#reid x you

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [BEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN] ❞

request by lovely detailing anon pairing: spencer reid x reader. summary: a date for your brother's wedding brings you more than you could ever hope for. content warnings: i think none, but feel free to tell me! very fluffy stuff ahead though. word count: 1,1k+

the first thing you told your mother when she began yapping about how you needed a date for the wedding was that she didn't need to worry, you got your girls! surely one of them would have an eligible bachelor to accompany you. you had the girls from work, two from college and even your sister-in-law could definitely help you out without the obnoxious interference of your mother.

sadly enough, as the ceremony got closer and closer the more spectacularly did the blind dates fail you. you insisted with the bau girls you did not want anyone from the bureau, emily tried with an old friend who worked in politics. completely boring and in severe need of a model trophy wife his parents approved of.

pen tried to set you up with some guy she met doing theater, he was fascinated by your job. too fascinated, like you were some character of a play that he needed to analyze, and if that wasn't bad enough, the ones you were set up by your civilian girls weren't any better, they were in fact worse. trembling the moment you told them you were an agent.

"i'm going alone, won't tell my mom that though." you finish the conversation leaving the reports from the last case on your desk. i'ts saturday morning and fortunately, you were back in time for your brother's wedding, no chance to skip it and blame it on work for this and already running back to the elevator, asking spencer to hold the doors for you.

"i can be your date, for the wedding, i mean." his voice sounds almost nonchalant, if not for a bit higher in pitch. you feel your face warm up at the idea, surely if you had enough courage in your personal life as you showed in the field, you would've asked him months before, but apparently fate was on your side.

"really? i don't want to disturb you, i—" you shake your head softly, trying to be less avoidant, you wanted him to go, he offered to go. "i would really like that, actually."

"i'm happy to. this way you're at least guaranteed someone who isn't afraid of fbi female agents." the way his shoulders shrug up and his nose moves in a soft crunch makes your heart swell. "historically bridesmaids were to dress the same as the bride to deceive evil spirits—" he's interrupted by the elevator doors opening, but you both keep the same pace as you leave the building, wanting to keep talking to each other. "though surely you won't be dressing in white, what color are you wearing should i match my tie to it?"

"that's very thoughtful, spen." too thoughtful even, you might just swoon if you don't control yourself. "it's black tie required for bridal party dates actually, is that okay?"

"i can arrange that." even if he didn't have a black tie attire at home already, which he did, spencer would rent one if he had to, he wouldn't be happy about it, but he would do whatever necessary.

his eyes glance from your dress to your fidgeting fingers a few times before speaking up. "you're nervous." he knows that's not the first thing he should be saying after seeing you all dressed up, but he can't help it.

"oh—sorry, i'm just worried about my family meeting you." you didn't even think about your choice of words, not paying attention to the way it made spencer flinch, his smile falling instantly.

"do you want me to be less... me? i can try." eyes widened up, you shake your head quickly, hands going to his chest in what you believed was a comforting manner.

"i want them to be less... them. you're great, perfect even. they can be kind of rude, that's all." perfect even. his smile quickly comes back to his face, placing his own hands over yours with a squeeze.

"unrelated but, you look great, perfect even." his repeating of your words makes you laugh, spinning around to show him the full look before thanking him. he looks stunning, dashing even, but you feel like the way your eyes can't look away from him for long might show him that.

you were right to be worried about your family, a bunch of drunk alpha males who didn't believe the work you did in the fbi weren't the most friendly bunch to spencer, but he had his fun responding to their jabs with knowledge and sarcasm, checking your reactions every time and always getting a laugh in response.

your mother seemed to like him though, saying you two were a great match, which you tried to deny, shrug it off since you two were just friends and you somehow knew your mom would like anyone you took as long as you didn't show up alone again to a family event.

as he held you close to dance, spinning you around and making you dizzy from all the champagne, and as his hands stopped at your hips to look at you, you wished to yourself you truly were a great match, and that he felt it as much as you, and the saw it as much your family saw it.

by the end of the night he was the one holding your heels, your bag and your scarf while calling a taxi to the venue to pick you both up. happily laying your head on his shoulder the whole way back to your apartment.

spencer had to accompany you back into your place, he wasn't about to leave you by the building's entrance or the elevator, it was only reasonable to help you all the way through.

for you, it was only reasonable to ask him to spend the night, your couch was comfortable enough especially after a whole night of dancing and walking around trying to keep up with you. it was only reasonable for him to accept it.

"hey spen..." you had gone to your bedroom to find anything comfortable for him to wear, coming back only minutes later, still dressed up. "thanks for today, i had a great time." you say handing him the pijama bottoms you thought could fit him.

"i always have a great time with you." his hands brush lightly against yours and you feel a shiver down your spine, gluing your eyes to his in hopes he felt it too.

in a second he's placing his hands on your neck, kissing you with lust of at least months of yearning, taking your breath away and making you enjoy the lack of oxygen and control. you don't even have to think about reciprocating it, no hesitance, like you have been always at the ready for it and you bite his lower lip the second he tries to pull away.

"i always have a great time with you too." you whisper waiting to have an even greater time with him, the smirk on his lips showing you he hoped for the same.

[beelmons]

The downfall of Spencer Reid

(An interactive story, choose your ending)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Rating: Explicit, 18+, minors are discouraged from interacting with this story. Summary: This is just smut, you f*ck Spencer senseless, or does he f*ck you? That's up to you! A/N: This is an interactive story! There are four different endings, you get to choose what you do or don't do to Spencer! At the end of the post you will find different links, each link leads to other posts and a continuation to the story depending on the choice, some choices won't allow you to come back, so be careful with what you pick! A/N 2: I cooked this up as a stupid idea. Posts on the options are not up for reblog as to not spoil other people reading the story. I do not know if this format is at all good, but let me tell you something, I had one hell of a time making it, it was super fun, let me know what you think and if you have feedback, tell me in my asks! Thank you to @cassiemartzz​ and @ihavemanyhusbands​ for always cheering me on on my writing <3 

Everybody knew the downfall of Spencer Reid had a name and face. He would always portray himself as the nerdy genius boy that wouldn’t hurt a fly, always innocent, ever naive. Until you came along and showed him the wonders of life. Most importantly, the wonders of a sex life. 

His world was turned upside down, he had become your servant, loyalty at your mercy, doing as he was told just as long as he got access to the sweet relief of your body. People around him knew that you had put a spell on him, because everyday at 6 o’clock sharp he would be gone, and god himself couldn’t find him, because he was gone to be lost in you. 

It was friday night and, as per usual, your hands were already roaming around your boyfriend’s body. You had memorized every curve, every sensitive spot, yet nothing compared to the thrill of having him in the flesh, and mind you, you decided a great way to welcome him back home was wearing nothing but a bra and a matching set of panties when he walked through the door. Within seconds of your reunion, you had him pressed up against the wall of his apartment as he let himself be devoured by your lips in any way you desired. Your teeth sank onto the skin of his neck and you heard him whimper in pleasure; as a reaction, his hands reached down to give your ass a rough tug forward, his hips rolling to let you feel his imprisoned erection.

“Eager, babe?” you pulled back to look at him. He was still clothed, his work shirt disheveled from having your body rubbing against it during the make out session. 

“You can’t kiss me like that and expect me to have self control” he complained, but his wording came out as a praise. 

“I have so many ideas to please you tonight.” your lips were on his once again as you spoke, your breath heavy with lust as you kissed. 

“Do whatever you want with me.” he muttered, his tongue immediately massaging yours the second he was done speaking. The sincerity in his voice was piercing. He needed you, right that moment, to touch him, to please him. As you wanted to obey his wishes, your fingers threaded south to undo the button of his jeans, knowing full well that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. 

So many options, so little time, what will you do to him? 

