weird around Y/N, and I can’t figure out why.” He finally pushed the words out, feeling a weight off his chest at the confession. 
“You can’t?” The room was silent for a minute as they looked at each other, and he looked at them looking at each other, wondering what it was exactly that he’d missed. 
“Yeah? I don’t know, every time I see her I just want to, I don’t know, have her attention on me, even if I have to say something a little mean to get it. And in the bar that time, I was so, I don’t know hurt, I guess, when she disappeared without saying goodbye.” 
They just listened to him go on, not stopping to interrupt him, so he continued. 
“And there’s been this weird distance between us lately, and I guess it’s been there for a while, but I miss her, but she’s still there. I can still talk to her, and I can still spend time with her but I miss her all the time.”
“Spencer,” Blake said with a soft voice. “Since when have you been feeling like this?” 
“I don’t know, I guess it started after everything happened with Strauss and the copycat in New York. But she’s always been… I don’t know, closer than most people? But every time I think we’re getting back to normal recently, she pulls away again and there’s this… void where she should be.”
JJ put her drink down and leaned a little closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 
“Spencer, I think you might be in love with her.” He considered the words for a moment, before getting ready to dismiss them. 
“No, love is a good emotion, this doesn’t feel good, it feels… ugly.” Blake stared at him sympathetically, calmly talking him around. 
“Spencer, think about it. You’re protective over her, you don’t like seeing her with other people, this all started right around the time the copycat sent those pictures of her with other people. It is love, and it’s jealousy, too.” 
The words hit him like a tonne of bricks as he suddenly felt the full force of his words. He was in love with you. 
“Oh god, what do I do?” He held his head in his hands, and Penelope scoffed a little from her seat, the rest of them turning to look at him.  
“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to figure this one out on your own genius.” She said with a slightly sharp tone, and even the girls sent her questioning stares as she continued. 
“You don’t just get to decide that you want her after all this time, not after how you’ve been treating her these last few months.” She turns her head away a little bit and sips her drink, her tough-love approach leaving him slightly defeated.  
“Penelope, do you know something?” Blake asks firmly, trying to coax some answers out of her. 
“If I did, I’d be under a strict oath not to tell anyone. And I wouldn’t want to considering how much pain she was in when she made me swear never to tell anyone.” It was clear from the tone of her voice that she really wanted to say something though, the words desperate to spill out. 
“Penelope, your loyalty is commendable, but don’t you think what you have to say could help both of them?” JJ quietly coaxed out of her, and she finally gave in. 
“Okay, but if you hurt her, Spencer Reid, I will never forgive you ever again.” He nodded quickly, hanging onto her every word. 
“Think about what else happened a year ago.” She encouraged him, and for a moment, he was coming up blank.  
“A year ago? We were in the middle of the copycat case. Strauss had just been killed. We were close to being pulled off the case-” 
“You got a girlfriend, Spencer. You came in one day out of the blue and just announced that you were in love with someone you hadn’t met, and you didn’t realize that you were torturing her.” Penelope tried really hard not to snap at him, but his ignorance of your feelings was frustrating, to say the least.  
“What Penelope is trying to say, Spencer, is that we think Y/N was in love with you, too,” JJ added, softening the blow. “And finding out you didn’t feel the same way so suddenly was, well it was a shock to all of us really.”
“What Penelope is trying to say is that she spent six hours with me crying into this couch, and then picked herself up and helped you try to save the woman you had chosen over her. So yeah, she’s been a bit distant, but can you really blame her?” 
“She… She was in love with me?” His heart stopped for a second, dropping to the pit of his stomach as he thought back to those days, how you’d acted around him, the smiles that hadn’t reached your eyes, the reassurances that he’d brushed off, so desperate to help Maeve. 
“Honestly, until you told us about Maeve, I thought you two had something going on,” Blake added. 
“We used to have an office bet when Emily was around about which of the two of you would confess first,” JJ admitted shyly. 
“Oh, god.” He let his head hang a little in shame. “Do you… do you think she still feels the same?” 
They shared another glance at each other again, and he panicked trying desperately to decode whatever it was that had just passed between them. 
“Look, we shouldn’t profile each other but… It’s not a coincidence that all of her hookups tend to happen after you pay her some attention.” Blake observed, letting Reid fill in the blanks of her statement.
“That might be my fault actually, I told her the best way to get over you is to get under someone else.” 
“I don’t want her under someone else,” he stated then, cutting himself off before he could say anything else too damning.  
“She’s not here tonight, why isn’t she here?” He panicked looking frantically around the room for answers, but none of them knew really.  
“She said she had plans, but she didn’t tell me what they are.” 
“Do you think she’s… do you think she’s with…” He couldn’t finish the thought, instead bolting upright and gathering his things. 
“I need to go.” He let out, as the women cheered behind him, finally happy that he was taking action. Penelope shouted your address at him as he left as if he didn’t already have it memorized, running out in the rain, his feet carrying him to your apartment.  
He saw the light on when he approached, thankful that you were still there, and bounded up the stairs to your floor, not giving himself time to second guess this before he pounded on your door.  
You pulled the door open, a confused look on your face as you greeted him, his chest heaving, water dripping down his face. He looked like a mess. 
“Are you alone?” He gasped out, having to pause between each word to catch his breath.  
“Spencer, what are you doing-” The breath left your body as he leaned into you, catching you around the hips and walking you back into your apartment, your back hitting the wall behind you as he rested his forehead against your own, chest still desperately drawing in oxygen. 
“Please, please tell me right now if there’s someone here with you. If there is, I’ll leave, if there isn’t…” His gaze fell to your lips and your entire body lit up, the haze of your confusion finally lifting as you took in each of his words. His lips moved forward, seconds from connecting with your own when his question was finally answered.  
“Y/N? Who is it?” The voice was male, and it was coming from your living room, but it was all Spencer needed to know as he detangled himself from you, pushing his wet hair out of his face and putting some distance between you two, muttering apologies as he backed out of the door again. 
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I’m sorry,” he said, quickly turning away from you and leaving your apartment quickly. 
“Spencer, wait-” You tried to yell after him, but it was too late. He had disappeared into the night, as quickly as he came. 
You returned to the living room, cursing yourself for not answering quickly enough as you crawled back into the seat you’d just left. 
“What was all that?” Your brother asked from his perch, shoveling popcorn into his mouth in a way that had you somehow even more pissed at him for the simple fact of his existence.  
“That was Spencer. He… God, I think he thinks I’m in here with a guy.” 
–X– 
The next few days at work were tense, as you desperately tried everything to catch his eye. But you weren’t sure why you were putting in so much effort. He was the one who had burst into your apartment and practically begged you for your attention, why were you now the one chasing him?
Needless to say, you took your frustrations straight to Penelope Monday morning. 
“And then he left without letting me explain that it was my brother, and he hasn’t talked to me once this morning, he keeps running away from me and I don’t even know what the fuck it was he was trying to gain from all that and- ughh he is so dense.”
Penelope had sensed the oncoming disaster the moment she’d seen your social media post about your brother’s visit Saturday morning, and you only confirmed all her fears as you unloaded onto her. She silently cursed Spencer as well, and once she’d given you some reassurance and reminded you that you had some case files on your desk that were urgent and distracting enough to calm you down, she practically lept from her seat to hunt Reid down.  
“Spencer Reid, you get your ass in my office right this second,” she whisper screamed at him in the breakroom, his sunken eyes showing that his jump to conclusions had left him in a poor emotional state. He jolted at her words, as she watched to see if you noticed the two of them before practically frog-marching him off down the hall.  
“What the hell happened? We sent you off to confess your feelings, and you what? Pin her to the wall and breathe down her neck before running off with your tail between your legs?” 
He looked down guiltily before replying. “She had a guy there, Penelope, I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to get rejected like that.” 
“She did not have a guy there, Spencer, she had her brother there.” She pulled up your post on her phone and thrust it in his face as she watched his eyes go wide at his own stupidity, clutching the phone as he read your words.  
“And if you weren’t a coward, you’d have stayed and told her even if she did actually have someone over.” 
He’d since tuned out her words though, the crushing weight of his almost-confession that had been stuck to him since the weekend dissipating slowly. 
“This is her brother?” He looked up at you again, desperate to confirm the words she’d already said. 
“Yes. You’d know that if you weren’t such a technophobic freak. I love you but this is the 21st Century and you’re an idiot.” 
“Yeah, I am.” He handed her the phone back and slunk out of the office, and back to his desk. He had a chance to try again, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up this time. 
–X– 
You didn’t know how you knew that night, but when you heard the knock at your door, you knew it was him. 
You hesitated before reaching for the door handle, pulling it open, and confirming your suspicions. 
“Hi.” You said, and he returned the greeting with a mumble of his own before the two of you fell into silence again. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but couldn’t, instead letting his gaze fall to your lips. You heard the hidden question in his look and opened the door a little wider. 
It took only a moment for him to come crashing into you, hands holding your face as his lips met yours in a passionate embrace, drinking you in as again walked you back into your apartment, not even breaking away as he closed the door behind you.  
You wrapped your arms up and around his neck, as you let his hands fall to your hips, your chest, your ass, exploring every part of your body he could reach as you stood caught up in each other. In your desperation for each other, you hit walls, and bumped into tables, finally stopping at your kitchen island as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he started pressing kisses down the hollow of your neck. 
