#𝜗𝜚 spencer reid

[etclouie]

it’s in the eyes

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — summary; eye contact makes your boyfriend nervous, though it also turns him on (Spencer Reid x fem!reader)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — warnings; smut with little plot, minors do not interact!!!, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple creampies/orgasms, sub!spencer, reader briefly wraps her hand around spencer’s throat, spencer x bau!reader, established relationship, that’s it i think

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — word count; 746

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — a/n; season 1 spence has my heart (rah i hate the ending)

cm masterlist | main masterlist like spencer? join my taglist !

you and Spencer had started dating close to a year ago, and day by day you were still learning what made him tick and got him all flustered. 

one thing you knew about though, was eye contact. it made his mind short circuit and his cheeks grow red. 

he never told you why it gets him, but god if it wasn’t the cutest thing. 

there’d been many occasions at work where he’d be talking to someone—always Derek— and he’d catch your eyes from across the room, the way you shot him a smile and waved sweetly at him. it had him stuttering over his words and growing flustered. 

and you loved it. 

of course though, it always led to Derek teasing Spencer over it, but you’d always reassure him once you both got home that night. 

which is exactly how today went. Derek made another teasing comment and it got to Spencer a little more than the others, but when you took him home all of his worries disappeared. 

you’d made quick work of getting him into bed, something that surprised him the first time but slowly it helped him get out of his head. 

laying under him as his hips rolled against yours, keeping your eyes locked with his as he fucked you. soft moans falling from your lips with each drag of his cock, making your walls squeeze tightly around him. 

the sudden constriction around him pulled a whine from his throat, and his eyes fluttered shut. trying to collect himself, and prolong the pleasure between you both. 

but when your hand slid up his chest to wrap around his throat, squeezing lightly and softly pulling him back towards you — he knew he wouldn’t be able to last long. 

“eyes on me”

you whispered softly, to which he nodded obediently. eyes meeting yours again, words dying on his tongue and morphing into incoherent babbles. 

his state made you smirk, pulling him down into a kiss and licking into his mouth. tongue tangling with his and desperate whines falling from his lips. 

he continued to roll his hips, though his thrusts stuttered. 

he was teetering desperately on the edge and was ready to topple over at any minute, but he waited for your say so. 

“know you’re there baby, cum f’me”

you cooed, right hand continued to run across his chest as his body blanketed yours. both of his arms resting on either side of your head, his face inches from yours and his eyes staying locked with yours. 

when he seen the reassurance and encouragement in your eyes, he nodded slowly. his mouth hung open as he rolled his hips a couple more times before he fell over the edge, his climax hitting him and a breathy moan falling from his lips. 

his climax triggered your own, your walls spasming around him as the coil snapped. warmth spreading throughout your body as he spilled himself into your warmth, the tightness of your walls around his pulsing cock had his eyes feeling heavy. 

yet, when his eyes flicked back up to yours he groaned. your eyes already on him, a renewed look of hunger within them as you pulled him down into a kiss. 

his hips bucking shallowly as heat started to build inside him again, breaking the kiss and meeting his eyes as you whispered softly. 

“gonna ride you, keep your eyes on me, okay?”

he couldn’t help the groan that fell from his lips as he nodded, helping to settle on his back as you positioned yourself in his lap. 

rolling your hips slowly at first, gauging his reaction while he whined. his hands squeezed tightly at your hips as his cock throbbed inside you again, leaning in you captured his lips in another kiss. 

when you pulled back, you kept your face inches from his. your eyes locking with his and a breathy groan falling from his lips, canting his hips up into you as you sank all the way down again. 

each buck of his hips told you all you needed to know, he wasn’t going to last for long, especially not if you held eye contact with him. 

which made it all that much better. 

your eyes stayed locked as you moved atop of him, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of him until he was fully spent. 

each moan that fell from his lips confirmed what you already knew, eye contact made Spencer weak and insanely horny for you. 

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[webbluvrsugar]

earlyseasons!spencer making you squirt.

cw: doesn’t mean sub!spencer, it’s more like eager Spencer experimenting on reader, written mostly for funsies.

Every since you and Spencer have been messing — fucking — around, you’ve noticed that he’s been a little shy, at least at first, his touch has been gentle but also… experimental, the way he looks at you when you’re under him and pushes you just a little harder almost makes you feel like like he’s studying you, testing something on you. But he’s a profiler, he’s learned that you don’t mind, so when he comes with the proposition of trying to make you squirt, you’re doubtful, specially as he pushes you down on your bed — already naked.

“Spencer, you don’t really need to do this, I —“ you try to speak but he’s quick to interrupt you, his hands running down your thighs.

“I know, I just.. I just want to try something new, just for a bit,” he hushes, eyes looking up to you for approval as he puts away his glasses and when Spencer says ‘just for a bit’ he is indeed just… lying, lying to your face.

His tongue licks a fat strip up your folds, it’s bold, something that he’d at first would hesitate to do, gently circling your clit before he attaches his lips onto it, gently sucks and his fingers go up to spread you further.

Spencer’s tongue feels good, but by now, you know that he would’ve already tried to stick a finger or two in you, but he doesn’t, it almost seems like he’s trying to reach this personal goal of his all with his mouth, and he’s doing a good job at it, because his tongue prods at your entrance and you arch your back, softly moaning, head throwing back and meeting your pillow.

“How does that feel?” He questions as if you need to answer for him to know it.

