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gubsbuubs · 4 months

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Trophy wife

Pt. 2 is out - It´s Mutual

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 4.5K

Warnings: Typical case descriptions, kissing and petting, enemies to lovers, a set up for a smut. Summary: When an unsub targets trophy wives, (Y/N) is asked to go undercover with her nemesis, Spencer Reid, posing as a couple to lure the killer. As they navigate a high-stakes operation, tensions escalate, blurring the lines between their professional and personal animosity.

Preview: "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “And I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

A/N: Hi everyone, this is my first-ever fanfiction. I initially wanted to write smut, but to add depth, I decided to craft this background story. English is not my first language. I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

“Are those poker chips?” Derek asked as the images from the most recent crime scene appeared on the screen behind Garcia.

"Bingo, my lucky charm! Those are poker chips, and you've hit the jackpot," Garcia continued. “This is the second woman to be found in a motel room stabbed and extremely beaten in the last two weeks.”

“The Vegas police have requested our help,” Hotch informed as he analyzed the pictures.

Ross quirked up his eyebrows as an amused smile played on his lips. "Well, either he really likes poker, or he's on a mission to prove that crime can be a high-stakes game…"

"Well, he's certainly raising the stakes in our investigation," I added, my remark eliciting another round of chuckles.

"Children, behave, please," JJ attempted to redirect the team's focus to the situation at hand.

As I scanned the pictures, my index finger reached above the image on the table. "The persistent appearance of poker chips as a signature strongly suggests a connection to the unsub’s personal experiences, perhaps indicating a deep involvement with poker, possibly even as a player. Maybe…”

“While symbolism is intriguing, we should prioritize empirical evidence. Jumping to conclusions based on perceived patterns might lead us astray." My brows furrowed in annoyance as I turned my head, hearing him cut off my train of thought. His tone carried a subtle bitterness, as if questioning the validity of my analysis.

And there he fucking was again, Dr. Spencer Reid, incessantly questioning my every move, as if my mere presence irked him to no end.

Our "relationship," if you could really call it that, was basically just a constant back-and-forth of arguing, interruptions, and tension you could practically cut with a knife. We tried to keep it professional for the team's sake, but it was obvious we weren't exactly best buds.

And what kept his skepticism going wasn't just about work competition; it was personal. He had this lingering grudge because I had stepped in after his buddy, Alex Blake, bailed on the BAU, leaving him behind.

To be honest, his animosity seemed mostly one-sided. At first, I admired Spencer's intellect and respected his dedication to the job. Plus, let's be real, I wasn't blind—I definitely noticed he was a good-looking guy. But his hostility kind of pushed me to throw up walls and respond with a guarded attitude. And then, well, naturally, I found some twisted enjoyment in getting under his skin and making him lose his cool.

"How can you have an IQ of 182 and yet be so clueless?" I scoffed, laughing. "Sure, you're intelligent, but common sense seems to elude you at times."

Reid stared for a moment, a mix of shock and rage flickering across his otherwise monotone, expressionless face. His eyes narrowed, and he responded curtly, "It's 187, and (Y/N), I would advise you to mind your manners when addressing me. My intelligence surpasses yours by far more than a number could explain." As he stood there, staring into my eyes, arms crossed by the presentation board, a surge of irritation pulsed through me. I was poised to respond, the words itching at the tip of my tongue, but before I could unleash them, Derek intervened. With a subtle shift in his posture, he leaned in towards the table, effectively redirecting our focus. A deliberate clearing of his throat signaled the shift in conversation. "The sheer brutality of these killings unmistakably points to an unsub fueled by intense rage. The way the victims were forcefully and repeatedly stabbed suggests a perpetrator with considerable physical strength and stamina.”

"The messy and disorganized scene adds another layer to the unsub's profile. Women just tend to be cleaner, so we are definitely dealing with a man,” JJ added.

“They are waiting for us, we can discuss the rest of the preliminary profile on the jet, wheels up in thirty,” Hotch said as he stood up, the team following right after.

--x--

As I focused on the files spread out in front of me, the sound of the door swinging open abruptly pulled my attention away. "We've got another body," Hotch announced, his voice cutting through the silence that lingered in the small meeting room lent to us by the Las Vegas police.

By now, we had successfully linked the unsub to the world of poker. Our victims, all married, had been last seen with their partners at casinos during poker nights, forming a clear pattern. Despite our breakthroughs, the mystery surrounding his identity and motive remained unsolved.

"Rebecca Miller, 29 years old, was last seen with her husband at Riverside Casino," Hotch added, his tone steady as he placed the picture of the victim on the board. "Witnesses report they were very affectionate. Her husband mentioned she went to get them drinks before she disappeared," he continued, his gaze scanning the room, inviting any additional insights or comments from the team.

"She definitely fits the victimology—young, beautiful, and married to an avid poker player," JJ remarked casually as she got up to take a closer look at the picture.

Rossi gazed into the distance, lost in thought. "They must be raking in serious cash playing poker. Why else would these stunners be tying the knot with someone clearly out of their league?" he mused aloud.

As I scanned the pictures of the victims, a realization began to form in my mind. Each photograph depicted a strikingly beautiful woman, always beside her husband, who often appeared much older or less attractive in comparison. "They're trophy wives," I exclaimed, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.

I glanced to my left, where Reid stood, scoffing and shaking his head. "Trophy wives?" he immediately questioned, his focus remaining fixed on the board as he continued drawing lines for the geographical profile.

"Well, think about it," I elaborated, gesturing toward the pictures of the women. "These women, young and beautiful, carefully curated for a certain image, accompanying their husbands to the poker games, spending the entire night all over them. How had we not seen this glaring pattern before?"