“I’m sorry,” he muttered between kisses. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was your brother and I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, and I’m sorry I’ve been so weird recently.” You pulled his face back up to your own claiming his lips in yours once again, swallowing each of his other apologies. 
He pulled away again, looking at you tenderly as he lifted you into his arms and gently carried you into your room, laying you down on your bed. 
“I love you,” he whispered, and the words broke you. You’d spent five years practically begging him to say them, and another year since trying to bury even the very idea of him feeling the same way deep inside you. Tears fell from your eyes and he kissed each one of them away, muttering confessions into your skin. 
“I love you, please don’t cry.” 
“I love you, you’re so beautiful.” 
“I love you and I’m so so sorry.” You pushed him away again slightly, regaining enough of your composure to finally talk again. 
“I need to know that you’re serious, Spencer. I can’t… I can’t do this if you’re not totally sure, because it will destroy me.” Your voice broke as the words stumbled over the knot in your throat, your hands balled into his shirt, legs still wrapped around him. 
“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt you ever again.” He pressed his lips back into yours again, and you let the kiss deepen, lips slanting over each other in desperation as the need to be joined overtook your body. 
He lifted your skirt, trailing a hand between the two of you as he checked your arousal. You could feel his cock pressing into your thigh, desperate to be freed from it’s restraints. He began kissing his way down your naval, but you pulled him back up.  
“No, I need you now. There will be time for that later, but if you don’t do this now I think I’ll drive myself mad with wanting.” His lips reconnected with yours again as you began divesting yourselves of clothing, and within another two minutes, he was pressing into you, muttering more adoring serenades into your skin as he began catching the tears escaping your eyes again. 
“Yes, Spencer, more please,” you moaned underneath him, legs tight around him as he began thrusting into you with a ferocity you hadn’t felt from him before. It was tender, but you were both desperate, after months of separation, to come back into one another. 
Your lips and teeth clashed together as you let the room echo with your moans, his moans, and the sound of your skin slapping against each other. His forehead came to rest against your own as he grew closer to his release, lips disconnecting as you just stared into each other's eyes in that moment, seeing each other truly for the very first time. 
“Y/N, I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum.” He pressed down into you harder, looking down to the place where you were joined and letting out a whispered curse as he watched you take every inch of him. His hips stuttered then, and you felt your own climax reach you as you felt him release into you, his lips softly tracing your own as you breathed each other in again. 
He pulled out and immediately went to work making sure you were comfortable, propping you up on the bed, making sure the pillows behind you were plump and soft, and running off to find something to clean yourself up with. You watched him silently, again brushing some of the tears from your eyes. 
“How do you feel?” He said shyly as he returned, having pulled his pants back on at least as he bought you a glass of water. You offered him a small smile and a thank you as you replied. 
“I think… I think we need to talk, Spencer.” You said, not meeting his eyes as he looked down at you attentively. 
“Why did you come tonight, Spencer?” You asked, voice so quiet you resisted the urge to repeat the question, knowing that he heard you perfectly clearly, 
“I needed to tell you how I feel. It’s been staring me in the face for six years, and I somehow didn’t know, but once I did I just… I needed you to know.” You nodded at his words, standing still in front of you on the bed as you swung your legs off and asked him to pass you your nightdress back. You pulled it on over your head as you asked him your next question. 
“Why did you run away the other day?” 
“I didn’t know it was your brother, Y/N, I should’ve-”
“It shouldn’t have mattered who it was. If you love me, you should fight for me, right? The way you fought for Maeve.” Your tears start falling again as you open the wound that brought you this far. 
“Y/N, that was… That was different-” You can hear the panic in his voice as he tries to come up with the words to explain himself. 
“Spencer, if.. If it’s different then I think you should leave. If you don’t love me the same way you loved her, then there’s no point starting something.” 
“Y/N, please.” 
“No, Spencer. I have spent six years of my life filled with nothing but love for you. I wake up and think about you, I go to bed and you’re still there in the back of my mind. My every action is informed by your presence and I am so, so tired. So if you do not feel the same way, you need to turn around and leave this apartment.” 
The silence between you is thick, as you stare up at him through your tears, face stern as you push him away. 
He gathers his things. Moves towards the door and doesn’t say anything, and just as you’re about to break down, to let the sob burst from your chest in an agonized wail, you hear your front door close behind him, and you’re left alone in the empty apartment, stuck in the purgatory of your love for him, unable to move an inch. 
1K notes · View notes
mydearzero · 7 months
Note
bday sex w/ spencer?
thanks for the request! ♡♡
Hunger | Spencer Reid x Reader
MASTERLIST
18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Summary: Penelope has decided enough is enough and throws Spencer a small birthday celebration. Your only duty was to pick up the cake. How could you have known the bakery would give you the wrong one? It's the first time you notice something off about Spencer. He has this look in his eyes you couldn't place, nor shake.
Contents: NO Y/N, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, co-workers, friends to lovers, smut, oral sex (f rec), fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie, fluffy really, If I missed any warnings please tell me!
3.7K words
take a shot every time I say 'look'. This is also the second fic in a row where I mention he keeps his socks on during sex. idk why. he just seems the type, I suppose. it wasn't a conscious choice I made, it just happened - nik
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"And you're picking up the cake, right?" Penelope's voice flooded through the speakers of your car. You chuckled at her frantic behaviour. 
"Yes, Penelope. I'm on my way to Spencer's now. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it." 
After Spencer hadn't properly celebrated his birthday several years in a row, she insisted on throwing him a small party. She'd dragged you along in her shenanigans. 
Which is why there was currently a nondescript white box on the passenger seat of your car. You hadn't dared to open it, even to have a peek. Penelope would have your head if it spoiled in any way.
"Don't you dare drop it! I mean it!" She hung up after her empty threat. 
You drove into the parking garage and got out of the car. You walked around and picked up the cake with the utmost care, placing it on the roof and closing the door. You held the cake with both hands and took it to the apartment building. 
Penelope met you at the door, taking the box from your hands, putting it in the fridge and ushering you to 'Go sit somewhere and act normal!' 
"Calm down, Garcia. Derek's keeping him until at least 19:30. You'll be fine," JJ interjected. You turned to her, sharing a knowing look. If there was anything to love about Penelope, and believe me, there was a lot, then it was her complete devotion and commitment to make her friends happy. 
She got everything ready in the living room. Balloons, garlands, presents, the entire childhood dream. Derek gave Garcia a heads-up that they were bound to arrive any minute now. 
You walked into the kitchen and got the cake out of the fridge. You grabbed some plates, forks and knives and took everything to the living room. 
Spencer wasn't an idiot. He knew when Morgan was holding him hostage from his own apartment, his coworkers must've been planning something for his birthday. 
"Oh, I wonder what we'll find when we open the door," Spencer's joking voice could be heard through the door. The sound of keys entering the lock brought a large smile to your face. 
When he finally got to walk in the door, his suspicions were confirmed. 
The duo joined everybody eagerly awaiting the birthday boy. Penelope looked like she could implode from the excitement. You were sure that if you had enhanced vision, you'd be able to see her vibrate on the spot.
"Surprise!" 
Spencer was grinning from ear to ear. Derek clapped him on the back and guided him into the group. 
Penelope sat Spencer on the grandpa chair she'd situated in the middle of the room, placing a party hat on his head. She'd insisted on them. Even Hotch could not look stoic and rigid with the polka-dotted cone placed on his head. 
You walked from the commotion to go put the candles on the cake. You opened the candles, looked for the lighter and finally breached the seal on the white box holding the cake. The sight before you had you perplexed.
Happy Birthday Sexy!
Right. The hot pink cake with white frosting was most certainly not the one intended for Spencer. You let out an uneasy laugh and placed the candles anyway. Cake is cake, I guess. 
And it's not wrong. 
You lit the candles and walked over just as the others started belting their hearts out. Spencer cringed awkwardly like you're supposed to when people sing you Happy Birthday. You sought panicked eye contact with Penelope but to no avail. She was busy snapping pictures of the birthday boy from every angle. 
Spencer locked eyes with you as you set the cake down in front of him. Derek barked a laugh, obviously the first one to notice the mishap. "Way to be bold, mama!" 
Spencer gave him a confused glance before turning his eyes to the cake, mouth opening and closing a couple of times due to a loss of words. 
"Well, they do say "Aging like fine wine' for a reason," Emily snorted.
"What!? That's not the right cake!" Penelope exclaimed, turning to you. You gave her an apologetic expression, shrugging your shoulders. 
"They must've given me the wrong one at the bakery! I didn't want to mess it up, so I left the box closed. I'm sorry, Penelope. But hey, I'm sure it'll taste just fine." 
You cut into the cake and dealt out the slices. You contemplated giving the slice reading just the word 'Sexy' to Spencer and gave in. It couldn't do any harm. You brought it to him with a crude attempt at a wink. The man of the hour turned red, if only slightly. He took the cake, thanked you and tentatively tasted the frosting, eyes lighting up in delight. 
You swiped a finger through the frosting, putting it in your mouth and tasting it. You nearly had to stop yourself from wincing. My God, that's sweet. But Spencer seemed to love it, which was the crucial part. 
You caught his gaze, finger still resting between your lips. Your heart skipped a beat as an unreadable expression on his face before he ironed it out with a smile, raising his plate in a toast. You raised yours back, but your heart wasn't in it. 'What the hell was that?' You wondered as you took a proper bite of the overly sweet cake. 