Tease him a little bit longer

Take him straight to bed

Use him to please yourself first 

[moonlightspencie]

Devils Roll the Dice…

Description: A new recruit to the BAU catches Reid’s eye. Unfortunately for the both of them, she has a past with someone very close to him. Are they willing to keep secrets just to keep one another? (TWO-PART MINISERIES)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, sexual references/content (i’ll accept 16+ because its definitely not more than pg-13 material but writing anything sexy makes me feel weird if i know teenagers are reading it)

Word Count: 4k

I took a deep breath, looking in the mirror. I knew we were meeting the new recruit today, and just the thought of it exhausted me. Not that I didn’t like meeting new people. I just hated the break in routine.

We had a concrete team. Kate had already joined. We didn’t need anyone else coming in and messing up a very new rhythm we’d found with each other.

I finished tying my tie, pressing it down, and preemptively steeling myself against the new person. Probably some guy who didn’t know the difference between a tyrannical and enforcing sadist. Half of the students I’d met in recent guest lectures only wanted to go into the field because they’d listened too many crime podcasts anyways.

I walked into the bullpen, taking my seat as usual, ready to turn that cold shoulder at the first misstep of whoever this mystery recruit was. Unfortunately, I felt anything but cold when Hotch called our attention to the figure standing in his office doorway. He stood partially in front of her before he allowed her to stand right next to him as he introduced us. My eyes locked onto her at an embarrassing rate, and I felt far more embarrassed when she caught me and flashed a smirk.

She was anything but shy as a newbie, and for some reason that thrilled me. She wasn’t afraid to get into conversation with the team immediately as she unpacked her things at her new desk. She wasn’t afraid to tell Garcia everything she wanted to know. Much to my surprise, she wasn’t afraid to send me the cutest smiles every time she caught my eyes on her.

“Hey,” she said, walking up to me as I stood in the kitchenette.

Truthfully, I needed the time alone because of her. I couldn’t stop looking at her, and it was becoming a problem considering I was supposed to be doing work. She was just so… Different. She was sweet and funny and so attractive it made my mouth dry up.

“Hi,” I said after a moment. “Coffee?”

She nodded, holding out her mug. I filled it up from the pot in my hands after I topped off my own. She blew on it, looking up at me with big eyes. I watched her, not realizing how long it had been until she broke eye contact, a smile settling onto her face.

“You’re gonna keep watching me blow on my coffee?”

I opened my mouth to say something, but fell quiet when she smiled again. She moved the mug from her face.

“Got any advice for me with the BAU?”

I swallowed. “Uh, you came from Intelligence, right?”

She nodded, brows raised. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“I was listening earlier. You said it to JJ.”

“Alright, so I know one fact about you other than the eidetic memory,” she said with a chuckle.

I smiled softly. “Right. Sorry, I haven’t been very talkative today.”

“That’s okay,” she said, giving me a reassuring smile. “I’ve tried really hard to get into this unit, so I don’t plan on leaving any time soon. We’ll have time to get to know one another.”

I nodded quickly. “Uh, so, advice. Um, I guess you should know this team is a lot like a family. We really care about each other, and we’re pretty close. Especially us field agents.”

“Good to know,” she nodded thoughtfully. “If you have any more wisdom floating around in that big ol’ brain of yours, let me know. I already heard Penelope calling you ‘boy wonder’, so I’d love to see you live up to that reputation.”

She finished off her sentence with a wink, turning away from me and rejoining the others who still gathered around her desk. She was shiny and new, and everyone wanted to know about her. I couldn’t blame them. I’d love to know as much as I could get my hands on.

One thing I learned very quickly is that she had a habit of flirting.

At first, I thought it was a general behavior she exhibited towards everyone. Then, after some keen observation I came to a terrible and exciting realization: she really only flirted with me.

I think most of it was due to the fact that she just liked to see me flustered. She could make it happen very easily, too. All it took was a sly, under-the-breath comment in passing and my face was turning red.

She’d smile at me, enjoying the tint in my cheeks. I’d stare back at her, just glad to see her smile.

Four weeks in and I was entirely wrapped around her finger.

She wasn’t shy about flirting on cases either, though she was always really good about making sure the only thing anyone ever saw was me being a total dork.

I almost never tried flirting back. I was pretty terrible at it anyways. But there were occasions when I’d make an attempt.

We were working on a case that leaned heavily on the geographical profile, meaning: I spent the entire case in the precinct. I finally cracked it after a few days, and the team found themselves at a farm. One of my least favorite places for a case to be, leaving me very thankful that I wasn’t along for the search and rescue. I really only went to the farm because everyone else was there.

By the time that I actually got to the crime scene, the unsub had already been apprehended. So, I stood near the cars, waiting on the others to come back. It was several minutes before I heard Hotch and Derek walking up and talking to one another. I turned as the rest of the team followed several steps behind. Y/N came into view last, and I couldn’t help but let out a laugh as she walked closer.

She gave me an exasperated smile, throwing her arms up as I took her in. She was covered in dried mud, clearly having taken a fall somewhere gross.

“I tripped and fell while doing absolutely nothing. I feel like you, all clumsy,” she joked, laughing.

I smiled, looking her up and down.

“How are you still pretty covered in dirt?”

“You can’t do that,” she said quickly, looking over her shoulder. “Not right now, anyways.”

I scrunched up my face. She had been much more forwardly flirtatious on cases before now. I couldn’t fathom how this was any different, especially since all I did was make a flirty comment. I guess my facial expression could’ve conveyed more. I seemed to have a hard time concealing my feelings for her when she looked at me the way she did.

“Why?”

She looked behind her again, like she was keeping an eye out for someone. But the only person there was Morgan. Maybe she was afraid of him telling on us for flirting on the job. But he was the one that relentlessly flirted with everyone else. Why would he be coming after us? Maybe she didn’t know that well enough.

“Morgan flirts with people all the time. He’s not going to—”

“Spencer,” she groaned, grabbing my arm and pulling me behind the SUV.

I furrowed my brow again. “What?”

“If I tell you something, you have to promise not to get weird about it.”

“Get… Weird?”

“Like, don’t be all freaked out,” she clarified.

“Okay,” I said, unsure where this was heading.

She cleared her throat, stealing one more glance at him. She looked back at me, chewing her lip with a coy smile. I had a feeling that now wasn’t the time, but I blushed, unable to stop myself from fully taking her in. Luckily, my upstairs brain started working again just in time to give all my attention to her as she started speaking.

“I’m sure this will make things a little awkward,” she stated, sighing softly, “but, he and I… Uh, Derek and I, we have a history.”

I quirked a brow. “Oh? How?”

She stared at me, expecting me to take a hint that I was most certainly not picking up on.

“We… We were involved. Romantically.”

My brows shot up. “Oh.”

“Yeah. It was only like five months, really, but,” she shrugged. “That happened. Hence why it’s been a little awkward between us.”

She said that bit like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but I hadn’t been any the wiser about it. Maybe it was just another case of me being a little more oblivious than some of my coworkers about behaviors that didn’t have to do with the job. Maybe I was just too enamored with her to pay attention to how she interacted with our coworker.

“I didn’t notice,” I said quietly.

“Good. I’ve been hoping to keep it on the down-low,” she said with a laugh. “I haven’t exactly wanted to endure teasing from the team about sleeping with Derek of all people.”

I swallowed, not having thought about the fact that she’d been… Physical with him. More so, that he’d gotten to be with her in that way. He’d seen her. Heard her. Felt her. All of her. I took in a breath, clearing my head of that image.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner if I was going to keep flirting like this,” she said, suddenly a little shy as she shoved her hands in her pockets. “I know you two are close.”

“Yeah. I’m surprised he didn’t tell us about you.”

She laughed. “Our relationship wasn’t completely… A serious thing.”

“Serious enough to last five months.”

She snorted. “Most of the time we spent together wasn’t exactly romantic. He was great, but we both kind of used each other. Hard time in life for both of us back then.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding curtly. “So it was mostly, uh— Sexual?”

She smirked, looking away. “Not entirely just that. But that was a lot of it.”