"That's a rather simplistic and uninformed view, (Y/LN)," he countered. "These women had successful careers. Assuming they're merely trophy wives diminishes their individuality."

"Just because they have successful careers doesn't negate the potential of being used as accessories," I countered, locking eyes with Reid as he turned to face me. "It's not about undermining their achievements but acknowledging the potential for a specific dynamic in their relationships. We need to explore all possibilities, not just those that fit neatly into your rational worldview."

"Acknowledging possibilities is one thing, but chasing baseless theories is another," Reid retorted, his tone measured. "We can't afford to indulge in wild conjectures without solid evidence."

"Sometimes you're so buried in your 'facts' that you miss the human element of the cases," I remarked, chuckling dismissively as I shook my head to the side.

"It's called objectivity, (Y/LN)," he asserted, stepping closer until he stood before me, his hands slipping into his pockets in a gesture of dominance. "Something you might want to consider before letting personal biases cloud your judgment."

"I'm the one who lets personal biases cloud my judgment?!" I retorted, my voice rising as frustration bubbled up within me.

He remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"You've got to be kidding me," I continued, my tone escalating gradually. "You're the one who's been acting like a little bitch to me since I joined the team, so don't lecture me about taking things personally here."

Still, he said nothing, his hands now clenched into fists at his sides.

"You've had a problem with me from day one," I pressed on, "and it's about damn time you admit it instead of acting like such a child about it."

"This is about doing our job objectively," Reid retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "Your presence doesn't change the standards we uphold in the BAU, but clearly you don’t meet them."

"That's enough!" Hotch's voice boomed, commanding attention as he intervened. His gaze shifted from Reid to me, a subtle warning in his eyes. "I think we should explore that possibility," he acknowledged, nodding towards my earlier suggestion. "It seems reasonable. Apart from that, are there any more leads we need to consider?"

Spencer turned on his feet, his movements purposeful as he approached the board. "Actually, I've been working on the geographical profile," he began "And it seems that, looking at the last victim’s place of abduction, he is moving in a straight line." With a marker in hand, he started drawing on the board, "Look at this: the first victim was last seen at the Lotus Casino Central, the second victim at the Charlaton, and now Rebecca at the Riverside. It's a straight line, which means..."

"He's heading for the Bellagio next," JJ chimed in, seamlessly connecting the dots of Spencer's thoughts. Spencer nodded in confirmation, acknowledging her insight.

Rossi rose from his seat and joined Spencer by the board. "Now that we know where he's likely to strike next, perhaps we can set up an operation to catch him; he’s been striking on poker nights."

Hotch leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered the strategy. After a moment of contemplation, he straightened up and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the team. "Yes, an undercover op might be our next chance." His gaze fell on me, lingering for a moment as he addressed me directly. "Y/n," he began,"You have experience as an undercover agent, and you actually resemble the victims," he observed, "Would you mind going in?" The room fell silent as the weight of the proposition settled among us.

"Yeah… sure," I responded quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Derek immediately sensed my apprehension and offered reassurance with a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "You're not going in alone. It has to be a couple, so you'll have someone to have your back."

"Can you come with me?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

"Actually," Hotch interrupted, straightening in his chair, "I want Reid to go with you." My head fell into my hands as I sighed, dreading the complications that might arise. The weight of Hotch's decision settled heavily on my shoulders, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the thought of partnering with Reid for this undercover operation.

"Sir, with due respect," Spencer began, but Hotch raised his hand to stop him from continuing.

"(Y/N) needs a poker player husband; you’re the only one who could actually pass as an avid poker player," Hotch explained simply, as if it were that straightforward. "I trust you can both behave professionally and put your differences aside?" His tone sounded more like an order than a question.

"Let's get to work then," Rossi said, his tone decisive, as I let my head rest on the table. It dawned on me that this was the only option to ever catch this guy.

--x--

JJ pulled out all the strings, ensuring we had everything necessary to play our roles seamlessly. With meticulous attention to detail, she provided a stunning black dress that hugged my curves perfectly, matching pumps that elongated my legs, and exquisite jewelry that added a touch of elegance to the ensemble. Among the glittering gems, she placed an engagement ring and wedding band, enhancing the authenticity of our charade.

As I admired my reflection in the mirror, a wave of mixed emotions washed over me. The thought of spending the upcoming night with Spencer made my heart race, a strange feeling stirring within me.

My mind constantly drifted towards the way we were supposed to behave, thoughts swirling with anticipation. I imagined his touch, knowing that as a couple, he would have to be close, his hands possibly lingering on my body. How would it feel? Would I be able to maintain eye contact as he stared me down during our conversations?

I sighed heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Despite this being an undercover mission, it felt strangely intimate, as if I was gearing up for a date with him. The prospect of going out and spending time with Spencer was something I'd never experienced before, and it left me feeling nervous, even though I couldn't quite admit it to myself.

Maybe if things hadn't unfolded as they did, Spencer and I could've found common ground. Perhaps we could've forged a genuine connection, evolving into friends, or even something more meaningful. But fate had a different plan for us.

From the moment we crossed paths, our destinies seemed entwined in conflict rather than harmony, and I remember the day I met him all too well. We had just finished the tour, and Derek was now showing me to my desk.The ding of the elevator caught my attention, and there he stood. I've heard of Dr. Reid, everyone talked about him – his genius IQ of 187, his remarkable accomplishments at such a young age. But amidst all the praise for his intellect, no one ever mentioned how good-looking he actually was.

"Pretty boy," Derek exclaimed with a grin as he welcomed him. I couldn't help but agree silently. It was indeed a fitting nickname, Spencer was undeniably attractive. "Come meet our new member, Y/n Y/Ln."

