reidslabyrinth

[reidslabyrinth]

oh Spencer Reid my beloved

[reidslabyrinth]

i’m so proud of you. i love you, my kiki

I love you so so so much my babyyy 🥺

[reidslabyrinth]

Don't let them find out. [lew einstein]

pairing: lew einstein x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k

summary: +18, professor x college student.

warnings: public display of affection, fingering in public, oral sex.

Thursday night at the library, again. Nose buried in your books, no date, no friends, just homework to do and straight A’s to get, same as always since you got into college. Everyone says that you’re just… smart, a nerd probably, but you’re not very social for your own reasons, and between studying and working to pay your tuition, you had no time to go out and experience the college life of a regular girl.

It was a slow night, not many people at the building, but that was better for you, you needed the silence. As you left your things at the table, you went to find a book you needed for an assignment, you searched everywhere, getting to the secluded section known as the “make out section”. And of course, you were the one to catch Professor Einstein humping his latest hook-up on the hallways of the library.

When you saw the girl walking away with teary eyes, blushed cheeks and messy hair, you noticed he saw you there, standing awkwardly, and honestly, a bit disgusted.

“Very classy, don’t you think?” The sarcasm in your voice made him stop on his tracks as he tried to walk away.

“Excuse me?” he looked at you for maybe the first time ever. He noticed your big brown eyes, too judgemental considering how angelic your face looked. “You’re one of my students, aren’t you?” There was a sudden glimpse of amusement creeping in his eyes. “You know… It’s very rude to get your nose in other people’s business.” His comment made you scoff, rolling your eyes, your annoyance awakening something in him.

“Me? Rude?” Your sarcastic tone amused him. “Rude is sticking your tongue in your students’ mouths, especially on campus, but who am I to judge, right?” He laughed at how mean you sounded.

“Oh I'm sticking more than just my tongue.” The repulsion on your face made him laugh. “I’m messing with you. But hey, maybe you can be next, if you're interested.”

A blush creeped on your cheeks, you were too stunned to even say something, and with a pat on your shoulder he walked away, leaving you standing there astonished and… intrigued. His words stayed on your mind for longer than you'd care to admit, not being able to focus as you went back to work on your assignment, laying in front of you as you sat there on that empty table in the silent library.

————

Days passed by and his words were still stuck in your head. *Did he mean that? Was he seriously implying that I could be that easy to get? I’m not an easy girl, right? Well, I don’t really know if I am, no one ever wanted me in that… way.* You shake your head to forget the thought, your own mind getting way ahead of itself.

Around noon you had your second class of the day, his class, and the idea of seeing him after the other night, looking at him in the eyes without making a fool of yourself, felt absurd. A simple sentence had you on edge for days, and being flirty was his normal self, maybe he even forgot about your minor encounter.

“Good morning class, how are we today?” His voice interrupted the murmur of your classmates, getting everyone's attention. His eyes roamed over the room, something he never did before. When he saw your face in the back of the classroom, his gaze lingered over you for a second too long, and pretending he wasn't looking for you, he cleared his throat and continued speaking. “Today is chapter… 6, open your books, your notes, your computers, whatever you have.”

His way of teaching –of interacting with the student body– was fun but effective, something that you picked up since his first class, but now you started to really pay attention to his mannerisms. The way he moved around the classroom, smoothly checking up on everyone, cracking a few jokes here and there, attentive to what was going on around him at all times. From afar he felt your eyes on him, and every few minutes, like clockwork, his own gaze met yours for a second or two. Each time his eyes met yours you weren't able to hold his gaze, looking away every single time. He held back from smiling each time he saw the nervous way you looked away.

The class came to an end and everyone started to leave, you gathered your things and as you started to walk towards the door, he said your name, making every set of eyes in that half full classroom set on you.

“_____, don’t go just yet.” He said without even raising his gaze, leaning over his desk as he read some paperwork. “The rest of you can leave, keep walking people, see you next week if you don’t drop out. I’m joking, don’t drop out.”

Everyone walked away with a smile on their faces, that was the effect he had on his students, a sense of camaraderie no other professor had.

“You wanted to see me, Professor Einstein?” your voice made him look up again, you could feel your own breath getting caught in your throat. When finally the last student left the classroom, he took a breath before speaking, with a smile that could melt anyone, and it surely melted you. “If this is about the other day…” He interrupted before you could finish your sentence.

“Yeah, it is. I’m not gonna apologize or anything. Well, I am gonna apologize for lustful behavior on campus premises, but not about what I was doing exactly.” You rolled your eyes without even realizing. “Ah, that roll of eyes… You shouldn’t do it that much, don't get me wrong, you have beautiful eyes, you could use them to your advantage” Your cheeks were turning red as he kept talking “I know they would work on me.” He confessed in whispers, wanting for you to hear it, but he wouldn’t dare to say it out loud.

You swallowed hard before being able to speak again, he noticed the blush in your cheeks, and the nervous way you were standing in front of him. “Okay, is… Is that it?” he was taken aback by your question, figuring that maybe you weren’t interested in him the way he was about you. “I have other classes today, so…” your words hung in the air for a little longer than expected, while he searched in your eyes for even a glimpse of wanting, of yearning.

“Sure, you’re a very dedicated student.” He straightened up, his tall figure taking your breath away. He noticed the way your gaze dropped to his body, instantly going back to his face, almost if you were afraid to look, to check him up. “See you next week, ____.”

—————

The promise of seeing him next week was broken when you, like never before, went out to a bar with the only two friends you had in college. The place was packed, with barely any room to walk in. Squeezing into the crowd the three of you spotted a table that was just getting available, your friend ran at an amazing speed to get it, pushing away a drunk guy that had the same mission as her. Once settled you took the first trip to the bar, picking mojitos as the first drink of the night.

The music, the alcohol, the lights, the gossip and laughter with your friends, everything felt intoxicating, all your senses were wrecked already, and when some guy took your hand to dance with you, you went with it without hesitation. As he held you by the hips, moving in sync with you and the music, you let yourself get loose for the first time in ages. This guy tried to get further, his lips grazing over your neck, and that repulsed you. Before he could even protest you were back with your friends, and he walked away with a pout on his face.

“Can you believe that guy?” you scoffed as you sipped your drink.

“Men are pigs.” your friend said and the three laughed. “But talking about men… There's a very popular professor over there that couldn't look away from you and that guy…” she said as she pointed surreptitiously to a booth behind her.

“What? Who?” you followed the direction of her finger, and sitting at the booth, there was him, drinking with two friends. “Oh, hell no, I just made a fool of myself in front of him?”

The deep shade of red that covered your face was even more embarrassing than the show you put on in front of your professor. He raised his beer with a cheeky smile, letting you know that he was, in fact, absolutely entertained by you. You couldn't take your eyes away from him, the way his glasses sat flawlessly on the bridge of his perfect nose, the way his curls fell messy and wild on the top of his head, his rosy lips that grinned at you, and God, that smile…

“Girl, focus, get back to us” Your friend snapped her finger in your face, awakening you from your trance. “You should go talk to him, bag him, for shit and giggles you know?” your eyes widened at your friend's words, but you were seriously considering it.

“Should I, shouldn't I?” you mumbled, your eyes every few seconds going back to him, magnetic.

“Go!” they both said in unison and laughed, almost pushing you in his direction. As you walked to his booth, his friends magically went away to get more drinks, mysteriously leaving him alone.

“What a nice surprise.” he smiled and invited you to sit next to him. He watched you intently as you nervously sat there, your eyes going back between him and your friends that giggled from afar. “I thought of you more like a bookworm, this is different coming from you.” His words hung in the air for a second.

“Well, you don't know me that well, professor.” He smiled, looking down when you called him that outside the classroom.

“I guess not. You're a party girl now?” His mocking tone got a reaction from you, that goddamn roll of eyes, making his heart skip a beat. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“I'm whatever you want me to be.” Your blunt confession made him short-circuit, but even when you said that, you couldn't hold his gaze, and he found that endearing, and extremely captivating. He boosted himself closer to you, his leg pressing against yours.

“Why's that? What makes you think I want you that way?” His hand dropped from the top of the table to your thigh, resting there, cold against your warm skin. You didn't answer. “You already have the perfect grades, the perfect reputation… What’s in it for you?” He kept pushing to know what was on your mind.

“how do you know about my grades and reputation?” you finally looked at him, pure curiosity in those breathtaking eyes, he was going crazy getting lost in them. He shook his head slightly before speaking again.

“I did some digging, not because I'm interested,” he paused, “but let's say I am… interested.” His fingers on your thigh moved in their place, lazily caressing your skin.

Your eyes dropped to his hand, and back to his face. The proximity made you feel drunk, more drunk than any mojito could get you. The mix of beer and his perfume ignited something in you. “About your question… What's in it for me? You.” your words take him by surprise, he narrowed his eyes at your response.

“Like I'm a trophy for you to get? A land to concord?” He asked as he laughed, his hand lightly squeezed your flesh. He knew exactly what he was doing to you with his touch, with all those questions, with his closeness, and you let him do it.

“Does that bother you? That I want you…” you looked around to make sure no one could hear you. “... just to fuck?” He smiled, shaking his head.