Spencer's gaze had been on your face, his eyebrows furrowed in what seemed like worry. His mouth had been slightly agape. But it was his eyes that struck you. His pupils were dilated as they seemed to be filled with contemplation. 
The expression stuck with you. It wasn't one you'd seen before, not from Spencer. You tried to come up with the right words to describe it throughout the party. 
Emily handed you a drink, toasting to another year with Spencer. 
Intrigued? 
Penelope whispers in your ear, asking what you'd gotten Spencer as a present. 
Calculating, maybe? 
Rossi tells a life story, wishing Spencer a bright future with many similar experiences. 
It was almost ambitious. Or eager, perhaps. 
Whatever it was, it was burned into your brain. What made it so compelling was that Spencer clearly hadn't wanted you to see it, seeing how he schooled his expression the second he'd realized you were watching. 
You nursed your drink as your coworkers started trickling out of the apartment one by one. You shamelessly watched Spencer as he was engrossed in an animated conversation with Penelope. Emily took a seat next to you, following your gaze to the enthusiastic duo. 
She didn't have to speak a word. Years as colleagues and friends were bound to create an implicit form of communication. Add a bunch of profilers, and much went unspoken. You sighed and leaned against the cushions. 
"I don't want to hear it, Prentiss." 
She laughed fondly. "I'm just saying, I'm gonna be driving Penelope home soon. Just humour me and talk to him about it." 
"There's nothing to talk about," you dismissed. You looked down at your drink, refusing to meet her eye. 
"You really haven't been present at all tonight. What's got you in your head?" Emily put a hand on your shoulder. 
"It's nothing to be worried about, Em. I'm just overthinking. He gave me this look earlier, and it's frustrating me that I can't figure out what it meant," you shrugged. 
Emily looked contemplative. "He's been watching you, you know. Not just tonight. It's been a while since I've noticed, though he's really ramped it up." 
"What do you mean?" You wondered genuinely. 
"I don't know..." Emily started. "He just has this look on his face when he thinks nobody's watching. Believe me, you can ask JJ about it. She's seen it, too. We've talked about it." 
"What kind of look?" You asked, curious if it could've been the same thing you spotted earlier tonight. 
"I can't really describe it. I'd almost call it... Greed? Maybe? It's a bit off-putting if you ask me. It's only you, though." Emily shrugged, clearly holding back on her explanation. She seemingly weighed her options before continuing. 
"You want to know what I think, profiler to profiler?" Emily finally broke. You urged her to continue. 
"Objectively speaking, and only looking at the facts, I think it can only be described as hunger." The tone of her voice implied that it wasn't a silly implication she was making for the fun of it. 
"Hunger?" You asked, glancing at Spencer from the corner of your eye. 
"Yeah, hunger. And not the food kind." 
You choked on your drink at the implication. "Are you out of your mind? We're at his house, Emily!" You whisper-shouted. 
"Yeah, well, whether I tell you here or at the office, the jet, or any other place, the man looks at you like he's starved. You have desire, and then you have this. It's concerning, really."
Of all the things it could've been, hunger wouldn't have been your first guess. Emily sure picked a convoluted way of telling you he undressed you with his mind on the daily, according to her.  
You panicked a little when Emily got up from the couch, asking Penelope if she was ready to go home. You glared daggers at her. Don't leave me here with him! Not after what you said. 
You could make your exit now, but you'd seem too eager to 'have an out' if you went with them. 
Spencer thanked Penelope generously for the party. He was genuinely appreciative of all the thought and effort put into it. You bid your goodbyes to the girls, and with that, you were alone with Spencer. 
"Hi," he spoke softly, sitting opposite you on the couch. 
"Hey," you replied, laughing a little. You took a sip of your drink, which had gone flat. You put it on the table and turned back to Spencer. There it was again, the look. 
He observed every crevice of your face as you did his. Much like with Emily, your communication with Spencer often went unspoken. But you couldn't read him, and it bothered you. 
"What's with that look?" You finally dared to ask, ignoring Emily's implication. 
His eyebrows furrowed. "What look?" 
"The one you gave me just now. And earlier, after I gave you your cake. According to Emily, it's not the first time." 
"I don't know what you're talking about." He didn't meet your eye, opting to pick at the threads of the couch. It was a lame attempt at deflection.
"Don't bullshit me, Spencer. You look like you want to eat me alive." 
Spencer bit his lip and seemingly calculated every possible outcome of the conversation. He shook his head in defeat, toying with his fingers. You awaited his answer, tension rising in your stomach.
"I guess that's one way to put it," he finally sighed, meeting your gaze. His eyes were intense. After his admission, you finally found the correct adjective.
Lust. 
Without a thought, you threw your body forward, putting your hands on the side of his face and bringing your lips to his. He kissed you back with a sense of desperation. Your hands went up to his hair, tugging experimentally. A low groan met your ears as Spencer pulled away. 
"Are you 100% sure about this? I don't think I can go back to how things used to be if we continue," Spencer admitted, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. You leaned against it and closed your eyes, slowly nodding. 
"Yeah, Spencer. I want this, want you." He searched your expression for doubt or uncertainty, but only found conviction. 
He nodded. "Okay. Okay, lie back," he motioned to the armrest behind you. You furrowed your brows in confusion. Spencer noticed your questioning face and ran his fingers over your scalp, moving to speak into your ear. "So I can eat that pretty pussy of yours." 
Your breath hitched, scrambling to lie back as he'd instructed. Spencer's hands made quick work of your bottoms, leaving you exposed. You brought a hand to your face and closed your legs in embarrassment. 
"Hey, none of that. Let me see you," Spencer urged. You silently complied, opening your thighs and letting Spencer rest between them. He let out a soft moan at the sight of you already dripping. 
"Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous." Spencer complimented before running two fingers through your folds and collecting the fluid. He held them up, glistening in the dim light. He brought them up to your mouth. You didn't need any instructions, hesitantly opening up and sucking them in. 
Spencer groaned at the sensation of your tongue swirling around his fingers, feeling his cock quickly come to life after having been half-hard all night. You sighed in satisfaction at the tent forming in his slacks. 
"Couldn't think straight when I saw you try that icing. Looked so good sucking on your finger like that," Spencer revealed. So that's what the look had been for. 
He took his fingers from your mouth and brought them back down, pushing both inside without further preparation. He pumped them a couple times, trying to find the right angle. A low moan fell from your lips when he found it. Spencer grinned, adding his other hand to rub at your clit. 
"I think this is my new favourite look on you," he murmured. He moved his body back on the couch, bringing his face between your legs. He placed a string of small pecks on your inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. 
You couldn't help but exclaim when his tongue finally licked an exploratory stripe between your folds. "Shit, Spencer!" 
He ate you out like a man starved, gazing up through his lashes to watch your face contort in pleasure. Your hands searched for something to steady yourself, finally finding their resting place in his mop of gorgeous curls. 
When he sucked harshly on your clit, your fingers clenched instantly, tugging at his hair harshly. "Fuck, Spencer, oh my God, don't stop." 
You felt him moan against your clit, head tilting towards your grip. He continued licking and sucking every good spot while you realized he enjoyed having your fingers yanking at the messy strands.
"Hmm, just as sweet as that cake, if not more." The feeling of his moans against you was a foreign, albeit welcome, one. You quickly felt yourself get closer, tugging his hair and pulling him impossibly close. You needed more.   
"Fuck, Spencer. If you don't stop, I'm gonna come," you let him know. Spencer had a devilish smile, increasing his speed. He added a finger back inside and curled it just right. 
"Shit, just like that. Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged. 
"Come for me," Spencer spoke, intent on having you finish on his face. You felt your toes curl and legs tense. Spencer's head was the only thing keeping them open. 
"Spencer!" You moaned as you rode out your high on his tongue. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. Your legs felt numb as Spencer got up from between them. 
"You're wearing too many clothes," he decided, helping you tug your shirt over your head. 
"Well, what about you? You're fully dressed, Pretty Boy," you motioned towards his body. He shrugged and took off his vest before unhurriedly unbuttoning his shirt. You put your head on the armrest as you enjoyed the show. He smiled at your antics, humming Marvin Gaye's ' Let's Get It On' before carelessly throwing his shirt to the floor. 
He continued humming the song as he undid his belt. You bit your lip, raising an eyebrow at him to continue. He shook his head as he chuckled, tugging his pants down. You smirked at the sight of the tent in his black boxers. 
"You're not gonna take your socks off?" You looked towards his feet, clad in one hot pink and one neon green sock. 
"Shut up, my feet get cold easily." Spencer pleaded. You held up your hands in mock defence. 
You watched as his hands reached for the hem of his boxers. You stopped him, sitting up and hooking your fingers under the elastic. You looked up at him as you slowly tugged them down, freeing his cock. It was achingly hard, precum already collecting at the tip. He removed the boxers and softly pushed your back against the soft cushions. 
He leaned over you, putting his hands beside your head. He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your lips. He grinned, and you felt love surge through your body at the admiration on his face. 
"Do you want to know what I wished for when I blew out my candles?" He asked, placing kisses down your jawline. 
"If you say you wished for me, I'm gonna have to get all the vegans out of your vicinity because that's so chees- Oh, fuck" Spencer cut your joke off by sucking on your neck, under your ear. 