With a smile I reached out my hand instinctively, ready to greet him, but to my surprise, he took a light step back. "Sorry, I don't shake hands," he said dismissively, his tone somewhat curt. "Did you know that the average person carries about 4,000 bacteria on their hands? It's a breeding ground for germs. It's actually safer to touch a toilet seat."

I stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Did he genuinely suggest that touching a toilet seat is cleaner than shaking my hand? "You really know how to make a girl feel special, Agent Reid," I retorted, rolling my eyes as Derek chuckled at the situation.

"It's Doctor, not Agent," he corrected, his tone matter-of-fact as he swiftly made his way to his desk. My mind raced, attempting to conjure a response, but he had already moved on, leaving me standing there, still processing what had just happend.

"Are you ready, or should I tell the unsub to wait because you need to keep fixing your lipstick?" a voice spoke from the darkness of my room.

“Jesus fucking Christ Reid, what the fuck is wrong with you?" I jumped from my place, surprised to see him standing there, leaning on the frame of my bathroom door. "No one ever taught you how to knock on a door?" I muttered under my breath.

"First of all, your door was unlocked, and second of all," he shook his head disapprovingly. "That's a very foul mouth you have, you should really watch your tongue," he chided. I felt his gaze lingering appreciatively on how the dress hugged my curves and accentuated my breasts.

From the corner of my eye, I lightly took in his appearance. The tailored suit fit him like a glove, different from what he wore every day. He looked more relaxed, better, hotter.

I was taken aback when I saw him move and enter the bathroom. My heart started racing as he stood by my side, exchanging a glance with me in the mirror.

"Honestly?I don't think he'd mind waiting for me” I straightened up, finally satisfied with my lipstick.

"Too bad he won't get to see it," he said, chuckling. His left hand met my hip, swiftly turning me around, and I gasped as the small of my back hit the bathroom counter. His own body caged me in, his intense gaze never leaving mine as I looked at him, confused yet strangely drawn to him. His right hand reached for a wipe, and he gently cleared any remnants of the red lipstick. I felt the cold, wet cloth on my lips, erasing any traces of the vivid stain. "If we're going to act like a couple, I don't want your lipstick all over me," Spencer remarked dryly, his expression unamused. "It's not my fault you don't know how to kiss a girl with lipstick, Doctor," I retorted, my annoyance evident in my tone.

"You look good enough," Spencer remarked with a smirk. "I'll be waiting for you in the car." With that, he turned and headed out, leaving me to gather my thoughts before joining him. "Well, this is going to be a long night," I sighed.

--x--

As Spencer drove us to the casino, we found ourselves going over the details of the plan. It was simple; our initial objective was to seamlessly integrate into the casino's scene, mirroring the couples we were emulating.

The plan dictated that Spencer and I had to project the image of a couple deeply in love, sharing glances, engaging in affectionate gestures, and creating an atmosphere that would draw the unsub's attention. Spencer would transition to the poker tables, just as the husbands of the previous victims had, all while showcasing his "trophy wife."

As the night progressed, I would strategically separate from Spencer to lure the unsub into action.

Inside the casino, Rossi and Morgan were playing their part as players, keeping an eye out. The rest of the team was in a van, ready to jump in if things went south.

The objective was clear – act like a couple. How hard could that be?

The tension in the car was palpable, and we exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the complexity of our roles. The success of the operation hinged on our ability to draw the unsub's attention, making him believe we were just another couple enjoying a night out.

The atmosphere in the casino buzzed with energy as Spencer and I entered. The dim lights, the soft murmur of conversations, and the distant chiming of slot machines created a captivating ambiance.

As we made our way to the bar, I reached for Spencer's hand and intertwined my fingers with his.

His eyebrows immediately shot up, a silent question evident in his expression as he glanced at me, perhaps surprised by the sudden display of affection.

"The more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention," I replied, my voice hushed but determined.

His gaze flickerd between our intertwined hands and my face. "Yeah," a small grin playing on his lips. "Just make sure you don't take it too far and end up falling for me."

"That's a good one, Dr. Reid," I chuckled softly, a hint of sarcasm lacing my words. "I'll try to contain myself."

We approached the bar, and Spencer took a seat on a stool. As I moved to stand by his side, he surprised me by pulling me closer, guiding me between his legs. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me snug against him. I was taken aback, but I didn't say a word. Acting like a couple—that was the plan. It was just all part of the plan.

"So what should I call you?" Spencer cut through our silence, his gaze focused on mine. "What should you call me?" I echoed, my voice filled with confusion as I furrowed my brows.

"I'm not going to address you by your real name," Spencer said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We need undercover names. So, what's it going to be?"

His eyes scanned my features, awaiting my response, while I took a moment to ponder. "How about pretty girl?" he proposed with a smirk, his gaze lingering on me. My expression must have betrayed my surprise, but before I could respond, he continued, "Or how about Angel?" The endearing term rolled off his tongue, and I felt a flutter in my chest at the sound.

"Angel seems to resonate with you," he teased, a chuckle escaping his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he awaited my reaction. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, rendering me momentarily speechless.

I closed my eyes, disbelief washing over me. Was this real? Was Spencer really saying these things to me? And during a mission, no less?

"You seem awfully quiet for someone who doesn't know how to shut the fuck up," he said, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. "If I'd known all I had to do was call you angel, I would've done it sooner."

"Sweet names will only get you so far," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Despite the warmth spreading through me at his words, I couldn't shake off the sense of disbelief at the way he was acting. "Oh yeah?" Spencer asked, his tone amused, as I felt his breath tickling my neck before his lips brushed against my skin, leaving a small kiss on my pulse point. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart pounded in my chest as he slowly moved his hands along my waist and lower back. I couldn't focus on anything but the warmth of his body pressed against mine, sending shivers down my spine.