“Considering that I want you for the same purposes, no, it doesn’t bother me at all.” His tone was getting lower, and his hand on your thigh was going higher. His fingers hid under the hem of your skirt, closer and closer to where he wanted to be, where he craved to be.

“Here?” you asked in a barely hearable whisper. He smiled, amused.

“Here what, darling?” He asked with an innocent tone, while his hand squeezed your inner thigh. “Use your words… Do you want me to start here? On this bar where anyone can see us?” Your eyes darted towards the crowd out there, no one was paying attention to you two in that dark booth.

“Y-yes.” you mumbled and he pulled your underwear to the side, but not touching you just yet. “I’ll be quiet, I promise.” He was drunk in your desperation.

“Oh no, you can be loud, you can moan and whimper, the music is gonna muffle your cries.” as the words rolled down his tongue, his middle finger started to play with you, so slowly it felt like a punishment. “Are you this wet because of me?”

“Can you blame me?” you smiled with a ragged breath. Two of his fingers were now playing with you, touching you in gentle and soft circles, with the perfect pressure to make you squirm under his touch.

“You're so pretty, letting me feel you, taste you.” With that, he pushed those two fingers inside, making you hide your face in the crook of his neck to stop your moans. “That's it, let me take care of you, you deserve it, don't you?” His hand picked up pace, his finger slightly curled up, like he knows exactly what to do, exactly how you like it. You were overstimulated, the music, the voices, his movements, his praising, the alcohol… A build up of emotions that made you melt against your seat, with him moving his fingers almost all the way out, just to push them deeper, making you lose your mind. The way he was controlling your body with just two fingers, not even a kiss and he already knew how to make you whimper and cry. “Let go for me, darling, don't hold back.”

A high pitched moan rasped your throat as you came undone in his hand, your legs shaking, your hips thrusting forward to meet his touch. “Oh, fuck me…” you breathed out, cursing, your orgasm washing over you.

“Good girl.” he smiled and withdrew his fingers. “And yes, I'm planning to fuck you if you'll have me.” he had a winning smile on his face that made you chuckle, and once again you rolled your eyes. “Stop doing that… I get hard every time you do it.” he confessed as he cleaned the residues of your orgasm with a napkin.

“I'm definitely gonna do it more often, especially considering how much you annoy me.” his eyes shined with amusement at your words, making him laugh.

“Let's get out of here, what do you say?” he asked. You thought about it for a second. “Here's too crowded, there's too much noise, and I deserve to hear you without any ambient sound.” He took your hand in his, fingers entwined. “Don't make me beg, because I will, I'm great at it.”

“Fine, okay, I'll go.”

With excitement he stood up and pulled you out of that booth and out that bar, forgetting about his friends and you forgetting about yours. The cold autumn night chilled your bones the second you stood in the street and he noticed how you crossed your arms, hugging yourself. Without saying a word he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to keep you warm. With a shy “thank you” you wrapped your arm around his waist, letting him guide you to his apartment. Once in his building he led you up the stairs to his flat, opening the door for you.

“What a gentleman, Professor Einstein, I didn’t think you had it in you.” your little tease made him laugh. He closed the door and walked straight to you, towering over you. His fingers gently but firmly grabbed you by the chin, making you look up at him.

“That’s mean, I am a gentleman, do you want me to prove myself?” He leaned closer, his breath brushing against your cold skin. “Because I wouldn’t mind proving myself to you.” His lips grazed over your cheek. You closed your eyes at the feeling.

“Go ahead then, Professor.” You whispered, trying hard to not sound too eager. He smiled before finally giving in to the need to kiss you. His lips moved slowly, tenderly, tasting you for the first time, drawing in the soft sensation of your lips. He buried his hand in your hair, holding you impossibly close, his other hand pulled up your top just a bit for his hand to rest on top of your skin.

His kisses grow more desperate, needy, starting to feel like a drug, a fix you're gonna come back to over and over, addicted to the taste of his lips. A whine escaped your lips the second he stopped kissing you, his mouth trailed up your jawline -leaving a bite here and there, he wasn’t able to resist- and down your neck, getting from you sweet and soft little moans on his wake.

“I like the way you keep calling me Professor…” His voice was muffled by the closeness of his mouth on your neck. The heat of his breath brushing against your skin was intoxicating.

“Oh, so all this is to feed your ego?” The implications of your question plus your heavy breathing made him chuckle. “Is it a power thing? You're capable of ruining my life, is that it?” Your feisty tone only fueled him further, getting him even more worked up.

“Maybe it is, but doesn't that turn you on a little? That your reputation depends on how I feel about you?” His voice was a low murmur, an agonic reminder that –in fact– it did turn you on, his proximity making your heart jump out of your chest.

“It 's scary…” you confessed, slightly throwing your head to the side. His eyes dropped to your pulse point, he wasn't even able to focus on what you were saying. He pulled back a little to meet your eyes, his fingers firmly yet delicately grabbed your chin to make you look at him.

“It is. Scary, I mean. But you like it, _____. Don't you?” As the words rolled down his mouth, his thumb traced over your bottom lip. “The adrenaline, the fear of getting caught.”

He kissed you again, more desperate than before, yearning to take you further, to make you his, to dive and get lost in you. Without breaking the kiss he led you to his bedroom, in the way he bumped with every piece of furniture he had, making you giggle between kisses.

Once in his bedroom, he stopped right beside his bed, he let go of your lips to look you in the eyes, searching for even a glimpse of regret, anything that could make him stop in a heartbeat, but all he found was the same desire he felt. His hands trailed from your hips to your waist, his touch delicate, reverent. Hooking his fingers on the hem of your top, he pulled the piece of fabric up your head, throwing it on his hardwood floor, you mimicked his action, taking off his shirt. His eyes dropped to your bare chest, almost drooling at the sight. With gentle touch he cupped your breasts, his thumbs caressing your nipples. You watched his every move, letting him explore you.

“You are…” he started to say, kissing your neck, going down your collarbone. He knelt in front of you, his breath hot against the delicate skin of your chest. “... so goddamn beautiful.”

His lips trapped one of your nipples, his tongue circling around it, he smiled at the sound of your moan. After a few minutes he kept going down, trailing a path of hot wet kisses down your stomach. He pulled down your skirt, his lips stopping at the edge of your underwear.

“This seems like the perfect moment to ask if you want me to keep going.” He looked up with a cheeky smile, messing with you. “Do you want me to keep going, ___?” He caught you so off guard that it made you laugh.

“Oh, shut up.” At the sight of you rolling your eyes at him again, he took your words as a dare and with a laugh of his own, he threw you on top of his bed, kneeling between your thighs. You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him, while he, with ease, removed the last piece of clothing you had on. With his eyes fixed on you and your reaction, he started to kiss up your thigh, sloppy, wet, hungry kisses, and when he finally got to where you wanted him the most, it felt incredible. His tongue moved with expertise, he knew exactly where to kiss, where to lick, where to suck. He took his time to please you, your moans and whines only fueling him further, it was music for his ears, the only thing he wanted to hear tonight.

He noticed your body tensing up, the way you squirmed under his mouth, how your legs wanted to shut close, squeezing his head. He knew how close you were, but he wasn’t gonna let it happen. “Not yet, darling.” he whispered from down there, grinning as you pouted.

He got up from the floor, and as you looked at him with pleading eyes, he took his time to remove his pants, making you more desperate. His boxers were tight, his erection throbbing for you and only you. He removed and kicked them somewhere in his bedroom. His hand stroked his cock as he moved closer, his hips fitting perfectly between your thighs.

“Is this what you want?” he asked with a low murmur, teasing you with the tip. You had no words, nothing came out of your mouth no matter how hard you tried. “Use your words, ____.”

“I want it, please.” your shaky whimper almost made him growl.

The sight of you, naked on his bed, with your hair spread all over his sheets, with those big desperate eyes. His self control was slipping, and when you cried for him, he lost the last bit of restraint he had. After aligning himself, he slowly thrusted forward, burying himself in you. He held himself up with a hand next to your head, reaching down to kiss you as you adjusted yourself to him. He took a second, enjoying the way you felt before starting moving, thrusting at a slow pace to not hurt you.

“I’m not gonna break, Lew.” you whispered against his lips, making him smile.

“I know… I’m just enjoying how good you feel right now.” His lips landed on your neck as he moved painfully slowly, making you squirm under him for more. “You are so eager, aren't you?” he chuckled against your skin and pulled it almost all the way out, just to thrust back in even deeper, setting a new pace, less gentle, more primal.

Your moans echoed on the walls of his room, your nails digging on his back as he took care of you like no one ever did before. His movements became more erratic, his hips slapping against you, the sound of skin on skin flooded your senses, his own low moans and groans each time he thrusted deeper took you to the edge of release. His fingers found your clit as he kept moving, the overstimulation was way too much for you to handle.

“Be a good girl and let go for me.” A loud, animalistic cry tore up your throat as you climaxed. The feeling of you twitching and shaking around him -plus the sound that came out of you- was all he needed to get lost in you, feeling his own orgasm wash over him, he pulled out quickly, relieving himself all over your stomach.

He fell to your side on the bed, his body covered in sweat as he breathed heavily. You both laid there for a while, until your heartbeats got back to normal. He stood up and took you with him, guiding you to the bathroom, turning on the shower. The warm water relaxed you, no words were needed now, his actions spoke louder than anything he could say. With tenderness he shampooed your hair, washed you and himself, and once he was done, he wrapped you in his bathrobe, kissing your forehead.