I nodded again, feeling my cheeks flush. She nudged my arm, pulling my attention again.

“It’s been well over a year now since that all happened,” she said quietly. “I just… I don’t want to rock the boat right now. Being new to the unit, I should probably try my best to be on everyone’s good side, you know?”

“I get it. I’ll stop with the flirting,” I said, giving what I hoped was an affirming smile.

She furrowed her brow. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It isn’t?”

“The flirting is fine, I just think… Maybe we should keep it a little more quiet when we’re around the others,” she shrugged. “If that’s okay.”

“You’re okay with me— doing that?”

“Spencer, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re crazy hot.”

I was certainly blushing now. I swallowed, blinking in surprise as I looked at her. Her smile only grew. She enjoyed teasing me. I couldn’t say I didn’t like it just as much as she did.

“Uh, th-thank you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Quit acting so shy as if you don’t already know.”

My eyes widened. “I’m not acting.”

“Every woman who meets you flirts with you.”

“No they don’t,” I argued, my brows knitting together.

“Are you blind?”

“No,” I said, still in a state of confusion.

She laughed it off. “Alright, boy wonder, we’d better join the group. They’re gathering like vultures.”

I followed after her as she integrated into the group where they stood as Hotch spoke. She was so good at finding her way in. I was thrilled to see how she’d find her place in my life going forward.

In the following weeks, she gave me an idea of what that would look like. Stolen glances at every turn had my heart racing. It went even faster every time she found a way to touch me in some inconspicuous way.

A hand on my arm as she asked about the maps I was working on. A brush of fingers as she’d hand me a coffee cup. Her shoulder pressed into mine to whisper to me some detail of a case that really could’ve been said at full volume.

She usually didn’t step past those boundaries though, ever cautious not to let herself get caught out by anyone else. The comments she made towards me were still relentless, however. I didn’t know how she had it hidden so well.

I, however, had much more trouble hiding my attraction, and I was sure I’d heard some of my teammates whispering to each other about it. They’d give me knowing looks every time I got caught out staring at her. Even Morgan gave what seemed like mostly-good natured glances my way when I paid a bit too much attention to her. Probably only because he didn’t know that I knew about them, and even more likely didn’t want anyone else to know. It would be a tell-tale sign if he didn’t make fun of me.

It felt wrong to be keeping this odd little secret from him. I wasn’t necessarily sneaking around with his ex-girlfriend, but we were still flirting. We were still hiding something from him. I wondered how he’d react if he found out, and hoped for my sake that he was well and truly over it.

Especially after our last night on a case in Georgia. The summer air in the state was hot, and it felt like it was actively pulling air from my lungs every time I went outside. Maybe it was some kind of metaphor for what was to come.

I held back for hours from going to her door. The teasing had been terribly relentless the entire time we were on the case, and the week before. Tension was building, and I knew if I was easily picking up on it, she definitely had to be.

I paced around my room, contemplating my options. If I went to her, there was a chance we’d finally talk about whatever was happening between us. There was also a chance she’d tell me to leave if I attempted to tell her how I really felt, and I’d be left pining over her probably forever. Both were pretty scary.

Either way, I decided it was better than continuing to fall for her without having a real conversation about it. I walked to the door, my hand on the handle.

She stood just outside my door, her hand raised as if she was about to knock when I tugged it open. A smile graced her pretty lips, her hand dropping.

“Looks like we had the same idea,” she stated, pushing past me into my room. “Good timing.”

“It was.”

She chewed at her lip, looking around the space with her arms crossed. I stared at her as she took it all in, waiting for whatever was on her mind to be put out into the open. She looked back at me, apparently reading my mind.

“We’re both waiting on each other to speak up, huh?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“This is a ridiculous thing we’re doing right now. It’s like sneaking around with any of the fun parts,” she said with a laugh.

“I think it’s fun,” I shrugged.

“It could be more fun.”

I swallowed. “Yeah. But I’m happy just to have your attention.”

She smirked, walking towards me.

“I think you’re kind of needy.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s cute.”

I blushed, giving her a smile as I looked away. She still looked at me like she was about to devour me. I could sympathize with all of those animals I saw in nature documentaries as the predator closed in on them. It was in vivid color. She stalked closer and closer, knowing full well that my guard was down enough for her to launch an attack.

“You really enjoy this, don’t you?” I asked. “Knowing you make me flustered. Half of the time I can hardly talk when I’m around you. Everyone knows it, and they all think it’s one-sided.”

She leaned her chest into mine, surely able to feel how fast my heart beat for her.

“Are you embarrassed by it?”

“No.”

Her hands crept their way up under my shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake as if her touch didn’t feel as hot as the sun. I watched her silently, letting her do whatever she wanted. She couldn’t asked me to jump out of the seventh-floor window with her and I would’ve gone head first without a question.

Panic only crept in when she started leaning in closer to my face, and I realized her lips were on a path that would end with mine.

“Wait,” I said, grabbing her wrists.

Her eyes widened, pulling her head back slightly.

“Are you okay?”

“I just don’t think this is a good idea,” I breathed out.

She retreated from me, and it was hard not to let my body follow hers. She was only a step away, but it felt like a continent’s worth of space. My fingers itched to reach out and pull her back in.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, eyes wandering over her face.

She swallowed. “I don’t know what you want, Spence. One minute you’re telling me you want me, the next you’re pushing me away.”

Logic kept trying to overtake my head. It was annoying.

“I can’t… You’re Morgan’s ex.”

She sighed. “I’m also a human being. I am my own person separate from him. One that is very attracted to you.”

I wet my lips, not missing how her eyes followed the action. I felt a fluttering in my stomach just watching her react. She smiled, as always, catching me in the act of being wildly into her. She took half a step forward.

“You’re telling me this is a bad idea, but every time I look at you I’m getting a different message.”

I swallowed. “I know.”

“So, which is it?”

“It is a bad idea,” I started, intending on making it a whole sentence, but not knowing what to say next.

“But?”

“But I don’t know if I care enough to stop it.”

She smirked again, not holding back this time. She reached up, pulling me down to her lips with her hands wrapped in my hair. I wound my arms around her waist, pulling her tightly into me. I relished feeling her body fully pressed against mine, especially when she let out a contented sigh as I deepened the kiss. She started guiding my backwards towards the bed, and I obliged her silent request until the backs of my knees were against the mattress.

“Sit,” she requested, the word whispered against my lips.

I did, peering up at her as she staying standing in between my legs. She grasped my chin in her soft hand, tilting up my head to see me.

“How sure about this are you?”

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully.

She smiled. “Good. I don’t either.”

She dropped into my lap, kissing me like we hadn’t even stopped in the first place. My hands gripped her hips for the first time, and she was everything I had daydreamed about. Soft and responsive. I couldn’t imagine being the one to let her go, and I found myself questioning Morgan’s judgment in that moment.

It made me feel even better every time she smiled or made a little comment about the ways I reacted to her. Usually I’d be embarrassed, but she just made me feel good.

“Sweet boy,” she mumbled against me, moving her lips from my jaw and down my neck.

My hands found themselves wandering across her back, and my eyes were practically stuck shut as I felt her lips against my skin. I could’ve died right then and there and been happy to go.

But a knock at the door sent us both into high alert. She sat up straight, looking towards the door.

I stood with her legs still wrapped around me before I turned and dropped her on the bed. She bounced on the mattress, looking up at me with a surprised smile.

“Just— Stay here and stay quiet. Please,” I said, then walked to the door, trying to frantically fix my hair.

I cleared my throat as I opened the door, forcing myself to not look like I was embarrassingly close to…

I shook myself out of that thought the second I saw Morgan. He definitely put an end to any sexy thoughts that clouded my head.

“Hey, kid, can I ask you something?”

I furrowed my brow. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I just… Do you know what’s been up with JJ? She’s been a little off. Won’t really talk to me, so I was wondering if she said anything to you.”

I let out a breath of relief. “No, she hasn’t told me anything. But I know Henry’s been pretty sick the past week. Maybe that’s it.”