"Doctor Reid, this is highly inappropriate," I managed to utter.

“On the contrary, my sweet Angel," he spoke softly as his small kisses traveled up my neck. "See, this mission requires us to act like a couple, so I'm simply enjoying my time with my wife,” he lightly chuckled as he reached my jawline. “As you said, the more convincing we are, the more it'll attract the unsub's attention”

Suddenly, Hotch's voice disrupted the moment as he barked over the wire in my ear, "Guys, great job. We've got a male in his late 30s to early 40s staring at you; he's moved closer since you arrived. He could be our unsub."

I heard Hotch's words, but my brain struggled to process them as I was too focused on Spencer's eyes, his gaze fixed on mine while his hands lightly pressed me closer.

"Come on, Angel, let's give him a show," Spencer pleaded, his voice laced with a confidence that both shocked and intrigued me. It was unexpected to witness this side of him, but there was something undeniably exciting about it. Perhaps it was his confidence and assertiveness, or maybe it was the way he was taking control and leading the interaction. "Yeah.... let´s.... let´s do it" I lightly nodded my head, I swear he could feel the pounding of my heart against my chest from how close he stood to me.

His right hand reached my face, his touch gentle against my skin. "Angel," he spoke quietly against my lips, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll only keep going if you give me permission."

His eyes were dark, his lips plump, inviting, calling for my attention. I couldn't even form a "yes," but he knew what I wanted. I pulled him closer by his tie, and our lips collided in a hot, messy kiss. I was taken aback by his skill and technique, completely unable to resist him as the heat between us intensified.

Spencer pulled away and wrapped his arms around my body, embracing me in a hug. His warmth was comforting, and I felt a sense of security in his embrace. "He's standing right behind you, gray suit, red tie, black hair," he whispered in my ear, his voice low enough not to be noticed by anyone standing nearby. Suddenly, I was snapped back to reality. The mission. The unsub. He was standing right behind me

"Should we join them?" I asked softly, glancing over toward the tables of poker and motioning for Spencer to start playing, continuing with the plan. He was supposed to hit the games, and I needed to find a way to get myself alone.

"Absolutely, my love," Spencer said with a smile as he rose from his seat.

Still a little dazed from that kiss, my mind was on fire, and my panties were ruined. How was I supposed to continue my life after knowing the effect Spencer had on me? My racing thoughts were only interrupted by the sight of the suspect following us to the tables. Instinctively, my body reacted, and I found myself clinging to Spencer's arm, seeking comfort and reassurance in his presence.

As planned, Spencer sat down at the closest table and began playing, our actions subtly conveying intimacy to onlookers. I wrapped my arms around his neck, planting kisses occasionally, making it clear to everyone that I was his prize, and he was proudly showing me off as his trophy wife.

As he played, I showered him with praise and encouragement. "You're doing so well, baby," I whispered, my words laced with admiration. It was evident that he was enjoying the attention, his gameplay slightly faltering under the distraction of my praise. Despite being a skilled and experienced player, known for his prowess and banned from multiple casinos, he seemed momentarily thrown off his rhythm by my words of encouragement. It was a small victory, a slight advantage gained in my favour.

Feeling the need to draw the unsub away, I leaned in close to Spencer and murmured, "I'm going to step out for some fresh air on the balcony, honey. I'll be back soon."

Spencer nodded, his attention still on the cards. "Okay, sweetheart," he replied with a smile, not once lifting his gaze.

Before I turned to leave, I couldn't resist the urge to plant a quick kiss on his lips, just as part of the plan, playing my role as the devoted wife. After all, that's what a wife would do, right?

The fresh air hit my face, sending shivers down my arms. I didn't need to turn to know he had followed me outside; I could feel his presence on my right side. When I glanced over, he gestured to a drink in his hand, offering it to me. "You look like you could use a drink," he said.

My heart raced, and my breathing quickened as he got closer, but I kept a cool, confident attitude, determined not to let him see my nerves.

"(Y/N), don't drink that. It's laced," Morgan's urgent voice snapped through the wire, jolting me into alertness. "Just keep him talking so Garcia can check him."

My blood ran cold as I registered Morgan's warning. Without missing a beat, I forced a smile and nodded, "Thank you, handsome, but I've had enough tonight," I replied smoothly, declining the drink with a casual wave of my hand.

"That's a big rock on your finger," he pointed out, glancing at my, unknowingly, fake engagement ring. "Why are you here all alone? Where's your husband?" he continued, raising an eyebrow and asking the question directly, as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Well…" I laughed, injecting a flirtatious edge into my voice. "I could ask the same thing," I continued, "Where is Mrs…?"

"Mrs. Desmond? She stayed at home; she doesn't really like poker," he replied nonchalantly. "I'm Steve, by the way," he added, reaching out to shake my hand.

I shook his hand, my heart quickening as I heard Garcia speak from my wire: "Steve Desmond, a 39-year-old banker, is divorced; according to court files, his wife left him after he lost all of their money on poker.” The sound of clicking keyboards could be heard in the background. "The divorce dates coincide with the killings,” Garcia added.

“That sounds like a trigger,” Hotch's voice chimed in.

"Holy moly, he also assaulted a prostitute a couple of years ago, but the charges were dropped and he was never convicted," Garcia spoke nervously.

"That's our guy, (Y/N). Keep him talking; we're on our way,” Hotch said, his voice steady and authoritative.

"Is everything okay?" Steve spoke, his tone taking on a hint of aggression as he grabbed my attention. "Maybe you should take that drink."

“I'm not thirsty, thanks,” I replied firmly, stepping back in an attempt to keep my distance. However, he refused, reaching out and gripping my arm to keep me from moving.