Taking you back to his bedroom, he helped you get settled in, and he lay next to you. You rested your head on his chest, his fingers caressed the soft skin of your back.

“How can this not affect you at all?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“What do you mean?” he sounded genuinely confused by your question.

“Being with your students, knowing you can lose your job, your reputation.” you looked up at him. “Aren’t you afraid someone is gonna betray your trust?”

“Are you gonna betray my trust?” he didn’t respond to your question, you shook your head saying no. “Then I’m not scared.”

“That’s not really an answer…” your whisper got him all tense.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say, ____.” his tone -that moments ago was sweet and gentle- was now sharp and cold.

“Okay, I’m sorry I asked.” you tried to pull back, thinking you did something wrong, but he pulled you back against him.

“No, I’m sorry, your curiosity is valid.” He said as he hugged you, burying his nose on your hair. “I’m not scared of it because all the parties involved have something to lose, not just me, you know?”

“I guess you’re right…” you whispered and yawned, your eyelids falling heavy, your breath getting softer.

“Let’s get some sleep, darling. And if you want we can keep talking about this in the morning, what do you say?” When he got no answer for you, he knew you were already gone to the land of dreams.

______________________

The smell of coffee and the soft sound of music woke you up, it took you a second to recognize where you were, and the flashback of last night came to you in a blur. You got up and walked to the kitchen, his apartment looked so different in the morning light, it had a midcentury vibe, mismatched furniture, a lot of art on his walls, it even surprised you a little.

“Good morning.” your voice distracted him as he was making eggs.

“Hey, I didn’t want to wake you up, you are a very peaceful sleeper.” He looked at you from over his shoulder, his hair was messy, his skin glowed in the morning light.

“That doesn’t make any sense, but thank you?” you chuckled and walked to him, standing beside him, leaning on the kitchen counter.

You observed his mannerisms, watching him move with ease, like he was in his element when he was at home, and it warmed your heart that he let you see this part of him, but that also made you wonder.

“I bet you bring all your dates to your apartment.” your tone was playful, but deep down you wanted more information.

“Uhm, no, not really.” His words were not what you expected. “I don’t really like bringing people back here, it’s my space, and I like to preserve my peace.”

“Then what am I doing here?” His eyes didn’t look at you, like he was shy all of the sudden.

“It felt different with you.” He just said, no explanation, no excuses, nothing. “I just went with my gut.”

You went silent for a second, doubting if he was even telling the truth. “So maybe this can happen again? You and me?” A little smile appeared on his lips, he seemed sincere.

“Don’t get your hopes up, ____.” He joked, calling you by your last name. “But yeah, I guess it can happen again.”

He got you in his kitchen giggling at his jokes, the knowledge that this was wrong sat at the back of your mind and before you even realized, the thing you had with your Professor turned into something more than just a one night stand. Every little gesture he had towards you made you fall deeper into the rabbit hole, you needed to remind yourself that this wasn’t love. This was wrong, you knew that, nothing that is meant to be hidden can be good. But it didn’t matter, there was no going back now.

hi hi hi :) i hope u like this one, or at least i hope u don't hate it lol. Since Lew Einstein doesn't exist yet I took some liberties with his personality, I see him as a good professor, dedicated (sometimes too dedicated with those he wants to f*ck), funny but firm, etc.

[reidslabyrinth]

whole crutch inside my p****

spencer reid + his crutches in season 5

[reidslabyrinth]

A Collection: MGG + Dogs

[reidslabyrinth]

new edit we’re back in business

[reidslabyrinth]

The Raven. [s.r.]

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

summary: (+18) souls that are meant to be together, smut.

The day after coming back home was always a day to relax, unwind and disconnect. The perfect opportunity to lock himself away from the awfulness of the world he lives in, having the chance to enjoy a nice home cooked meal, or a big cup of coffee, while catching up with the pile of books that keeps growing but are never read because he doesn't have the time to really enjoy what he's reading.

Spencer turned on the stove, the little italian coffee press sat on top of the fire, and while the water warmed up, he stood in front of his bookshelves, deciding which one would make him company in this cold afternoon. As his eyes scanned carefully each spine of every one of his books, he noticed something odd, something that wasn't supposed to be there, that stood out of place amongst its peers. Standing between his books there was this particular one he had never seen before, a red leather hard cover book with gold engravings. He grabbed it with curiosity, a book he never bought, a book that no one had gifted him.

"Perfect, Spencer. You're finally losing your mind, that's just perfect." he murmured to himself, lost in his thoughts. The whistling of the coffee press brought him back, announcing it was ready.

He sat on his couch with his cup on the table in front of him and the mysterious book heavy in his hands. His eyes roamed over it, unable to remember where he got this book from, his eidetic memory failing him for the first time in his life. There was nothing engraved on it, except the title that read The raven. No author, no publishing company, nothing. With the determination to find out what this book was about, he opened it to find a soft glow casting from the pages, drawing him in.

On the first page he found a poem, printed in cursive, waiting patiently to be read once again:

In the tapestry of time, an unexpected grace,

A moment unfurled, a serendipitous embrace.

Underneath the stars, where fate aligns,

Unexpectedly, love blooms and entwines.

Through the corridors of chance, where whispers dance,

Unexpectedly, hearts find their romance.

The words in front of him flowed like a turbulent river, violently pushing him further, drowning in the pages, gasping for air. He was astonished, throughout his life he had read hundreds, if not thousands, of books but never one like this, never one this captivating.

Once he finished, he closed the back cover and gently left it on top of the table, he noticed he didn't even take a sip of his coffee that now rested cold in front of him. The vivid images that the story imprinted on his mind as he sat there, picturing characters and scenarios, made him completely lose notion of time.

A sudden feeling to find the source of this book washed over him, he thought about asking for help, but in fear of his friend Penelope thinking he finally lost his mind, he decided to do it by himself, “how hard can it be?” he thought out loud. He grabbed his laptop from his desk, trying to search the internet to find something about this book, anything. It wasn’t a secret that he wasn’t good at this sort of stuff, technology wasn’t one of his many traits, so when he ended up empty handed and with more doubts than before, he wasn’t surprised at all. In a last frustrated attempt he grabbed the mysterious book and his bag, and walked to the nearest library he could find.

The large wooden door of the old gloomy building rose in front of him, almost denying him entrance, but he repressed the odd feeling aside. The door creaked as he pushed it open, the orange hue of the vintage candelabra illuminated the corridors. It was a ghost town, not a soul in sight as he looked around trying to find someone to help him. He paced through the library, no one at the front desk, no one in the first floor, no one in the archive section. He was about to give up when, from the corner of his eye, he saw someone walking down the back corridor. He followed this woman, unable to catch up with her, she slipped through his fingers at every corner, every turn. Until he got to her.

When he finally was able to lay eyes on her, he was stupefied, her ginger hair falling down like a wildfire over her shoulders. It was the spinning image of the girl he pictured as he read the mysterious book, the vivid memory of what he imagined materialized in front of him, his eyes couldn't believe what he was seeing, his words stuck in his throat. His movements felt as if they were in slow motion, his hand ghosted over her shoulder, but he put it down to not scare a stranger to death. He cleared his throat before speaking, the sound got her attention, making her jump on her heels.

“Good God, how long have you been standing there?” The question made Spencer realize he was being creepy.

“Oh! I…” He took a few steps back, taking distance from the stranger in front of him, even though she didn't feel like a stranger to him, all he had on his mind was the memory of what he read, but that couldn’t be real, right? She’s not the girl in the book, although her face was exactly what he pictured, her voice was exactly as he thought it would be, maybe he was finally going insane. “I’m sorry if I scared you, I was looking for someone to help me with this book I found.”

The rational part of his brain knew it was impossible that she materialized in front of him from the idealization he had on his mind, he knew that humans weren’t able to create faces that they had never seen before, all we as humans know is something that was already seen, already processed in our memory. But the irrational part, that little bit of him that let him enjoy things freely, was questioning if this could be some kind of sick trick. As he spiraled inside his own mind, her voice brought him back to reality.

“Then you’re in luck because I’m the only one that can help you right now.” With a smile and a nod he took the book out of his bag, handing it to her, wishing for his questions to be answered.

Her eyes roamed over the cover, the spine, the pages. Her fingers brushed over the gold engraved drawings, over the title that glowed under the warm lights above their heads. The frown that struck her face made him realize that there was no answer for him in this place, and maybe there wasn’t one at all.

“If I’m completely honest, I’ve never seen this book before, it’s in pristine condition tho.” She started to walk down the hallway with him following her closely. “Maybe we can find something here.” She handed him the book again to open the door of the restricted section, that place in every library where they keep the most rare and antique pieces, those you can’t take home, that are curated to be preserved. The scent of old paper flooded his senses as they entered the room.

Her eyes wandered carefully over the shelves on the walls, maybe to find something similar to what he had in his hands, he couldn’t know what she was thinking, he simply stood there, almost helplessly, waiting and hoping for some kind of information. She spoke under heart breath, as she was thinking out loud but not enough for him to hear. His eyes followed her every move, lost in the way her hair swang with each of her steps, amazed by the way her body moved, soft and gentle around the room.

