amorre1989

[amorre1989]

[amorre1989]

derision as prelude to desire | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader

Category: smut 18+ MDNI, fluff if you squint

Summary: Spencer Reid’s new coworker is mean but one night doing overtime together leads to the two of them bonding.

Content: glasses!Spencer, workplace rivals if you squint, Spencer Reid vs technology, reader is kind of mean and based on Blair Waldorf (in background, looks, and personality), Spencer is petty, his mind is in the GUTTER, use of eye drops, making out, sub!Spencer, fingering, oral (male receiving), whining and begging glasses!Spencer. Let’s pretend the BAU doesn’t have any CCTV cameras for this one m’kay thanks

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: This is an ITCH in my brain, like I’ve been thinking about a Spencer Reid x Blair Waldorf crackship since August last year it’s actually concerning. One of my favorite ship dynamics is loser boy x popular girl, so it makes sense. Still in second person to make it immersive. This isn’t a crossover, so there will be no spoilers for Gossip Girl. The reader's personality, looks and background are just based on Blair. Let me know if you want to read more of this dynamic because I have so many ideas for it oh my god. I hope you enjoy it!

Spencer Reid often muses on the series of events that had brought you from the streets of the Upper East Side to work in Quantico, Virginia. It would be easy to ask, of course, or even have Penelope do a quick background check on you, but he’s made a game of it instead, piecing together what he knows of your history, filling in the blanks of what would have gone wrong, what decisions you would have taken, in order to leave the privileged life you led and enter public service.

As far as he had been concerned, you don’t belong anywhere near the FBI, let alone the BAU. Spoiled, rich, with a mean streak he is all too familiar with from his time in school.  

He had been so sure you wouldn’t fit in when you first joined the team. You had been, and continue to be, perfectly made, every single hair shiny and curled just so, heels always so shiny and matching whatever designer bag you have slung over your shoulder. Everything about you screams high maintenance, and his profiler instincts point to several things: uncooperative, wants everything handed to you, ditzy.

But then you had shown your cards, had proved his assessment so wrong and he could never forgive you for the sting of that defeat.

It doesn’t help that you seem to enjoy riling him up as well. Every case is an opportunity to one up him, an attempt to claim his spot and it’s unfair. You already have everything, yet you still refuse to yield the title of team genius to him, the one thing he can cling to, the thing he knows is his. 

He is still glowering today, four months into your employment, passive aggressively hitting the keys on his keyboard. He’s a slow typist, and he’d agreed to write Morgan’s reports for him this week, a favor between friends he’s now beginning to regret. You are the only one keeping him company. The rest of the team has already left hours ago, but you’re typing away at your desk, fingers flying through the keyboard without even a glance. His own skills seem laughable in comparison, going at the keys one by one, with the speed of an old grandparent squinting over a typewriter instead of a man in his twenties. 

“Take a picture, Reid, it’ll last longer.”

He blinks, forcing his eyes back to the monitor. “You’re so original.” he mutters, pushing his glasses up to nestle on top of his head. He rubs his eyes, already despising the glare of the screen.

“Aw, what, the genius can’t handle a little blue light?”

He doesn’t bother with a response, blinking at the screen instead. The sooner he can get this done, the sooner he can leave. Sounds of tapping keys fill the air again, but he stops after a few moments again, rubbing at his eyes. He hears a sigh, and then your voice again, haughty but somehow concerned.

“You’re not supposed to rub your eyes, it makes it worse.” 

“I know,” he grumbles, “I don’t need you lecturing me about the importance of eye health.”

“It seems like you do, since you’re still doing it.” you reply derisively. He’d be rolling his eyes if he isn’t too busy rubbing them.

“Here,” you say, “Catch.”

Confused, he lifts his head, only to flinch as something hurls right at him. “What-” it hits his desk, then bounces off.

“Oh, look what you’ve done, genius.”

“You threw it at me.” his lips are pulled into a tight line of disapproval, “A head’s up would have been nice.”

“I did, genius, I said catch. You just have the reflexes of an eighty year old.” your voice is tinged with annoyance.

To his surprise, you’re up and walking to his desk, heels echoing in the empty bullpen. He watches as you gingerly kneel on the ground, bending down, and his eyes grow wide. The image of you bent down like this is surprisingly enticing, your skirt straining against the soft curve of your hips, hair falling down your shoulders like a curtain of the night sky. You’ve gotten close enough that he can smell your perfume, something citrusy and clean, and he subconsciously leans closer.

Mouth dry, he manages to croak out, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the damn eye drops.” you snap, an arm extending towards him and for a moment he holds his breath, waiting for contact. Instead, you grab something from the ground, “There it is.” 

He watches as you straighten, lifting your torso upright, but still kneeling in front of him. An image flashes through his mind, your face between his thighs, those large eyes staring up at him, but he banishes it quickly lest his thoughts begin to stir his body. 

“Here, these should help.” You say, finally standing back up and placing the tiny bottle on his desk. A filthy part of him wishes you’d get back on your knees. He catches the tilt of your head, the confusion in your eyes, “Reid. Are you still with me? Has your brain finally short circuited from all those statistics?”

Oh his brain is short circuiting, all right, just from a different cause.

“I’m - yeah.” he replies, and then he rattles off the first thought his frazzled mind could come up with, “Did you know some people have used eye drops as a method for murder? Not these ones, but there are specific brands that contain—”

“Tetrahydrozoline,” you finish for him, “Yeah, I know.”

He blinks. There you go again, proving your intellect, your value, somehow matching his even though he’s pretty sure you are no genius, not in the same way he is. Still, perhaps it’s the late night, or your offer of relief, but the sting of being bested doesn’t resonate tonight. A softer feeling unfurls in his chest, something warm and addictive, something like understanding. He smiles, “That’s right.”

You nod, curls spilling over your shoulders again, “Mhm. Well… These are for your eyes, I’m not trying to poison you.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you.”

A scoff, “Please, I’m not dumb enough to attempt murder in the office.”

His brows lift and he finds himself grinning, “So you’ve thought about it?”

“I will neither deny nor confirm.” you’re smiling now too, and he lets his eyes roam over the pretty lines of your face, memorizing how lovely you look in this moment, guards lowered and smiling at him with ease. He thinks he sees something flash in those pretty eyes of yours but he’s not sure. Reading people has never been his strong suit, regardless of his profession.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” you gesture at his glasses, and he immediately obeys, pushing it back up to nestle on his hair. He holds his breath as you come closer, bites his lips when your hand comes to his chin. It’s soft, unbelievably gentle, and you tilt his head back. From this angle, he can see the way your lashes curl, the soft hint of shimmer swept across your lids. Eyeshadow, he remembers from what Penelope and JJ have told him, and it highlights the shape of your eyes, making them appear brighter.  

He blinks as coolness hits his eye, and then you’re tilting his head to the other side, and he’s trying not to panic, trying not to be a creep, but in reality, he hasn’t been this close, this intimate to a woman in so long that it’s messing up his ability to inhale, to think, to function. Your hair flutters gently around his face, and the scent of citrus is stronger now, heady, and he feels so light headed he’s afraid he’ll faint.

The same coolness hits the other eye, and before you can pull away, before he can think it through, he’s curling his own hand over your wrist. He lifts it up, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm, admonishing any thoughts of germs and bacteria, and instead relishing at the tender flesh beneath his lips. He kisses your palm again, lips gently tracing the lines, before moving down to the inside of your wrist, before pausing.

He dares to peer up, waiting for a reprimand, a cutting sentence that would have him lashing back at you, but there’s none. There it is again, the flicker in your eyes, and now he finally knows the word to attach to it: desire.

He kisses the inside of your wrist again, and feels you pulse fluttering beneath his lips. Fast, to his surprise, almost matching the quick succession of thudding in his chest. 

“Reid,” you whisper, and he waits again, allows you time to pull away. You don’t, but he’s apprehensive now, afraid he’s crossed a boundary. He definitely has, but he would do it again if you express the desire to do so, to tumble into whatever this is with him. He just needs confirmation, one verbal acknowledgement that you want this too, because he doesn’t trust his ability to read you yet, not when he’s spent so much time despising you.

But you’re just looking at him, and the embarrassment is almost painful. His cheeks heat up, and he drops your hand.

“I’m sorry.” he murmurs, sinking back on his seat. He’s about to turn to his monitor, intent to forget about this, forget everything even though his memory would make that impossible, but he finds his face being tilted up again, cradled between impossibly soft hands, and then there’s lips against his own, your lips, oh god you are kissing him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, following the movement of your mouth to the best of his limited ability. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lets out an involuntary whimper, his body jerking at the sting. He feels you smiling against his mouth, cocky even in the midst of a kiss, in the midst of the most heated kiss he’s had since - since - he can’t even remember her, the brief dalliance he had with an actress once upon a time, because all he can think of is your mouth, and your hands, nails scratching at his scalp, and every single thought is expelled from his mind when you climb on his lap.

“God,” he moans in between kisses, his breaths ragged, but he would gladly drown in you before stopping.

“Not god,” you correct him and nip at his lower lip with more force this time.

“Mhm.” he whines, and kisses you again, shifting so you’re more comfortable on his lap. He wonders if the chair is creaking from your combined weight, but then you’re grinding directly on his cock and he’s lost in a haze of white hot pleasure. 