“Hm,” he hummed, nodding slowly. “Alright, thanks. Just… Worried, you know?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “It’s JJ, though. She’ll be okay.”

“Right, yeah, I know,” he nodded again. “Alright. Thanks, again. You get some sleep tonight, alright?”

I nodded, bidding him a goodnight. I shut the door, seeing her on the bed still. She was propped up on her elbows, smirking at me.

“That ruin the mood?”

I locked the door.

“Not particularly.”

To my surprise, she ended up being the one who wanted to take it slow. We kissed for another hour or so when I got back within her reach, but didn’t go much further. Not that I was in a position to complain. I was ecstatic just to be touching her, and she somehow felt the same about me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever understand why that was.

She’d told me when I’d dropped onto the bed, crawling over top of her, that she didn’t want to go all the way. She said it so sweet. Almost like she was afraid of whatever answer I’d give to her. As if I’d say I didn’t want to kiss her all night long.

Besides, I was pretty sure I’d spontaneously combust if we had gone any further.

We woke up the next morning, still holding onto one another. She had changed into my t-shirt before she climbed into bed with me, and looked absolutely incredible with her messy bed-head and sleepy smile.

“Good morning,” she mumbled.

“It is a very good morning,” I said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

Her hand pressed against my cheek, the smile spreading on her face as she looked at me.

“You’re adorable,” she said quietly, granting me another kiss.

I sighed. “I don’t think I want to stop this.”

“Why would we?” she asked with an incredulous smile.

“Because, I mean, we can’t tell anyone about us,” I said with a shrug. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to make this— A thing.”

She wet her lips. “We don’t have to tell anyone in order to be together.”

I contemplated that for a moment. I’d never considered having a completely private relationship. At least not with someone who wasn’t actively being stalked. That was an entirely different scenario. I guess to her, it was probably scary to get into a relationship with one of your ex’s best friends. I couldn’t blame her for that.

I took a breath. “You… You want to keep it a secret?”

She nodded. “If that’s okay with you.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” I said with a nod, not bothering to filter my thoughts as they came out into the open.

She smiled. “Anything?”

“Almost. I draw the line at murder.”

She laughed. “Team’d catch you anyways.”

I laughed right back, giving her another kiss. She leaned into my touch, shyness creeping into her face.

“I do really like you, Spencer.”

I nodded. “I do too.”

“This’ll be great, you know?”

She smiled brightly, causing one to form on my face. She brushed my hair away from my face, just looking at me.

“Yeah. I know.”

…ANGELS ROLL THEIR EYES (part 2)

[lizzyk137]

I'll Be There for You - A Spencer Reid Fanfic (Spencer Reid X Reader)

Description: You and Spencer had become friends since he moved into your building. Slowly you fell for him only for him to find someone else. Warnings: Mentions of- death, depression. Angst and jealousy.

Part Two! Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

Perfection.

That's what you thought every time you saw your next-door neighbor. Pure perfection.

You knew who he was exactly. A FBI agent, part of the BAU, one of the greatest minds on the planet and he was your next-door neighbor.

He had just moved in a few months ago and ever since then, you'd catch yourself looking through your windows to see him walking off the bus and then running to the door to hear him walk up the stairs, only to open your door just as he was fumbling with his keys to do some mysterious tasks just so you could talk to him.

The first time you ever saw him was when he was unloading his stuff out of a moving van with a few friends, who you've come to know were his co-workers and practically his family. You were pulling up on your bike after a quick morning ride, to see the most gorgeous man turn to look at you as you braked the closer you got.

"Hello!" A cheerful blonde called out as you locked your bike near the entrance of your apartment building.

"Hi!" You had said quietly, suddenly getting nervous as four people, including the supermodel of a man, turned to look at you. You felt like they were looking you all over, analyzing you, which you had come to find out that they naturally do to everyone since it's their job.

"I'm Penelope! This is my friend Spencer; he's moving into the building!" The blonde said with the biggest smile plastered on her face. She was bubbly and confident which made you nervous since you were neither of those things.

"I'm Y/n, I live in 13B. It's nice to meet you." You briefly made eye contact with Spencer's sunglasses covered eyes before looking back down at your hands nervously.

"Did you know in most cultures 13 is considered an unlucky number and the bringer of bad luck? Most buildings skip the 13th floor entirely and most places don't number a house or apartment as the number 13 since it could bring bad luck to the area?" Spencer stated, looking at you.

"Um, I did know that actually. 13 is one of my favourite numbers and I also own a black cat too. So hopefully you don't have to be my neighbor." You chuckled trying to make a joke. The others laughed but Spencer just stood there looking at you.

"Actually, my apartment is number 11, and with how the building is organized with odd numbers on the left and even numbers on the right, I am more than likely your neighbor. Plus, I also don't believe in superstitions since there is no scientific proof that they harbor any bad luck."

You nodded. "Oh... well, um did you guys need any help with your stuff?" You motioned with your head to the van filled with boxes labeled books. "There is a service elevator just on the other side of the building that we can use to bring in the larger stuff."

"Thanks, that would be a big help." A handsome-looking gentleman said. "The name's Morgan." He said winking at you.

A dark-haired woman shook her head at Morgan, then said, "Why don't we pull out what we can and do an assembly line to the apartment then we can use the elevator for the larger furniture?"

"Sounds good!" Penelope said and everyone broke away from the huddle to start pulling boxes out.

After that day, the apartment next to yours was quiet. The front door never opened or closed, and you worried that your new neighbor was dead. Worried after the fifth day of not hearing anything you knocked on the door to no reply.

You had called your landlord and asked him if the next door was vacant since you were certain that no living soul was in there. He said Spencer was still renting and gave you his number to call.

You sent out a text two days later, hoping that he wasn't dead next door.

'Hi, this is Y/N from unlucky apartment 13. I just wanted to make sure you were okay since there's been no noise for the past week. I hope my bad luck didn't reach you!'

You tried keeping it light and friendly, hoping that your worrying didn't lead to the real thing happening.

You received a reply a day later to your surprise and relief.

'Hi, unlucky number thirteen. No, the bad luck has not caught up with me. I've been away on a case and have yet to be home. Thanks for checking up on me!'

You chuckled at the message and from then on you and Spencer exchanged texts every hour cracking small jokes.

It wasn't until you heard the keys jingle outside the door a few days later that you bolted out of your window seat and opened the door to find an exhausted Spencer trying to unlock his door.

He was so tired he didn't even realize you had been standing there watching him struggle for a few minutes until you cleared your throat making him jump, dropping his keys in the process.

You reached down to pick them up, and your hair flipped out of your face giving him the best view to see your beautiful smile light up your face as you handed him his keys back. He cleared his throat, hoping his face wasn't red even though it felt like it was burning. "Thanks." He mumbled and opened the door quickly only for it to open a foot.

Inside you could see boxes piled up blocking any sort of passage through.

Spencer tried to shimmy his way in but eventually had to put his back to the door, bracing himself as he pushed it open with his body.

"Did you want any help unpacking?" You ask chuckling as the maze of boxes piled up.

Spencer tilted his head to look at you then let out a tired breath. "Honestly, I'd love that, but I'm exhausted. I haven't slept in the past couple of days. If the offer still stands in the next couple of days, I'll take you up on it." He put on a small smile for you to show he appreciated your offer.

You nodded lightly, "Let me know when you're all set, I'd be more than glad to set a few hours aside to help you!"

And he did let you know a few days later. You heard a soft knock on the door and could hear him pace back and forth for a second while you pulled a blanket over your thin tank top and short shorts.

"Spencer?" You said surprised as you pulled open the door to reveal a very nervous man.

He wiped his hands on his pants and cleared his throat. "Does the offer still stand to help unpack? I tried unpacking myself and it is not going that well." His voice was barely a whisper at the end, and you ended up laughing a bit at how nervous he was.