"Hmm, I guess I won't tell you, then," Spencer threatened, reaching behind your back to undo your bra. He took the straps off your shoulders and down your arms, throwing the bra in the same direction he'd thrown his shirt. 
"No, tell me. What did you wish for," you urged. Spencer looked down, admiring your figure.
"This, you, under me, to be specific. Thought it would've made a very nice sight, and I was definitely right," he grinned, softly kneading your breast. He placed another kiss on your lips, and you were convinced you could get drunk on just that. 
Spencer bent further down, finally bringing your hips together. He ground down, and you winced, still sensitive from your orgasm. It felt too good, though. To finally have him where you wanted him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought his lips to your roughly, kissing him with desperation. 
Spencer reciprocated, grinding his hips and moaning into your mouth. You pulled away to speak. "Please, Spence. Need you inside." 
"Protection?" He questioned, moving his mouth back to your neck and sucking feverishly. You shook your head. "Don't care. Need you now." 
"Good, because I don't have any in the house." Spencer groaned, taking his cock in his hand and lining himself up with your entrance. He pushed the tip inside, and you had to take a deep breath before he continued. 
"Shit, Spence. So big. Fuck, you're really full of surprises, aren't you?"
"Hmm, there's more where that came from," Spencer joked, groaning when he bottomed out. He allowed you to readjust, not being used to having anything his size inside of you. You brought your hands to his shoulders, fingernails gradually digging into his skin when you nodded at him to move. 
"Feel so good around me, f-fuck," Spencer moaned, closing his eyes. He slowly started moving. His hips snapped forwards, sending his cock deep inside of you. 
"Oh, fuck, oh my God," you moaned deeply.
"Perfect fit," Spencer sighed. "Like you were made just for me." His pace picked up as desperation set in. 
"J-just for you, Spence," you agreed. You wrapped your legs around his waist. The new angle made you throw your head back against the couch. 
Spencer trailed a hand down to your clit, rubbing in tandem with his thrusts. You wrapped your arms back around his neck and tugged him close, desperate to feel his lips again. You could understand how people got addicted if this is what it felt like all the time. You wanted to spend the rest of eternity with his mouth on yours. 
"So pretty. Had to have you. You've been driving me crazy for months," Spencer's voice was strained with effort as he spoke. 
"What do you think about me, doc? When you kept looking at me like that, kept finding subtle ways to touch me. I was going insane." 
Spencer smiled as the movement of his hips sped up. Your moans got higher in pitch. His breathing became laboured, losing himself in the pleasure. 
Moans of "So good," and "Fuck," joined your name in falling off his lips repeatedly. If there was any sound you could be met with in heaven, it would be Spencer moaning your name in pure bliss. 
"O-Oh, Spencer, please," you begged, unsure what for. You just needed more of him. Needed him closer. 
"Fuck, oh my, fuck-" Spencer sighed. His pace was frenzied, cock feeling so fucking good. 
"I-I'm close- Spencer," you informed him, eyes squeezing shut. The hand on your clit increased it's speed. You couldn't believe you were so close to coming so soon after your first orgasm. 
"Wanna cum inside you. Can I please cum inside you?" Spencer asked, groaning at the idea of you dripping with his cum. 
"Yeah, yeah, fuck. Please, cum inside me. Wanna feel you, shit, Spencer!" You moaned. 
 "O-oh," Spencer's hips stuttered as he exclaimed your name in a loud moan. The sensation of his cock pulsing sent you over the edge yourself, joining him in his climax. 
He thrust inside lazily a few more times, riding out his high, before slowly pulling out. You felt empty without him, grimacing at the loss of contact. Spencer leaned down and pecked your lips before getting off the couch and walking to the bathroom.�� 
He returned with a warm washcloth and a towel. He helped you clean up, all while kissing you everywhere he deemed fit. He ushered you to go pee, laughing at your wobbly legs. You threw a pillow at him for that. 
When you were both clean, he offered you a big, loose shirt to sleep in. You grinned at the implication. He hadn't even hesitated. Needn't even ask if you wanted to stay over. 
You tucked yourself under his cold sheets. He soon joined you, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you close. Spencer Reid, notoriously weird with any physical affection, seemed like an entirely different person once you allowed him to love you. And God, were you going to allow him to love you. 
"You know, it's still my birthday in Alaska," Spencer spoke when you were almost asleep. You snorted. "Good night, Spencer." 
"Good night." You could hear the smile in his voice.
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Text
Summer Heat | S.R
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Summary - By orders or the director, the BAU must undertake a team building hike in the woods. You and Spencer have never gotten along and not even the summer heat seems to be able thaw the ice that exists between you. But then you get yourselves lost and while waiting for rescue, you have to find a way to pass the time…
A/N - set somewhere in the realms of s15. This is my second entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Summer Sunshine Challenge.
Pairing - Spencer Reid / BAU Fem! Reader
Warnings - enemies to lovers, Spencer’s awkward info dumping about hiking related deaths, swearing, public urination, talks of bladder control techniques, treating wounds, Spencer is touch starved, mentions of prison and Cat Adams and Max, Spencer and reader are oblivious idiots, make outs, handjob, fingering, public sexual acts, interruptions.
WC - 8.9k
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The potency of the early afternoon Virginia sun infiltrating the towering thicket of loblolly pines caressed your skin, peppering its honeyed kisses across your flesh. 
The warm earthy scents combined with the aromas of moss and the sharp, almost sweet notes of the pine trees engulfed you in a blanket of mother earth's creation. 
You hummed to yourself as you trekked up a grassy incline barely registering the weight of your oversized pack on your back. You were no stranger to hiking or the heat and you were barely phased by it. 
Unlike some people. 
Doctor Spencer Reid was equipped for neither physical activity or the weather, despite the fact he grew up in desert climates. You could hear him huffing and puffing behind you as he struggled up even the smallest of hills. 
You reached the brow and turned back to him with your hands on your hips. His face was flushed red from a combination of the sun and exertion. His hair stuck to his sweaty brow and his chest heaved with his breaths. 
When he reached you, he doubled over, hands on his knees and he fought to catch his breath. You rolled your eyes and waited somewhat impatiently for him to stand again. 
“Are you really this out of shape?” You scoffed. 
He glanced up through a curtain of hair, puffing uneven breaths out between parted lips. 
“Clearly.” He bit back. 
It wasn’t a secret that the two of you didn’t exactly see eye to eye. You’d been with the team for almost a year now, but you and Spencer had never been close. 
You’d gotten off on the wrong foot on your very first case. He’d spent almost all day on the phone to someone talking about his mother and you’d made a flippant comment about him being a mama's boy. 
This led Spencer to launch into a rant about how his mother suffered from schizophrenia and altzeimers and how he was talking to her doctor because she was struggling to adjust to the new home he’d put her in DC. 
He didn’t stop there. He continued to inform that she had been moved to DC because she wasn’t responding well to medication or her living facility in Vegas. He detailed how he’d moved her to the east coast and then gotten arrested in Mexico whilst trying to procure some experimental medicine. 
He was seething by the time he told you that the same woman who’d gotten him arrested then had his mother kidnapped and almost killed. 
He wasn’t as standoffish towards you as he used to be, his iciness thawing somewhat over time. But you were never going to be his favourite person. And as a result, he wasn’t yours either. 
He forced himself to stand up straight, grabbing his canteen from where it was hanging from the strap of his backpack and taking a hefty sip before wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. 
“It’s just a little hike. It’s not like you’re running a marathon or anything.” You clucked. “Can we continue now?” 
“Just a little hike?” He groaned but started walking nonetheless. “It’s ten miles! And I have to do it with you.” 
“Oh you poor, unfortunate soul.” You rolled your eyes as you fell in step with him. 
The hike had been an idea which was floated down from the director. A team building exercise it had been dubbed. Although it wasn’t strictly mandatory it would look bad on those who didn’t participate. 
So the BAU was spending a rare weekend off on a ten mile hike through the Shenandoah National Park followed by spending the night camping at the valley’s campground. 
The Shenandoah National Park was more than five hundred miles of hiking trails extending along the Blue Ridge Mountains which included a section of long distance Appalachian Trail. 
As someone who relished in the outdoors you’d always wanted the chance to visit Shenandoah but had never had the opportunity. And if you were paired up with anyone other than Spencer you might have been able to enjoy yourself. 
Garcia had everyone draw straws in order to team up for the hike before you would all meet up later at the campground. You’d quite literally drawn the short straw with Spencer whilst Penelope was paired with Matt, Luke with JJ whilst Tara, Emily and Rossi made a group of three. 
Spencer was the least athletic of the BAU members, the least outdoorsy, and so far had not stopped complaining. 
You regarded your GPS as you walked to ensure you were headed in the right direction and the two of you fell back into silence. 
Spencer breathed heavily even when the trail was flat, groaning a little every time you came to another incline. 
You watched him out of the corner of your eye. It was a strange sight to behold, an academic who was far more comfortable indoors trekking through the woods like this. But what was even weirder was his outfit. 
You’d never seen Spencer out of a shirt and slacks but he’d tried to at least look the part of a hiker today. He wore a thin black t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts which showed off his surprisingly toned legs. You didn’t even think he would own such an item of clothing. 
He’d tried to look the part, probably only taking into account the heat and not the fact that he was leaving his legs exposed to bug bites and poison ivy. You wouldn’t be the one to tell him that though. 