Apparently, Spencer Reid cannot multitask, because his lips fall slack as you grind against his hardening cock. Your laughter tinkles in his ear, before your mouth latches on his jaw, down his neck, open and wet and sticky. He knows you said you aren’t god, and he’s never been religious, but he swears this must be heaven. Fitting too, in the same way he’s never thought he’d reach some place he doesn’t even believe in, he’s also never thought he would have you—beautiful, infuriating, untouchable you—grinding on his lap with a desperation that borders frenzy.

Recognizing that your need burns you just as his is making him reckless, he manages to whisper, “Tell me— tell me what to do. How do I make you feel good?”

You giggle, taking one of his hands away from your waist and leading it under your skirt. The fabric has bunched up over your thighs, and he grips the smooth flesh greedily. But you have other ideas, and he’s eager to learn, so he lets you move his hand higher, until the tips of his fingers brush against moist fabric.

His mouth goes dry. You’ve soaked through your panties. 

“Like this?” he dips his fingers past the lace, his mouth falling open at the slick that’s gathered at your core. You have your face buried at his neck, lips and tongue still assaulting the tender skin there, but he feels you nod, feels the shudder that runs through you, and he takes those as a good sign. His touch is exploratory, gentle, fueled by an intoxication over the fact that you’re here and you’re enjoying it, you’re making those sounds for him. 

He’s awestruck rather than cocky, and when he slides his fingers into your pussy, he’s immediately trying to figure out a rhythm that would draw out those pretty noises from your lips. When he finds it, he sticks to it, greedily drinking in your moans, no matter how muffled they are against his neck.

There’s a sense of degeneracy to this whole thing. Fingering his coworker in the office, right there on his desk, he could get fired should this get out, they both could. Still, he’s never truly had anyone want him so unabashedly and he simply cannot stop. You had been the one to kiss him, after all, the lines in the sand had been completely trampled by the time you had climbed on his lap. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper, and he feels you move, riding his hand shamelessly, and he has to bite your shoulder to keep himself from whining again. The sight alone nearly undoes him, and you’ve barely done anything. He’s been actively providing you with stimulation this whole time, fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, and somehow, he wouldn’t change a single thing. 

“Yeah?” he asks, pupils blown wide, wanting, needing the assurance that he’s doing good, he’s making you feel good.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes!” your voice grows sharper as he curls his fingers with every thrust. After a few moments of fumbling with your panties, his thumb presses against your clit and he’s rewarded by another groan from you. 

He draws figure eights against your slick core, finding a rhythm that has you tugging at his hair wildly, and he’s whispering into your ear, pleading, “That’s it, please come for me, please, let me see how good you feel, please, please—”

“Spencer!” you groan, and then you’re shuddering in his lap, and his fingers down to his knuckles are wet with your slick. 

He grins, helping you through your orgasm, pressing kisses to your hair, the FBI issued office chair creaking so much he’s afraid the two of you would break it if you don’t stop. The image is hilarious in its absurdity, making his grin widen, and you must have taken it for arrogance because he feels a slight smack on his shoulder.

“Don’t get cocky.” you mutter.

He takes you in, the flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, mascara now smudged along your lash lines, and he’s reverential instead of arrogant, grateful that he has brought someone so stunning and capable to the throes of pleasure, has taken you apart so much you’ve ruined your normally perfect facade. 

“You’re beautiful.” he tells you, his own eyes glistening with an unfocused daze. You roll your eyes and shake your head, and he’s seized with a desire to keep you hear and bury his fingers inside you over and over again until you believe him.

“Your turn.” You chuckle, hands unwinding from his neck and travelling down the length of his abdomen, coming to the buckle on his belt.

“Wait, I—uh,” he turns beet red once again, clearing his throat, “Are you on the pill? I don’t have—”

You tilt your head, as if the idea of a man walking around without a condom is foreign. Perhaps it is, but Spencer simply never assumed he would have any use for it. He turns away, teeth worrying his lower lip, but you pull his face to you again.

“I have hands.” you say as you resume undoing his pants. You shift, then slink away from him, and he whines at the loss of your warmth, but he sees you on your knees once again, and this time it’s not just his brain making up lewd, inappropriate thoughts, “And a mouth.”

“Y-you really don’t have to.”

“I know,” you grin, pretty as the devil and twice as tempting, and as your hands wrap around his engorged length, thumb circling at the tip, “But how can I not, when you’re this pretty?”

He blacks out, he swears he does, there’s no way this isn’t a perverted dream, no way that you’re actually stroking up and down his throbbing cock. Somehow he comes to, only to feel a warmth, a wetness, enveloping the swollen tip, and his hips buck up instinctively. He whines when your hands push at his thighs, holding him in place. 

“Please,” he gasps, babbles, really, “Please, oh god, that feels so good.” 

You take him further down and he throws his head back so violently the glasses slip past his ears and clatter onto the floor. He feels your laughter vibrating against his cock and it almost has him keening. He whines, wriggles against your hold with no real desire to break free. He finds that likes the force of your hands on him, nails leaving harsh indents on his flesh as he struggles. The pain is delicious, heightening his already frazzled senses.

You bob your head up and down, your hair swaying gently, and he manages to will his hands to move, gathering the soft tresses in his hand so they won’t impede your movement. Your eyes flicker up, meet his own, and he swears there’s a thank you in the glint of them. He cannot do anything else. 

Slack jawed, he watches you hollow your cheeks, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth as you give him the best head he’s ever experienced. Never mind that it’s his first one, and that he doesn’t have a point of comparison. He’s convinced this is the best, you are the best, and he’s never been more thankful for his eidetic memory until this night, knowing that he cannot, will never, ever forget the way you look as you knelt down and sucked his cock like you were being paid to do it. 

“God, you’re so pretty, oh my god, yes, just like that, please, please, yes.” he’s aware that he’s whining, and there’s an amused twinkle in your eye that tells him he would never hear the end of this after. 

He knows you well enough to know that you would dangle this over his head any chance you get, that you aren’t above playing dirty. Instead of dread, it makes his stomach roil with another gush of desire, and he knows that that is even more concerning than whatever you were going to do.

(It never occurs to him to do the same, that he could tease you back and point out that he has had you on your knees and sucking on his cock like you were made for it simply because his brain cannot fathom ever associating the sight of you kneeling before him as something to be ashamed of.)

He’s drawn from his thoughts as he feels your hands cupping his balls, stimulating an entirely new area that has him thrusting up. He feels his cock brush against the back of your throat, and he pulls back immediately, eyes wide with worry as you gag around his length.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby you can stop if—”

But you do it again, soldiering past your gag reflex and taking him all the way, and he can hear someone saying oh fuck oh fuck I’m cumming agh, please, I’m cumming, and he thinks its his own voice but he’s unsure. His eyes are squeezed shut, colors exploding behind his lids as he feels your tongue swirling over and over his sensitive cock, before the cool air surrounds it, telling him you’ve stopped completely.

When he opens his eyes, you have your head on his thigh, cheek pressed against the fabric, a lazy smile on your ruined lips.

“God,” he whispers, reaching for you, wanting you close, “That was—wow, you—come here, please.”

He watches as a flicker of surprise flits over your face, before you mask it with a giggle, “Good?” you murmur, tucking his soft cock into his pants before climbing on his lap again.

“Incredible.” He holds you tight, your slick only half dry on his fingers, the taste of him still on your tongue, “You’re incredible.”

You’re quiet, contemplative, and he presses a kiss to your neck, wanting to bring you out of whatever funk you’ve gone into, “Hey, what is it?” He’s almost terrified of the answer, worried you would pull away and leave him cold.

“I just didn’t think you’d be a cuddler.” you reply, eventually sinking into his arms. Your voice is soft when you say, “Most men aren’t.”

The thought of her having experiences doesn’t bother him; it’s the fact that they callously left her after that makes him tighten his hold on her. “I’m sorry.”

“For the entirety of shitty men? You’d need more apologies than that,” you chuckle, fingers absently curling into his hair, “But thank you. This is— this is nice.”

“It is,” Spencer nods, leaning into your touch, eyes shut.

“You lost your glasses.”

“I did.”

Your laughter fills the air, “Hey, are you sleepy? You still have Morgan’s reports to finish.”

His eyes flutter open, a sheepish smile on his lips, “Why’d you have to remind me?”

“Because the sooner you finish it, the sooner we can do this again.”

Spencer laughs, kissing your shoulder as he relents, “All right, all right.” That’s more than enough incentive to brave staring at the monitor again.

[amorre1989]

Discretion

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader words: 2.0k summary: You and spencer are confident you are being discreet about your relationship (you are not) warnings: very raunchy making out in the elevator but otherwise it's fluffy like a freshly shampooed cow a/n: is three sugars too much for coffee? i have no idea how much is too much when i write spencer's coffee order. let's just say 3 is too much because this man drinks his coffee SWEET

To say that Penelope Garcia was a naturally curious woman would be underselling it by a criminal degree. And when it came to her friends— her team, her family— that curiosity was lovingly relentless.

Which is how (Y/n) found herself cornered in the tech room at exactly 8:32 a.m. by both Garcia and Emily, coffee in hand, nowhere to run.

“Okay,” Emily said, arms crossed, eyebrow cocked. “We’ve been patient.”

Garcia chimed in, “Painfully patient.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” (Y/n) said, sipping her coffee like she hadn’t heard them.

“Oh, please,” Emily scoffed. “You’ve mentioned your boyfriend a grand total of two times.”

“Three,” Garcia corrected. “But one of those was just ‘my boyfriend likes mango,’ which doesn’t even count.”

“I’m a private person.”