But still, you nod again, “Good,” you whisper, hand going down to grab at the sheets.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He grins, cocky, before his mouth latches onto your cunt again.

He devours you, nose bumping into your clit as his tongue precisely chooses where to run through, your breath being taken from your lungs when it caresses your insides one more time, the warm tip of the muscle moving within you.

“Spence,” you whimper, your knees struggling to keep themselves in place as he pulls back and pays attention to your swollen pearl one more time.

“Close?” He asks, tongue licking up a few more times through your folds, trying to get all up in there.

“Mh — Mhm,” you moan, a pleased sigh following suit.

“Did you know that —“ he pauses, “statistically, only thirty-five to fifty percent of women have experienced squirting mid sex—“ he presses an open mouthed kiss to your cunt. “But it depends on the method, I’ve read about it, we can try and see if this will be the one for you.”

And for someone who’s so used to talking, Spencer finally goes to quiet after a while and focus on your pussy, paying extra attention to what you like, guiding himself with your moans and gentle curses.

“Spence—“ with that, he thinks this really might be his chance of getting you to do it the first try, so his lips wrap around your clit one last time, only letting go when he hears a hushed cry of his name escape your lips— “Spencer!” A stream of fluid expels from you, and he watches in awe, slightly tilting his head as your body shivers and writhes right before him.

His hands gently caress your thighs, fingers letting go of your folds, his eyes finally meeting yours when you take a breath and before you can speak, he notes;

“Let’s do it again, maybe you’ll do it quicker if I actually use my fingers…”

[esotericcangel]

💭 thinking about enemies to lovers w spencer reid…

he hates you because you’re constantly mocking his nerd like personality, and the way he spews useless facts like they’re second nature. but secretly you like it. maybe you even envy it it little.

and you hate him because you’re jealous, jealous of how smart he is, and maybe just a little mad at how attracted you are to the BAU’s resident nerd. you’re always arguing, and hotch has 24/7 migraines because of it, but he’d be an idiot to fire his two smartest team members.

and one day you’re both a bit too exhausted to deal with each other(for some unknown reason) and you snap, like full on arguing about something pertaining to the current case—not important but important enough that you both felt the need to argue—and hotch can’t stand it. he sends you both to an interrogation room to cool off.

the interrogation room is cold, a little unnerving, but you perch yourself in the edge of the metal table away, the corner digging into your back and you don’t move. you let it puncture your skin, watch as spencer himself leans on the opposite wall and silently stews.

and it starts again.

“why do you have to be such a jerk all the time?” you snap. you don’t even know why you said that. you just—for some reason—want a reaction.

and of course spencer meets your anger head on, it turns into a full fight again. you’re toe to toe, your head tipping back a bit to accommodate the difference in height, brows furrowed. and you both can’t take it anymore.

he takes your face in both his large, slender hands, and you kiss. it’s messy, sloppy, all teeth and tongue and anger but in a way it’s nice. it’s a release. and of course you’re both too professional to have actual sex at work, so you just end up on the metal table, spencer’s hips in between your legs as you dry hump like desperate freaks in an attempt to gain some release.

but a knock comes at the door of the interrogation room and you both jolt—sweaty, embarrassed, flushed.

and you both leave the room, work the same for the rest of the day. you think that spencer will never talk about this ever, or he’ll probably never speak to you again at all.

you’re proved wrong once he pounces on you in the elevator at the end of your shifts.

a/n: i think i blacked out typing this it took me like two minutes… might write an actual blurb for it

© 𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 please refrain from copying, translating or claiming my work as yours .ᐟ

🏷️: @winnie1emon @cinnamoncunt @littlelamy @drewswife @vyviiennestar @hazza3000 @dramioneforevertilltheend

[reiding-writing]

Hi Red! I’m back to participate on your event

Would like to know your author’s picks for fluff!

R E D ‘ S P I C K S — FLUFF .ᐟ

there is nothing better than coming home and binge-reading fluff after a long day, prove me wrong

flirty!reader. | 1.2k | @avis-writeshq

can i request reader as being a massive flirt publicly towards spencer but when its Intimate and Private, reader is suddenly Stunned and Speechless and Blushing and spencer kinda gets the confidence to Do Stuff?

sweater weather. | 1.0k | @samuelsdean

"want to warm up?" he gestured to the hem of his sweater with a hint of concern in his eyes.

awkward!glasses!reid. | 0.8k | @ddejavvu

Please can i request an awkward!glasses reid oneshot where he's like pining over the reader?? maybe with a bit of tension?

comfort crowd. | 5.0k | @akimoons

"i don't think I could ever get sick of you." it escapes you in a whisper, and spencer tries desperately to ignore the way it strikes both fear and hope into his heart.

lovely. | 1.9k | @lighteyed

you think spencer's lovely.

11:34PM. | 1.0k | @morehotch

[ no summary available. ]

a real head scratcher. | 2.7k | @bippot

The two BAU younglings clearly feel something other than friendship towards each other. Despite how much Morgan and the rest of the team tease them, the dynamic duo progress at their own adorable speed.

acceptable greetings. | 1.5k | self rec

Spencer is an avid believer that kissing is a better greeting than shaking hands. You're not convinced at his notion of it being 'completely acceptable, and in attempting to prove him wrong, you end up proving something else.