"I'm telling you," he said angrily, his grip tightening. "You're clearly nervous. Just a tiny sip won't hurt." I tried to break free of his grasp, but he was stronger than me and refused to let go

"FBI!" Suddenly, I saw Spencer coming up behind him, his fist connecting with the guy's face with a solid punch, knocking him back into the wall. He was strong and quick; the unsub didn't stand a chance against him. Spencer swiftly pulled out his handcuffs, cuffing him without even breaking a sweat.

"Steve Desmond, you're under arrest for the killings of Amanda Crane, Juliet Sand, and Rebecca Miller,” Spencer announced, his voice firm and authoritative.

Morgan and Rossi soon appeared, Morgan helping the unsub up from the ground and carrying him out as he spoke, "Steve Desmond, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk to an attorney for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford it…” His voice faded as they left, escorting the suspect away from the scene.

Once they were out of sight, Spencer came up to me and reached for my arm, his expression filled with concern. I winced as he touched the red marks left behind by the unsub's grip.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern and care, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

"Um, yeah…" I replied softly, my voice shaky. "I just need a moment to process this." My heart was still racing from the encounter, and I needed a moment to collect myself. Why did he step in like that? I thought to myself, a mixture of gratitude and confusion washed over me. I could've handled the situation on my own—I was trained for this, after all. Yet, there he was, interfering in my work.

After the quiet ride back to the motel, Spencer led me to the door of my room. As we stood there, I realized I could no longer contain the annoyance for how he had handled the situation. The tension of the evening had been building inside me, and I needed to let it out. "Spencer," I began, my voice tinged with frustration. "I appreciate that you were trying to help, but I had it under control. I didn't need you to intervene so quickly," the frustration bubbled inside me, I couldn't help but wonder why Spencer felt the need to intervene. I felt like I had done a great job handling the situation, and his actions made me feel as though he had robbed me of an opportunity to take down the unsub myself.

Spencer's eyes widened in shock as he opened his mouth to speak. "Oh, really?" he said incredulously. "I didn't realize you had everything under control. I just figured that the guy having his hands all over you and aggressively grabbing your arm was cause for concern. But clearly, you didn't need any help."

"Oh, right, because clearly, I was in so much danger," I snapped sarcastically.

"I'm not going to sit around and watch some creepy-as-hell psychopath put his hands all over you," Spencer said firmly, shaking his head in disbelief. His brows furrowed in concern, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and genuine worry. "I won't let him put you at risk of being hurt … or worse." His tone was sharp "Get it through your head; I'm not going to let that happen."

"Oh, right, I wasn't aware this situation called for a 'white knight' to swoop in and save me from myself," I retorted, my tone laced with bitterness. Crossing my arms defensively, I met his gaze head-on. "Since when did my safety become your problem?"

"Since the moment we met, you stubborn brat," Spencer snapped back, his frustration evident in his tone.

"Since the moment we met? That's so much bullshit," I shot back, my voice rising with indignation. "Since when did you care about my safety so much?" I challenged him, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You've never shown me any compassion before, so why now? Hun?"

And then, suddenly, his lips crashed against mine, his body pressing mine firmly against the door with a resounding thud. I felt the heat of his body press on mine, the tension that had been building between us explode in an instant.

His kiss was messy and sloppy, but damn, it was hot. There was an urgency in the way our lips crashed together, fueled by a raw desire that couldn't be tamed. As the kiss deepened, the air grew thin, and I felt myself getting breathless. With a gasp, I had to pull away,

“What the fuck was that about?” I whispered, not being able to back away from his hold.

"When I kissed you at the casino, I finally understood," he muttered, his forehead resting against mine. "All this animosity, the bickering... we don't actually hate each other; we want each other.” He stared into my eyes before continuing, “I don't think I can go another day without tasting you."

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ellieswifie · 9 months

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︿︿ ੈ[ 🏐 ] ༉‧₊˚✧

kiwi | ellie williams

♪ kiwi — harry styles

summary: you and ellie williams are enemies in public and on the court, but certainly not in private. you’ve made ellie not only turned in the head, but completely lost for you. but how can you fall hopelessly for the one girl you hate most in the world…

warnings: volleyball!ellie x reader, 18+ mdni, curse words/cursing, pet names (doll), teasing, semi-proofread, awful volleyball terminology, parties, drinking, slightly drunk reader, smoking, sexual content, kissing, sorta dom and sub dynamic (?) but not really, uh “i hate you” kink, but that’s really it

authors note: note, i know little to like nothing about volleyball, but i can just imagine having like this sexual tension with your enemy, ellie, behind the net and it would be like everything. so uh- bear with me as i try to become a professional volleyball player writer. also i actually hate this so much, it was giving too much wattpad, so i clearly couldn’t finish it

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YOU WERE DRENCHED IN SWEAT, HEAD-TO TOE, STARING ANXIOUSLY AT THE SCORE BOARD UP AHEAD. you’re team has finally caught up, taking charge in the game once more. the score being twenty to twenty-three, your team falling behind by three. but you weren’t too worried. you’ve won the first two sets as if it was nothing, completely dominating the other team.

you let the volleyball in your hands bounce carelessly a few times, staring at the referee. she had been talking down with another ref about the following call, but the entire thing didn’t bother you. you needed the short moment to catch your breath. your coach had been keeping you in the entire night, with little to no breaks. this quick stoppage was much more then you needed.

the ref blew her whistle, singling that it was okay to continue play. your head nodded away from her, to catch your glaze on non other then ellie williams. number fucking seven.

the game entire game had felt more as a competition between the two of you. it had always been back to back with your arch nemesis. spiking balls right before she’d block them quick enough to stop them from going over the net.