“You work with federal agents,” Emily deadpanned. “We find things for a living.”

(Y/n) sighed. “Fine. He’s... sweet. Thoughtful. Overly romantic, if I’m honest. In the best possible way.”

“Oh?” Garcia leaned in. “Like how?”

(Y/n) paused too long.

Garcia gasped. “You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not!”

“You are,” Emily grinned. “Spill.”

“Okay, once,” (Y/n) said reluctantly, “he emailed me a PDF file titled ‘just because.’ It had scanned pages from an annotated copy of my favourite book, with his notes in the margins. Like, handwritten. From when he first read it.”

“That’s actually disgustingly romantic,” Emily muttered.

Garcia blinked. “Who emails their girlfriend a PDF?”

(Y/n) smiled in sweet recollection of that memory, how it was so unapologetically him— precise, nerdy, and quietly sentimental. He hadn’t even said anything when he sent it, just a subject line that read “Thought of you while reading.” And the book? It was something she mentioned offhandedly during a debrief three months prior. Of course he remembered. He always did.

Meanwhile, across the bullpen, Derek Morgan nudged Spencer Reid with the edge of a manila folder.

“You’ve been annoyingly chipper lately,” Morgan said.

“I’m always chipper.”

“No, you’re twitchy and anxious. This”— he gestured vaguely at Reid’s face— “is new. You’ve been smiling like someone who’s gettin’ some.”

Spencer flushed but didn’t deny it. Just shrugged, soft and smug.

Morgan narrowed his eyes. “Pretty Boy has a secret.”

——————————————————————————————————

It was early— too early, by most of their standards. The bullpen still had that quiet, sleep-hazed hush to it, the kind that only ever lasted until the second pot of coffee kicked in.

Spencer was already at his desk, half-slouched over a file, tapping a pen against the paper in a steady rhythm. His brow was furrowed, curls slightly unkempt, cardigan sleeves already shoved up to his elbows like he hadn’t even noticed the chill in the air.

(Y/n) walked in, hair still damp from her shower, nursing her own cup of caffeine like it was oxygen. Without a word, she stopped beside him, set a second cup of coffee on his desk— black, three sugars, extra hot. Just how he liked it.

Spencer looked up, blinking. And then smiled.

Not the polite kind. Not the absentminded “thanks” he gave to Morgan when he handed him a report. This one was soft. Familiar. The kind of smile that landed a little too slow and lingered a little too long.

She smiled back— tiny, sleepy, warm— and kept walking.

From his desk, Morgan raised an eyebrow.

“You two telepathic now?” he called.

(Y/n) didn’t miss a beat. “He just looks like a three-sugar morning.”

Spencer flushed lightly. Tried very hard to look engrossed in his file.

Morgan tilted his head, amused, but said nothing else.

For now.

——————————————————————————————————

The post-briefing hallway was always a mess— agents filtering out in loose, staggered clusters, already juggling phone calls and folders and to-go cups. (Y/n) and Spencer walked side by side, shoulder to shoulder, debrief sheets tucked under their arms.

It was nothing new. They always walked like that. But someone turned the corner too fast— an intern, maybe— nearly colliding with (Y/n) in the narrow hallway.

Spencer’s arm was around her waist before she even had time to react, catching her with practiced ease.

“Careful,” he murmured, the word quiet and close, his eyes flicking over her quickly. Not panicked. Just... thorough. Like he had to be sure she was still in one piece.

She nodded, barely flustered. “I’m fine.”

But he didn’t move right away.

His hand stayed at the small of her back— gentle, warm, grounding— for just one second too long.

They started walking again like nothing had happened.

Except Emily had seen the whole thing.

She stopped mid-step, one brow raised, lips pursing in suspicion. Watched them disappear around the corner with narrowed eyes.

Then shook her head once and muttered under her breath, “Nah. No way.”

And kept walking.

——————————————————————————————————

It was supposed to be a routine systems check.

Garcia was combing through the security logs for the east wing elevators— standard operating procedure after a glitch flagged a potential breach. Ninety-nine percent of the time, this kind of thing amounted to someone forgetting their badge or JJ carrying Henry in through the staff entrance.

She wasn’t even paying that much attention. Fingers flying on autopilot, her mind already halfway on her lunch order, until the timestamp 22:41 popped up.

She blinked. Squinted. Paused. Rewound.

Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“Oh my god.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper. She rewound again. Yes. Still there. Not a hallucination. Not her mind playing tricks.

Definitely Spencer Reid.

And— holy shit— definitely (Y/n).

In an elevator.

Making out.

Not cute-office-romance making out.

No, this was pressed-up-against-the-wall, hands-everywhere, breathless and starved and feverish kind of making out. Spencer's hand was on her waist, then in her hair, then gripping her thigh as he practically lifted her off the ground. And (Y/n)? Her mouth was at his jaw, her fingers curling into the collar of his shirt like she was trying to burn the feel of it into her palms.

Garcia made a high-pitched, involuntary squeak.

Then slammed her hand on the desk phone.

“Derek Morgan. Tech room. Now.”

Morgan arrived first. Followed by Emily, who walked in brow furrowed. “You paged me? What’s the—?”

She cut herself off.

“... Is that the elevator?”

“It is,” Garcia nodded solemnly.

Emily leaned forward. “Wait— is that (Y/n)?”

“Is this— ?” Morgan started, but the words died in his throat as he looked closer.

His jaw dropped.

“Is that— ?”

“Oh, it is.”

A long beat of stunned silence.

Then, slowly, “Spencer?” Morgan said, voice incredulous.

“Oh, it gets better,” Garcia said, grinning wickedly as she hovered over her keyboard.

Morgan and Emily were already leaning in close, popcorn-level invested.

She hit play again.

The footage resumed.

At first, it was just (Y/n) and Spencer standing in the elevator, talking— innocent enough. Until Spencer said something— inaudible, but clearly effective— and (Y/n) rolled her eyes, stepped forward, grabbed him by the tie, and yanked him down into a kiss.

Morgan let out a low whistle.

But that wasn’t the part Garcia was talking about.

At around the 45-second mark, Spencer’s hands slid down (Y/n)’s back and landed firmly on her hips, then lower.

“Oh my God,” Emily said, eyes wide.

Then (Y/n)’s back hit the elevator wall, and Spencer didn’t even hesitate— one hand braced beside her head, the other sliding beneath her blazer, under her shirt, palm flat against her bare waist.

He kissed her like they were the only people in the world. Like it was muscle memory. Urgent. Confident. Completely un-Spencer.

And then she moaned. Audibly. In the security camera footage.

“Oh my God,” Garcia repeated, one octave higher.

Morgan just stared, stunned silent for once in his life.

Spencer pulled back for a breath in the footage, then leaned in again— kissing her jaw, her neck, his hand definitely not on her waist anymore.

Emily had to fan herself with a stray file.

“Spencer Reid,” she said, breathless. “Has game.”

“Game?” Morgan echoed. “That man is playing a whole ass league.”

“WAIT. OH MY GOD. SPENCER IS PDF GUY?!”

Morgan looked between them. “Wait. Who the hell is PDF guy?”

“Long story,” Emily muttered, eyes still glued to the screen. “Holy shit.”

They all watched in silence as the footage looped again.

Spencer leaned in, said something at her ear. Whatever it was, it made (Y/n) flush, then pull him in again, mouths meeting like it physically hurt to be apart. His hands— decidedly not where they should be— disappeared beneath the hem of her shirt just as the doors started to open.

Then they broke apart like nothing happened, like they weren’t seconds away from defiling federal property, both adjusting their clothes with the sort of casual precision that only came from lots of practice.

The video ended. Nobody said anything for a full five seconds.

Then Garcia breathed, “Our little genius is secretly a menace.”

Emily nodded. “Remind me to never underestimate Spencer Reid ever again.”

Morgan just whistled. “Damn. Pretty Boy really is full of surprises.”

——————————————————————————————————

It started innocently enough.

Spencer and (Y/n) were at their desks, quietly reviewing case files. Garcia strolled in, followed by Emily and Morgan, all three of them wearing suspiciously gleeful expressions. Spencer looked up first, sensing the shift in energy like a deer catching the scent of danger.

“Morning,” he said slowly.

Garcia beamed. “Oh honey. Don’t be coy.”

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow. “Coy about what?”

“Oh, just your scandalous elevator escapades.”

Spencer blinked. “I— what?”

Garcia spun her laptop around with a dramatic flourish. “Roll tape.”

On-screen, the infamous elevator footage began to play. There they were— Spencer and (Y/n)— barely waiting for the doors to shut before she grabbed him by the tie and pulled him into a kiss that could not, under any circumstances, be labelled work appropriate.

(Y/n)’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in horror. “Where did you— how did you—”

“I run the surveillance system, Doctor Love,” Garcia said, smug. “A glitch flagged the camera, and lo and behold, I find this cinematic masterpiece.”

Morgan leaned in, whistling low. “Spencer Reid, you sly bastard.”

Emily made an impressed sound. “Honestly? Respect.”

Spencer looked like he was about to pass out. “Please don’t show anyone else—”

Right on cue, JJ walked in holding a folder. “Show anyone else what—?”

Garcia spun the laptop before anyone could stop her.

JJ saw exactly three seconds of the video before she yelped and turned away. “NO! MY EYES! What the hell?!”

(Y/n) groaned, slumping forward into her desk. “This is great. This is all so great.”

Spencer reached over and shut the laptop with a decisive click. “Okay. We’re done. The video is gone now. That’s the end.”