[cherrys-muses]

Hiii<33 saw you might be up to writing Spencer and had to request bc I’m obsessed w him<33 I recently watched the episode w the comic book artist and his gf who’s phone he called all the time and thought about it with Spencer 🥹 reader and Spencer are always apart because of work so sometimes he calls their phone to hear the voicemail they made together and the team hears it and sees him smiling at it 🥲❤️ sorry idk if this makes sense!!

an; hi love! thank you for your sweet request! this absolutely does make sense <3 i love this so very much and i hope you enjoy it! w; none — besides spencer being gone for his job, mentions of some cases (but not in crazy detail) sickly in love reader and spence = homesick!

'…be sure to leave your message after the beep! i’ll get back to you as soon as i can.’

before it could beep, he hangs up, the small beep makes a smile pull at his lips. or rather, your voice does.

spencer had been gone for, what it seemed, a long three days. it was a grueling case that had him up and pacing at night, wishing he was home with you.

when he’d finds himself spiraling, he calls you. he knows there’s a big time difference sometimes and a slight bit of guilt creeps in.

keyword; slight. not enough to make him stop.

derek would tease him about it at times, but he began to understand why spencer does that just to hear your voice saying what almost everyone else does.

comfort. a sense of being at home.

derek hasn’t teased him anymore about it. he watches with an endearing look on his face, a small smile pulling at his lips when he notices spencer’s cheeks flush from the sound of your voice — whether it actually be you or the voicemail.

they’re land at 3 in the morning. spencer makes it home at 3:40.

stepping into the quiet apartment, he locks the door behind himself and tiptoes around towards your shared room.

your asleep in one of his button ups with a loose braid. he quietly drops his bag and inches closer. his finger tip drags over your brow, watching as they slightly pull together just an inch before you relax again.

he smiles softly, turning to change into some pajamas and makes his way back out towards the couch. he grabs the quilt you had made and drapes it over himself once he lies down. his legs are uncomfortable by hanging off the arm of the couch, but he doesn’t want to wake you up.

it’s 5:30 when you do wake up. you’re still tired but when spencer isn’t next to you, sleeping doesn’t come easy. standing from the bed, you make your way towards the living room, pausing when you notice a pair of feet hanging off the couch with mismatched socks.

a tired smile pulls at your lips when you see him, making your way over, kneeling next to him. “spence.” you whisper softly.

he’s a light sleeper, jerking asleep when he hears your voice. his eyes are still squinted slightly when he reaches out for you.

your hand grabs his softly and you press his palm to his cheek, pressing a kiss to the skin there. “why didn’t you come to bed?”

“i didn’t want to wake you.” he whispers, afraid to disturb the peaceful silence of the morning before everything begins to get crazy outside.

frowning, you shake your head and lean it against his palm. his fingertips begin to gently scratch your scalp, a tired smile pulling at his lips as his eyes begin to squint. “i wouldn’t have minded,” your thumb runs over his knuckles softly. “i love knowing you’re home.”

“i’ll remember that next time.”

you nod with a soft smile, standing from the ground and grabbing his hand that had cradled your head. “good. now, come lie down before your neck starts hurting.”

with a small huff, he pushes himself from the couch. before you could walk off, he pulls you back, causing your feet to stumble a bit with a small laugh leaving your lips.

“spence—”

his arms wrap around your shoulders, cheek resting on top of your head as his eyes slowly close. “just one moment. then we can go to bed.” he whispers.

your smile softens and slightly wavers. nodding against his chest, your hands rest against his back, making a small path up and down with your fingertips.

“just one moment.”

[etclouie-masterlists]

𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐈𝐄’𝐒 𝟔𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

ᯓ★ 600 follower event rules and info here

ᯓ★ main masterlist | navigation

— #𝜗𝜚 ㅤ― louie’s 600 follower special ⊹

— * contains smut / suggestive content, warnings posted on each individual fic; read and heed the warnings. all content is 18+, mdni

THE WALKING DEAD

Rick Grimes

— not gonna help

Daryl Dixon

— thin walls *

— needy *

— pantry kisses *

Negan Smith

— views under the stars

Shane Walsh

— optimistic *

— oh, daddy **

— trust

Abraham Ford

— not the same

Glenn Rhee

— “I don’t care anymore.”

CALL OF DUTY (141)

John Price

— better than a necklace *

Simon Riley

— can't look at you

Soap MacTavish

— drawings

— figure of speech *

— not what you meant *

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

— ms. dramatic

CRIMINAL MINDS

Aaron Hotchner

— early mornings

— lipstick *

— could be different

Derek Morgan

— offerings *

— kisses before you go

— morning call outs

Spencer Reid

— his wife

— his clothes

— rambles

— solace in her arms

— made for each other

Luke Alvez

— ignored stunts *

— cancelled plans

— “get out”

— instructions

SONS OF ANARCHY

Jax Teller

— five minutes *

— presidential favors *

— did we?

— louder *

Chibs Telford

— under the stars

— wish they could know *

— long wait for kisses

— mr. president *

— better than me

Juice Ortiz

— not into rough acts *

— “who did this to you?”

— not angry, just tired

— obedient *

Tig Trager

— skinny dip *

— end a little too soon *

— “can i play with your hair?”

— too loud for privacy *

— don’t pretend

— best wake up *

MARAUDERS

Sirius Black

— anything for you

— wrote me a song

— “yeah baby?" *

— free for a date

— waited all day *

— confused

Remus Lupin

— be with me

— admitted crushes

— taken care of

— should've met you sooner

— yes, sir *

James Potter

— kisses denied

— quick kisses

— argument reminders *

Poly!Marauders

— nothings gonna hurt you baby

— before somebody gets hurt

— new kinks *

SLYTHERIN BOYS

Draco Malfoy

— doomed from the start

Blaise Zabini

— lucky you’re hot

Mattheo Riddle

— keep going back? *

— one last kiss

— miss romantic *

— friendly kisses

Theodore Nott

— interrupted story

— lost bet *

— already yours *

— lipgloss

Mattheo and Theo

— to be shared *

Lorenzo Berkshire

— "did you just kiss me?"