For a moment his head wasn’t able to separate fiction from reality, she was real, right in front of him. A particular scene of the book flashed on his mind, the depiction of her form in a nightgown that hugged every one of her curves, crawling to the arms of the reader, forget it, crawling to him. His breath caught in his throat, making him cough. Her attention focused back on him.

“Are you okay?” the sweet tone of her voice gave him goosebumps. He didn’t know this girl, but there he was, flustered everytime she looked in his direction.

“Yeah, I’m okay, ____.” He immediately stopped talking, his eyes widened as he realized what just happened.

“How do you…” The dumbfounded look on her face made him stumble back, taking even more distance from her. His cheeks turned red, the words stuck in his chest. “You know my name, how do you know my name?” her tone was defensive, she walked quickly towards the door, the door knob in her hand.

“No, wait. I’m sorry, I… I don’t know your name!” his tone was almost desperate, wanting to explain himself without sounding insane. “Your name is the same as the protagonist in the book, that’s it, and I was lost in thought when you spoke, and I mixed up things, I swear.” his palms were in the air as a sign of surrender, his worried expression reflecting his vulnerability.

He was able to see the doubt in her eyes, her hand hesitantly dropped from the door knob. “Let’s say I believe you… It’s still incredibly creepy.” A little smile tugged from the corner of her mouth. Spencer felt his heart beating again.

“I can imagine it was, and again, I’m truly sorry.” He nervously ran his hand through his hair. “Actually you are gonna find this even creepier but the description in the book looked exactly like you.” He rambled, he couldn't help his nature, and he ended up cursing his mouth for not being able to shut up. She frowned and abruptly took the book out his hands again.

“What page?” Her demanding tone made him fold. ‘17’ he whispered and she searched through the pages. Her face dropped as she read to incredible detail every feature, quirk and freckle she had, the portrayal making her blood run cold. “This is so fucked up.” her cursing surprised him.

“Yeah. I mean, I know.” He stood there not knowing what to say as she kept reading. His gaze focused on her, on how her lips moved as she read silently, how her index finger brushed over the paragraphs guiding her eyes over the words. He didn't know why, but as he felt with the book, he was feeling the same about her.

_____ closed the book abruptly. “Where did you find this?” her question hung in the air for a little too long. He couldn’t find the words to explain how this book ended up in his hands, she wouldn’t believe a word about how he got it.

“I just got my hands on it, nowhere special.” his hesitant tone made her frown.

“What’s your name?” The change of topic made him reluctant.

“Spencer, why?” She smiled and tilted her head.

“Okay, Spencer. You’re gonna tell where you found this book. And don’t spare any detail or I swear to God…” her threatening words took him by surprise, but he did as she asked. He explained everything to her, how it just appeared at his apartment, how he couldn’t -for dear life- remember where he bought it, or if it was a gift, or anything. He also explained how good his memory was, so she wouldn’t doubt him telling her the truth. He noticed the change in her expression, there was something bothering her, and he couldn’t let it pass.

“You’re thinking of something, what is it?” Her eyes focused back on him.

“I thought I was going crazy, I thought it couldn’t be real, but it’s happening to you too, the exact same thing.” She took a step closer towards him, lowering her voice as if they weren’t the only two people in the building. He looked at her like she was in fact crazy, but he knew he sounded crazy too. “It appeared at your apartment, right? Can you take me there?”

“Take you, uhm… Take you to my apartment? Why would I. Why. I don’t…” He mumbled nervously, not a single finished sentence.

“There must be something there, something you missed, a hint of why this is happening to you, to me.” He nodded, almost working on autopilot, taking her with him.

Once in his apartment, ______ looked around with interest, noticing little details that made her story make sense. In her book, the protagonist wasn’t described physically, he didn’t even had a name. “That’s why I didn’t recognize him.” She thought for herself as she watched Spencer standing in his kitchen, making two cups of coffee. His apartment felt familiar, like she had been here before, but all her memories came from the book she found at the basement of the library she works at. The space was exactly as it was described, as her mind imagined it, the green painted walls, the cozy atmosphere, the walls covered with bookshelves, the warm lights that hugged you after a long and awful day.

“_____?” his voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned around and he handed her a cup of coffee. “Did you find anything useful? No, wait, what did you call it earlier… A hint, did you find a hint?” There was a spark of playfulness on his voice, taking her by surprise.

“Unfortunately no hints.” A smile tugged on her lips. Her fingers wrapped around the hot cup of coffee, the feeling of the cold going away was delightful.

“Was your book about me?” He asked shyly, his eyes shining under the warm lights.

“I guess it was.” He looked puzzled at her words. “My book wasn’t as explicit as yours. The main character didn’t have a name, nor a description of how he looked like. But it described places, my place of work, my own apartment, yours… That’s why I wanted to come here, I needed to see if it was you, if it was this place.” He tilted his head, perplexed.

“Are you…” He paused, choosing the right words, his vulnerability showing. “Are you disappointed?” She was taken aback by his question.

“Disappointed?” she asked. “Of course not, Spencer. On what grounds could I be disappointed if there wasn't any concept, any idea, before I met you.” Her words made him understand something that had never crossed his mind before.

Leaving his cup on the coffee table, he reached for the book again, coursing through the pages, looking for a quote he knew he had read before. “The end of my book says that the forces of the universe are what brought the characters together. Does that mean us? Are we the lab rats of a sick mind that tries to mess with us?” His tone was sharp as he spoke. She read the word he referred to, but had a different interpretation.

“I don’t think someone is purposely messing with us.” As she gave her reasons, her explanation made things worse in his head.

Who would want to mess with both of them, two complete strangers that have nothing in common, just because it would’ve been funny? There’s no reason behind that and he was a man of reason, a man of facts and statistics, there wasn’t magic behind this, magic isn’t real, behind every trick there’s an explanation, behind every gimmick there’s an spectator that is too distracted to notice what is happening in front of their eyes.

“Don’t you believe this could be a trick from the universe? Something that we could never comprehend, the universe always has a plan, Spencer.”

“I don’t believe in that sort of stuff, ____. Do you?”

“I think there’s something bigger than what we can understand…” He paced around the living room as she kept talking. “You can’t deny what’s happening here!” Her desperate attempt to make him come to his senses was driving him crazy.

“Well I’m sorry if I don’t believe that the universe is pairing us, _____!” He was getting irritated, his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath.

“Then kiss me and let’s find out if this is real or not!” She raised her voice, annoyed, and Spencer couldn’t take it anymore.

He took the short steps that separated them and crashed his lips on hers, letting out all of his frustrations -and his fears- into an earth shattering kiss. And he couldn’t stop. Her lips were soft and sweet, he was getting lost in them, his tongue seeking entrance, wanting more, craving more. There was an invisible force that pulled them together, his arms wrapped on her waist, holding her against his chest.

_____ gasped on his lips, the sound made him feel dizzy, and when she pulled him closer, tangling her fingers on his curls, he was completely gone. He broke the kiss for a second, looking at her eyes to see if there was even a glimpse of doubt, of regret, but all he saw was the same desire he felt. With a little nod and a soft smile she gave him the permission to keep going, and with a smile of his own, he kissed her again.

His steps stumbled back to the door of his bedroom, his lips never leaving hers, her hands holding him impossibly close and her feet clumsily stepping on his, making him chuckle between kisses. Spencer bumped against his bed, sitting down on it, ______ standing between his thighs.

With a shaky touch he pulled up her sweater, his cold fingers touching her for the first time. His fingertips caressed the softness of her skin, leaving on his wake a path of goosebumps. Carefully he removed the piece of clothing along the shirt that was underneath, exposing her, the cold air hardening her nipples. His eyes dropped to her chest, his breath caught on his throat at the sight of her form. She took his hands on hers, guiding his touch to her breasts. He held his breath as he gently squeezed her flesh, his pupils dilated when he heard her moan for the first time.

He breathed out her name “God, ______…” in a desperate attempt to demonstrate how needy he was, how much he needed her, to feel her, and claim her as his. Her hands cupped Spencer's face, her eyes roaming over his features.

“Are we really doing this?” she asked with a soft whisper, her thumb brushing over Spencer's lips.

“I've never wanted anything as much as I want you right now.” His words were all she needed, tearing down any wall she had put up, leaving behind any fear.

_____ gently pushed him, making him lay on his back. Her hands that were on his face traveled down his chest and stomach, her fingers stopping at the buckle of his belt. Spencer's breath was heavy, his eyes fixed on her every move, and when she got to his erection, his heart almost stopped. With ease she freed him from the restraint of his tight clothes as she kneeled between his thighs. Her lips kissed his length, slowly going up to his tip. Spencer propped himself up on his elbows so he could see her, the sight of her wrapping her lips around him, taking him in on the warmth of her mouth, drove him to the brink of madness.

What _____ was doing to him was the closest he ever felt to heaven. His eyes rolled back in pleasure as the moans kept falling out his lips, uncontrollably. The way her tongue moved on the head of his cock made him tweak and shiver.

“Fuck, ______…” the way her name rolled out his tongue only fueled her to move faster, deeper. His tip pushed against the back of her throat. “Please… Oh, God. Stop, I'm gonna…” He wasn't able to finish what he was saying, his orgasm came like a wave of pleasure that violently washed over him.