He’d ditched his satchel in lieu of a backpack but still had his trusty converse on with obligatory mismatched socks. You’d told him converse would be hard to hike in, their thin soles alone not conducive to walking on the forest floor. 
Judging by the way he grimaced with nearly every step, he was starting to wish he’d listened to you. 
You continued to walk in silence, watching the way Spencer’s wary eyes cast around through the thick tree trunks, ears pricking at every tiny sound. 
“If you didn’t need to stop and catch your breath every five minutes we’d be back by now.” You couldn’t hold your tongue. 
Spencer’s head turned towards you, brows furrowed. 
“If we hadn’t taken such a hilly trail I wouldn’t need to keep stopping every five minutes. Did you know hikers use twenty eight percent more energy when traversing uneven terrain as opposed to flatter land?” He grabbed his canteen again and took another sip. 
“Don’t come crying to me when you’ve run out of water.” You ignored his statistical rambling, increasing your gait a little. 
“I won’t run out of water. I’ve calculated exactly how much I can afford to drink per hour when approximating how long it will take to walk ten miles.” He told you smugly. 
“Of course you have.” You rolled your eyes, picking up your pace a little more. 
“I can’t believe the bureau is making us do this. Do they not realise that hiking related deaths have been on the rise? They’ve increased as much as twenty one percent in recent years.” He grumbled as he tried to match your pace. 
“Oh please, do tell me more.” You huffed and clearly Spencer either didn’t sense your sarcasm or he chose to ignore it because he did tell you more.
“Fifty percent of all hiking related deaths are caused by a fall or drowning. Men make up seventy two percent of those victims.” He pulled a face, focusing on the ground beneath him now he’d drawn his own attention to that fact. 
“Well you for one are particularly clumsy.” You replied, your tone one of boredom. 
“The other fifty percent are due to medical conditions such as heart attacks while engaging in physical activity.” 
“What kind of physical activity?” You smirked suggestively, nudging him in his arm. 
Spencer shook his head as your childish insinuation. 
“Oh grow up, Y/L/N.” He spat. 
“I’m just saying if there is a man out there so good in bed he can induce a heart attack, I wanna meet him.” You chuckled, seeing him roll his eyes in your peripheral vision. 
“And I’m saying, hiking is inherently dangerous.” 
“We chase serial killers for a living.” You huffed, checking your navigational device again. 
“Which I am well versed in due to years of hands-on experience. I am not educated in outdoor pursuits.” He scoffed. 
“You seem to know a lot about hiking related deaths.” You cast your gaze upwards towards the sun peaking between the high trees. 
You could hear faint rhythmic buzzing from insects nearby, distance scuffling through the underbrush. Every now and again you picked up on various bird songs as they chirped from the high branches. 
It made a smile blossom on your features, being one with nature, the summer air cleansing your lungs. The sounds and the smells were a comfort to you, taking you back to childhood memories camping and trekking through forests just like this with your family and fond recollections of years spent at summer camps. 
Summer was without a doubt your favourite season. It elicited waves of nostalgia, taking you back to years spent at camp lake edges, eating ice cream hurriedly before it melted, giving you brain freeze.
It evoked images of burning campfires, the smell of the wood as it smouldered and the marshmallows roasting ready to be made into s’mores. Dulcet tones of an acoustic guitar played under the moonlight by Andy Duncan, your camp crush. 
And later when he’d walked you back to your cabin and bestowed upon you your first ever kiss. Summer held some of your best memories and kindled your sentimental side. 
You toyed with the GPS device in your hand as you walked, twigs and leaves crunching under foot. You didn’t realise Spencer was staring at you. 
“You okay?” He spoke up, snapping you out of your reminiscing. 
“Huh?” You glanced at him sideways. 
Spencer had a hint of amusement in his eyes as he looked at you, something you’d never seen on him before, not directed towards you anyway. 
“You look awfully wistful.” He shrugged. 
“I just love summer I guess.” You mirrored his action. 
“That makes sense.” Spencer turned away and looked back at the ground so he could avoid any potential trip hazards. 
“What does that mean?” You swatted at a bug that landed on your arm. 
“It means I’m not surprised you like summer, arguably the worst season.” He clucked. 
“The worst? Oh please. Let me guess Doc, you’re a fan of gloomy winter? That would make sense.” 
“Winter isn’t gloomy. Winter is oversized sweaters and hot cocoa by a fireplace. Huddled under blankets, the holidays. Sometimes even snow.” He told you as if you’d never heard of winter before. “But it’s not my favourite season. My favourite season is fall.” 
“Hmm, dark and moody tones, nature dying. That tracks.” You spoke in a clipped tone. 
“It’s not dying, it’s the start of rebirth. Shedding one layer so it can grow into something more than it ever thought it could be. It’s hauntingly beautiful really. And autumnal tones are stunning, all those earthy hues and streets littered in leaves. It makes me think of cinnamon and old books. Reading in the park with my mom when she was lucid and watching the leaves fall from the trees all around us.” It was Spencer’s turn to grow wistful. 
You noticed his eyes glaze over slightly, his lip quirking up at the corner as he got lost in a fond childhood memory. 
Spencer never talked to you about his youth or his mother after your initial falling out. He’d never been so candid with you before. As if he realised this, he shook his head, snapping himself out of his own revere. 
“I, uh, didn’t mean to share all that.” He grumbled, grabbing his canteen and sipping the water just for something to do. 
“I don’t mind.” 
“Well I do.” He spat, slowing a little as the two of you neared another slight slope. “You’re the last person I want to talk to about my mother.” 
You slowed with him until you both stopped. You folded your arms across your chest and glared at him. 
“Reid, come on. It’s been a long time. I’ve apologised for calling you a mama’s boy multiple times. How could I have possibly known about your mother?” You shook your head. 
Spencer’s jaw tightened, the muscle in the side of his face pulsing as he stared at you. You could all but see the cogs turning in his head as he fashioned a response. 
“I don’t want your apologies, Y/L/N.” He huffed out. 
He suddenly started walking again, ignoring how much his legs ached as he started up the small slope. You watched him go for a moment or two, feeling awash with anger. 
You’d been looking forward to this hike, to an excuse to spend the weekend outdoors in the sun. You were not going to let Doctor Spencer Reid ruin that for you. 
***
You carried on walking for another hour or so and not another word was spoken between you. It was tense and awkward and the sun was getting lower in the sky. 
It wouldn’t be at all long before it started getting dark and you were growing a little concerned that you might not make it back before the sunset. 
Spencer was clearly thinking the same as his brows had been furrowed for at least the past ten minutes and he was furiously chewing on his lip.
You halted in your tracks and pulled the GPS device back out. You stared down at it with a heavy frown, feeling the heat radiating off of Spencer as he drew closer to you. He peered at the GPS over your shoulder with a scrunched brow similar to your own. 
“That says we’re only a few hundred yards from the camp. We should be able to see it.” Spencer looked up but all he saw was trees.
He turned a complete three hundred and sixty degrees but was met by trees as far as the eye could see. 
“I think…I think it’s busted.” You groaned deeply, the sound reverberating out into the forest. 
“No? No!” Spencer snatched it from your hand and shook it as if that would help matters. “Call someone! It’s going to get dark soon!”
You did not miss the blatant panic in his voice and if you didn’t feel the same you might have made a jab at him for it. 
You reached for your phone in your pants pocket and unlocked the screen but groaned as soon as you did so. 
“Fuck, I have no signal.” 
“What?” Spencer scrabbled for his own device and huffed seeing he had no bars either. “We’re stuck out here?” 
“Uh,” you glanced around. “Yes?” 
“No, no. I am not dying out in the woods with you.” His tone was even more fraught. 
“Trust me, you are not my first choice of death partner either.” You scoffed.
“If we’re out here long enough we could dehydrate! Or get hypothermia! I told you fifty percent of hiking related deaths are caused by medical conditions.” He was spiralling. 
“How many hiking related deaths are caused by homicide?” You shot him an unamused look. 
“Eighteen percent of 990 deaths at national parks were considered intentional. That includes suicide and homicide.” 
“It was a rhetorical question.” You shook your head. “Maybe if we get to higher ground we can get some cell service.” 
You started to walk but had no idea where you were going. You just had to hope you would find some higher ground. 
Spencer followed you for lack of any better suggestions. He was sulking like a petulant child, clearly there was something on his mind as he huffed a few times as he trailed behind you. 
You walked no more than a few minutes before his constant sighing and pouting caused you to stop again. 
“What?” You spat. “What is it?” 
Spencer frowned, halting in his tracks too. He was rolling his lip frantically between his teeth now and jiggling a little where he stood. 
“I, uh,” his cheeks flushed red. “I need to use the bathroom.” 
You closed your eyes for a second, pinched the bridge of your nose. 
“I hate to break it to you but there are no bathrooms way out here.” 
“It’s a figure of speech.” He grumbled. “I need to…pee.” 
“Okay, well take your pick.” You motioned around to the copious trees surrounding you. 
“I’m not a dog.” He rolled his eyes. 
“I’m sorry princess but it’s the best I can offer you.” 
Spencer sucked in a deep breath, clenching his hands at his side. His leg was still jiggling with his need to urinate. 
Spencer had developed an extremely strong bladder in his time in prison. The toilets on offer at Milburn were some of the most unhygienic he’d ever seen and as such had used them as little as humanly possible. 