NCIS

Anthony DiNozzo

— seductive

Timothy McGee

— first name basis

L&O; SVU

Elliot Stabler

— jealousy

Nick Amaro

— date night *

Rafael Barba

— weren't supposed to know

— broken hearts

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[mourningthewicked]

emily is literally spencer’s mother i feel sick everytime i see ANYONE ship them.

[midwestprentiss]

i am never anywhere [spencelle]

summary: gideon dies, and elle has to mourn the man she loved and learn to live with the presence of the man she still loves

warnings and notes: death, angst, mentions of blood. inspired by ketchum, id by boygenius which is a song i think everyone should listen to

wc: 2.7k

I am never anywhere, anywhere I go.

When I’m home, I’m never there long enough to know.

Gideon had died. And it crushed Elle.

The office she used to grace with her presence knew about it before she did. Because they always did. Once she had grown out her hair again, moved across the country, and started a new job, she didn’t hear a word from the people she used to love like a family. Did she make them feel sick, remembering how little they’d done in the wake of something that scarred her for the rest of her life? She knew she wasn’t supposed to think that way—they all went through hell. It was just that she hadn’t been able to get out of it. 

Elle didn’t know anything anymore. She lived in a house near the ocean, in a quiet town where everyone knew each other's name. She liked it there. Until she sat in her living room, finding out that a man she loved like a father had died a week ago and no one had thought to tell her—not even Spencer. 

God, Spencer.

She didn’t know it was possible to want to talk to someone so much. 

It had been seven whole years since they last saw each other, let alone talked. Enough years for Elle to have started her social work and for the BAU to catch more than a hundred killers. And yet she still finds herself thinking about Spencer from time to time. His manner of speaking, his rambling, the way he’d furrow his eyebrows or wrinkle his nose when he was confused. She still remembers the softness of his hands and the way he felt beside her that one night in the hotel.

She aches to be near him again. But not like this.

Elle had landed a couple of hours ago, checking into a low-profile hotel. The walls were washed with a pale gray, the floorboards creaking slightly when she stepped on them wrong. Her old two-inch heels lay at the corner near the door. It felt painfully like the night at the hotel.  Quiet, and maybe even serene. But no one was with her tonight, and if she would drink from those small spirit bottles, she’d be drinking alone.

Elle stared at her phone, an older model from a few years ago. She had never bothered to replace it. She wondered whether anything would happen if she got a call or a text. It was ultimately futile, since she had changed her number. This place felt far from home, like all other places did. All that was left for her in this big, now unfamiliar city was the funeral. The funeral, where she’d have to face both the loss of the man she loved and the presence of the man she still did. 

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

She had picked out a black wool coat, one of the only heavy ones she had. She stares at her feet, clad in the black heels she still kept from her days at the BAU. She smooths down the front of her shirt and trousers when it hits her all at once. The overwhelming feeling of emptiness, knowing she’d lost someone without saying goodbye. And the equally overwhelming feeling of being in over her head by merely deciding to be in the city.

She didn’t want to see the ones she knew, not really. She didn’t want to see the looks of shock on their faces when they saw her after all this time. Elle didn’t want to draw attention or even talk. She simply wanted to pay her respects to the man who had taught her so much. 

By the moment she walks out the hotel room door, she already has to wipe her tears.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

No, I’m sorry, I do not know

what else you want from me. 

The clouds, tinted gray, seemed to overshadow the cemetery. Elle stood in a corner, her heart growing weaker by the moment. Why did she decide to go there? It was stupid, it was useless, it didn’t make her feel better. Seeing the team for the first time in years sent a stab of pain in her chest, and having to hear their eulogies was like letting the blood flow freely, staining her skin and her clothes and her soul. 

She couldn’t help but notice Spencer looking over at her. Over and over again during the course of the ceremony. Like he was waiting for her to walk to his side, silently accompanying him in his time of grief. 

Spencer looked so different. Gone was the slicked-back hair and innocent face. Gone was the soft brown sweater vest he always used to wear. His hair was shorter, messier. He stood up straighter but still had the hunched back. There was something fundamentally different about him—lines etched deeper into his face, a weariness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He carried himself with more surety now, but the sadness in his expression never quite left. The ay he looked at her was the same since she last saw him—with pity. She hated that.

Soon, it was time to lay flowers on the casket. Elle held a single white rose, her pretty face screwed up with the effort of trying not to cry. God, she felt so out of place here, with them , when they used to be her home. It was like she didn’t have it at all anymore. 

She lays the fresh flower on the mahogany casket at the same time Spencer does across her. Their eyes meet, both glassy and carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words. 

As soon as it began, it was over. And that was left with Elle was the ringing silence of loss.

The weight of it settles deeply in her bones. She stood still, staring at the casket as the others began to drift away in small clusters, murmuring condolences and goodbyes. She should leave, too. She should go back to the peaceful, quiet life she had built far from this place. But her feet wouldn’t move.

What was she waiting for, really?

For someone to acknowledge that she was here at all?