He succumbed to the feeling of his release, collapsing on his mattress as he filled _____’s mouth. It took him a second to resuscitate, and when he did, he pulled her up to his lap, kissing her with passion, tasting himself on her lips. In a swift move he turned them around, hovering on top of her as she laid on his bed. Her red hair scattered all over his sheets, the view he had felt almost poetic.

“I've never seen someone as pretty as you…” His voice was a rasp caress. She looked up at him, shy after what she did to him, and he couldn't believe his eyes, maybe the universe was right and he was in the presence of an angel.

His hand on her waist traveled down to her thigh, fingertips brushing on her skin, pulling up her skirt. “Should I stop?” he whispered against her neck, his breath burning her delicate skin.

“Please, don't stop.” Her pleading tone made Spencer lose sense of space and time, all that mattered was her, on his bed, and he wanted to give her everything he had.

His finger hooked on her underwear, pulling it down and out, throwing it somewhere on his bedroom floor. He shed the remains of clothes that were still in his body, he needed to feel her against his skin. He aligned with her, looking to her eyes for permission. _____ pulled him into a hungry kiss, and he buried himself in her warmth. His movements started slowly, afraid to hurt her, to break her, if he was rough she was gonna turn into dust right in front of him, worried she wasn't even real in the first place. She was so wet for him, so welcoming that, in a heartbeat, he forgot his fears and worries.

When her gasps and moans started to grow louder, echoing on his bedroom walls, he grew more erratic, pushing her to ecstasy. Her legs trembled as she lost herself in the haze, her nails digging on his back as she came undone under him. The feeling of her wrapping on him, twitching on his cock made him reach his second orgasm, coming undone in her.

He fell on the mattress beside her, pulling her on a hug, cuddling her with an affection and tenderness he didn't know he had in him.

It took a moment until they were able to speak again, and _____ was the one breaking the silence. “What do you think now? About the way we met?” she asked, gently playing with his hand on hers.

“I think that… Maybe you were right, and this was meant to be.” That response was all she wanted. After that display of affection they both fell asleep on each other's arms, laying on the afterglow of their encounter.

•••

When he woke up the next morning she wasn’t there anymore. The window of his room was wide open, the wind making his curtains dance in the air. As he looked outside, all he could see was a cloudy sky and a raven, standing silently on a branch of a tree outside his building. This couldn't be another trick of the universe, right? She wouldn't just leave him like everyone else does, not after sharing such an amazing night. He hugged his pillow, laying on his side as his eyes were glued to the raven on the tree, the bird looming over him like it knew his deepest secrets.

He could feel the tears building up, his eyes burning, his throat closing up. As a tear rolled down his cheek, he heard the front door opening, and a ray of sun came from the window, as if everything was once more a sick plan to mess with him. Steps echoed down the other room towards his bedroom, and the familiar silhouette stood in the doorframe.

“Good, you're awake. I went to get croissants for breakfast, do you like them?” her angelic voice was music to his ears.

“Yeah, yes.” He mumbled, half awake, but relieved she was still there, with him. _____ walked back to the kitchen, the smell of coffee flooded Spencer's senses, and a smile tugged on his lips.

He was at peace, and when he looked at the tree again, the raven flew away. That's when he understood that the universe always has a plan.

(A special thanks to Yas for this concept, and for giving me the honors of writing it, I love you my gorgeous girl 🫰🏻)

[reidslabyrinth]

[reidslabyrinth]

Behind closed doors. | s.r. |

pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

word count: 1.1k

summary: forbidden relationship, secrets, college professor x student.

The dim light of the hallway was guiding your path down to his office; the darkness of night covered every window, there wasn't a soul around to hear the sound of your steps echoing, or maybe that echo was the beating of your heart chiming like clockwork in your eardrums.

His office door was slightly open, an orange hue of light casting from the lamp sitting at his desk. It was that familiar sight of the previous moment to get to his arms. With a soft knock to announce yourself you stepped in, closing the door behind you.

"Hi." —you said with the shy voice you always have when you see him, something that has become inevitable. He raised his head from the pile of papers on top of his desk. As you looked at him you dissected every tiny detail: the frame of his glasses delicately resting on the bridge of his nose, the loose tie around his neck, that soft rebel curl that always fells down over his forehead, the blue ink stains on his hands.

"Did anyone see you?" —he asked you as you dropped your bag and walked to him. The rules have been crystal clear since this started, no one can see you, no one can find out.

The first time it happened was on accident, pure coincidence, right place, right time, and definitely right person. There wasn't any scenario were this was going to end up well, everything was at risk. His job, his reputation, your scholarship, everything you two worked so hard to get, to achieve; in a blink of an eye you could lose everything, but neither him nor you seemed to care.

"The building was empty, kind of creepy actually." —you pointed out, standing beside him, waiting for his touch. His arm strongly wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his embrace.

"I missed you, my classes are dull since you finished my course." —he confessed as he sat you on his lap, his nose ghosted over the skin of your shoulder. –"No one comes close to your brain, you know?"

His words were music to your ears, the way he praised you was what got you into this, into him.

"I don't think that's fair for your new students." —A soft little laugh escaped his lips.

"Maybe not, but I couldn't care less about them." —You raised your eyebrows, surprised. –"No, I mean... Of course I care about them. I just miss you." —he breathed out, defeated.

"I missed you too, by the way." — you confession made him squeez you tighter. As his chin rested on you shoulder, his nose buried on your hair, you couldn't stop yourself from wondering. –"Do you think this could have a happy ending?" —your words hung on the air for a little too long.

"I don't know." —he finally responded. His fingers traced loose patterns over your thigh, his mind trying to put together something to say, something that could make both of you feel better. –"It's hard picturing the future... We been living day by day, why would we be worried about something we can't control?" —His words fell heavy on the pit of your stomach, the uncertainty, the empty promises. Risking it all for something he couldn't project forward.

"Then why are we doing this?" —your voice broke the silence that flooded his office. –"If you don't see a future with me, why do you keep me around?" –his demeanor shifter, his body tensed up.

"That's not what I mean, not at all." —he leaned back on his chair, his hands still on you, but it felt like he was taking distance, even if you where still sitting on his lap. –"I want to see a future with you, believe me. But that future feels far away, and I don't want to lose what we have now."

"What we have is a secret, Spencer." —your words hit him. His eyes scanned your face, trying to read you. –"Is it worth it risking everything? I could lose it all, I'm in constant fear of being caught, and I'm not only scared about me, I am for you too. This job is your life, and in the blink of an eye everything can crumble down..."

"Please... Please don't." —his whispered words made you stop, his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer. Your forehead rested on his, his breath warm against your skin. –"Maybe I can't face the fact that I'm terrified, I can't imagine losing you, my love. The idea of not having you is devastating. I can't picture my mornings without you, not waking up to the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of your laughter." —the worry in your eyes made him realize that everything he thought was wrong, there wasn't a single scenario in his head where you weren't a part of. After the longest pause he spoke again, putting you at ease. –"I guess I am picturing a future with you, because the sole idea of being without you is making my heart ache."

It felt genuine, it felt real, it felt right. You felt yourself melting into his embrace, your body fitting against his like two puzzle pieces that belonged together. His lips ghosted over yours, leaving you craving for more that just a caress of them.

"___, I love you more than words can describe, for you I would risk everything, because there's nothing left for me if there's no you." —his words were pure, a raw emotion that came straight from his heart, aiming for yours. "And if I have to prove myself to you, I'll do it."

"You don't have to prove anything." –your soft, vulnerable whisper made his heart skip a beat.

"Wrong. I have to prove everything, because how are you gonna know that I love you if I keep quiet." –there was a hint of playfulness in his voice.

"Knowing that you love me is enough." —he could feel his heart beating faster at your words.

"Then I'll keep telling you until you get tired of me, but please, don't get tired of me." —there was a vulnerability he never showed before.

"I promise I won't get tired." —he smiled and buried his face on the crook of your neck.

The silence grew for a moment, comfortable and warm, no words were needed after that confession, nothing else to say. You closed your eyes as you sat comfortable on him, the place where you belong.

"I love you, ___" —he whispered and you knew there was no turning back now.

[reidslabyrinth]

seven minutes | s.r

summary: spencer, your husband is dying and there's nothing you can do but cherish those last moments

wc: 2.9k

warning: fem reader, death, tears, hurt, reader is reminiscing her life that she got to have with spencer, Spencer and reader have a daughter named Tessa.

song recommendation:

a/n: this is sad ( for me at least ) I cried while writing it so! just a heads up, and Spencer can be alive in your reality but in this one....yeah! 😕

The room felt suffocating, the weight of the silence pressing in on me as I sat beside Spencer, holding his hand. The beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound, steady and unyielding, a reminder of the fragile line between life and death. The man who had been my everything he is my rock, my soulmate, the father of our daughter and now he was lying there, unconscious, barely holding on.

I had never imagined this day would come. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were supposed to grow old together, argue about little things, watch Tessa graduate, watch her get married. 

Spencer had always been the one who believed in the good in the world, who believed in us, even when it felt like everything else was falling apart. And now he was here, so still, so quiet, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had missed my chance to tell him everything I needed to say.