He gulped at the sight of you laughing at what he said, hoping he didn't seem inadequate at something so simple as packing.

"I told you the offer would still stand so there is no need to be nervous, plus packing always goes better when you do it with someone. " You chuckled and closed your apartment door behind him.

He didn't move from where he was, so you ended up knocking into him a little bit. "Whoops, sorry!" You said trying to take a step back but there was nowhere to go with how close Spencer was to you.

He just continued to stare at you and then cleared his throat taking a step back. He headed back to his apartment as you followed behind in your fuzzy slippers. He opened the door as much as he could and held it open for you to shimmy inside. Your chest moving as you nudged your way inside made his face instantly heat up and his eyes go wide as he tore his eyes away from your thin top.

'Get it together Spencer. She's helping you out, it's not time to check her out.' He thought to himself shaking his head as the image flashed back into his head.

"So where do you want to start?" Your voice rang out to him, making the thought of your chest disappear.

"Um," his voice cracked a bit as he tried to control it, "I think we should start in the kitchen since it has the most breakable stuff."

He led the way to the kitchen and you both started tearing through boxes and pulling out items, asking him where he would want things to which he was clueless on what would go better where so he left it up to you. In fact, he left every part of his house up to you on how it should be arranged. He just followed your orders and moved items to where they needed to go, his face turning bright red when you'd catch him staring at you making you blush slightly.

After that, Spencer and you became close friends and frequented each other's apartments often for movie night, to play games, to talk or just to read each other's massive collection of books. After a while, you both had a key to each other's house and you'd often find Spencer in your reading corner, which you had put a special chair just for him in, and he would find you making something delicious in his kitchen as you sang along to some k-pop song off-key.

You both grew to be best friends, closer than he and JJ were, and he'd often take you to team functions as his plus one. You were slowly falling in love with the tall nerdy genius, and you thought he felt the same way until one day he mentioned a girl that he was talking to.

Maeve.

Movie nights turned into Maeve nights. Nightly walks were only to phone booths where you would sit outside on the curb waiting for Spencer to be done, and weekly bookstore trips were only to look for a book Maeve suggested in her nightly phone calls.

Soon everything you once did together started going away and Spencer wasn't the same guy you first fell for.

You'd make him dinners for when he'd come back home from cases only for none of it to be touched. Books you bought that you knew he was waiting to be released would be left untouched and piling up on the table by the door.

The team would fill you in and let you know he was okay at least once a week since you never saw or heard from him anymore.

Sure, you were happy that Spencer found someone, it broke your heart that it wasn't you, but you were still happy for your friend. But soon, Spencer didn't want your company as he used to want it. Everything slowly was crumbling, and you were left in the dark from him.

It lasted for ten months before it all stopped. No noise, no movement, not even a breath was heard in the apartment next to yours. The team would come by, and he wouldn't open up his door to any of them.

Maeve died and Spencer was broken.

It lasted like that for months. You tried not to linger by his door on your way to and from work. You tried not to care too deeply for someone that dropped you months ago. You tried your hardest not to think about Spencer Reid. And it almost worked.

You were putting on your heels for a night out with the girls. In the last few months, the girls of the BAU team became super close even with Emily flying in every so often to meet up. Penelope had suggested a girl's night out with dinner, drinking and dancing. The three D's as she liked to call it. And for someone lucky they got the fourth D at the end of the night, and in PG terms she called it dessert.

Looking into the mirror, you looked back at yourself checking every part of your outfit over. A tight, sparkly black over the shoulder sleeved mini dress with black strappy heels. You had gone all out on your makeup, something one of your friends from college taught you how to do to get extra money on the weekends, and you had curled your hair in loose waves.

You sighed, fidgeting with the hem of your dress, a bit uncomfortable with how much skin was showing. You had been slowly building your confidence up the last few months you spent with Spencer since he showed you that it was okay to be you and that you didn't have to hide it, and you were trying to keep building confidence up even though he wasn't there anymore.

Your phone buzzed and you saw that it was Penelope messaging you that they were there. Grabbing your bag and stuffing your phone inside you headed out and stopped to look at Spencer's door, littered with baskets of self-care stuff and dead flowers. You missed him, but the door was a reflection of what he wanted, to close everyone out and drown out the world.

Dinner went by in a flash, full of laughter and drinks, and you were headed to the club when Penelope shrieked besides you.

"You okay, hun?" You asked chuckling at the girl next to you that was practically hyperventilating.

Instead of giving you an answer she just waved her phone around until JJ grabbed it and looked at what was pulled up. "Wow..." JJ mumbled. She showed you and Emily what seemed to be a picture. Emily blew it up and there all the guys from the BAU including Will were lined up on the wall dressed up in suits with stern expressions on their face.

"Daddy Morgan is looking so fine." Penelope whispered causing you to laugh loudly.

"Oh my god, is that Spencer?" Emily gasped.

All four of you leaned closer in to look at the line up of men. Morgan, Rossi, Hotch, Will and Spencer. Morgan had his best smolder on, Rossi did not look pleased to be there, Hotch looked tired, Will stood there like a deer in headlights and Spencer looked so tired that it broke your heart a little.

"I know, I know I said it was a girl's night but the boys were getting Spencer out of the house and at least out doing normal human things so I said they could tag along. Please don't be mad." Giving you her best pleading look.

"I think it's a good idea to get Spencer out of the house. Y/N is that okay with you?" JJ asked you concerned. She could see you tense up after Penelope said she invited them.

Nodding your head as a reply you looked back at the picture on Penelope's phone staring a hole into Spencer's digital self until you had to see the real thing.

You made it through the club's line quicker than expected, all thanks to Emily flirting with the female bouncer, and you headed inside, music blaring, to find the table the guys reserved for you. Emily could see you fidgeting with your bag, so she pulled you over to the bar and ordered a round of shots. "Liquid courage." She said as she handed you a glass. You ended up downing five shots and one mixed drink until Emily pulled you over to the table to drop your bags off to dance.

"Damn, princess, you are looking good." Morgan whistled to you, winking as you shrugged playfully.

"I see you girls are dressed up nicely, did we interrupt girls' night?" Rossi asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Kind of, but we can still pull in our catch." Emily winked as she replied back.

Your eyed slowly drifted around the table as everyone engaged in conversations with each other until your eyes landed on Spencer who was staring at you with his jaw locked. You stared at each other for a few minutes before you felt a light touch on your shoulder. Looking up, you saw a handsome man smiling down at you.

"Hi, Y/N, right? I'm Jesse, we met at the bookstore last week."

"Oh, hi!" The table growing silent as they eyed the newcomer at the table, and you knew they were unintentionally profiling him. You could feel Spencer's eyes drilled into your back.

"I just saw you and was hoping it was you. I wanted to thank you for that book recommendation for my class! Surprisingly the sixth graders enjoyed it."

"I'm so glad to hear that! I read it to my class not too long ago and they loved it!"

Jesse nodded and looked up at the table. "Oh, I'm being rude. I'll leave ya be to your friends!"

"No, no! That's okay!" Penelope practically screamed out. "Y/N was looking for someone to dance with, if you want to dance." You swerved in your seat to give her a death glare before politely smiling back up at Jesse.

Jesse chuckled, "Um, if you want to dance, I'd like to accompany you." He extended his hand out and you gently took it letting him lead you to the dance floor.

Spencer scoffed, as he watched you two walked away. Rossi eyed him and shook his head. "What?" He asked the older man. "The guy was obviously into her. He was practically eyeing her body the entire time. And the excuse of coming over here to thank her for recommending a book! Lame."

"I never thought I'd hear Reid use the word lame before." Morgan muttered to Hotch.

"I thought the guy was nice. I see him come into the station to help out with the toy drives and I hear he helps out at all the shelters around town." Will commented causing Spencer to roll he eyes.

The table grew silent for a few minutes and the girls went off the dance, Will in tow, and Reid was left with three men who knew him the best looking at him.

Spencer took a sip of his water, trying not to let on that he was suddenly uncomfortable with all three men staring at him.