He’s trained himself to strengthen his bladder, exercising his pelvic floor in order to reduce the amount of times in a day he needed to use the bathroom. 
As such during the hike he hadn’t been once while you had been multiple times. And now it had snuck up on him, coming out of nowhere and he wouldn’t be able to hold it long. 
“Goddamn I hate nature.” He grumbled, glancing around for the largest looking tree he could use to shield himself from you. 
You watched as he turned his back on you, hurrying off in one direction, further than was strictly necessary. You rolled your eyes with a shake of your head. 
“Don’t worry, Doc I’m not looking to catch a glimpse.” You called after him. You heard a tut in response but he didn’t rise to it. 
Spencer pushed forwards through some bushes and weaved in and out large pines before he found a tree trunk far enough away from you that he could have some semblance of peace while he expelled himself. 
He made sure the trunk was blocking his body before he unbuttoned his cargo shorts and freed himself from his pants. Within a fraction of a second he was already urinating.
He let out a relieved sigh, holding the base of his cock in one hand for aiming purposes whilst leaning the other on the tree. 
He closed his eyes as the blissful sensation of his bladder emptying consumed him. He didn’t relish doing this in the woods but he couldn’t deny how nice it felt. 
It felt so good in fact he didn’t even notice the itching of his calves. He finished his business and tucked himself away before buttoning his shorts. 
He swung his pack off his back and rummaged in the side pocket for a little bottle of hand sanitiser. He squirted a little in his palm and rubbed his hands together. 
Returning it to his bag and putting it back on, he noticed a stinging in his left calf but ignored it as he walked back over to you. As he walked his other leg started to sting too. 
When he reached you he subconsciously reached down and started scratching the backs of his bare legs with his blunt nails. You stared at him curiously. 
“You okay?” 
“Just a little itchy. Think I’ve been bitten or something.” He grumbled. 
You walked around him and regarded his legs. His skin was flushed red with little raised blisters dotted up the backs of both calves. 
“Reid,” you took his wrists and guided his hands away from his frantic scratching. “I think you’ve walked in poison ivy.” 
He snapped back to his full height, eyes wide. 
“What? No? Come on!” He moaned, glancing back at the rash forming. “Could this day get any worse?” 
“I’ve got a first aid kit in my bag, I’m going to need to treat those. If you keep scratching they could scar. Maybe this will teach you for wearing shorts on a hike.” You put down your backpack and rummaged for the kit. 
“It’s nearly eighty degrees.” He scoffed. “And I’ve never been hiking before.” 
“Just shut up and stand still. Give me your water.” You knelt down on the ground behind him.
“You’ve got your own water.” 
“I’m not wasting my water on cleaning your rash because you were the idiot who wore shorts. Give me your water.” 
Spencer huffed out a breath to show he wasn’t happy but then he unlatched his canteen from his bag strap and passed it back to you. So much for his calculations. 
You uncapped it and poured a little on the back of each leg causing him to shudder. You used a small hand towel you had in your backpack to dry them off before sanitising your hands.
You located the hydrocortisone ointment in the first aid kit and squeezed a little on the pads of your fingers. You cautiously started on his left leg, massaging the cream into the small blisters. 
Spencer hissed and his legs buckled a little. He was silent though and allowed you to treat his rash. Soon you were moving onto the other leg and although it stung Spencer couldn’t deny he enjoyed the skin to skin contact. 
As much as he hated to admit it, Spencer was touch starved. He hadn’t felt another set of hands on him in such a tender way since before prison. 
He’d deliberately kept everyone at arms length since, not trusting himself or deeming himself worthy to be so close to another person. 
He’d almost allowed himself to go there with Max, to succumb to the kind of pleasure he’d sorely missed. They’d kissed but ultimately that was the furthest he’d let himself go. 
And somehow your benevolent touch was more intimate than kissing Max. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on his part. 
He was sure you knew the real reason he was so brusque with you wasn’t because of what you’d call him during your first case. He was annoyed about it at first but he hadn’t held a grudge over it. 
His curt behaviour towards you stemmed from his almost overwhelming crush on you. He’d pushed you away because when he met you he wasn’t ready to be close to someone. But in doing so he had inevitably sealed his own fate so that now when he might actually want to pursue something, you could barely stand him.
He tried to omit the feeling of your fingertips on his calves and focused his attention on the warbling of a nearby bird. Its song wasn’t the prettiest he’d ever heard but it had a certain cadence to it which he found oddly calming. 
All too soon you were finished and your touch was gone, leaving Spencer feeling dissatisfied. You wrapped both of his rashes in gauze bandages but your fingers barely ghosted over his flesh again.
You stuffed the kit back away and pushed yourself to your feet, brushing the dirt off of your knees. Spencer looked down at his newly bandaged legs with a small frown. 
“Do you have a change of clothes? Some pants perhaps?” You asked.
“No, for all my planning and research I did not think to bring long pants.” He shook his head at his oversight. 
“I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but you could have asked me what you should bring. The whole team knows I’m big on hiking and camping.” You turned away from him, looking back out through the trees to try and ascertain the best direction to head. “I also could have told you that converse was a dumb choice for hiking. I can only imagine how much your feet hurt.” 
Spencer made a noise that sounded somewhat like he agreed with you but didn’t want to say it out loud. You pulled out a piece of crumpled paper from your backpack and unfolded it, staring intently at it for a few moments. 
Spencer came closer, glancing down at the wrinkled paper in your hands. It looked to be a topographic map of the area. Finally something Spencer understood about hiking. 
“Didn’t know Garcia gave us those.” He spoke as you studied it.
“She didn’t. This isn’t my first rodeo, I would never have come out here without one.” You didn’t look at him. 
“So I can read this but how do you work out where we are? There’s nothing but trees for miles.” He scratched the back of his neck. 
“Observation. We passed a small body of water about a mile back. I didn’t see it but I could hear it off to the west. And this incline,” you pointed in front of you. “Will help figure it out.” 
“Okay, so a small body of water and an area where the contour lines aren’t too close as the hill isn’t too steep.” He nodded.
“Exactly.” You agreed. “And if my bearings are right I believe we’re facing north east.” 
Spencer looked around briefly before a smile tugged at his lips. 
“Because of the position of the sun.” 
“Yep. And the moss.” You nodded towards the trees. “It’s not an exact science but in the whole moss tends to grow on the north side of trees in the northern hemisphere.”
Spencer watched while you ran your index finger along the map, trying to draw on everything you knew in order to get the two of you to higher ground. 
“Wow I’m…I’m actually impressed.” He chuckled a little and you looked up at him with a frown. 
“Are you patronising me?” 
“What? No! I mean it. I’m really impressed.” 
“Oh,” you looked back at the map. “Thanks.” 
A minute or so later and you’d estimated a few miles worth of trail you believed the two of you to be on. If you were right you were still miles from the camp and wouldn’t make it there by nightfall. 
Your plan was to find somewhere to get cell service so you could call the team and hopefully they could get park rangers out here to find you as they were the only ones equipped to traverse the forest after dark. 
Spencer followed you while you kept the map in your hand. The two of you walked for another mile or so, by this point Spencer’s water rations were nearly depleted. 
Eventually you stopped at the foot of a large, steep hill and Spencer looked up at it with a dubious expression. 
“You want me to climb that?” He whined. 
“Well we have a better chance of getting cell service when we have two phones.�� You rolled your eyes, folding the map and slotting it in your pocket. 
“Can’t you just take mine up there with you?” He pulled a face. “I really do not possess the physical prowess for this.”
“No kidding.” You scoffed. “But we’re in this together. I could get hurt or something, I need you for backup.” 
Spencer groaned, pouting his bottom lip like a child. 
“Oh jeez, fine.” He huffed. “But I will complain every step of the way.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” With a shake of your head you started forward and Spencer reluctantly followed you.
You got less than twenty paces before he almost slipped and fell on his face. To steady himself he instinctively reached for your hand. He didn’t let go the whole way up. 
You hated to admit it but there was something oddly comforting about Spencer’s hand in yours. His hand was warm and surprisingly soft and it was so much larger than your own he all but encompassed yours. 
He held onto you tightly, fingers squeezing your hand every time his foot slipped a little on the hilly ground. A part of you didn’t want to make it to the top because you didn’t want him to let go. 
But of course as soon as the ground levelled out he slipped his hand away and all but collapsed onto the damp ground below, huffing and puffing. You watched him grab his canteen and finish the water without a second thought. 
He removed his pack and rolled onto his back, relishing in every last drop of liquid and clearly not concerned he had now emptied his reserves. He closed his eyes and pushed his hair back off his sweaty forehead. 
You pulled your cell phone out and unlocked it. You had one tiny bar of signal which you hoped was enough to make a call. You nudged Spencer in the ribs with the toe of your hiking boot. His eyes shot open and he stared up at you, the exhaustion heavy in his eyes. 
“I’ve got one bar, I’m going to try and call Prentiss.” You informed him, bringing up your contacts. 
You found Emily’s name quickly and hit the call button before putting the device on speaker. The dial tone was crackly and you knew the signal could cut out at any minute. It rang four times before Emily answered but her words were muffled and you only caught a handful of what she said.
“Y/N…are you?...Gone hours…thing okay?” 
“Emily, we got lost. Our GPS was misprogrammed. We need help.” You had no idea how much she could hear of what you were saying.