It was a stupid thought. She had no right to feel slighted—she was the one who left. And yet, standing there, surrounded by ghosts of the past, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had walked into a story that had long since moved on without her.

She exhaled, steeling herself to leave. But then she heard footsteps behind her, trampling the leaves. Slow, hesitant. Familiar.

“…Hi, Elle.”

He says softly, her name sounding foreign yet so familiar from his lips. 

“I… do you still remember me?”

In spite of herself, Elle laughs. It’s a weak, tired laugh tainted with her tears.

“I would never forget you.”

“I hoped so,” Spencer says, shuffling on the balls of his heels. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, tapping frantically on the bottom of his black cardigan. “I wanted to call you, but I didn’t really want to leech your number off of Garcia. I know you would’ve changed it.”

The thoughts in Elle’s head slowly fade to a blur as her heart sinks. He had wanted to call her, just like she did him. None of them was strong enough to simply dial the number. 

“Thanks,” she says, her words a little shaky. She’d never cried in front of Spencer before, although she came very close during their night together at the hotel. “I appreciate the privacy.”

“Could we maybe… do you want to talk?”

His voice was hopeful, much like it used to be. It pained Elle so much to hear the voice she had missed for seven years.

“…Sure. I can talk,” she says, almost reassuring herself. 

Spencer walks her to his car, the same Robin’s egg Volvo he used to drive. She had been in it a few times when he asked her to go to film festivals with him or visit a few public libraries, calling it a date. The light blue exterior was dusty as if it hadn’t been used in a long time. Spencer didn’t drive around much, anyway. He preferred public transport. Elle curses herself for thinking so many things in the span of so little time, just because she saw that damn car.

He opens the door for her, something he probably wouldn’t have thought to do back when they first knew each other. Her curls, now longer again, brushed against his cardigan sleeve. Elle thought he’d jolted a little when that happened.

She settles in the passenger seat, the worn leather creaking under her weight. Spencer hesitates for a moment, making sure she’s inside okay before rounding the car to slide in the driver’s seat. He looked out of place there, she thought. He puts a hand on the wheel, letting out a breath. For once, he looked speechless.

“I don’t even know where to start," he admits, eyes flicking over to her before returning to the road ahead of them. "I feel like I’ve been rehearsing this conversation in my head for years. And now that you’re here, it’s... I don’t know. I don’t know what to say, which is weird.”

Elle leans her head against the cool window, watching the raindrops beginning to speckle the surface. The water slides off the glass, bringing the dust along with it. "Start wherever you want. I’m here."

She lets out a breath while waiting for Spencer to talk, feeling foreign somewhere she used to be so comfortable in. His eyes, where she used to find reassurance, now held confusion. A sort of vulnerability that she’d never really seen in him before.

“I should’ve told you,” Spencer says tentatively, avoiding Elle’s gaze. Perhaps it was for the better. She couldn’t look at him either. “About Gideon. I should have called.”

“You had no way to.”

The words sounded feeble, even to her own ears.

“I know you wouldn’t want to leech my new number off of Garcia. I would have found that weird.”

He nods, still refusing to meet her eyes. "I know. I just... what I didn’t know was if you’d even want to hear from me. You left, and I thought maybe you wanted to keep it that way."

Elle still remembered how she had pushed him away without a word. How she had moved his arm away from her, avoided him for ages after, left without leaving him as much as a note. She never called, she never texted, and she never even tried sending a letter. She hadn’t even returned to the city in the years she was gone. She couldn’t blame him for respecting her wishes. But she missed him.

"I did," she admits, staring down at her hands. "I wanted to keep it that way. Until I didn’t."

Spencer exhales sharply, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter. The rain outside grows steadier, drumming softly against the windshield. Elle closed her eyes, the sound of the raindrops filling her senses. 

"What changed?" he asks, his voice quieter than ever.

Elle swallows. What had changed? Was it Gideon’s death? Was it the way she realized that no matter how far she ran or how much she had changed, some things would never leave her? Or was it the way Spencer looked at her across the casket, like she was a memory his poor imagination brought back to life? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. 

“I don’t know.”

Spencer seems to ponder her answer, his thoughtful eyes darting everywhere but to her. “Where… where did you go? In the seven years, seven months, and twelve days since then?”

“You’ve been counting?”

“No, but I do remember how long it’s been.”

Elle laughs again, the sound broken by her tears and the raindrops falling steadily out the window.

“I live in Rhode Island now.”

Spencer nods, absorbing the words like they hold more weight than they should. Rhode Island. Of all places. It fits, somehow. Elle always thought she belonged by the ocean—untamed, shifting, vast. Spencer grips the wheel a little tighter, as if his words were dying in his throat one by one. 

“That makes sense,” he says instead. “You always liked the water.”

Elle’s lips twitch, just barely. “You remember that?”

“I remember a lot of things.”

A silence settles upon them. It’s the type of silence between two people who used to know each other better than anyone else but now feel like strangers in their own bodies. Elle takes the time to study his features, his longer hair, the line of his mouth. 

“Did you ever want to come back?”

The question hits Elle squarely in the face. Their gazes finally meet, and his is darkened with the pain of nostalgia and exhaustion. 

“Wanting to come back and being able to are two different things.”

“Yes. I was asking about whether you wanted to.”

“Would you be mad if I said no?”

Spencer looks at her thoughtfully, tilting his head. “No. Why would I?”

“Because I thought you’d think I never wanted to see you. Of course I wanted to see you. It’s just that… nothing feels like home to me anymore.”