Emily elbowed Garcia. “I’m not deleting that.”

Morgan grinned. “Pretty Boy’s been hiding a whole new playbook.”

Before either Spencer or (Y/n) could respond, Rossi strolled into the bullpen, sipping his coffee. He stopped briefly, looked around at the wide eyes and pink faces, clocked the shut laptop, and said calmly—

���Took you all long enough. Some profilers you are.”

Spencer looked up, shell-shocked. “Wh— You knew?”

Rossi shrugged. “There was palpable tension. I could taste it in the air.”

JJ, still blinking the trauma from her eyes, turned to Hotch as he passed by with a file in hand. “Hotch, did you know?”

Without missing a beat, Hotch said, “They filled out the disclosure forms nine months ago.”

"Nine months? You guys lied to us for NINE MONTHS?" Garcia was startled to say the least.

Hotch looks up briefly, expression unreadable, and mutters, “Next time, if you’re going to be subtle, try harder.”

(Y/n) made a noise that could only be described as a whimper and slowly began sinking into her chair like she hoped the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

Spencer leaned over, voice low and a little sheepish.

“For what it’s worth,” he murmured, “I’d do it all over again.”

(Y/n) looked at him, still half-hidden behind her hands.

“…Even the elevator?”

He gave a faint, conspiratorial smile. “Especially the elevator.”

[amorre1989]

glasses!spence kissing glasses!reader and they both have to take off their glasses because they're getting in the way :3

-🪲

the glasses incident

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader tags: fluff word count: 450

When Spencer finally gets home from work around midnight, you’re sitting on the couch with a book, glasses perched on your nose. Your heart leaps at the sight of him, a smile tugging at your lips. He sets his things down before making his way over and taking a seat next to you, the cushions dipping under his weight.

“Hi,” you say softly, sticking a bookmark between the pages before placing your book down beside you. 

“Hi,” he parrots. “You should be in bed.” 

You shake your head. “Wanted to wait for you.” 

Spencer frowns. “Getting a full night’s sleep is important. Doing so can help boost the immune system, improve your mood, and reduce stress.” You gaze fondly at him for a moment, and even in the dim lighting the blush that darkens his cheeks is visible. “What?” 

“Nothing. I just missed you a lot, that’s all.”

He smiles sheepishly at you. “I missed you too.” 

When he glances down at your lips, your stomach fills with butterflies. “Spence?” 

“Yeah?” he mumbles.

“Can you kiss me?”

Spencer’s eyes are wide as they snap back up to yours. He nods, a strangled noise escaping his throat. With his hand raised to cup your cheek, he starts to lean in slowly. Before his lips can meet yours, both of your glasses knock against each other. You can’t help but let out a huff of laughter despite wincing. 

“Sorry,” Spencer grins. “Are you okay?” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “I’m fine.”

He reaches up to take your glasses off, his fingers brushing against your face causing your cheeks to grow warm. Then he slips his own off and sets them both on the table besides the couch. Your heart flutters when he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Finally he leans in, this time able to kiss you without incident. 

The way Spencer kisses you is like a man starved. To him, it doesn’t matter that he’s kissed you plenty of times before. Each time it’s like he’s afraid it will be the last, that you’ll slip between his fingers without a chance for him to do it again. 

When the two of you break apart, you rest your foreheads against each other’s. “Love you,” you breathe out. 

“Love you,” he echoes softly. “Let’s go to bed, okay angel?” 

You nod, eyelids already beginning to grow heavy. Spencer gets up and slips his arms underneath you, carrying you bridal style to the bedroom. He gets you settled under the covers, and by the time your head hits the pillow, you’re just barely able to feel the press of his lips to your forehead before you drift off into sleep. 

[amorre1989]

[amorre1989]

I SAW THE SCARF AND IMMEDIATELY STARTED SOBBING. THATS MY BABY.

[amorre1989]

spencer reid in criminal minds evolution

[amorre1989]

dios te amoo te amo mi amor te amo con toda mi vida doy todo por vos te amo con todos mis huesos

[amorre1989]

"you didn't think it was odd that she stopped cumming?"

word count: 6,1k

about?: your husband's an idiot, agent Reid got mesmerized by you so he stole you from him.

who?: Spencer Reid; Y/N; Y/N's husband; Hotch

When you got married, you knew you didn't love your husband, Jeff, Jeffrey, you knew that sleeping next to him was gonna be a challenge, you knew it as soon as you met Spencer.

Spencer and you met once when Jeff's savings got stolen and he thought it had to be told to the FBI. You told him it was excessive and that calling the police was enough, but, you're a woman, what would you know?, so you went with him to the FBI building, trying to walk to his pace, being left behind as always.

Stroking your engagement ring with your thumb while looking at it, thinking of how you got there, with a man that made you unhappy and not respecting you or your opinions at all.

You could hear his yelling, it was so embarrassing you kept watching your ring, until you heard an unknown voice, someone talking back to your fiancee, who could it be? who would dare to talk back to your fiancee? and you saw it.

Big curls and a face with a bone structure so beautiful you had to hold back a gasp. When he saw a glimpse of hair moving and a pair of eyes so big and beautiful he immediately felt like he had to take a look, he saw you. Your eyes interlocked while your husband was yelling at him for his manager, manager? God how could he be so stupid?.

As soon as those words left his mouth another man came, one with a suit and a face less soft than the other one's.

You stayed behind your husband while the three of the men kept talking, unknown eyes interlocking with yours some times while the chat kept going. Apparently, your husband realized Dr Reid was looking somewhere so he turned his face around, only to say

"oh, I forgot you were here" it felt embarrassing. Your own fiancee, forgetting your presence.

Spencer's eyebrows furred and Hotch looked at that movement.

"are you two together?" Spencer asked

"yes, why?" your husband responded, almost defensive.

"then only one of you has to be here, it's already not how the procedure is done that the victim comes to the department, so I'm gonna ask someone of you to go to the waiting room here while we talk to the other" what a voice, so right, so elegant, you could feel your eyes piercing his own.

"are you deaf? go wait somewhere else" Jeff shot at you.

"I'll guide you to the waiting room" Spencer said while putting his hand behind your back, you swallowed and started to walk.

"Is he your husband?" he asked while walking you to the elevator.

"uhm, yes, my fiancee" you said.

"what's your name?"

"Y/N"

"Y/N, your fiancee doesn't seem very nice" he said, with the face as a rock.

You smiled "no, he's not very nice" you said, thinking "of course, he doesn't know him, he doesn't know he's got no friends besides the ones that are just like him".

You got to the elevator doors and kept talking until you got to the waiting room, where you though he'd eventually leave and go back to deal with your stupid fiancee. But he didn't.

"would it be wrong if I asked for your number?" he said, lowering his voice is if in case your husband were close.

You smiled and shook your head "no, no it wouldn't".

Then it kept going, you met in nice cafes and in beautiful restaurants, having delicious meals invited by him. Since your husband wasn't home since morning til 8, you'd have all day to yourself and to Spence. You would tell yourself "he's just a new friend, married woman have male friends too..." but those tickles you felt when you'd see him, all dressed up and waiting for you with his hand inside his pockets and a smirk that had subtitles saying "you're so gonna get stolen from your husband" made you have in your aware that you were just full of shit.

Once he came to your house to drink coffee, you, sitting in front of him, so close your knees were touching, and him listening to you talk about something that wasn't even the beginning of the conversation. That would happen, you would talk about so many things you would always ask "how did we even start talking about that?", you felt like a teenager, how you felt when you first met Jeff...

You kept chatting when suddenly you felt Spencer's hand holding yours, and observing you with those hazel eyes you'd be capable of eating. Then, as an avalanche, you saw him leaning closer to you. One thing led to another when you were in your shared bed. Once a week, then twice, then three times a week...then four times.

Sometimes at your place, sometimes at his. When he would leave yours you would still smell his cologne and would start to clean the house up and down, half because of the guilt, and half because you thought your fiancee would smell it. But he's so ignorant he wouldn't even have that though in his stupid little head.

The hardest thing after being with Spence would be trying to be with stupid Jeff. He would often try to sneak his hand between your covered legs and you would groan pretending to be asleep.

Luckily, you knew Jeff was in something... weird, all that sudden money and all those working hours that weren't in his schedule were suspicious. Which leads, now accurately, at the FBI being at your door. When you opened the door and saw your curls, your chest sank, but when you realized besides Spencer there was another agent too you calmed down.

"Hello Ms Shwats" he said "is your husband home?" there it was, that cologne you'd try to scare away from your bed almost everyday.

Jeff was taken to the car when you took Spencer's arm and asked him what was going on.

"we believe your fiancee is involved in a chain of drug traffickers"

"Jeff?" you scoffed, he smiled. "I miss you, when can I come, or you?" he asked.

"I think I should follow my role as a wife now, baby" he pouted. "but we'll see" you took a look to check Jeff wasn't looking in your direction and kissed Spence, holding his cheek while he would hold your entire face. My god you were soaking already.

In the interrogation room, Spencer was killing your fiancee with questions, he has never been so inspired in getting someone inside of jail, as soon as possible. Think of all the possibilities, him in your bed, you and him sharing breakfast without having either of you to run away, he did want to wake up next to you, every day if it was possible.

Getting involved with an engaged woman has never even passed by his mind, but the first time he saw you, hidden behind "Jeff" it was like he had never seen any other woman ever.

"where were you January 12th at 3 pm, Mr Shwats?" he asked, waiting for his response.