“...are you?...send a rang…coordinates?” 
You reeled off your approximate coordinates, explaining that you could be anywhere within a few miles of that spot but again you don’t know what she heard due to the spotty service. 
“Hold tight…get a ranger…be okay.” 
“Thanks Emily.” You finished before hanging up.
Spencer was still on the floor on his back, his brows furrowed in concern.
“How much of that do you think she got?” He was rolling his lip between his teeth.
“I have no idea.” You pocketed the phone again. “I’m almost certain Garcia would have brought her laptop with her. If she can get to the rangers station and get on the WiFi she might be able to locate us.”
“Yeah, good point. Garcia is the best.” His eyes closed again, a strangely dreamy smile on his lips. 
“What are you doing?” You kicked him again and his eyes quickly opened and he stared at you.
“Resting, what does it look like?” He scowled.
“Reid, the second the sun goes down the temperature is going to plummet. We need to make a fire.” 
“Goddamnit,” he pushed himself to a sitting position. “I hate the outdoors.” 
You chose to ignore him and didn’t help him to his feet, instead started wandering around in the search for some sticks for the fire. Spencer eventually got himself up and started to help. The sun was barely a sliver in the sky by the time you collected enough wood.
You created a crisscross on the ground with the kindling, explaining to Spencer this type of fire would burn for longer and not need as much wood. You had no idea how long you would be out here and you needed to stay warm. The smoke would also help draw attention to your whereabouts. 
You retrieved a pack of matches from your back, Spencer once again impressed by your preparedness. He simply watched while you went about lighting the fire, in silent awe. It was several minutes before the fire started to grow and he shuffled closer to it, sitting cross legged on the dirty forest floor and holding his hands towards the flames. 
You sat down next to him, but not too close. You got out a fleece hoodie from your bag and slipped it over your head. As if jogging some kind of memory for Spencer he opened his own bag and found his oversized CalTech sweatshirt, thankful he’d had the forethought to pack this even if he had overlooked bringing pants. 
Sitting by the fire you felt the fatigue wash over you. You could quite easily curl up and fall asleep after the day's events. Spencer noticed your fluttering eyelids and how you were desperately trying to stay awake.
He suddenly felt extremely bad for how difficult he’d been all day, complaining and moaning while you tried to keep him safe and alive. He huffed out a breath and the sound caused you to look at him.
Half of his face was illuminated by the glow of the fire, the other side set in deep shadow from where the sun had now almost completely vanished beneath the horizon. His golden brown eyes shimmered as he looked at you.
“I, uh, I’m sorry I’ve been such hard work today.” He rolled his lip between his teeth.
“Reid, I’m used to you being hard work.” Your lip twitched at the corner. 
“I’m sorry about that too.” He swallowed. “Do you…do you want to lay your head down on my lap? You deserve to rest.” 
You frowned a little sceptical, mildly concerned by the offer as Spencer had never been so nice to you. But you were too tired to question it and the idea of laying down sounded wonderful. You nodded slowly, prompting Spencer to uncross his legs and stretch them out in front of himself.
You sucked in a breath, shuffling in the dirt so you could lay on your side with your head in his lap while you stretched your own body out on the ground. 
Without meaning to, Spencer's hand was soon brushing through your hair. You couldn’t help the hum of appreciation that you let escape and it goaded him to continue. 
His touch elicited the sweetest sounds from your lips, some sounding dangerously like moans. Spencer was only human and his body reacted of its own accord at the noises. 
He could sense the blood rushing south, feel the swelling in his shorts despite how much he willed it stop. He stilled his movements on your hair, hoping if you weren’t making those delirious sounds it would stop the blood rushing and he wouldn’t get hard enough for you to notice…
…You suddenly sat up, looking right at him with wide eyes. Of course you’d noticed, his crotch was right beneath your head. 
His cheeks instantly flushed red and he pulled a face full of apologies and mortification. You continued to stare at him and he felt more uncomfortable with each silent second. 
“Please,” he whimpered. “Just…don’t mention it.” 
“Kinda hard not to…pun not intended.” You frowned at your own choice of words and Spencer groaned. 
“I’m sorry,” he shook his head. “It has been a long time since I’ve had any kind of closeness with another person. I can’t be held responsible for my body’s carnal reactions. Especially when you’re making such sinful noises.” 
Your own cheeks turned red now and you glanced away from him towards the fire. 
“I, uh…I didn’t realise I was. Sorry.” You croaked. “Full disclosure, it’s also been a long time since I’ve had any kind of closeness with another person.” 
Spencer’s brows furrowed as he regarded you. He found that incredibly hard to believe. You were just so beautiful he imagined men fell at your feet everywhere you went. 
“Seriously?” He couldn’t help but ask. 
“Seriously.” You confirmed with a huff as you turned back to him. 
“But why?” 
“Why what? I don’t understand.” 
“I mean…you’re you. You’re beautiful and smart and charismatic. Surely you could have your pick of men?” Spencer was really frowning. 
“I’m…fussy I suppose? And I don’t really like the whole casual sex thing…” You trailed off with your own frown. “Wait did you call me beautiful?”
“And smart and charismatic.” He nodded. 
“Uh, thanks?” You were rightfully confused, Spencer had never said anything nice about you. “What about you? You don’t have women lining up at your door? And weren’t you dating someone?”
Spencer let out a hearty laugh at this, shaking his head dramatically. 
“Max and I broke up not long after Cat and her games. We never…you know…and trust me when I say women do not fawn over a neurotic, socially awkward ex-con.” Spencer sighed sadly. 
“Oh, I didn’t realise about Max, I’m sorry.” 
“It’s okay. It wouldn’t have worked out even if Cat hadn’t interfered.” He pulled a face, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “You didn’t know me before prison. I’m not the same man I used to be. I had to do things on the inside just to survive and it changed me. For a long time I didn’t trust myself to get close to anyone. A part of me still doesn't but I’m trying I guess? Max was the closest I came to allowing myself to be vulnerable again.” 
You simply stared at him, unsure what to say. You’d never spoken so personally with Spencer before, he’d never opened up to you in such a way and you didn’t know how to respond. 
You knew you needed to tread lightly, not wanting to risk him clamming up and shutting you down. You were making progress for the first time since you’d met him and you didn’t want to give him a reason not to continue. 
“I didn’t know you before prison and I have no idea the things you would have gone through in there. But I do know you now. I know you shield yourself behind these huge walls to keep people from hurting you, probably because you’ve already been hurt enough for one lifetime. 
“You kept me at arms length because you don’t like change, you worried I would threaten the team dynamic. But once you realised that wasn’t the case, you were too far gone and it was easier for you to keep treating me with disdain rather than thaw towards me.” 
Spencer was silent while you talked, ingesting your words, mulling them over in his head. His expression tightened, his eyebrows knitted together and his lips drawn into a line. 
“I guess you’re right, at least about some of it.” He exhaled. “I was always guarded to a degree even before prison. People have always disappointed me I guess and so I learnt not to rely on anyone, not to let anyone get too close. It’s easier to be alone than to risk getting hurt. 
“But you’re wrong about why I kept you away. Your comment about me being a mama’s boy stung but I didn’t hold it against you. I needed to put distance between us because from the first time I met you I knew how effortless it would be for me to fall for you.
“I was too raw at the time, I wasn’t ready to give my heart away to someone who might not even want it. I had to keep you at arms length because it was safer than letting myself develop feelings for someone who probably wouldn’t reciprocate. But I guess the jokes on me because my plan was far from foolproof and I managed to fall for you anyway. 
“I don’t expect anything from you in return, and I’m hoping once we’re rescued we can just forget this whole thing ever happened. But I suppose you deserve to know why I am the way I am with you and maybe going forward we can try to be…I don’t know…friends? Or at the very least I hope we can get along better.” He sucked in a breath when he finished speaking, looking completely exhausted and utterly heartbroken.
You couldn’t speak. You took in every single word, toyed with them in your mind and tried to make sense of them. But really they didn’t make any sense. In the year you’d known Spencer you had never even gotten so much as a hint that he had feelings for you. He was detached, withdrawn and oftentimes entirely unapproachable. 
It seemed implausible that he could have been hiding these feelings all this time and for you not to have a clue. You were a profiler, wasn’t it your job to pick up on these things? Did the rest of the team figure it out? Were you the only one in the dark? 
He looked increasingly uncomfortable by his confession with every passing second of silence. The fire crackled, its warmth washing over you both. It cast you both in a cosy glow. 
Spencer seemed closer somehow. Did you move nearer or had he, or was it simply all in your head? 
There were so many things you could say, so many possibilities but you couldn’t form a simple sentence. Every time you tried to speak your words caught in your throat and his own played over in a loop in your brain. 
I guess the jokes on me because my plan was far from foolproof and I managed to fall for you anyway. 
Spencer had feelings for you and he thought you wouldn’t feel the same. Perhaps neither of you were as good at profiling as you thought. 
Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth, growing self conscious in your lack of response. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled it through his nose. 
“I should not have said any of that.” He averted his gaze to the fire. “I don’t even know why I did. Jeez, I’m a moron. Please can you just pretended I didn’t…” 
He trailed off when your hand cupped his chin and you turned him gently to look at you. 
“Yes, you are a moron.” You smiled meekly. “But only because you missed what was right in front of you. How can you think I didn’t feel the same?” 