every single time ellie would block or spike the ball, it made your insides boil. it was just flawless every single time she’d touch the ball. even if it meant chasing it down, she’d manage to bump the ball perfectly.

it just pissed you off.

you’ve managed to keep your eye on her the entire game and she hasn’t failed to keep eye contact with you too. when you were staring at her, her eyes were already looking darkly at you. even if it meant standing face to face net separating your guys intense glares.

you rubbed the ball against your jersey, keeping eye contact. ellie didn’t seem break her stare either. she rubbed her hands on her shoes, before squatting down in a ready position.

which pissed you off even more.

the way she was always ready for the ball, never messing up. when you stepped back into your serving position, you glanced at ellie one last time before jumping up to serve the ball, watching it quickly make its way towards her.

unsurprisingly, ellie bumped it up towards her team mate. your eyes followed the ball, watching a the ball lift carelessly on the air. ellie jumped up to spike the ball towards you, and you stayed standing, ready.

but right when the ball came flying down toward the ground, you weren’t quick enough to dive and get it. the other team jumped in excitement as they watched the ball fall right to the ground in front of you.

you groaned as the score went from twenty to twenty-three, to twenty to twenty-four. they were one point away from winning the entire set because you made one small mistake.

you rises from your stomach, bringing your team in for a quick huddle. "eyes on seven, she’s dangerous." you whispered toward your teammates, receiving nods from them. but it wasn’t enough. it was now ellie’s serve. and god did she have a killer serve. where she wanted the ball, it was getting there. and it just made you completely furious.

you watched ellie move to her position, having a stupid smirk on her face. you knew the ball was going to you. of course you did. she wanted you to screw up right here and make. your entire team lose this set. she wanted you to make a fool of yourself.

you wanted to feel ready, your body felt ready, but your thoughts were just crowded. you couldn’t stop thinking about the way ellie had been staring at you the entire game. like you were some dare.

it just made your blood boiling. everything about her made you go feral. her auburn hair, the way her sleeves were rolled up to reveal her tattooed arm, how stupid good her ass looked in the spandex’s, you just hated it.

hated her.

you heard your teammates shout your name and your mind quickly snapped back in time. but it was too late. the ball ellie had served had landed quickly on the ground, right beside you.

the crowded screamed as the opponent team took the set. but you watched as your teammates groaned and walked away towards the bench. you felt awful, walking back to gather your towel and bottled water, you couldn’t even look at your coach, but you knew she was staring at you long and hard.

"get your head in the game." you whispered to yourself as you walked towards the other bench, switching courts.

the other team was still gathering water bottles, so you stood, watching them, but more so ellie, who was taking her sweet old time. your eyes rolled when she stood right in front of you.

"intimidated?" she whispered, giving you a intense glare. you huffed watching as she let her brows wiggled. you wanted to chuck the ball into her face at the look at her, but you remained your sanity, letting her just walk off.

your coach yelled at you the entire time before the fourth set started. you knew you couldn’t think straight because of ellie.

you hated the idea of how intimidated you actually were, but you needed to play your game. you needed to play like you know how to play, and let the little thoughts to drift out of your mind.

but it didn’t help the you and ellie were finally on the same side after what? six plays.

her face was right in front of yours, the net separating you. your hands were up to the net while hers where down towards her side. a smirk played on her face as she waited for your teammate to serve the ball. score being ten to eight.

"got a little something on your shoe." you mutter to her, causing her to look down at her shoe. nothing appeared to be there, but when she looked back up, the ball had been on her side, in play.

if she was gonna distract you, why not play give her a taste of her own medicine. when your team earned the point, you all jumped to excitement, hugging each other in the process.

you watched as ellie laughed to herself, moving back to the side you too had been sharing. but the referee had paused the play causing you to groan, resting your hands on your hips.

ellie didn’t mind though. she loved this view of you. even if it meant her team had been losing by three points, she was younger tied at the sight of you. head over heels.

but you hadn’t know that. she hadn’t want you to know that.

"so have tables turned?" you then your head, earning a painful look fall across ellie.s face. with that, you felt your smirk rise. "are you intimidated now?" you inquire, eyebrows raising as you stepped closer to the net. ellie stood where she was, watching you step closer. ellie hands met towards the net twinging her fingers slightly. you watch her as she smirked at you, staring intensely at you. you couldn’t help but blush at the sight of her. you hated admitting it, but you knew ellie was hot. i mean look at her. she’s a walking hot shot.

"not intimidated," her head shook, looking between you and the referee. "distracted, doll."

your mouth literally hung open at the nickname. you hated yourself for even thinking the name was a way of flirting with you. you guys have been up each others asses since college ball have started. now in your junior year you believe she’s try and flirt with you? anyone would be foolish to think so.

"i’m not you doll." you whispered, hoping your teammates near you, wouldn’t hear. the ref had blew her whistle and ellie hadn’t said anything but just shrug, stepping back to regained some focus. you shake your head at her, turning to face away from her.

the rest of the set had just been the two of you exchanging looks, but keeping your focus hard enough to stay on track with the game. your coach had thought it was best to finally give you a break, catching how distracted you seemed. and as much as you hate sitting on the bench, you also thought sitting for the last few plays would be the best idea.

and not surprisingly, you in the bench caused the rest of the team to kinda fall apart. they got disorganized and needed their captain on the court, but your coach refused to put you back in. instead she let ellie’s team take the win, leading them into a final fifth set. then had she finally let you play once more.

it was a very frustrating final fifteen pints, but you guys managed to take the win, ending the set fifteen to ten. your entire team felt happy and excited as they wrapped up another win. but you couldn’t help but look at ellie’s frustration take over her. her eye brows were drawn together, lining up to shake hands.

your team made their way in line, saying good game to the team, you following last in line. as you shook hands with the opposite team, you felt yourself longing to shake ellie’s hand. usually you’d flip her off or say something foul to her in this moment, but the entire last set to you felt as some game to you. and not in the sense of a volleyball game, more so a flirting game.

deep down you felt as if you didn’t hate it, but you couldn’t let ellie know that. you may have won the match, but you knew you and ellie’s little game was still on.