"I was on a date with my wife. Anniversary." he answered. Wrong, he was with you, messing up his bed. Spencer smiled "oh, did you?" he relaxed in his chair "what did you do?".

Jeff felt trapped somehow "we made love all day" if you would've heard that you would've gotten so upset.

"right" Spencer said and with that, he had everything already solved.

Jeff was accused guilty and sent to jail by being a helper and complicit. Finally, your love would be finally free of having to run, to rush and to be hidden.

In the trial, you went to pretend you cared about Jeff's sentence, but you only went because your mother in law was going, and honestly, she's pretty good. When you arrived you were dressed with a nice blue dress, it felt like a half celebration half widow. You saw a beautiful blue suit, far away from you, almost matching with your dress, when you realized, it was your beautiful man. He smiled and you did too, keeping your arm intertwined with your mother in law.

Jeff walked past a door that took him who knows where, who cares? not you. You cried a little, honestly you did feel bad, he was still human besides an idiot, he was the woman you were holding hands with son, and actually it did feel a little bad. Your wedding was gonna be gorgeous. Was. With flowers that you choose, food that you knew he liked, the invitation with his name before yours, everything chosen by you because every time you'd bring the wedding to the conversation he just wouldn't help.

You took your mother in law to a cafe and then to her house, Jeff's sentence was long enough for you to grow older and even move.

You arrived at your house, empty of anyone's masculine smell, it was only you, you and yourself alone in a big house that wasn't gonna be kept by you. You made yourself a tea to leave there getting cold while you sat there thinking when your phone made a buzz.

"hey beautiful, are you in your house?" it was Spence.

"hey, yes I'm here, why?" you answered.

"can I drop by?" he asked, God yes, yes come home.

"yes of course" you sent and then you waited. The bell rang some minutes after and you went to open the door.

"hey" he smiled and kissed your cheek. You smiled as well.

"hey, come in" you had a chat about what you were gonna do about the house and about how you felt about Jeff being away, which got to the hypothesis that you did feel bad about him but you weren't unhappy about his absence.

"you could...you know, if you don't find a home soon that you like...you can come to mine" he said holding your hand, those masculines hand wrapping perfectly around yours, with his fingers stroking your knuckles in a way no one has ever done it. You smiled and raised your eyebrows.

"you think?" he smiled.

"of course" then he moved a hair from your face and placed it behind your ear "there's nothing I'd love more"

"it'll be just for a while...I won't disturb..I still have to sell the house and-"

"you don't have to leave too soon, and...I want you there" he said, smiling like trying to get inside of your head. He was.

You squinted your lips and nodded. It was all settled up. You, Spencer, an apartment you've visited tons of times and forgotten clothes and dumb stuff multiple times.

The day you left the house to move to another mens one you looked back, like trying to see if you could save at least one good memory from those four walls, but it was impossible. You drove to Spencer's, you went up the stairs and knocked.

You could hear him tripping over stuff in his way to the door and some "ouch!", you smiled to yourself for the last time. Then, as a ray of sunshine, there he was, smiling a little disheveled.

"hey!" he smiled and kissed you, not letting your lips separate for a while, holding your waist so hard you realized you weren't dreaming.

You got inside and left your stuff on the sofa.

"I uhm...I prepared some drawers for you...and space in the closet, I don't have that many clothes so you don't have to worry" he said, almost shyly, was he nervous?

You smiled and kissed him, he wrapped his arms completely around your waist and kissed you kinda brutally, suddenly you were in his bed...in your bed, shared bed, sounded so sweet, he made you promise you'd feel home and call his house your house too, it was a new beginning, you both felt it.

[amorre1989]

saw this on tt and thought I'd share here cause it's sweet

[amorre1989]

4.01

[amorre1989]

MEDICINE - SPENCER REID X READER

About: The team goes out for drinks after a successful case and Spencer already knows that he’s going to end up taking you home.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, public handjob, public fingering (f), finger sucking, post!prison spencer, smallest mention of hand kink, brief bisexual spencer mention, reader gets fingered in the back of a taxi, spencer gets a handjob in the bar, oral (f), drunk sex, briefest mention of throwing up (doesn’t even happen, just a passing comment), rough sex, guys this is really just dirty porn. if i missed any warnings, just lmk!

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Hey guys! This fic is based off of Medicine by Harry Styles. The lyrics are out of order because they’re meant to go with the story lol. Please comment and reblog with your thoughts!

I'm here to take my medicine, take my medicine

Treat you like a gentleman

Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline

I think I'm gonna stick with it

It was a warm spring night as the team had just returned from a very successful case in Kansas City, Missouri. A case that had involved children being kidnapped had ended with all of the kids being alive and well, returned to their parents unharmed. Seeing the happy faces on the families’ faces was heartwarming and gave the team a sense of fulfillment with their positions, a consensus that not everything is always so traumatic.

When they had landed back in Quantico, the drive back to the Bureau was filled with chatter and laughter as everyone relished in their triumph. You and Spencer were sitting next to one another, thighs grazing as you both paid attention to what Luke and Tara were talking about.

“We should celebrate with a couple of drinks,” Tara exclaimed loudly enough for the rest of the team to hear.

“Oh, that sounds like so much fun,” JJ practically groaned in excitement, leaning her head back. “I haven’t had a night out in ages and the boys are at my mother’s for the weekend while Will is down in New Orleans.”

“We most certainly have to invite Penelope as soon as we arrive at the Bureau,” Emily said from the passenger seat, grinning through the rearview mirror. “What about you two in the back?” Emily asked, looking at you and Spencer.

Spencer gave you a subtle glance with a quirked eyebrow. An unspoken question as to whether you were going to go out or not. If you did, Spencer already knew that he would because you were very persuasive.

You were unsure of how this whole thing started. One day, after Spencer had gotten back from prison, the two of you were alone in the bullpen, and then the next moment you were in the elevator as Spencer fingered you so fast that you had cum in what felt like a record amount of time. That night ended with you in Spencer’s bed as he pounded you into oblivion.

Perhaps it had been a long time in the making. The glances you two shared, the way Spencer always looked at you as though you were an art piece that was to be admired, the way Spencer’s intelligence never failed to make you clench your thighs. Flirtatious comments passed as just comments about the cases.

“I’m down,” You said, smiling at Emily.

And that’s how Spencer knew he was spending his night with you.

If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive

You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it

The bar atmosphere was loud and chaotic with crappy pop music playing over the speakers and drunk people watching the latest baseball game on the television. It wreaked of alcohol, as bars usually do, and sweat with the random people that were dancing to the shitty music drunkenly. Penelope had pulled Luke to the dance floor, dancing stupidly to “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga with JJ following behind. Rossi was playing pool with Matt while Tara and Emily played Darts. Which left you all alone with Spencer in a booth that was in a quiet corner of the bar.

You were sipping some fruity cocktail that Penelope had made you order, exclaiming that it would taste delicious. She was right, of course, but you weren’t going to allow her the satisfaction of knowing that. Spencer had a beer in front of him though it was untouched. He didn’t like to drink much.

“I’m surprised you came out with us,” You said, putting your glass down as you glanced at Spencer. There was an unspoken tension between the two of you. One that told you that you were certainly going home with him tonight. You always do.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders, finally picking up the beer. He slowly brought the glass up to his lips, taking a small sip before grimacing. “Oh, that tastes so bad,” he cringed, putting the glass back down. He licked his lips, still grimacing.

“Now why did you order a beer when you literally hate them?” You asked, laughing as you took another sip of your drink.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Because Luke told me this brand tastes good and I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt,” He sighed, pushing the glass away.

“Luke also doesn’t have taste when it comes to alcoholic beverages so I’m not entirely sure why you trusted him this time,” You giggled. You held your glass out for Spencer to try. “Here, try this. It tastes much better.”

Spencer looked at the glass in your hands as you held it up to Spencer’s face. He hesitated momentarily before putting his lips on your straw and taking a tentative sip of the cocktail. “That is pretty good,” he said after swallowing, nodding. “Did you know that the Daiquiri is one of the first iconic fruity cocktails as we know them today? It was invented around 1898. But it could be theorized that there were earlier versions of these cocktails.” Spencer rambled, using his hands as he spoke.

You couldn’t help the smile on your lips as you watched Spencer with interest. The way his voice sounded and how his face, which had become hardened from the trauma of prison, relaxed and looked more like himself again, and how excited he got talking about these facts, it never failed to make you swell with both lust and admiration for the genius.

As Spencer went on about alcohol, you ordered him the same drink as yourself. And the two of you enjoyed a nice conversation while drinking. It was always so easy with him, talking about anything and everything under the sun.

You both were on your third drink when you began feeling more flirty. While you guys were away on the case, you and Spencer hadn’t had any time to spend together in your hotel rooms. So of course, you were craving him. You were always craving Spencer.

I had a few, got drunk on you and now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of how you tasted

You put your hand on Spencer’s thigh as he rambled to you about the different types of alcohol and where they derived from. It was an action that Spencer certainly didn’t miss but he didn’t question it either as he continued his sentence. Your hand stayed there for a few moments before slowly moving upward, inching towards his cock. And when you began palming him through his trousers, Spencer stopped speaking entirely, looking at you. “What are you doing?” He hissed out, unable to help the way his cock was immediately hardening under your light touch.

“Relax,” you murmured before looking around, ensuring no one was near you guys. And luckily, no one was. You moved your hand to Spencer’s zipper, unzipping it enough to slip your hand to palm him through his briefs. “No one is paying attention to us,” you said while smirking at Spencer.