His mouth fell open, your hand still on his jaw. He blinked rapidly as if trying to clear some kind of fog in his brain. 
“You…I’m confused.” He frowned. 
“Let me clear it up for you then.” You dropped your hand to your side but seconds later your lips crushed against his. 
Spencer gasped at the sudden action, in a million years he never dreamed to actually feel your lips on his. And if he never got this chance again, he was going to make the most of it. 
He raised his hands to cup your face and ran his tongue along your bottom lip, gently asking for passageway. You obliged by parting your lips enough for his tongue to slide inside. 
You were quick to explore the contours of each other's mouths, both of your desperations evident in the way your teeth knocked together while you worked to find your rhythm. 
One of his hands worked its way into the back of your hair and held you firmly as he deepened the kiss further. He pulled you into his lap and you manoeuvred yourself so you were straddling him, kneeling in the dirt either side of his hips. 
He kept one hand cradling your head and the other moved down over your ribs. It dipped beneath the thick fabric of your hoodie, sandwiched between it and your shirt underneath. 
You rocked in his lap, wrapping your arms tightly around neck. The friction caused him to moan languidly into your mouth and it wasn’t long before you felt him growing hard again. 
When he pulled back and opened his eyes, his pupils were blown out, heavy with lust. He was begging you for more without the use of words, he removed one of your hands from around his neck and moved it between your bodies. 
He placed your palm on his rapidly growing erection, rolling his swollen lip with his teeth whilst silently asking if this was okay. You smiled at him and your other hand joined it so you could pop the button of his shorts.
One hand wasted no time in diving straight into his boxers and wrapping around his shaft. You quickly tugged him free of the confines of both his shorts and underwear. 
You sat back a little on your haunches to look down on him. You couldn’t hold back your lamentation as you surveyed every inch of him in your hand. He was long and thick, heavy against your palm. Honestly you hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t this. 
The vein that ran up the underside throbbed as you brushed your thumb over it and he bucked his hips when you moved it to rub over his swollen red tip. You slowly brought your fist all the way back down, squeezing his base whilst nestled in a bed of scratchy pubic hair.
You tore your eyes away from his crotch and looked up to meet his eyes. They held a hint of uncertainty, as though he was worried you wouldn’t like what you saw. Spencer never was blessed with body confidence, he was always too skinny or too tall or too gangly. 
He wasn’t dumb though, he knew that particular appendage was above average. He didn’t have a wealth of sexual experience but he had enough to know that he was often a tight fit for most. But that didn’t stop him from feeling self conscious under your gaze.
The smile on your face and the glint in your eye was enough for him to know that you were pleased by what you’d seen and it allowed him to relax a little. He felt a wave of heat wash over him as your hand slowly started to move and it had nothing to do with his proximity to the fire. 
He wriggled beneath you as you started moving your hand up and down, your thumb brushing over his sensitive head each time. A string of wanton moans left his lips and he was momentarily dumbfounded while you worked him, not able to do anything but sit and relish in this feeling.
Your petite hand couldn’t fit all the way around him but it didn’t make your movements any less mind blowing. He had never been touched like this before, with such a combination of care and desperation. 
Once he got his brain working for long enough to think straight, he moved his hands towards the buttons of your pants. You didn’t let up on your ministrations while he got them undone, swiping your thumb through the precum collecting on his head. 
He swiftly popped the buttons and his right hand dipped inside straight inside your panties. He moaned animalistically when he discovered how wet you were already, the sound dissipating out into the forest. 
You kept eye contact with each other as his fingers slid between your legs, collecting your arousal before moving to settle on your needy clit. You whimpered as he rubbed the sensitive bud with two fingers, rocking against his hand whilst increasing your speed on his cock.
The sounds coming from the both of you were nothing short of feral and became eaten up by the vast woods surrounding you. You grinded against his hand while he flicked your nub deftly, eager to bring you to orgasm.
You returned the favour and matched his speed. The sounds of your arousal and his flesh against yours filled your ears. The fire continued to crackle behind you, casting you in an ethereal glow from where you perched on top of him. 
His chest heaved and his stomach was coiling into thick knots. He wanted this to last forever but knew his orgasm was imminent. It had been all too long since someone had touched him so intimately and it would be impossible to stave off his release for too long.
But judging by the noises you were making, the sinful whines and moans leaving your parted lips and how frantically you bucked against his hand, he assumed you were in the same boat. 
“Jesus, Reid,” you panted heavily. “Who knew you’d be so good at that?”
He couldn’t help but chuckle, increasing his speed even further as if to prove that point.
“Likewise.” He replied, whimpering as you swiped your thumb through more beads of precum. 
“I’m so close.” You whined, throwing your head back to your shoulders.
“M-me too.” He stuttered, stomach clenching at the way you twisted your fist around his shaft. 
Somewhere in the distance you heard a twig snap but paid it no attention. You kept your focus here on Spencer, on how he was making you feel and on how you were making him feel. But then you heard another crunch followed by a faint voice.
“Reid? Y/LN?” It called. “I see smoke! That has to be them!”
“Is that…?” Spencer frowned, breathing heavily.
“G-Garcia.” You mumbled. 
“Fuck,” Spencer groaned, his frustration evident.
“Reid? Y/L/N? It’s Penny G, can you hear me, my loves?” 
You and Spencer exchanged a look while you both stilled your movements at the same time. He kept his hand inside your panties while you held the base of his shaft limply. You felt dizzy, you were on the cusp of orgasm, about to fall over the ledge when Garcia’s voice had dragged you back from the brink. Looking at Spencer, he felt much the same.
“Y/L/N, Reid! We’re coming angels!”
“Oof,” Spencer groaned, cautiously withdrawing his hand from inside your pants. “Poor choice of words.” 
You reluctantly let go of his shaft and crawled away from him while you both readjusted yourself and got your pants done up.
“Over here, Garcia.” You called, hoping she didn’t notice the way your voice shook. 
Your body tingled, so close to release a soft breeze could get you there. Spencer pushed himself to his feet, legs shaking and reached out to help you up. He was tenting his shorts, unable to get the blood flowing elsewhere due to how close he’d been. He picked up his backpack and held it in front of him so Garcia wouldn’t notice.
Your underwear was soaked and sticky. You tried to adjust your stance so it was less uncomfortable but it was almost impossible. You could see three flashlights in the distance and the footsteps were growing closer. 
Soon enough Garcia and two park rangers appeared through the thicket. If she noticed the flush of your cheeks she didn’t say anything. She immediately threw her arms around both of you, Spencer cloying to keep his bag as a barrier between himself and the bubbly blonde for fear she might feel his unyielding erection.
“Oh my sweet angels!” She cooed over you both. “Let's get you back to camp and get you warmed up and fed.” 
You both silently agreed and let the rangers lead you back towards a clearing where their vehicle awaited you. Garcia hopped in the backseat first and Spencer held open the door for you, offering a meek smile as you passed him. 
Perhaps it was for the best you’d been interrupted before you could go too far. Perhaps Garcia had inadvertently helped you dodge a bullet.
***
Several hours later after making it back to the camp and feasting on Rossi’s campfire soup and bread and whilst being wrapped in Garcia’s fluffy blankets, one by one the other members of the BAU retired for the night. 
The fire was still dwindling as you perched on a log next to Spencer, silence deafening you once the two of you were alone. You watched the small flames flicker and dance in the soft breeze, soaking up the last of the summer evening before calling it a night yourself.
Before you did, you turned to face him to find he was already looking at you. He smiled softly, a little bashfully and you returned it. Words and emotions bubbled under the surface and neither one of you knew where to start. 
“Some day, huh.” You shrugged, wrapping the blanket tighter around your body.
“It was certainly eye opening.” Spencer agreed.
“It was probably for the best that Garcia and those rangers found us when they did, right?” 
“Oh yeah, for sure. Probably stopped us from doing something even more stupid.” Spencer chuckled nervously. 
“Exactly.” You nodded, getting to your feet. Spencer did the same. “We can just pretend nothing happened. We were tired, probably a little dehydrated. The sun makes us do weird things.” 
“Yeah, the sun.” He nodded too. 
You swallowed thickly, giving him one last look before turning towards your tent. Spencer scuffed the toe of his converse on the ground and found himself speaking again without really meaning to. 
“I mean…it would have been nice to at least finish. I’ve been kinda on edge ever since.” 
You spun back to look at him and he looked so unsure of himself. His hands were in his pockets and his shoulders were pitched up to his ears. 
“Uh, yeah same here.” You took a couple of tentative steps back towards him. “There’s no doubt I could go back to my tent right now and finish what we started alone but…”
“But your hand feels so much better than my own.” Spencer finished for you. 
You both chuckled as you reached him again, letting go of your blanket and letting it fall to the floor so you wrap your arms around Spencer’s neck. 
“It would just be a one time thing.” You whispered, your breath fanning across his face. 
“Even though you don’t like casual sex.” He placed his hands on your hips. 
“Even though I don’t like casual sex.” You repeated. 
“We’re just…two colleagues helping each other.” Spencer smirked, inching his face closer to yours. 
“And if anyone ever found out…” 
“We’d blame the sun. Summer heat got to us.” 
“Summer heat.” You agreed and with that he kissed you again, drawing you into his body whilst tugging you in the direction of his own tent. 
Spencer had never been a fan of summer. But after today he may have been converted. And he was certain this summer heat between you would continue to smoulder through the seasons. 
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