"I think we have a jealous Reid." Rossi finally said, breaking the silence.

Hotch laughed, "I think you're right. Maybe you should just tell her you like her."

Spencer shook his head confused and took another sip of his drink. "I just got out a relationship, which did not end well. How could I suddenly be jealous of her? She just met the guy for a second time."

All three men laughed at Spencer's remarks making him more puzzled at what they were saying.

Morgan cleared his throat, "No, not jealous of her in that way. Jealous of the guy she's with. As soon as she walked in you have been eyeing her, and when Jesse showed up you got mad at her for giving her attention to another guy. Even now your eyes have been following her around." Morgan explained.

"And don't say it's for her safety. She's quite safe surrounded by two fully trained agents and one police officer." Rossi chimed in.

"You like her, just tell her that." Hotch spoke up next, "What you had with Maeve was meaningful and real, but it was also mostly through a phone and there was so many secrets she kept from you. You should be with someone that you don't have to hide from. Someone that can be your best friend when you need it and is always there for you."

Spencer just nodded and turned his gaze towards you, watching as you drunkenly swayed your body to the music.

"Maybe I will, but I also don't know what to feel, and she means too much to me to use to figure out my own feelings." He starred at you as you laughed and danced. He was happy you were having fun, but he always wished his arms were wrapped around you as you both danced the night away.

[sixofpomegranates]

Would you write a one-shot where the girl is Spencer's student and somehow he hears a girl talk that she's a virgin (and also that she writes FICS about him), and something happen between them? I'd like her to be inexperienced, but not dumb about sex, nor bratty ❤️❤️ thank you so much for your fics btw, they're amazing

Fanfiction

Pairing: Professor!Reid x Virgin!Student!Fem!Reader

Word count: 14.4K (it's a long one | That's what she said.)

A/N: Quick PSA: A real person might not be a fan of you writing fanfiction about them... But writing this was fun! It never crossed my mind to have one of Spencer's students write a FF about him.

CW: Smut, Fluff | Mentions of Age Gap/Sexual Experience/Fanfiction/academic pressure/financial struggles/Parents not supporting your dreams, Oral (F), Fingering, Masturbation, Virginity/Loss of virginity, Penetrative Sex (unprotected, creampie), Nicknames (Bunny, Daddy, Sweetheart, Good Girl)

"The cold rain made the clothes cling to our bodies as we ran into the faculty building. I should've never agreed to interview my professor for the college paper. His class schedule was all over the place, and I struggled for weeks to find a place in his calendar to do it.

Stupid stubbornness had made me insist on him taking time for me tonight after classes. I had sat there through all his stomach-turning lectures and then waited for him to pack his stuff.

"Professor Collins, you said I was supposed to wait for you to find a free day on your schedule." I looked around the empty class. "Now seems to be the time."

"Miss Rivera, it is past eight, and I'd like to go home now. Why don't you do the same, and I'll send you a mail with dates that would be convenient for me."

Handsome but unattainable. He was known to be the most attractive professor on campus, clothed in secrecy and a need to keep his private life hidden. No wonder, a man working part-time as a teacher and part-time as an FBI agent needed to keep his secrets, I assume.

But tough luck. He'd been voted to be the most popular professor in our college, and therefore, this man was going to, at least, give me something to write about him.

"With all due respect, Professor, I have been running after you for weeks. I need this interview."

A loud thunder interrupted his try to back out of it, making him brush a hand through his hair.

"It's starting to storm soon. I assume you're taking the subway, just like me. I'd like the come home at least semi-dry, don't you?"

He tried to push past me, his hand on the strap of his leather satchel. I stepped in his way, his firm chest bumping against mine. I hadn't realized he was so much taller than me.

Another thunder made me jump. "I- I have a car."

He nodded, taking a nervous step back. We had stood too close. "That- That is good for you. The streets and public transport aren't safe for a young woman alone at night."

"I can drive you," I offered without thinking.

"Pardon?"

"You give me my interview, and I'll drive you home. We don't even have to have the interview here. I can drive us to a cafe. You once mentioned you never turn down the chance for coffee."

He raised his eyebrow. "You're not going to stop bothering me with this interview, am I right?"

I shot him a smile. "My persistence is one of my greatest assets, Professor."

He sighed, nodding. "Okay."

Clapping my hands, I lead the way to my car. I searched for my keys.

Pockets, handbag, bookbag,jacket.

"Is everything okay?"

I nodded, shooting my professor another smile.

Now, where were my keys?

"Are you sure?" He asked me, making me hear a smile in his voice. "It seems like you can't find your keys."

"No, no, no, I know I put them in here somewhere," I rambled, going through my bookbag again.

That was when one of its straps snapped and sent my books flying.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed, quickly sinking to my knees and picking my books up.

Of course, it wouldn't be my type of luck if I didn't also dump my handbag's contents in the same move. Perfect. Just perfect.

"Here," Professor Collins handed me one of my books. He had kneeled down next to me, helping me pick up my things.

Okay, maybe I saw his appeal. He was good-looking, his hair long enough to run your fingers through it and play with his curls and cheekbones that could cut glass. Kneeling down on the dirty floor for me, dirtying his always perfect suit, even when he detested everything that could suggest bacteria.

"Thank you."

As I took my book, our hands touched, and an electric shock ran straight through me. The sky opened, and it began to pour. Right, Professor Collins had predicted that it would rain...

A stupid laugh escaped me at the sudden decision the universe had made to make all of this look like a stupid rom-com.

Stuffing all my things into the bags, not carrying what I put into which, I looked at his now wet hair.

"I assume my ride home is canceled?" He joked, and my face became hot.

"Right..." I mumbled. "I'm so sorry."

He waved me off, standing up and lending me a hand. By now, we were both soaked.

"Let's go to my office. Maybe you'll find keys once we're dry and in a well-lit environment."

I nodded. "Please.""

*****

☀︎ POV: Spencer ☀︎

"Penelope, explain it again, please," I asked of her for the third time now.

My bubbly, blonde friend sighed. "A fanfiction, Reid. Or should I say, Professor Collins?"

The clear question mark on my face made Luke laugh. "Some girl from college has the hots for you and writes about a fantasy world in which you both are an item."

"No," I shook my head. I did not need to hear that. "Not interested in hearing about that."

This would only make the relationship with my students more complicated than it already was. The young women in my classes, especially those auditing them, made me nervous. Their looks were inappropriate, to say the least. And now I was supposed to have a head for one of them writing erotica about her and me as well?

Where would this nonsense end?

"But you should. Its publishing level good. Like, I read this in one night, and now I am constantly checking my phone to see if she updated her story," Penelope continued, gushing. "And honestly, except for a few quirks and that he works for the FBI, Professor Collins does not sound like you at all. He's such a dreamboat. Seriously. A man written by a woman."

"Thanks," I spat, taking the hint at my undateablility. Of course, a real person couldn't compare with a completely made-up man. Written ones never truly struggled with their problems in a way that would ruin the romance.

"Oh, boy. I didn't mean it like that," Garcia said.

Luke stared up from Penelope's rhinestone-covered phone. "Honestly, that story is spicy. Hey, from man to man, do you like BDSM?"

What the hell? What was this lunatic writing about me?

Penelope looked at her phone and smiled. "Oh, that isn't even the best one. Right now, there is this just hooking-up thing going on. The real fun starts once he falls for her and finally tries to have a real date with her."

Luke shook his head. "No chance. The alley scene where he tells her he can't touch her because it would be unethical, and they still have this absolutely animalistic-"

"You are making me uncomfortable," I exclaimed before I could hear any more of this.

"Sorry, man, but that stuff is good. And the side plots? How Adriene becomes a journalist, and they keep running into each other?"

Tara came in, coffee in her hand. "We talking about 'Paper Hearts & Printer Ink'?"

Ridiculous name. Stupid story. How old did I need to get, and how many titles did I need, to finally be taken seriously?