Spencer sighed, looking around before looking at you. He should’ve known you were going to pull something like this with the way you’ve been looking at him all night. And in his tipsy and horny mind, he just sits back in the booth, allowing you to work your magic.

You slid your hand under his briefs, grabbing Spencer’s cock. You were careful not to pull it out, wanting to ensure that you could quickly pull away just in case. You began stroking him slowly.

Spencer tried his best to keep his face neutral and to not let any noises escape, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you. But it was hard when your hand always felt so much better wrapped around his cock than his own. He glanced around at the busy bar, grateful that everyone was so caught up in their own thing to notice he had your hand in his pants. “This is so risky,” he said shakily, swallowing as he looked at you.

You hummed in acknowledgment, nodding your head. You were close to him but to the people around it would look as though you were just flirting with one another. Underneath the table, however, was a completely different story. “And yet, you love it,” You giggled, moving your pace a bit faster as your thumb swiped Spencer’s tip.

Spencer gasped as he tried not to buck his hips into your hand. He bit his lip, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before he opened them again. “You’re such a menace,” He rasped out, trying to appear as though he had his composure.

“I know,” You beamed, still moving your hand underneath the table. You leaned in to whisper into Spencer’s ear. “Just imagine what you can do to me tonight,” You whispered. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to my body.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, looking at you with a heated expression. It didn’t take long until he felt himself getting close, the way your hand was moving and your thumb swiping the tip, the thrill of the fact that this was happening in public, and the alcohol messing with his breath certainly added to the feeling. And you could tell Spencer was close with the way his cock stiffened in your hand.

“Atta boy,” You whispered into his ear. “You like this so much,” You cooed, keeping up the appearance that this was nothing more than a flirtatious interaction.

And that was all it took before Spencer was biting his lip so hard that he swore he drew blood as he came in his briefs, coating your hand and the fabric with his cum. You stroked him through his orgasm before removing your hand. You grabbed a napkin off of the table and wiped your hand, pulling away from Spencer in the process.

“Well that was certainly fun,” You exclaimed before taking another sip of your drink.

Spencer looked at you with a dazed expression for a few seconds before clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. “I suppose,” He said hoarsely before reaching for his own drink and sipping it.

The last time Spencer had gotten a handjob in public was when he met up with Ethan after school one day and they gave each other handjobs behind the bleachers at the football field. It was like his only sexual experience for the longest time.

Tingle running through my bones, fingers to my toes

Tingle running through my bones

The boys and the girls are in

I mess around with them

And I'm okay with it

You and Spencer had two more drinks before he whispered into your ear. “Let’s get out of here,” his breath hot against the shell of your ear. You were both thoroughly buzzed, making the situation even hotter.

You nodded your head, giggling at Spencer as your cheeks were warm from the heat of the alcohol. He was the same way, a smirk lying on his lips as he looked at you with reddened cheeks. He had taken off his sweater, holding it in his arms. Without bothering to say goodnight to the rest of the team, you and Spencer left the bar, stumbling as you guys were laughing and hanging onto one another. Nothing was particularly funny but you were both intoxicated which was a rarity for the two of you and of course, you were going to relish it.

You and Spencer managed to call down a cab, getting into the back of it as Spencer told the driver the address. The two of you were sitting next to one another in the back of the cab pretty close, whispering and giggling. Spencer draped the sweater over your lap, a seemingly innocent gesture if it weren’t for what he whispered into your ear. “You know, two can play at this game,” He whispered.

“What game?” You whispered back, glancing at the taxi driver, who was paying no mind to you, before looking back at Spencer.

He simply raised his eyebrows at you, that familiar smirk on his lips that he’s held for the past hour or so. “You think you can just do what you did to me in the bar without any repercussions, sweetheart?” He asked as he put his hand underneath the sweater on your lap, his fingers moved underneath your skirt to rest on your thigh.

Your eyes widened with realization as his hands touched your skin. You couldn’t deny your arousal at the idea, knowing that when you mess with Spencer, he will mess with you back. The only thing separating you and the taxi driver was a partition between the seats that was opened just a crack. “H-here?” You stuttered quietly, suddenly losing the confidence that you had earlier in the night.

Spencer nodded his head, looking at you with a teasing but also heated expression. His fingers inched up your thigh, causing you to instinctively open your legs as you looked at Spencer. Your lips were parted and your cheeks flushed from the heat. You knew you guys shouldn’t do this. You shouldn’t have even given Spencer a handjob in the middle of a bar. Perhaps it was the alcohol, the buzz making your brain fuzzy. Or perhaps it was just because of Spencer. You two always drove one another crazy.

Who cared about logic and reason when the sex was always so intense and amazing?

The two of you were quiet, not wanting to alert the taxi driver as Spencer kept your legs covered with his sweater. He moved his fingers to your pussy, feeling how wet you were through your underwear, making you bite your lip. He simply leaned in to kiss your cheek, whispering in your ear. “You’re practically soaking,” He whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You nodded your head, not trusting yourself to whisper back. Spencer kept himself close to you, inching his fingers to move the fabric of your panties to the side. He used his pointer finger to touch your slit, spreading around the wetness. The feeling caused you to audibly gasp, making your eyes widen.

The taxi driver heard the gasp and looked at the two of you through the rearview mirror. “Is everything alright?” He asked, voice gruff.

Spencer spoke for the two of you, coming up with a lie that could satisfy the driver. “She had too much to drink so she’s feeling a bit queasy,” He said smoothly.

“Please don’t throw up in my cab,” The driver responded before looking back at the road.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Spencer reassured before looking back at you. His finger dipped between your folds and into your hole with much ease, causing you to bite your lip even harder. You tried not to make any other noises, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. Spencer watched the way you reacted, the way your body tensed at his touch. He slowly moved his finger in and out of you, trying not to go too fast as he didn’t want the sound of your slick to alert the taxi driver.

You were trying your hardest not to make any noise. It was always hard though. Spencer’s fingers were so long and always knew how to hit the right places even if he wasn’t trying. He knew how to finger you into a whining mess and with your intoxicated brain, it was even harder to control yourself.

Spencer added a second finger, keeping that slow but pleasurable rhythm. You were indeed soaking as Spencer had mentioned earlier. Your breathing was shaky as you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s wrist to hold onto something. You moved yourself a bit to rest your head on Spencer’s shoulder. The sudden curl of Spencer’s fingers, hitting your g-spot dead on, made you let out the tiniest of whimpers, muffled by his shirt, luckily enough.

And just as you felt that heat building inside of you, the taxi came to a stop right outside Spencer’s building, causing Spencer to pull away from you. “Thank you,” he said to the driver, grabbing a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket with his clean hand and handing it to the man before you both exited the car.

And as the taxi driver scurried off, Spencer looked around and then at you, that same smirk from earlier on his lips. “I didn’t get to see you fall apart, how sad,” he said with a mock pout on his lips. He brought the fingers still coated with your juices to your lips, an unspoken demand for you to suck.

You, being the wonderful person you were, obeyed without any hesitation, wrapping your lips around the digits and lapping your tongue as you tasted yourself. You looked at Spencer with doe eyes, appearing to be all innocent when you were anything but.

I’m here to take my medicine, take my medicine

Rest it on my fingertips

And up to your mouth, I’m feelin it out

I’m feelin it now

You felt like a whore, standing in the middle of the street with Spencer’s fingers in your mouth. Part of you was grateful that it was an ungodly hour and most normal people were asleep, meaning no one was in the street. Spencer watched as you sucked on his fingers. You were truly a sight to behold.

“Naughty girl,” he murmured, his other hand coming up to caress your cheek softly. To say he was addicted to you would be an understatement. Since that first day, the two of you slept together, he was hooked. Hell, he was hooked even before then. The countless nights he spent jerking himself off as he thought about fucking you would be embarrassing if you were to ever find out.

And now that Spencer has had you? He’s never letting go.

The two of you stumbled into the apartment building, holding onto one another. On the elevator, after pressing the buttons, Spencer began attacking your lips with his, kissing you so messily and hungrily, with both hands on your cheeks. It was the first kiss of the night, one that held all the pent-up emotions the two of you had been feeling. You kissed Spencer with the same veracity, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. Spencer gently nipped at your bottom lip, causing you to part them as he used his tongue to explore your mouth.

The two of you moved in sync, making out with one another. You could taste the alcohol that coated Spencer’s mouth just as he could taste it on you as well, the tastes blending. Spencer’s hands left your cheeks, moving down to your hips to pull you closer to him. You could feel his bulge pressing into you, causing you to clench your thighs. You two were lost in one another, dizzy from the alcohol and the endorphins being released.

If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive

You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it

We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh

La-la-da-da, da

We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh

La-la-da-da, da

The elevator dinging brought you both back to reality as Spencer pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily. The look in his eyes showed need and want, your expression mirroring his as you looked back at him. Smiles crept onto your faces as you looked at one another. And when the elevator doors opened, Spencer simply grabbed your hand, the two of you stumbling and giggling as you made your way to his apartment down the hall.

Upon reaching his apartment door, Spence let go of your hand to grab his keys from his pocket, fumbling around with them until he grabbed the right one and put it into the keyhole. He opened the door, allowing you to step in first and Spencer followed suit. He closed the door behind himself, placing his keys in the bowl next to his door.