She had never been this vulnerable with someone. Elle was always the tough one, fighting it out since childhood. She had protected herself against everything until her shield inevitably broke down from the strain. She was the one who chased monsters, not the one who kept them alive in her head. She had to be strong because if not for her strength, who was she?

“Elle…” Spencer starts, his eyes cast downward. “I… I can’t really say I understand because I know I don’t. I know I’ll never know what you went through.

It was a pleasant surprise, Elle thought. She had once gotten frustrated with him after he tried to raise her spirits after the incident , albeit with good intentions. Because he would never understand. No one ever would, and she had to live with the burden of knowing that for the rest of her life. 

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “For not calling. For not trying harder.”

Elle exhales, shaking her head. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

She didn’t want his pity. She wanted his reassurance. She wanted his love.

“I do.” His voice is firm now, his hand bravely making its way to hold hers. A shiver runs up her spine, permeating the barriers she so painstakingly built for herself. “I lost you once. And I just—” He stops himself, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear a thought before it takes hold. “I should’ve tried harder.”

She reaches out, her fingers tightening against his on the gear shift. The touch is fleeting and unexpected but enough to make Spencer still completely. He swallows, his nose crinkling by habit.

“You’re trying now,” she says. “That’s what matters.”

Spencer looks down at where her hand rests on his, then back up at her. There’s something in his eyes—hesitation, hope, something else she can’t name. She hoped what she was seeing was real. That he wasn’t just a cruel joke the universe played on her like it always did.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asks after a quiet moment. “We could go somewhere. Just talk. No pressure, of course.”

Elle considers it. The logical thing would be to say no. To keep her peace, she had to keep her distance like she has for the past seven years. But Spencer is here. Real and warm and looking at her like maybe, just maybe, there’s something worth salvaging between them. She wants to meet that soft mouth like she used to, maybe hold him in bed, plant her lips on his forehead, and tell him that everything would be okay. She wanted to feel like everything would be okay. Even if she barely knew the man in front of her right now.

She takes a breath.

“Yeah,” she says, offering him a small, genuine smile. “I’d like that.”

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Hi darling!🩷 I wanted to request a snowmance.

So a bit about me: I’m an introvert, I’m kind of a bookworm o love love reading, I’m always learning small facts and always spewing them out in the most random moments. I’ve always been told that I’m nicer than I look (I think that this is because I have a rbf and a dark aesthetic) I love animals in general, if it was for me I would have a farm with cats, dogs, raccoons, etc. I’m always browsing for new playlists to fit each of my moods and I’m a firm believer that whatever your mood is taylor swift has a song for it.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ regulus black ୨୧ spencer reid

ahhh, thank you so much for requesting, yas! ʚଓ

okay, so i see you best with spencer and regulus….

you and spencer would be the ultimate "brainy introvert" power couple! like, the two of you cozied up in a quiet corner of a coffee shop, a pile of books between you, spencer tapping away at a crossword while you dig into the latest novel or one of his many interesting titbits about astronomy. ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

spencer would totally appreciate your endless curiosity and love for random facts, and he’d definitely notice and quietly admire your dark aesthetic and that rbf – a sharp contrast to your sweet personality. imagine him, nervously yet fondly, slipping you playlists he made just for you, filled with carefully selected songs he thinks you'd like based on your mood and your love for taylor swift (though he’d probably sneak in a few classical pieces as well). ( ≧ᗜ≦)

you’d be the pair always gently teasing each other, exchanging facts that neither of you realized you both knew. together, you’d be the sweetest, quietest, and smartest team ever, low-key saving the world in your own way – one book, one fact, and one cuddle session at a time. (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

you and regulus would be pure goth academia couple vibes, like a match straight out of a perfectly moody novel. regulus would totally get that dark aesthetic of yours and find it utterly captivating; he’d be drawn to the mysterious allure of your rbf and intrigued by how sweet you truly are once he gets to know you. (..◜ᴗ◝..)

you’d have the dreamiest late-night chats, sitting by the fireplace at black manor with your cats nestled on his lap, regulus softly flipping through his well-worn copies of magical theory books as he listens to you share another random fun fact. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

together, you’d have a quiet understanding, an almost telepathic way of exchanging looks across the room when things get too loud or chaotic. ( ͡º ꒳ ͡º)

and playlists? regulus would be right there with you, finding old records to match your every mood, probably quoting poetry as he hands you a new taylor swift vinyl, saying he knew it was “your vibe.” (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

people would call you both the mysterious power couple with endless depth, and it’s safe to say regulus would fall hard for your gentle, quirky heart.

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[etclouie]

sleepover request smut 15 and 17 with spencer reid please

˚୨୧⋆｡ — title; his (spencer reid x fem!reader)

˚୨୧⋆｡ — prompt/s; 15) “you’re mine” and 17) “faster—ah shit—harder..” — from "𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙝, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩…" 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨 

˚୨୧⋆｡ — warnings; established relationship, kinda jealous!spencer, smut, minors do not interact!!!, p in v, unprotected sex + creampie, probably ooc spencer but that’s it (438 words)

˚୨୧⋆｡ — a/n; lmao it’s 2am right now, literally just trying to crank out these fics (aware the gif isn’t actually spencer either, but oh well😇)

— last day for submissions // louie's 1k sleepover

the team had gone out for drinks, and when it was your turn to buy the round some guy had gotten a little too friendly. 