"Please tell me you're not reading that garbage," I practically begged, but Tara started laughing.

"That you call it garbage shows that you haven't read it. The author writes made-up cases that sound so real; I was convinced they were until I asked her on Tumblr."

Maybe I could ban auditing my classes, but what if this obsessive fan of mine was a student of mine? This story needed to vanish as promptly as it appeared.

Standing up, I fixed my tie and grabbed my satchel. "I'd be very thankful if you guys stopped reading it. Penelope, please take the story down."

*****

Which one of them?

The classes this week had me spinning. Every single one of them could've been the one writing in these indecent ways about me.

I knew all their faces and remembered all their available information. I was able to figure out which one of them wrote this garbage.

"Professor Reid?"

My head snapped up from my notes. "Yes?" I looked at [y/n], one of my thankfully normal students of mine.

"I just wanted to bring you Mrs. Perkins's invitation to the charity library sale. We were sorting out the books when she realized she forgot to hand you yours."

The girl handed me my invitation and smiled as I studied it. The college's library hat previously got a lot of new editions donated and now sorted out its stock. The books no longer needed would be sold for a bargain, and the money would be used to repair some of the old shelves.

I lacked the space for any more books, but how could I resist this feast? I made a mental note to ask Morgan to help me build another bookshelf for my apartment.

"Mrs. Perkins also told me to tell you that she would hold back some first editions for you."

I nodded thankfully. Helena Perkins was a little old lady in her eighties. The librarian and somebody I regularly brought tea and borrowed books from in my free time.

"Great. I can't wait," I smiled at [y/n] [y/l/n], who was one of the volunteers for this event. "Have you already got your eyes on something?"

This girl was almost as obsessed with books as I was. I often met her in the library. We never really talked, but we would smile at each other and then go on with our book hunt.

"Totally. I already have a box I'll have to figure out how to take home."

I furrowed my brows. "The sale is two days away."

She nodded. "That's the perk of helping organize it. I get to call dibs on the books I want."

I chuckled. "So that's why you helped."

She shook her head, laughing. "No? I help because Mrs. Perkins asked me to. The books are literally just a sweet bonus, and how she bribed me into helping."

"Yeah, she really knows how to bribe. I sponsor the buffet at the sale because of those first editions she's holding back."

"You know, since I started helping, I actually had to get rid of my dining table so I could fit in more books ins my apartment. I mean, I never have any visitors anyway, but still."

I nodded. "I'm having to ask a friend to build me a new shelf. Given the amount of books I own, I should really consider opening my own library."

Playing with her hoodie strings, [y/n] smiled. "See it as a positive thing. 'Doctor Spencer Reid's Library for the Book Addicted' has a nice ring to it."

"I might be going to steal that name," I joked back, loving how she bit into the pillow of her bottom lip while laughing.

She waved me off, pulling the hood of her hoodie back over her head to cover herself from the rain outside. "No need to steal; I gift it to you," she said sweetly. "Okay, I'm gonna leave now before Mrs. Perkins breaks her hip again, climbing around on those ladders."

"Have fun. Don't buy too many books," I called after her, hearing her yell back through the hallway, "You're not my boss!"

Silly girl. I liked her.

*****

""You are my student, Adriene!" He almost yelled. Only seconds before, he'd taken me on his desk, and now he shut me out again. "You can't seriously believe that this can be more than some random hook-ups."

I shouldn't have let it slip that I love him, but as he had looked into my eyes, it had been all I could think about.

I shook my head while fixing my disheveled clothes. "I- I am not your student. I am studying journalism. I only audit your class to-"

"You're still in my class," he insisted. "We can't meet anymore. This had been going on for too long anyway. You're having your exams soon, and they're more important than whatever this is anyway."

"But- It's not just a random hook-up for me," I admitted, feeling my heart sink as his face turned to stone.

"I'm sorry you caught feelings. I should've been more open about my intentions."

He didn't mean that. He couldn't. How were his intentions solely to fuck me? What a lie.

He could've done that and left, but he came back every time. He took me out to fancy dinners, watched movies with me, took me to bookstores and museums, and showered me with gifts and the stories of his past.

I thought there was more. There had to be more."

*****

God, that was a lot of drama.

Couldn't the two of them just finally get together and be happy? It wasn't that hard. Even if it was unethical at the moment, they only needed to wait a month. Adriene was soon going to finish college and get a job as a journalist.

I hated that I was able to understand where Zane came from, though.

She was so much younger. She had the chance to become a great journalist and see the world. Adriene deserved better than having a boyfriend who would probably get shot on a case.

She would understand and be thankful that he tried pushing her away over and over again once she was older. But right now, she clearly loved and accepted Zane.

I would've loved to have someone like Adriene.

She was caring and funny. She was addicted to books. Dreaming big but always counting Zane in.

Fuck. I wasn't falling in love with a fictional character, now was I?

*****

""Do you have any idea how angry I am with you?" He growled, while I only nodded.

"I'm sorry," I whispered while he made me stop by the car and helped me out of my kevlar vest. He ran his hand over the bullet hole in it and withdrew his hand as though he had burned his hand on fire.

"You could've died. Did you think even one second about that?" With anger, he tossed the vest into the backseat. "And this fucking vest is way too big for you."

"I'm sorry," I whimpered, flinching at every single one of his words.

"How could you be so reckless? A stunt like this could've cost my team or me our lives, and worse, it could've cost yours. Are you aware of that?"

I nodded, but that didn't seem to be enough.

"Adriene, I swear to god, you better answer me," he hissed, and I looked up at him, tears finally running down my face.

"I'm so sorry," I repeated, making him sigh and look me up and down.

"Are you hurt?" I shook my head, my whole body still trembling.

That was when Zane pulled me into a hug. "Thank god," he whispered. "Don't ever do that to me again. This story isn't worth your life.""

*****

She had daddy issues. Definitely.

The author was a girl with daddy issues that needed an outlet for her fantasies about an older man that could care for her.

She was most likely not in a relationship—if she had ever even been in a real one before.

I was nothing like Zane.

Just a little like him.

Okay, Zane was a carbon copy of most of my characteristics, even my bad ones.

The author had a talent for analyzing me.

At least our names and my hair and eye color were different. However, that seemed to help very little to hide my identity. Penelope had caught up on it in a heartbeat.

*****

"No. I am sick of this cat-and-mouse game, Zane," I yelled between tears and sobs. "You keep pushing me away, saying I'm too young for you. Yet, you are the one always coming back and never making up your mind. I may be young, but you're the one of us acting like a child!"

"Addy, please just listen to me."

I wiped my tears away, trying not to scream and wake my neighbors. "No, I am done listening. That's all I did until now, and it brought me nothing but heartache. It was always, 'Come here, Sweetheart.', 'Stay away.', 'Please come back.', 'I love you.' I'm done."

Zane took a step towards me, hand running over his stubbles. "You have the chance to become a great journalist and see the world, Adriene. You deserved better than having a husband who will probably get shot on a case."

"Then why are you always coming back?"

"Because I am selfish. I can't live without you."

I looked at him. His ocean-blue eyes were filled with tears he refused to let out. Where did this confession leave us?

"Can I please come inside, Sweetheart?"

*****

Wait, that was it?

Where was the rest?

The fuck did the author mean by 'To be continued'?

No. No, it was good that there wasn't any more of this. I didn't like how the author portrayed me anyway.

Pulling out my phone, I called Penelope. It rang a fair share of times before she picked up.

"Hello?" She sounded like she had a mile sprint behind her just to get to her phone.

"Garcia, it's Reid. I need you to tell me which of my students wrote the story."

"Why? What are you planning?" She asked suspiciously.

"I'll ask her to stop writing this and spare me from any more humiliation."

After a while of silence, Garcia answered simply, "No."

"Why not?"

"I'm not going to let you be mean to this talented girl!"

Was she for real?