You placed your bag down along with the sweater of Spencer’s that you were still holding before turning towards him. And without giving him any chance to make the first move, you kissed him roughly, wanting to just consume him and be consumed by him. Spencer laughed against your lips, slightly taken aback by your actions but it certainly wasn’t unwelcomed. He kissed you just as roughly, his hands going to your hips once more.

Spencer took control of the kiss, his lips dominating yours as he gained control. As the two of you moved in sync, Spencer began gently pushing you around the apartment. However, he underestimated his coordination when he accidentally made you bump into his bookshelf, causing a few books to fall and for you to pull away. “Whoops,” you shrugged before kissing Spencer again.

The walk to the bedroom was an adventurous one, to say the least. The two of you had bumped into the table, the couch, and a vase fell onto the floor that Spencer will have to worry about in his hungover state in the morning. And when you eventually got into the bedroom, well, Spencer was more a bit grateful as he knew nothing would be in the way from the door to the bed.

As soon as you entered the bedroom, Spencer moved his hands to the hem of your shirt, pulling away from the kiss to take it off of you, throwing the material somewhere in the room. Underneath your shirt, you were wearing a sage green lace bra that Spencer adored on you so much. “You’re so beautiful,” Spencer spoke huskily, licking his lips. “You know how much I adore this on you.”

“I figured I’d likely end up at yours tonight somehow,” You smiled smugly at Spencer’s reaction.

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment before reaching to the buttons of his shirt and unbuttoning them. He tosses the shirt somewhere around the room before moving his attention back to you. He leaned in to kiss your jawline, making his way down your neck as his fingers messed with the zipper of your skirt. He fumbled with the zipper for a moment as he licked your pulse point, nipping at it slightly, and causing you to gasp. He undid the zipper, allowing the skirt to fall to the floor.

You tilted your head to the side, giving Spencer more access to your neck as he kissed, nipped, and sucked, leaving marks along your skin. Your breathing was uneven with how turned on you were. You reached down to Spencer’s pants, palming his cock through the material and causing him to groan against your skin. He pulled away from your neck, grabbing your hand. “None of that,” he gently reprimanded. “Go sit on the bed for me.”

You frowned for just a moment but obliged, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress. Spencer followed you, immediately dropping to his knees in front of you and that’s how you knew you were in for an exquisite treat. Although, this was a treat that you indulged in very, very frequently.

Spencer didn’t speak as his fingers moved to the waistband of your panties, pulling them off of you and putting them into his pant pocket. You quirked an eyebrow at Spencer who, in return, gave you a cheeky grin. He placed his hands on your knees, spreading your legs for you to show your glistening cunt. His mouth instantly watered at the sight in front of him. “Fuck, you’re so incredibly wet,” He groaned, licking his lips with anticipation.

“Been wet all night,” You breathed out, watching Spencer with a heated expression in your eyes. “Need it so bad, Spence.”

“I know, baby, you’re going to get it, don’t worry,” was all Spencer said before he dived right in, licking a stripe against your cunt.

You moaned, lying your back on the mattress as Spencer worked his magic against your cunt. His tongue began running laps, taking in all of your juices. When you and Spencer first began this sort of friends with benefits situation, you didn’t know just how much Spencer loved eating your cunt. You figured he did it simply to make you feel good. But then, afterwards, when you saw that blissful and dazed look in his eyes, you knew he loved it just as much as you did, thrived on it even. If Spencer could spend the rest of his life between your thighs, you were sure he would die a happy man.

Spencer moved his arms to wrap around your thighs, pulling your cunt closer to his face. He began to practically make out with it, his lips playing with your clit and sucking on it. When Spencer ate pussy, he ATE pussy. The usual calm and collected man would eat you out like he had never had a proper meal in his life, making sure to bask in your juices. He was messy with it in the best possible way.

You reached your hand to intertwine your fingers into his brown curls, tugging at his hair as you moaned loudly. Your head was thrown back in pleasure, your other hand going to your chest and massaging the flesh. “Feels so good,” you whined.

Spencer moaned, sending vibrations against your pussy and causing you to jolt from the pleasure. His tongue dipped into your hole as his nose rubbed against your clit. He shook his head, burying it deeper into your cunt. You felt that familiar heat building inside of you, the one you had begun to feel earlier in the taxi but it had been ripped away from you so quickly. This time, however, it wasn’t going to be ripped away from you.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned, moving your hips against Spencer’s face. “So close, please don’t stop!”

And he didn’t. Spencer continued to eat you out, slurping, sucking, licking your cunt. Part of him wished he was underneath you, letting you use his face until you were satisfied, covering him in your juices. But this was great too as he got to control just how much of your pussy he got to breathe in. Spencer sucked your clit, sending you over the edge as you arched your back and clamped your thighs shut, squeezing Spencer’s face in the process as you moaned his name in that sexy way that never failed to make his cock throb. God, he needed to fuck you.

When you relaxed, breathing heavily as you opened your eyes to look at Spencer, he pulled away, licking his lips in the process. His face was absolutely glistening with your juices and his eyes were blown out. He was the embodiment of pussy drunk.

I had a few, got drunk on you and now I’m wasted

Spencer stood up, wiping his chin with his hand before moving to unzip his pants. His movements were rushed as he fumbled around to get them off. “Need you so bad,” he said, kicking his pants to the side before taking his cum-stained briefs off. His cock sprung out of the briefs, making him let out a small groan of relief. It was so red, angry from the lack of attention. Which is funny because he literally came just a few hours ago.

You looked at Spencer, biting your lip as you looked at his cock. Eight inches and not too girthy but he knew exactly how to use it. He always made you feel so good with his cock. Your pussy throbbed at the thought, ready to get railed by Spencer. It’s all you’ve been wanting the past few days.

You didn’t say anything as Spencer grabbed your legs, pulling you closer to him. He rested your legs on his shoulders before grabbing his cock, guiding it to your entrance. He didn’t bother to tease himself like he usually did by rubbing his cock up and down your cunt. The two of you were still woozy from the alcohol, that and the hormones, it was going to be quite a ride.

Spencer looked down at you, taking in your beauty as you looked up at him. It was a moment of softness between the two of you as you just gazed at one another. A tenderness that was rare. And just as quick as it had come, it was just as quickly removed as Spencer slammed his cock inside of you without warning, causing you to let out a loud gasp. He didn’t stop until he was fully in, only then did he allow you time to adjust.

It took you a few minutes to adjust to Spencer. He wasn’t always rough with you but you knew tonight that you both needed it. And after the pain subsided, you began squirming, unable to help yourself. You were needy and just wanted Spencer to fuck you.

“Why are you already squirming?” Spencer asked as he raised an eyebrow at you with a smirk on his lips. “Haven’t even started,” he said as he held onto your legs.

You let out a small whine. “Want you to move,” you said, a small pout gracing your lips.

Spencer hummed in acknowledgement. He didn’t give you a chance to say anything else when he pulled his hips back and then slammed back into you, pressing his cock deep inside of you.

You let out a choked moan, instantly gripping the sheets below you. Spencer moved his hips like that a few more times, his pace tantalizingly slow, before gradually picking up the pace. “S-so good,” you whimpered.

Spencer was never one to shy away from making noises. He moaned as his cock moved inside of you, feeling your walls around him. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned as he slammed his hips into you.

The sounds that escaped you sounded pornographic as Spencer moved inside of you. His cock was hitting your g-spot dead on. His thrusts were hard and rhythmic, exactly how you loved it. Spencer moved your legs, bending them towards your chest and holding them there as he thrusted into you more deeply. The change of angle makes your moans more high-pitched.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin as Spencer’s bed creaked from the roughness of his thrusts. The slick of your cunt was also heard as Spencer’s cock drilled into you. He began to pick up the pace. “You feel so good, baby, oh my god,” Spencer moaned, looking down at you.

You were truly a sight to behold. Your tits bounced with every thrust, your hair sprawled out on the mattress, your face was contorted with pleasure. Your whines and moans were truly like music to his ears. Spencer knew he wouldn’t last long at all, especially with the way your cunt was gripping his cock. He reached down, using his fingers to rub your clit.

“I-oh fuck!” You whimpered, throwing your head back in pleasure. “Spencer!”

“That’s it, princess,” Spencer let out a whine of own, relishing in the pleasure. “Gonna cum for me?”

You nodded your head pathetically as you looked up at the handsome genius. His curls were sticking to his forehead as he pounded into you. The feeling of his cock inside of you and fingers rubbing your clit was enough to have you feeling close again. “So close, Spence,” you moaned.

“Me too, baby, me too.” Spencer breathed out.

With a few more thrusts and rubs of your clit, you were moaning Spencer’s name so loudly as your back arched and head was thrown back, your cunt clamping around Spencer’s cock. That was all it took for Spencer to bury himself deep inside of you, cumming with a loud moan as he filled you with his seed.

And when you both were finished, Spencer pulled out before lying down on the bed next to you and taking you into his arms. You were both dazed and dizzy from all the different feelings. You both were also breathing heavily, coming down from the intense sensations. You snuggled into Spencer, unable to help the tiny giggle that escaped your lips which Spencer also returned.

When Spencer awoke the next morning with a throbbing headache, he was ready to just get up and take a bunch of acetaminophen to make it go away. But the feeling of having you in his arms made the thought dissipate when he could just spend the day sleeping next to you instead. Because you were the only medicine he really needed.