"good game," you could recognize her voice from a mile away. your head looked up to see her walking over to shake your hand. you were going to raise yours to accept her hand shake, but you just crossed your arms. ellie couldn’t help but smirk at you bitchy tone. she lowered her hand and placed them on her hips, coping your tense posture.

"your a real bitch you know that?" ellie whispered, leaning into towards you slightly. you felt your body heat rise at the small gesture. you couldn’t piece together what exactly this girl made you feel, but the smallest things just made your heat boil.

her fingers slowly rises to your ponytail, giving it a small tug. you couldn’t stop looking at her the entire time her eyes just danced over your face. the entire moment felt as if nothing and nobody was surrounding you to. well not until she gave you a nudge. you snapped back into reality realizing you hate this girls guts.

you ran your hair through your ponytail, turning at the ends. "and you’re a tease." you whisper back to her. ellie’s face flashed with confusion as she stepped back slightly. "a tease? how so?"

"don’t play dumb, you’ve been eye fucking me the entire game, doll."

you hadn’t wanted to admit it out loud, but it just seemed to slip from your mouth quicker them lightning. however, ellie made no reaction to your comment. maybe a quiver to her lips, but her solid stance didn’t change. it made you frustrated in some way, but you kept yourself grounded.

"me?” a finger rose to her chest. "eye fucking you?" she responded, added a little devilish laugh. you simply just rolled your eyes, slightly turning over your shoulder to see your team start gathering together.

when you look back at ellie, her eyes are fixated on you. "well, i don’t care. i just beat your ass, good game." you begin to turn around, but ellie quickly grabs your upper arm, pulling you back to her. you gasp at the sudden contact.

your eyes scan hers before she quickly drops your arm from her grasp. you snatch your arm away giving her an irritated look. but her eyes were daring. "see," you whisper. "you’re a tease."

you wait a few seconds, waiting for her to say something. to your surprise she does. "and you’re still a bitch." she darted back, earning a look from you.

but you knew better. you ignoredher harsh comment. you reached your hand out, offering her a hand shake. she stares at it for a moment, before accepting it carefully. you shake it firmly, giving her a lazy smile.

her eyes swift you face as you lean closer. "if i’m such a bitch, do something about it." you whisper, breath glazing over her skin.

ellie was about to say something, but you quickly push her away, making your way back to your team, giving everyone claps and hugs. when you turned to look back at ellie. a smirk was on her face, cheeks read as ever.

you smile to yourself, letting your head turn away from ellie.

now you’ve won both games

this time you couldn’t hate your teammates for dragging you out. after the crazy game you just played, a few drinks at a college party didn’t seem to bad.

and it wasn’t for the first few hours.

you had shots around the table with your teammates, laughing and smiling as your body felt the drinks begin to take over. everyone had danced around the table, knocking bodies.

but the loud bounding cause your ears to bleed. your head had already been feeling fuzzy after the game, now a few seven drinks later, you had been spinning.

you turned to your closer teammate resting a hand on her shoulder to support yourself. "i’m gonna go catch a breath!" you shouted over the loud music. she simply nodded, but her mind hadn’t really processed what you said.

as you stumbled out towards the back door. your body quickly met with the cold autumn breeze. your friends insisted you wear the baby tee with the mini skirt, but it was way to cold for this.

you swung your arms around your arms, goosebumps filing your skin. "fuck." you whispered, looking straight ahead.

but as you heated footsteps step from around the corner, your entire body tensed up. a head peaked from the dark deck, revealing a freckled face.

when you saw ellie, you quickly felt yourself sober up. her presence was always so intimate. the way she stood, stared just felt like she had something more to say or do. like she was always buried down.

"what are you doing here?" you knew the comment came out meaner then intended, but ellie didn’t seem to care. she strutted her way closer to you, holding a pre rolled cigarette in her hands.

you eyed her as she stood beside you, before staring ahead. she had changed into more appropriate clothing. her legs were covered in tight jeans, firing around her ass perfectly. her shoulders were covered in a thick grey hoodie.

"it’s a party. everyone is invited." she responded to your past question. her hand tilted slightly, offering you the lit cigarette. but you just ignored.

ellie simply shrugged, taking another hit. "everyone that goes to school here is invited. seems to me you don’t check off that category."

"and what about it?" her eye brows were drawn together and you just wanted to scream. you hated how drawn to her looks you were, but her cocky personality made you want to shout.

"leave." you hissed pack at her, moving your face to her.

"no."

a laugh escaped your lips as you watched her smirk at you."you really piss me off." you huffed back, ignoring her dark eyes. ellie stared long at you before staring down at your outfit. "you know it’s fucking sixty degrees."

"you know u don’t remember asking."

ellie huffed at your childish behavior. you knew you were actually foolish, but also knew how she made you feel and that bothered you more than anything.

her very attractive looks made you want to do things god forbid. but every time she opened her fucking mouth, you were back at square one with her.

"talk to me," ellie whispered. you slowly turned you heat to meet hers, causing your face to lean closer to hers. "why do i tick you off so much?"

your eye brows drew together at her foolish question. she knew why you hated her. she was your biggest enemy on the court. she was better at the game then you, that’s why she ticked you off.