Spencer of course didn’t like this. 

he watched from where he sat in the booth, anger bubbling inside him before it morphed into jealousy. 

so when you sat down next to him again, he kept his arm around you the whole night until he got you home. 

as soon as you got home, Spencer’s lips were pressed to yours while his hands worked eagerly to get you out of your clothes. 

now though, his hips rolled into yours. the headboard slamming against the wall with the force of his thrusts, your moans staggered and your mouth hung open. 

the jealousy was there, you’d seen it in his eyes as you sat back in the booth. 

but to feel it in the force of his thrusts was something else, because he was always so gentle with you. 

“faster—ah shit—harder..”

you moaned out, though you didn’t think he could fuck you any harder. 

but god were you wrong. 

he chuckled, shaking his head before he caught your lips in a bruising kiss. he nipped at your bottom lip to deepen the kiss, your moans muffled against his lips as his thrusts grew impossibly harder. 

the sound of skin slapping against skin was the only sound in the room apart from the bed creaking and the headboard slamming against the wall. 

“fuck! Spencer, baby—“

you moaned, pleasure coursing through your body while your climax climbed rapidly. 

each thrust of his hips sent you hurtling towards your rapidly approaching climax, your moans growing needier by the second. 

“there we go sweetheart”

he praised, lips pressing to yours again in another kiss. you moaned against his lips, teetered on the edge. 

with a couple more thrusts of his hips you careened over the edge with a cry of his name, your cunt spasming around him as your climax washed over you. 

Spencer’s thrusts grew sloppy, your climax threatening to take him over the edge with him. 

he leaned to nip at the corner of your jaw, groaning in your ear as he toppled over the edge after you. 

“shit—you’re mine”

he told, his hips rolling to a stop as he spilled himself inside you. both of you moaned at the feeling, your fingers tangling in his curls as you held him against your chest. 

Spencer waited a minute, staying flush against you and buried to the hilt as he murmured out. 

“i love you sweetheart, my sweet girl—let me take care of you now”

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[webbluvrsugar]

late hours in his office (professor!spencer reid)

cw: teacher x student (reader is 20 and in college), semi-public sex.

“I just can’t get this, no matter how hard I try.” You speak back to him, he had one hand supporting his face as his elbow rests on top of the wooden table, he’s pensive, as if wondering what could possibly be wrong — is it his teaching style? His way of speaking? — at least, that’s what you think he’s thinking, right now, he’s more focused on the way your dark pleated skirt brushes over your thighs, on the way your lips move, it’s not easy for him to to teach and at the same time hold himself back from you.

“Come here.” He whispers, his voice is soothing and it echoes around the empty classroom, for a moment, you almost forget what you’re here for. You take a few steps closer and drop your books on his desk. “Closer.” He mutters, your breath itches, but still, you walk to him, standing by his side.

One of his hands wraps around your waist, placing you flush on top of his lap, his face peering through your shoulder as he holds you close.

“Spencer, what are you —“ you try to speak, but he just shushes you and rotates your notebook to him, his hand on your waist going down to you thigh.

“Show me what you don’t understand.” You can feel his breathing right against your neck, your fingers tremble as you open your book, turning the pages and pointing to the topic you don’t get.

“Right here.” You tap two times, he nods and grabs his pencil, handing it to you.

You take his pencil between your fingers, his other hand envelopes yours, gliding it to the equation.

“All you have to do… is subtract these numbers..” he explains slowly, his words get muted, all you can focus is on how close he is and how his hand slides closer and closer to the middle of your thighs, the only thing that brings you to your senses is when he squeezes softly. “Got it?”

You breathe in nervously, head tilting to the side to look at him. “I — I didn’t catch that, sorry.”

Spencer chuckles, drops the pencil and keeps his hand over yours, his fingertips touching past the brim of your panties.

“You’ve been very distract lately, you know?” He smirks. “I hope college hasn’t been too rough on you.” His fingers slip past your panties completely, his thumb playing through your folds.

“N — No, it’s fine.” You answer, your back hits his chest, legs slightly squirming on your lap.

“Maybe you just need to relax.” He whispers, thumb rolling soft circles on your clit.

“So just… stay put.”

[esotericcangel]

i would audit professor reid’s class just saying

[reiding-writing]

hiii, congrats on 2k!!!

i was thinking about a second hand book with cold!reader... something like "midnight visitor", but this time is reader who as a really bad day and knock on spencer door without even realizing what she is doing. i dont know if it makes sense :)💓

MIDNIGHT VISITOR — SPENCER REID!

how did you end up at spencer’s apartment in the middle of the night, and why do you want to stay?

early s8!spencer x cold!reader h/c? 1.3k cold!reader masterlist.

book fayre masterlist! | main masterlist.

a/n — had this tucked away in my drafts and didn’t even realise it was there oops—

It had been one of those days where nothing seemed to go right.

From the moment you woke up, things spiralled: you missed your alarm, spilled coffee all over yourself, and work was an endless stretch of stress and chaos. By the time you left the office, you felt drained, like you were running on empty.

Everything was too loud, too much, and all you wanted was a moment of quiet—but there was nowhere you wanted to be, and nowhere you felt you could go.

You wandered through the cold, feeling a chill seep deep into your bones, and without thinking, found yourself standing in front of a familiar apartment door.

You hadn’t meant to knock on his door. In fact, you hadn’t even realised what you were doing until your knuckles had already rapped against the wood.

The sound echoed in the quiet hallway of his apartment building, louder than you anticipated. You froze, the weight of the day crashing down over you all at once, making you wish you could sink into the floor and disappear.