If you go out tonight, I’m going out tonight ‘cause I know you’re persuasive

[amorre1989]

spencer reid in 3.08

[amorre1989]

Spencer would be extra affectionate when he gets home from a case

You walk over to him at the door to welcome him home and as soon as his shoes are off, his arms are wrapped around your waist and his head is resting on your shoulder

“I missed you so much,” mumbled into your skin as you caress his head

Pulling him to the bedroom and tugging him to bed to lay down, he’s quick to lay his head on your chest

He asks you to talk about what you did while he was away as it helps him to calm down from all of the horrors he saw on the field

Every time he hears you laugh his smile grows and he swears your laughter is like a lullaby to him

His hands go from playing with your hair to slightly holding on to the hem of your shirt, holding it as if it’s a security blanket

He’s knocked out cold as soon as your lips touch his forehead or temple

As you continue to ramble on, light snores come out of his mouth and it’s as if he clings onto you more in his sleep (he does)

[amorre1989]

Wait dad spence is my fave🥺 He would pull a ms. Reachel to help their language development… he’d be so animated ”can you say mama” 😭😭

oh GOD

Dad spencer who spends at least an hour after work talking to his daughter while she's in her high chair and recounting every little bit of his day (rated pg, of course) because talking to your kids is the best way to help them develop language skills. And she 100% just sits there and stares at him completely confused like O.O while he rambles.

Dad Spence who lays in bed with your daughter and he's a whole three inches above her and he's just babbling back and forth with her while she repeatedly pats him in the face because "She's learning! Babbling is a really essential part of language development! And did you know that mirror neurons-"

Dad Spence who is ELATED when your daughter's first word is "dada"... but he also knows you're just a little upset that it wasn't "mama" so he explains to you that "dada is actually a more common first word because the 'da' sound is easier to produce. So actually, she probably doesn't even know that she's saying a word at all!"

[amorre1989]

I feel like a bear hug from Matthew Gray Gubler would heal all the broken pieces

[amorre1989]

spencer and readers first fight ! can you possiblyyyy do something along the lines of spencer said something sassy/petty/mean which results in reader giving spencer the silent treatment and he crashes out begging for her to speak to him 🤓☝🏼

your first fight with spencer genre: slight angst, fluff word count: 1,7k a/n: i've been so excited to write this one! honestly way too long for a drabble, but i hope you enjoy it

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this."

Spencer didn’t understand the gravity of his words before you huffed out a sigh, placing your hands on your knees as you lifted yourself up from the spot next to him on the couch. His eyes followed your body as you walked straight toward your shared bedroom, opening the door before shutting it behind you with a bang. The click of the lock echoed through the now silent living room.

Spencer sat frozen in place, his gaze fixed on the door as if you’d magically reappear in front of him.

Everything about your body language hinted at you being angry, but he couldn’t grasp why. He replayed the situation back in his head in an effort to decipher the reason.

You had cheerfully greeted him when he entered the apartment. He’d been away on a case for several days, not having had the time to speak to you over the phone or give you any updates on how he was doing.

As much as he preferred keeping clear boundaries between his personal and professional life, Spencer couldn’t resist telling you the details of some of his cases when coming home. Not when the psychology behind the unsubs fascinated him so much. And especially not when you eagerly pulled him toward the couch, pushing him down onto the soft cushions as you handed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, ready to hear about his day.

You sat cross-legged in front of him, eyes twinkling with admiration as he told you about today’s case. He explained how he discovered a pattern in the way the unsub took his captives, using the numbers 11235 — the first five numerals in the Fibonacci sequence.

He noticed the frown forming between your brows as he got into more detail.

“Can you explain that to me? I don’t get it,” you asked.

“That’s okay. Your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend a concept like this.”

Spencer wasn’t lying. He remembered how his coworkers had blankly stared at him when he analyzed his theory — how Emily made eye contact with JJ, their silent looks saying there he goes again, and how Hotch had to cut him off to tell him to get to the point. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to explain it to you, he just didn’t see the point in doing so, not when he knew this was a connection only he could understand.

After a couple of minutes, there was still radio-silence. Spencer got up and walked to the bedroom, knocking softly on the door. “Angel? Can you open up for me?”

“Just go away, Spencer.”

Your voice cracked, like you had been crying, and the sound made his heart sink.

“Please open the door so we can talk. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” Your scoff vibrated through the door. “I don’t even want to talk to you if you can’t understand what’s wrong.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his hands turning clammy. He didn’t like confrontations and especially not with you. You’d never fought before. Rationally, he knew fights weren’t necessarily a bad thing — conflicts usually stemmed from deeper fears and feelings that get triggered, and confronting these feelings could lead to creating an even stronger bond. But right now, all he wanted was to turn back time and make sure those words never left his mouth.

His mind blanked in situations like these, so the only logical fix he could come up with was to call Derek.

“Hey,” Spencer spoke through the phone, balancing the device between his ear and shoulder as he nervously paced through the living room.

“Hey man. What’s up?”

“I messed up.”

Morgan’s chuckle sounded through the speaker. “Our genius making a mistake. Who would’ve thought the day would come?”

Spencer sighed, losing his patience. “It’s serious.”

Derek paused before responding. “Alright, slow down. Tell me what happened.”

Spencer repeated the conversation for what felt like the hundredth time that day, his guilt accumulating with each repetition. He gulped when he heard Derek take a sharp inhale at the other side of the line. He could almost see him shaking his head.

“Okay,” Derek began. “Now listen to me. When it comes down to it, all women are the same, they just need some loving and appreciation. Go buy her some flowers before the store closes.”

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He glanced one last time at the still-locked bedroom door before heading out.

Thankfully, Spencer’s apartment was close to downtown. He hurried into the first flower shop that he spotted, his eyes scanning the bouquets until they landed on a pair of bright colored lilies. The outer corners of the petals shone with a radiant shade of pink, fading into a soft white at the center.

He cleared his throat as he placed the flowers on the counter. “Can I have these, please?”

The woman behind the counter started wrapping them in pink paper, reaching out for lint to tie a bow. “Trouble in paradise?”

Spencer blinked, not often experiencing someone seeing right through him. Besides his coworkers. And you.

“Ya know, I see so many men come in here on the daily. You can just tell they got in trouble with their lady; sweating bullets and rushing to pick a bouquet the second before the store closes.” She twirled the bouquet in her hand as she pulled on the strings of the lint bow. “At least you picked a nice one.”

“Do-,” Spencer hesitated, his voice softening in an uncertain whisper. “Will she forgive me after this?”

“Depends on what ya did,” she answered with a lift of her shoulders. “What I can tell you is that flowers don’t do much fixing.”

Damn it, Derek.

The florist turned around, rummaging through a drawer, before pulling out an envelope and sliding it across the counter.

“Write,” she stated in a single syllable. “We need words. We need to know that you care, and we need you to put more effort into it than paying ten dollars.”

With a new plan in mind, Spencer hurried home. The apartment was still silent when he returned, the door firmly closed and no signs of you having left the bedroom. He sighed and made his way to his desk, shoving aside piles of books and papers until he had enough space to write. He opened the envelope the florist had given him, and carefully pulled out a sheet of blank stationary.

My Lover Dearest,

It is ironic that I have read so much poetry and so many books in my life, and yet I cannot find the words to describe how much you mean to me.

Sometimes, I find it difficult to believe that someone as wonderful as you would want to be with me. That I’m allowed to deserve the love that you give me.

My mind works in strange ways, and as much as you’ve praised me for it, it can work as a curse as well. I am scared to overwhelm you, to talk your ears off (which would be a shame, because you have beautiful ears) to the point that you grow tired of me.

I never had the intention to cause you pain, or to initiate that you’re any less brilliant than you are. You are the brightest part of my life. I feel grateful every time I get to talk to you, and I would love nothing more than to explain any concept you’d want me to. I’m sorry for not having understood that before.

I love you. I love you. I have been wanting to tell you this in a special way, please know that I am not just saying this to ask for your forgiveness. I love you.

Sincerely, Spencer

The clock chimed 03.00 a.m. by the time Spencer finished his letter. His hand ached and he could barely keep his eyes open as he stumbled to the bedroom door. He turned the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. With a resigned sigh he slid the letter under the door and sat down against it. It didn’t take long for exhaustion to overtake him.

The repeated knocking of the door against his back woke him.

“Spencer?”

Your voice sounded like a siren, and he instantly scrambled away from the door, allowing you to open it fully.

You stood there, holding the envelope in your hand as your eyes softened when you glanced over him, mouth forming a small oh. “What are you doing here?” you asked in worry.

“The door was locked,” he answered, voice still hoarse from sleep.

A curse escaped your lips as you pressed your hands against your face. “I am so sorry. I must have fallen asleep with the door still locked.”

Spencer’s lips lifted into a small smile, relieved that you hadn’t locked him out intentionally. “It’s okay. Orthopedists actually recommend sleeping on the floor from time to time. Sleeping on a hard surface encourages a more natural position for your spine, which can reduce back pain. It even strengthens certain muscles, so the pressure on your body evens out. As a matter of fact, anthropological studies have shown that-”

He stopped mid-ramble, blushing when he noticed the faint smile tugging on your lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll stop,”

“Don’t you ever stop,” you replied as you lowered yourself on the ground next to him. You reached for his hands, placing them into your lap.

Spencer’s blush deepened, and he struggled to suppress a grin. Your encouragement reassured him, and he went on about groups in Japan and Tanzania who experience significantly lower rates of back pain due to their minimal use of furniture.

“Spencer,” you gently interrupted after a while.

He blinked at you, seeing the gleam in your eyes as you adoringly stared at him. “Hm?”

“I love you too.”