"because your a better player than me." you admitted, earning a smirk from ellie. "your entire personality makes me want to toss a ball at your big head."

ellie leaned on her heels, looking down at you. it was annoying one of her cocky intense stares at made your insides burn.

you were sick of this game, you caused yourself to look away. feeling stupid for even considering anything.

"you know," ellie replied. your head tilted slightly, but you weren’t giving her the upper hand. you remained your stare ahead, just letting ellie look at you. "i don’t hate you."

that made your head turn. she had to be fiat out lying because someone who doesn’t hate you, doesn’t tease and play like this to you. you remained slightly though. you watched as she let her cigarette burn out, while you waited for her to continue.

"this game we play, not referring to volleyball, i hate that. the intense little stares behind the net, the cocky attitudes, it just makes my blood boil."

a part of you enjoyed that you were on the same page, but you also hated it. knowing that you both feel this foolish connection terrified you in ways you couldn’t imagine.

and ellie just played it off as if it was some sort of joke.

"this. back and forth thing-" ellie raised her finger to point between you and her. "it ends now. we either say what we think needs to be said, or we cut cords, leaving things unsaid."

you knew exactly what she meant. and you wanted to say something more than anything, but you knew everything between you two was a game. who ever gave in first was the loser.

and you certainly knew it wasn’t going to be you, even if it meant leaving things unsaid.

you felt yourself look around you, noticing how quiet and alone you guys actually were. that scared you even more, knowing anything could happen and nobody would see or hear.

when you looked back at ellie, she was already looking at you, watching your eyes shift across the space around you. but everything felt so crowded inside you. your thoughts, surroundings, it just felt like a barricade ellie and you build that made you feel so surrounded.

you watched her eyes glance down towards your lips, before quickly meeting your eyes again. she was about to break first you knew it. so you took a deep breath, stepping closer to her shaky self.

"i told you what i wanted to say." you muttered, looking darkly at her parted lips. when you met back to her eyes, she was fighting every cord in her body to push against you and shut you up in any possible way.

"you frustrate me to the core. you have a cocky attitude that makes you think you just control everything around you. and you don’t, surprisingly." you let yourself breathe, stepping so close, you could feel ellie’s breath. "i hate you, i hate your eyes, your stupid attitude, your lack of empathy. i hate you."

you backed away from her, smirking up and down at her pissed look.

"you a bitch, you know?"

her comment came back at you like a bullet. even though she has reminded you several times, you still feel that hurt. but you sucked in a thick breath, crossing your arms.

you lick your dry lips for a moment, watching ellie eyes continue to anxiously look at your lips.

"then fucking do something about it, williams."

and before you knew it, her hands were on yours, pushing you against the deck railing. her lips smashed against yours, letting the crowded barrier fucking shatter.

you completely melted at the way her hand held your cheek, kissing you harder than you’ve ever been kissed before.

at first you felt the raging pain, her teeth biting your lip hard, but you couldn’t ignore the sensation building inside you, longing more. and ellie knew you loved it. your body was pushing against her as if time was running out. like if you pulled away, you guys would be back at square one. hating each other.

when you finally felt as if you needed air, ellie quickly moved her harsh kisses to your neck, sucking and biting down on your soft skin.

your breathing quickened at the feeling of her. your hands moving to hang carelessly against her neck, moving her closer to her.

ellie traveled her hands towards your ass, pushing you closer to the front of her jeans. you gasped at first, the feeling sending shivers down your core, but when she rolled her hips quick against you, you felt weak.

"fuck-" a whine left your mouth as she did it numerous times, holding the back of your thigh to wrap around her hip.

if someone had said you’d be dry fucking ellie outside of a college frat party, on a deck railing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

but here you actually are. clinging onto her as if she’s some drug you need to consume. her sending harsh kisses against your neck making you want more. need more.

your skirt rises up, exposing your underwear as ellie and your movements moved sloppy. her mouth moved from your neck, looking at the patches of purple spots she created.

a cocky smirk played on her face when she stopped rolling her hips, to look at you completely. your lips were parted, wanting them to be back on hers again. your skirt exposed your lower half, making you grow self conscious how fucked out you already looked and you hardly even did anything.

maybe it was the numerous drinks you already had, or maybe it was just the static feeling ellie made you feel. because the feeling was certainly neutral.

she tilted her head down towards your head as if she was leaving to kiss you again, but she just looked down, lips brushing together.

"tell me you hate me again." she whispered, daring. you brushed her head towards her, making your lips connect in a harsh embrace.

her tongue brushed against your lips before she pulled away once more. shaking her head. "tell me you hate me." she said, once again.

you groaned, as she let her hands travel down your skin. you finally came to since you guys were hardly alone when the load party music began to echo around you.

her hands stopped at your inner thigh, swung around her hip. she trailed circles there before meeting your eyes again. "say it."

you hated how easily you were about to give in. with ellie it was her in the lead, and you didn’t seem to hate it now that your standing, her between your legs.

"i hate you." you whisper, letting your hands around her neck, lower to cling on her shoulders. she kissed you hard when the filthy words escaped your mouth.

her hand had traveled closer to your core and a soft moan escaped pushing her mouth off yours. you wanted her to say something, do more, but ellie loved this.

"your so pretty when you make those filthy sounds." she whispered, close against your lips. your eyes looked down at her fingers escape beyond your sight, resting on your clothed skin.

your head tilted to the porch back down, growing worried that someone could walk out any second. ellie followed your glaze, noticing your anxious eyes.

"my car is parked out front." she acknowledged, meeting eyes with you. a smirk played on your face as you looked at her.

"what are you insisting, williams." you choked back, still catching your breath. ellie smiled at you, removing her hand. you froze at the loss of contact, but when her hand intertwined with yours, you couldn’t help but smile once more.

"follow me and you’ll find out, doll."

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