“Spencer” I whispered, leaning down to press my forehead against his. His skin was cold, too cold, and I squeezed his hand tighter, willing him to wake up. To give me that crooked smile that always made my heart skip a beat. “I don’t know how to do this without you. I need you, Spencer. Tessa needs you”

I glanced over at the small bundle of blankets in the corner, where Tessa had fallen asleep earlier, exhausted from the long hours of waiting. She was so young, so unaware of the storm that was brewing around us. I couldn’t imagine what her world would be like without her father. The way Spencer had always been there for her- his soft laughter, his gentle hands, his quiet way of making her feel safe. He was her everything, too.

I wiped away the tears that had fallen onto my cheeks, but there was no stopping them. Not this time. “I don’t know how to tell her, Spencer" I murmured, my voice breaking. "How do I explain to her that you’re not coming home ever again?”

His breathing was slow and shallow, his chest rising and falling with the effort of the machines that were plugged in. But I knew he couldn’t hear me. He couldn’t answer me. The doctors had said he was likely gone, that this was the end. But I refused to accept it. I refused to believe that this was the last time I would be sitting here with him. That the man who had spent his life trying to protect people, to help others, would be lost to me so soon.

I had spent so many years in love with this man. Spencer Reid, the genius, the man who had always tried to save everyone else. But now, no one could save him. And as much as I hated to admit it, I knew the truth. He was slipping away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it, there was nothing in this world- that could bring back my husband. 

I stood up from the chair, feeling the sting in my chest, and walked over to Tessa’s side. She was sleeping so peacefully, unaware of the storm raging just a few feet away. I brushed a strand of her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead, trying to hold back my tears. How am I supposed to do this alone?

“Mommy?” Her voice was soft, quiet, and I felt my heart break all over again.

I turned to face her, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Hey, baby. You’re awake”

Tessa blinked up at me, her small face filled with concern. “Is Daddy going to be okay?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my eyes filling with tears again. “Tessa baby, Daddy’s- he’s very sick, sweetie. But we’re going to stay here with him, okay? We’re not going anywhere”

She slid out of bed and walked toward me, her tiny hand reaching for mine. “Is Daddy going to come home with us?”

My heart cracked wide open. How do I explain this to her? How do I explain that the man who had filled her world with laughter, who had kissed her goodnight every night, the man who had loved her like she was the only one in the world, the man who cried when she took her first steps- would no longer be there to hold her? 

I bent down to her level, my hands trembling as I cupped her face, trying to find the words. But the truth was too hard. “No, baby” I whispered, my voice faltering. “Daddy- Daddy’s not coming home”

Tessa’s brow furrowed, her tiny fingers pressing into my palm. “Why? Why won’t he come home, Mommy?”

I felt the ache in my chest deepen, a lump in my throat that made it impossible to breathe. I searched for the right words, but nothing seemed like it could be enough. Finally, I whispered, my voice breaking, “Because he’s very, very tired, sweetie. And sometimes, people get so tired that they have to rest. They don’t wake up, baby. They go to a place, a beautiful place, with lots of birds and flowers- and a beach, a peaceful beach, where they can sleep forever”

Tessa looked up at me, her brow furrowed, trying to make sense of what I was saying. “But Daddy hates the beach, Mommy” she pouted, her voice small and innocent.

The pain in my chest twisted, and despite everything, I let out a soft chuckle, the sound a bittersweet mixture of love and heartbreak. She was right. Spencer had always hated the beach. The sand, the crowds, the heat. But at that moment, I could almost hear him laughing along with me. “I know, sweetie” I whispered, brushing a tear away, “but maybe this is a different kind of beach, one that he doesn’t mind”

“Daddy will sleep peacefully now” I whispered, my voice barely more than a soft breath, the weight of the words heavier than I ever imagined.

Her eyes widened, and she tilted her head in confusion. “Like when I sleep? But I wake up, Mommy. Daddy will wake up, too, right?”

I couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped my chest. I gathered her into my arms, feeling the weight of her innocence in my embrace. “I wish that were true, sweetie” I said, my voice breaking. “But Daddy- he’s not going to wake up this time”

Tessa clung to me, her little body trembling as she began to cry softly. “I want Daddy, Mommy. I want him to come home”

“I know, baby” I whispered, rocking her gently in my arms. “I want him too. But we have to be brave for him, okay? We have to be strong, because he would want us to be. He loves you so much. He’s always going to love you”

As I held my daughter, the weight of the grief settled over me like a blanket. Spencer had been the love of my life, the person who had seen me at my worst and still chosen me. And now, just like that, he was slipping away. I had no idea how to navigate this world without him, how to keep going without the man who had been my anchor and my light in the darkest days.

I looked over at the bed where Spencer lay, his face still and peaceful, the steady rhythm of the machines the only sign of life left. He was gone in every way that mattered. And I couldn’t find the strength to let go. Goddamn it Spencer. 

I leaned down to kiss Tessa’s forehead, holding her close as my tears mixed with hers. “We’ll get through this together” I whispered, even though I wasn’t sure how. “Daddy will always be in our hearts”

And even though I didn’t believe it in that moment, I said the words because they were all I could give her. Because, for her sake, I needed to believe we could somehow survive this. That we could carry Spencer’s memory and his love through the rest of our lives.

But as I looked at Spencer, lying motionless, I knew that life would never be the same. That part of me had already left with him, and all that was left was the aching reminder of everything I had lost. 

It all started with a meeting in the most ordinary way. I was walking out of a coffee shop, balancing a cup of coffee in one hand and my phone in the other when I bumped into someone. The coffee spilled over the side of my cup, splashing onto my shirt. I looked up, half-expecting an angry look, but instead I saw Spencer. His wide, concerned eyes met mine, and in that moment, I swear the world stopped.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” he stammered, his voice as soft as it was nervous. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, it's okay” I laughed, trying to brush off my embarrassment. “It’s my fault, really”

His hand reached out, almost instinctively, to grab a napkin and dab at the coffee stain on my shirt. I tried to protest, but he was already focused, like the calm in the chaos of a spill. 

“I’m Spencer” he said, his words just a little too fast, a little too eager. “Spencer Reid”

“Nice to meet you, Spencer Reid” I smiled, trying to hide the fluttering in my chest at how kind he was, how gentle, even in the face of disaster.

And that was how we met. It wasn’t dramatic, it wasn't a moment of fireworks and music in the background. It was simple, a collision of two separate people over a cup of spilled coffee, but it was the start of everything I had ever wanted in my life. 

In the days that followed, we spent time together in unexpected places, at the local park, where Spencer would sit with me on the grass, casually pointing out the constellations even though I was mostly just trying to keep up. Or when we’d go to his favorite little bookstore, and he’d tug me down aisles filled with dusty books, his voice soft as he recited bits of poetry or scientific facts he was too proud to admit had a bit of a romantic edge.

There were small moments- too small for anyone to notice but us. The way his fingers would brush mine when we were sitting next to each other, or how he would always hold the door open for me, as though I were the most important thing in the world. I had never seen someone love the world in the way he did, with that quiet intensity, like he was constantly seeking meaning in everything.

And then there was the day we brought Tessa home from the hospital. The overwhelming joy of her tiny hand curled around Spencer’s finger, the way he couldn’t stop staring at her in awe, like he couldn’t believe she was ours.

 He was always a little awkward with babies, he didn’t know how to hold her quite right at first, his arms unsure- but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t the perfect way he held her that mattered. It was the way his face lit up when she wrapped her fingers around his hand, trusting him, even though she couldn’t know who he was yet.

“Look at her” he whispered, his voice barely audible, like he was afraid the moment would shatter. “She’s perfect” 

I remember laughing through the tears, feeling his hand on my back, steady and warm. “You’re perfect too, you know that?”

And just like that, he smiled- his crooked, beautiful smile, the one that always made me feel like I had all the time in the world, like we were invincible, that nothing would ever tear us apart.

In the quiet of our evenings, the moments we shared were so simple, but they were everything. Spencer would always find a way to surprise me. Whether it was with a new book on the latest research he was obsessed with or a jar of my favorite strawberry jam that he’d hidden in the back of the pantry for a rainy day, he always knew exactly how to make me smile.

And then there were the quiet moments when it was just us. On the couch, Tessa tucked between us, Spencer would lean in, his voice soft and full of affection. “You know, you make me feel like I’m home” he’d whisper into my hair, his fingers tracing little circles on my wrist, making me feel like the most cherished person in the world.

Now, sitting in the sterile quiet of the hospital room, I find myself clinging to those little moments, trying to hold on to the pieces of Spencer that were so effortlessly woven into my life. I stare at him, unconscious, hooked to the machines that now marked the final stage of his fight with his life. But even in this hospital room, I could almost feel him with me, as if his presence was never bound by the limits of his body.

I remember the way we would argue about the simplest things, like how to properly fold the towels or what movie to watch on a Saturday night. Spencer would pretend to be exasperated, his arms crossed, but I always knew he loved it. He loved our little quirks, our silly fights, because they meant we were living together as a married couple.

I remember the soft way he’d kiss me goodnight, every night, no matter how long the day had been. “I love you” he’d whisper, his voice low, the warmth of his breath brushing against my cheek. His words never failed to make my heart race, always filled with the same unspoken promise- that we’d always have each other, no matter what.