You stared at the door to Spencer’s place, not even sure why you had come.

He was your friend, yes, but you’d always been more reserved with him, keeping your walls up even though he’d never judged you for it.

But there was something about Spencer Reid—his quiet empathy, the gentle way he seemed to understand things without words—that drew you in, even when you weren’t willing to admit you needed anyone.

The door opened almost immediately, Spencer’s familiar face greeting you with a look of surprise. He wore a pair of loose sweatpants and a soft-looking t-shirt, the picture of calm and comfort — a stark contrast to how you felt.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying that usual gentle warmth. His brow furrowed in concern as he took in your tense posture and tired expression, like he’d just knocked on your door in the middle of the night and not the other way around. “Everything okay?”

It wasn’t. Nothing about today had been okay. Work had been an unrelenting blur of stress, your interactions with people had felt stilted and cold, and every little thing that went wrong added a fresh layer to your frustration.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, the automatic response slipping from your lips. You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyper-aware of your impulsive decision to show up unannounced.

“I don’t even—” You cut yourself off frustratedly, pinching the bridge of your nose and turning to look down the hallway. “Whatever, goodnight Reid.”

You started to leave, but Spencer’s hand gently gripped your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“Stay,” he said, his voice steady. “Come inside.”

You hesitated, the urge to retreat warring with the pull of his kindness. You weren’t used to seeking comfort from others, preferring to keep your struggles locked away. It was easier that way. But something in Spencer’s gaze made it hard to refuse.

Reluctantly, you stepped inside. His apartment was a haven of quiet and warmth, a far cry from the chaos that had been swirling around in your mind all day. The soft glow of a lamp cast a cozy light over the room, and the faint scent of books and coffee hung in the air.

Spencer closed the door behind you and led you to the couch, motioning for you to sit. You sank down, the exhaustion in your bones making it hard to do anything but comply.

“Rough day?” he asked, sitting beside you but keeping a respectful distance. He didn’t press, didn’t push for details, just opened the door for you to share if you wanted.

You nodded slowly, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “Something like that.”

For a moment, silence settled between you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. Spencer had always been good at that—at letting silence be its own form of conversation. He didn’t fill the space with unnecessary words, and that was one of the things you appreciated most about him. He gave you room to breathe.

After a few minutes, you let out a quiet sigh. “I don’t even know why I came here,” you admitted, your eyebrows furrowed angrily like you were trying to curse out your own consciousness.

Spencer’s expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding. “I’m glad you did,” he said simply. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

You bit your lip, a sudden wave of emotion leaving your face to harden again, like your conscious mind had finally caught back up to you. “I shouldn’t stay long,” you murmured. “I’m fine, really. I just—”

“You’re not fine,” Spencer interrupted gently, but firmly. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to be fine all the time.”

“You saying that doesn’t change anything.”

Spencer sighs softly. “I know, but I’m here,”

His words did strike a chord. You’d been telling yourself that same lie for so long, that you had to be strong, that showing vulnerability was a weakness. But sitting here in Spencer’s quiet apartment, with his calm presence grounding you, the weight of the day felt a little less heavy.

Spencer stood and disappeared into the kitchen for a moment before returning with a glass of water and a blanket. He handed you the water and draped the blanket over your shoulders, his movements slow and careful, like he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said softly. “Stay the night. You look like you could use the rest.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come. You were too tired, too drained to argue, and there was a part of you—a small, fragile part—that didn’t want to leave. Not yet.

“Okay,” you breathed out, despite that small malingering urge to just disappear.

Spencer nodded, his expression calm but relieved. “I’ll grab some extra pillows,” he said, standing up again. “You can take the couch, or you can have my bed if you want.”

“The couch is fine.” you insisted quickly, you didn’t want him going out of his way to do anything for you that you deemed unnecessary.

He smiled softly. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything.”

As Spencer disappeared into the other room to fetch the pillows, you sat back against the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

The weight of the day was still there, but somehow, it felt a little more bearable now. You didn’t have to carry it alone anymore—at least for tonight.

When Spencer returned and set the pillows beside you, you thanked him quietly. He gave you one last reassuring look before retreating to his bedroom, leaving you with the comforting hum of the apartment’s quiet.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself relax. You let yourself feel tired, feel vulnerable. And for once, you didn’t feel the need to pretend you were fine.

Because here, in Spencer’s quiet company, it was okay not to be.

[outofthebluess]

dr agent spencer reid they could never make me hate you 🙏 (please one chance!)

[mourningthewicked]

MY BABYBOY 😭😭😭😭 i love him so much

we all joke about and objectify this man, but do we stop to think how sad his story is? he grew up friendless and ruthlessly bullied for being a literal genius. constantly picked on by his coworkers, and he’s never in on the joke. he’s always being laughed at, never laughed with because no one understands his existentialist humor. he never has plans or places to go on the weekend after work. he goes to work then goes to his lonely home with all his books to keep him company. on occasion, he haunts the chess table at the park or meets with an old professor. no one takes the time to appreciate his weird little quirks. no one took the time to ask him if he was okay after the several traumatic incidents he endured. no one takes care of him because everyone’s too busy leaving. he could be a male model, yet he’s never thought of himself as attractive. when he does find love, he’s brutally stripped of it before he can blink. spencer reid, the lonely genius who learned of love too late and loss too soon.

[mourningthewicked]

thinking about spencer reid in the most disgusting way possible. need to slut him out. would let him slut me out i don’t careee. gnawing on iron bars i need him