And then there were the moments we shared just for ourselves, when Tessa was asleep and the world outside felt far away. Spencer would pull me close, his arms wrapping around me like he never wanted to let me go. “We’re good, right?” he’d ask, his voice a little too soft, a little too vulnerable.

“We’re perfect” I’d reply, knowing that in this imperfect world, we were exactly what we needed.

But now, in this room, with his hand cold in mine, those little moments felt like pieces of a dream, fading with every beat of the heart monitor. And I wanted so desperately to hold on to them, to keep him with me, even if I couldn’t have him here physically.

“Spencer, I love you” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I’ll love you forever”

His chest rose and fell with a shallow breath, the machines beeping in the stillness of the room. I could hear the echoes of our love, the laughter, the whispers, the simple moments we shared. And somehow, through the pain, I knew that those memories would never leave me. They would be the quiet whisper in the back of my mind, the soft touch I would carry with me for the rest of my life.

No matter what happened in this room, no matter what the doctors said, Spencer Reid would always be the love of my life, the one who had made me believe in a future filled with joy, laughter, and love. And as much as I wished for just one more moment, just one more laugh, I knew that the moments we’d shared were enough to last a lifetime.

The human brain, in it’s final seconds, can play the whole life of a person- every detail, every memory, every quiet moment. In seven minutes. In those seven minutes, Spencer would be granted a final chance to relive his life- every moment, every laugh, every tear- before he would drift into eternal sleep, leaving this world behind for good.

 Seven minutes to relive a lifetime.

I leaned down, pressing my lips to Spencer’s forehead, the coldness of his skin sending a shudder through me. My tears fell freely now, each one carrying the weight of every word left unsaid, every moment we would never get to share. I whispered, my voice barely a breath, “You can rest now, my love. You’ve fought so hard. I’ll carry you with me, always”

But the words felt hollow, empty, like they were trying to hold together something that was already slipping through my fingers. I couldn’t make it stop. I couldn’t bring him back. I couldn’t save him this time.

The sound of the machines, the quiet beeping that had been the soundtrack of our fight, faded into a painful silence. And in that silence, all I could feel was the gaping hole he left behind. A hole that no amount of time would ever heal. He was gone. My Spencer was gone.

I would carry him with me, as broken as I felt, as shattered as I was. I would tell our daughter every story, every memory, every beautiful moment. I would make sure she knew just how much he loved her. 

I looked at Spencer, lying there, still and peaceful, I whispered one last time, my voice trembling with the weight of my grief, “Always” 

And then, with a heart that felt too heavy to carry, I had to let him go. Forever.

@carisc4pshaw @1992chinawhite

[reidslabyrinth]

lovely love letters

pairing: Spencer Reid; reader

word count: 3,4k

content: after a shared night with your sweet boyfriend Spencer, you wake up alone at his apartment and allow yourself to snoop around his apartment

mornings in your boyfriend's apartment were different. The feeling of the soft and a little sweated bedsheets combined with the smell of his skin was the closest you've been to heaven.

You had just woken up at Spencer's apartment removing the Spencer's part.

He left early in the morning, two hours before you, leaving a sweet hot kiss on your lips while you were sleeping (something you've assured him you didn't mind at all when he confessed to you that you looked adorable when you were sleeping, and that he always had to control himself from kissing you on the lips).

Leaving the bed was easy, you finally, after a long time, woke up with energy. Sleeping with Spencer has always given you an amazing dose of oxytocin, a hormone of happiness that is released while having physical contact and is related to the relationships (explained by who else than the amazing Dr Reid).

You walked your way to the kitchen, where on the coffee machine a sticky note was in the front of it, with instructions of how to use it, you left it to the side making the wrong assumption that you knew how to use a coffee machine, to seconds later hold it between your fingers and read it with a smile on your lips.

When you finally made your coffee you took a selfie holding the sticky note along with a text saying "thank you baby, i underestimated your gesture", you drank your coffee while sitting on the floor next to the opened window you allowed yourself to touch. It felt embarrassing, almost wrong to be at someone's place and touching everything you needed for the day, but Spence had made sure of letting you know you were free to do as you pleased while he was absent.

"I'm glad it did. how's your morning going?" Spencer's voice sounded in your head while reading the 40 minute late message, it's alright, you thought.

"very good baby, I'm sitting on the floor while drinking coffee" you said, not even thinking it was forbidden or anything.

"on the floor? I have plenty of comfy chairs, you know? and a sofa, and a bed" he texted back almost immediately. "why are you on the floor? does your back hurt again? I'll give you a message with oils when I get back, yeah? :)" he says, you can only pay attention to your smile being attacked by your teeth and the tickle you felt lower from your tummy. All those things he would do would always make you feel grateful for being his, and the fact that you, a well educated girl, was having breakfast in a house where the host was missing, was something you had to share with someone; you needed to tell someone you felt grateful for it, and who else better than your best friend?.

"I'll accept the massage with pleasure, baby...thank you for letting me stay at your place without you here...maybe it's dumb, but I feel grateful for it" you press the button "send" followed by taking a final sip from the mug you had chosen as yours.

Twenty minutes had passed since you last texted your absent boyfriend, you were now focused on tidying the bed you shared last night and doing an examination of Spence's belongings.

You were about to leave the bedroom when you realized his light table had a little red something peeking out the cabinet, you opened it and your tensed eyebrows relaxed by realizing it was a lollipop wrapper you made him try from your natal country, followed by little pieces of paper and napkins where you had written things to him before and doodled dumb things like his name or spirals, even a not too successful attempt of making a cute Snoopy followed by a "I suck at drawing" from you.

You sat on the floor for god knows how long, examining everything that was in that sweet little drawer. From candy wrappers to used napkins with your brown lip liner that had stained his cheek uncountable times as well. With little pictures you've printed for him of you both, flowers you had given him that were now dry and pressed for a book (a tip you've taught him) and then paper sheets from a notebook you didn't recognize of him talking about...you!.

Your first meeting, your first date, your first dinner, your first "she's staying at my place tonight!", his first "I'm staying at her's tonight!" and more things you've marked as relevant as well.

When you finished looking through his drawer you couldn't help but feel bad about invading his privacy, but you were curious, and he knew it!.

You went to the kitchen and noticed he had texted you back with a "you know you're more than welcomed at my place princess, I'm glad you feel comfortable with staying with me at night and in the morning too, I'm happy to share my days with you" your heart started to feel bigger and your heartbeat feeling more present as well, why does he have to be so charming?.

When he got back home after a few hours that became days, you were already at your place, and your presence in his apartment a few days ago was easy to notice when he opened the door and saw it was tidy, along with your perfume that you probably (did) sprayed at his place. He left his bag and made himself comfortable before calling you to meet up to have a movie night, that was your thing, classical movies everyone should watch, and if not, were pointed as dumb.

When you got there minutes later, you greeted him with a smiling kiss while holding something in your hands.

"hello beautiful...what's that?" he says scrunching his eyebrows.

"it's my Spence box, I thought you had to see it" you say, smiling, and with peek of something else he couldn't describe instantly.

"Spence box?" he asks. You nod and sit on the floor next to the coffee table, next you start to show and explain to him all the little things you have saved from 'firsts'.

After a while, when both were already distracted with a movie and holding each other relaxed he says.

"did you peeked in my drawer?" while realizing pretty late that in fact, you did. His face addressed yours, with squinted eyebrows and eyes.

"no..." you mumbled silently while looking away from his face which was instantly replaced with the view of him above you, smiling demonically while attacking you with his slender fingers in your tummy, along with both of your laughs filing the air of his apartment which was already titled as your home.

[reidslabyrinth]

spencer reid in 11.11

[reidslabyrinth]

[reidslabyrinth]

One of each

Spencer Reid returns home after another exhausting trip working for the FBI, where he has spent most of his life. Now, on the verge of fifty-three years old, he finds himself thinking about Ethan and the life they could have had if he hadn't turned that love down to become an FBI agent almost 30 years ago.

Warnings: Alcohol/Drugs use, mention of suicide (not from main characters).

Word count: 2.4k

Turning the door handle slowly, the cold air in the apartment was the first sensation Spencer felt. It was empty, dark and quiet, almost as if he lived somewhere in the back of a library, on the shelves that aren't visited by students or readers who seek comfort between pages. He liked it. He liked the silence, the tranquility, the feeling of having a world of his own. Having joined the FBI just over 30 years ago, some cases were still hard to deal with, like the one from the last three days that sent the team to a small town in rural Texas. Arriving back at the apartment after dealing with so much chaos and adrenaline was like turning off the noise in his mind for a moment.

Dropping his cross-body bag on the floor next to the sofa, he headed towards the cabinet that held an expensive old whiskey and a couple of crystal glasses. Reid had promised himself that he would never give in to the habit of drinking away his own thoughts, but after all this time, so much loss and so much trauma, he no longer cared about old promises. He could feel the first sip burning down his throat as he leaned back in the armchair taking a deep breath. The street outside was illuminated by lamp posts and a few people were walking around. He liked to observe all those strangers and spot the small things about them, definitely a very profiler way of spending free time outside of work. After a few seconds a well-groomed young man walked by fidgeting his hands and breathing quickly. If Spencer could take a guess he would say that he was probably nervous for a first date.

Reid smiled to himself as he remembered the times when he used to feel like that. Anxious to see him. Breaking out in a cold sweat when he looked at him. His heart leaping out of his chest every time their lips met. God, he missed it more than anything else.

They were both 19 when they first met in graduate school after university. Two prodigies, the youngest in their class. Spencer had to deal with the awkwardness of not being the only genius in the room, something that had never happened before in his life. If that wasn't enough, they were roommates. Apparently the director of the dormitories decided that the best idea would be to pair the two youngest up together because they would “get along more easily and become friends”. He hated that director for three whole months. He hated the overbearing way Ethan spoke. He hated how he assumed he knew everything. Hated his voice, hearing him breathe, watching him sleep. Hated how he left his shoes untidy and his side of the closet a mess. Hated sharing his space, both physically and academically. Hated him so much that he was not even able to detach his lips from the brunette's when Ethan came into the room slightly stoned after a Halloween party and confessed that he couldn't stop thinking about Spencer. And, after that night, he hated every second of his life in which he wasn't with him.

Their relationship began hesitantly, with neither of them truly understanding how to deal with what they were feeling. Neither of them had even realized that they liked men until they started to love hating each other. Neither of them had had that experience. Two nerds who graduated from high school too early to be invited to parties with cheap alcohol poured into red cups where teenagers learned how to kiss in guest toilets. Together they discovered how to love, in every sense of the word. They spent every Friday night on the balcony of their apartment, Ethan with a weed cigarette between his fingers while Spencer read and talked enthusiastically about thousands of different facts that his superhuman brain had stored for years because no one had had the patience to listen to him talk. No one until then. The brunette smiled as he released the smoke through his nose. Every word that left Spencer's mouth mesmerized Ethan, almost in a hypotonic way. He couldn't imagine anything he liked better in the world than listening to his boyfriend talk.

Yes, boyfriend. It became official after almost two months when a girl hit on him in front of Spencer in a coffee shop. He tried to hide his jealousy but couldn't hold his tongue as he responded with false sympathy that the other man wasn't available. Ethan found it so adorable that he couldn't help but laugh, interlacing their hands as they walked back to the dormitory. The next day, when Spencer came home from his last class, a single rose and two pairs of colorful socks were laying on his desk. The first pair was striped in vibrant green and orange while the other was completely red with some animated animals drawn on it.

- One of each. - He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of Ethan behind him.

- What? - Reid asked, still confused.

- One foot from each pair. - the brunette said as if it were obvious and sat down on the chair, putting the striped sock on his right foot and the red sock on his left.

Spencer made a funny expression, still not quite understanding what he meant.

- All my life I felt like an intruder, like someone who didn't deserve to receive the love I saw others getting. I felt weird, I was excluded, I was bullied. I believed for years that no one would be able to love me because of my personality and who I truly am, but you have shown me otherwise. With you I don't feel like an intruder, I feel at home, like we were meant to be. - made a brief pause reaching for the remaining socks. - This one is weird like me. - he pointed to the striped one. - And this one is weird like you. - he pointed to the other foot. - Together they're even weirder and perhaps others will never understand, but we don't need others' comprehension to make this meaningful. I love you, Spencer. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

Today, thirty years later, he still remembers it each morning when he puts on his mismatched socks. He couldn't help but think about how that crazy peculiar proposal gave him the confidence to be who he wanted to be, even if others didn't understand. Ethan taught him that he didn't have to diminish himself, hide or try to fit in to be part of something. In the right place he would be appreciated exactly for who he truly is, he didn't have to hide his interests or the way he thought. In fact, his genius brain saved more lives than any of the frat idiots who made his life hell in college could ever imagine. Dr. Spencer Reid. Agent in the FBI's behavioral analysis unit.

But if he began to think about all the implications his career has had on his life, he'd need three more glasses of that whiskey.

Not that he didn't like it, on the contrary. He was proud of each and every case he solved, his studies, the methods he developed, his awards and even of the time he spent wrongfully incarcerated. He was proud of the work he had done during all these years and the people he had helped, but not of the implications it has had on his life. Witnessing the death of friends, the sufferings of people he loved, experiencing more traumas than he could possibly count, not attending his own mother's funeral because sinking into his work seemed like an easier way to escape. Losing Ethan and the life they could have had together.

And although he loved the stillness of that apartment, Spencer couldn't help closing his eyes and imagining coming home to the aroma of the delicious Italian food that only Ethan knew how to make.

He would leave his shoulder bag by the sofa and hug his husband from behind, placing a kiss on the back of his neck while whispering how much he had missed him. They would be interrupted by the two kids (not so kids anymore) coming into the kitchen chattering loudly. Anna would be a senior in High School while Luke was just starting middle school. The daughter came first, adopted by the couple at two years old and named after her grandmother Diana who was the most affectionate granny on earth. Luke came later, adopted when he was just a few months old and named after Ethan's father, Lucas, who would fly from Italy to the United States whenever he had the chance to visit. Anna would tell her fathers about the stress she was under when it came to choosing colleges, while their youngest would talk excitedly about the goals he had scored at soccer practice that afternoon. Spencer would laugh at the jumble of voices trying to pay attention to everyone at once, only to be interrupted by the barking of the dog who also wanted to be part of the family moment. Kiky was an almost seven-year-old golden retriever, originally called Rocky but Luke couldn't pronounce the full name when they adopted it.

He would work at the local library and they would spend the weekends with the family in a park, Ethan playing with the children while Spencer read something enjoying the wind swaying his already long hair. No long work trips, no trophies, no students or lives saved, just a comfortable, happy domestic dream. Reid found himself lost in this imaginary scenario far more often than he would ever admit to anyone. It was his escape from all the scars that his choice had given him. That choice he really wished he could go back in time and make everything different.

- I don't want to. - Ethan said, running his hands through his hair. - I can't do this, I can't join the FBI, I don't want to live in fear of dying. I can't be like my mother.

- Babe please, think about it, it's the chance of our lives. - Spencer insisted, wanting to cry.

- I love you, Spencer. I love you like I've never loved anyone else and that's exactly why I can't do this. I want to have a home, build a family, be happy like we are now. You know I grew up watching what being a cop made to my mom and I promised myself every day that I would never do that with my life. - He said with tearful eyes before mouthing the phrase that would change their lives forever. - I'm not going to hold you here, if that's your dream then you need to go, but you're going by yourself and our story ends right now.

And he left. Spencer packed everything needed and looked at his now ex-boyfriend one last time before never looking back. He knew that neither of them was wrong, they had different ideas on how life should be and they weren't going to deprive each other of that. Ethan witnessed his mother drowning in an alcohol addiction as he was growing up, every loss at work, every new scar, every day with that badge pushed her a little further down the glass. Of course he admired her. He admired the work she did and knew that someone had to do it, but the price to pay was too high. She lost her marriage and later lost custody of her children. She gradually fell out of touch and finally, on a Thursday morning in December, she lost the chance of seeing them grow up forever. On the letter next to her body, she asked for forgiveness for not being the mother she should have been and confessed to a life full of self-blame. A heroine who nobody realized also needed to be saved.

When the FBI offer came, Ethan didn't think twice before turning it down, but something in Spencer was ignited. He saw an opportunity to save people. A good psychologist would probably say that Reid's obsession with saving everyone derived from the fact that he subconsciously knew he would never be able to save the one he truly wanted, his own mother. And there, for the first time, the couple entered an impasse that was greater than the love they felt for each other. Two inner children who were hurt and traumatized in different ways and who sought healing through opposite paths. There was no resentment between them, only the question of what it would have been like if things were different. Spencer often wondered if Ethan also imagined the life they would have had together. He wondered if Halloween was also his favorite holiday because it reminded him of that first kiss. He wondered if he still wore mismatched socks, if he left his sneakers untidy and his wardrobe disorganized. He wondered if he still had dimples next to his eyes when he smiled and if he still breathed heavily when he slept. He wondered if he thought of them whenever he saw the moon and remembered all those Fridays on the room's balcony. He wondered what life could have been like if he had chosen love over his career.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when a car braked sharply in the street he was observing, almost hitting a pedestrian and causing a bit of a commotion that soon subsided. Spencer took a final sip of the bitter liquid in his glass, grimacing and trying to remember when he had started to like it, probably an inheritance from David Rossi. He took the cup back to the kitchen and when he found the dark room again, he decided that maybe this was the moment to do something about all of it. Blaming the alcohol in his veins, Reid picked up the phone and dialed the forbidden number in his contact list, finding it ironic that his heart was racing faster in that moment than it had been during the last three days when he was hunting a serial killer.

The call rang three times before a very familiar voice answered, more mature and huskier than he remembered, but still close enough to send shivers down his spine.

- Hi Ethan, it's Spencer. - He breathed for a moment trying to gain confidence, after all he hadn't actually planned to do that. - I know it's been a while but can we talk?

[reidslabyrinth]

tadpole! 👶🏻🐸

[reidslabyrinth]

14x08

[reidslabyrinth]

ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ʙᴏʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ — ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ

sᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ ʀᴇɪᴅ (ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴡ ɢʀᴇʏ ɢᴜʙʟᴇʀ)