"Penelope, if somebody's mean, then it's her. This is humiliating. She literally wrote about my dick and the many uses I seem to have for it in her fantasy," I told her with a hoarse, aggravated voice.

The call of reality seemed to have finally reached Garcia. I knew I was right, and now, so did she. This girl was openly projection this picture she had of me on the internet. Openly displaying me being called 'Daddy,' manhandling her like she was nothing more than my little toy.

I wasn't a man like that, and I surely didn't need somebody to think I was.

"Okay, fine. Take away one of my hobbies and crush a girl's spirit," Penelope huffed, annoyed. "Her name is [y/n] [y/l/n]."

"No, it's not," I replied almost instantly. "She- No. You're wrong."

"Genius boy, I am a lot of things. I am beautiful, sassy, a wonder woman, a natural talent in anything technology, but I am not – and I can't stress this enough – never, ever wrong about something so simple as uncovering the person behind a username."

I thanked my friend and hung up.

[y/n]. I had already crossed her from my list of suspects. She was sweet, quiet, and a good student. She never stared at me like the other woman in class, and she never seemed distracted or daydreamy.

She shared jokes with me, and I liked her... This annoyed me.

[y/n] was a wolf in sheep's clothing, and I had fallen for it.

Why did it have to be one of my good students? One that even was respectful and well-behaved when coming to my office or wrote me a mail when she wouldn't be able to make it to my class.

Somehow it would've been less insulting if it would've been a girl auditing my lectures.

Shaking my head, I looked at [y/n]'s user profile.

Her username was 'SixofPomegranates', an innuendo to Hades and Persephone. The king of the underworld had made his wife eat six pomegranate seeds to ensure she'd have to return to his side for six months of the year.

Her profile picture was a digital drawing of a little jackalope bunny surrounded by flowers. The little bunny reminded me of her, sweet and innocent looking.

She had the same look on her face coming to my office one day, as it had rained, and she was soaked, freezing. After handing her the materials she had missed, I'd made her stay until the rain had stopped, giving her my jacket as she started her way home.

The next day the coat had been returned to my office, a coffee from Starbucks next to it and a little flower-shaped sticky note on it thanking me.

I had kept that stupid sticky note in my wallet. It still was in there. It had this stupid joke on it that always made me laugh.

"*knock knock* Who's there? Thank you! Thank you, who?

Thank you for lending me your coat! Enjoy your coffee! — [y/n] ♡"

If that had been the day she started fantasizing about me?

Even if it was, it didn't give her the right to post erotic stories about me online. However, I hated the feeling those scenes now gave me, knowing that it was her.

Her profile's bio solely held a quote:

"My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary."

Wuthering Heights. Did she see the book as dramatic or romantic? Did she see Catherine and Heathcliff as star-crossed lovers and soulmates or co-dependent fools who couldn't get over each other even after death?

Why did she have to write this fanfiction about me?

I kicked my desk like a disgruntled child. Now I could never ask her for an answer. Could never look at her again without thinking about her fantasies.

These lusting, needy fantasies I shouldn't relate to.

I never had any normal fans.

Seriously, was it me? Was I the problem?

*****

"Miss [y/l/n], can you stay behind, please? I'd like to have a word with you."

I had just excused the rest of my students fifteen minutes earlier than usual. I couldn't seem to focus, my eyes always falling back to [y/n].

She had an astounding poker face. What was she thinking about while writing her little notes?

Was she thinking about me, asking her to stay behind after class?

About me, throwing her onto my table and fucking her on the assignments handed in by her classmates?

As she walked up to me, her side bag thrown over her shoulder, books clutched in her hands, she looked at me with a smirk.

"What is it, Professor Reid? I'm sorry to tell you, but you're not getting the Wuthering Heights copy we both hunted for from me. I got that one fair and square." She bit her bottom lip.

The night I learned about her alter-ego 'SixofPomegranates', I had been at the charity sale before. We had both reached for the same book, her beating me in Rock-Paper-Scissors and having me back off from the copy.

The rest of the night, I had thought of her fantasies, her being the subject of my desires, pulsing cock in my hand as I masturbated to the idea of playing those fantasies out with her.

The fact that I was mad at her had only fueled my longing for her before the feeling of post-orgasm clarity had brought me back to my senses.

I licked over my lips, checking if we truly were alone. "That's not what this is about. I-" I cleared my throat. "It had come to my attention that you wrote a little piece of... fanfiction about me. Us."

I hadn't thought it to be possible, but her eyes became even bigger. She looked at me like a frightened little bunny. Her big eyes filled with worry, and mortification was written all over her face while I was able to hide mine quite well.

Looking down at her feet and back up at me, she played coy, "I- I'm sorry?"

"A little story called 'Paper Hearts & Printer Ink'. Sound familiar?"

She swallowed harshly, "I- I- I don't- I didn't..."

As I, just like her, didn't know what to say, I decided to go with the truth. "See, I thought a lot about how I would handle this situation yesterday, and I've frankly got to admit that I am in unknown water here. I never thought about the possibility of a student of mine falling for me and certainly didn't think about one writing erotica about me and sharing it online."

Our eyes met, and I ignored the little infinite universes that formed between them.

"Listen, I would like to tell you that I feel flattered, but I don't. It is humiliating and makes me extremely uncomfortable. My colleagues at the FBI caught wind of it."

A frown popped up on the little bunny's face. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't- I didn't think-"

I nodded, going for the kill of this crush. She shouldn't think of me in any other way than me being her teacher. "Yes, you didn't. And it's very apparent."

She raised her eyebrows, looking like she was building momentum to talk back at me. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," I snarled. "Nobody with at least the rarest bit of common sense would do something as stupid as this. Your little amateur work has the power to ruin my reputation on campus. Have you thought about what this weird little fantasy of yours could insinuate?"

"This is a little harsh, don't you think?" She asked, bottom lip shivering. "I changed enough that nobody would ever draw any connection-"

I interrupted her. "And yet it wasn't enough. Else neither my colleagues nor I would've realized your little obsession with me."

"Obsession?" She mumbled.

"I am asking you politely to remove your work from the internet and keep those fantasies in your diary – where they belong. Should I catch wind of something like this happening again, I'll need to report you to the dean. I cannot have my character ruined solely because of a horny young girl."

She nodded, "Okay. I'm sorry for the inconvenience I caused you, Professor. I didn't mean it."

I turned away so I wouldn't see her little bunny eyes. "Just don't let it happen again."

[y/n] nodded a couple of more times and hurried out of my class. Hopefully, I had been condescending enough to have her leave those feelings behind and be a normal student again.

Maybe then, I could pretend this whole ordeal never happened. Maybe then, I wouldn't feel like running after her and apologizing.

*****

☁︎ POV: [y/n] ☁︎

On an idiot-scale from 1 to 10, I definitely was a 14.

"Yeah, I am just going to write about my hot criminology professor and all my kinks and post it online."

"I just change names and hair colors. Nobody's gonna know."

"How will they know? Impossible."

Dumb, dumb idiot. Stupid. No brain.

I'd known that I would never have a chance with my professor and therefore had created a world in which we shared more than just a smile at the library.

What was wrong with me? Professor Reid wasn't even that handsome... I mean, yes, he was, but he had been very clear about being uncomfortable because of me and somewhat called me a dummy.

Humiliated and on the verge of either throwing up or crying, I crawled into bed, ready to let the day end before I could embarrass myself any more.

But I still had to do something. I opened my notebook, opened my social media – the one I decided to use to embarrass myself and Professor Reid with – and opened 'Paper Hearts & Printer Ink'.

I really liked the story. Yes, I had thought about my professor when writing Zane Collins, but after a while, the lines between fiction and reality had blurred so much that the story had developed a life of its own.

It had no longer been Professor Reid and I in my head; it had been Zane and Adriene. Two fictional characters I had made up and related to so much during their adventures that it was therapeutic to write about them. It had become my comfort activity.

Well, either deleting this or kissing my academic career goodbye.

Such stupid bullshit.

My mouse cursor hovered over the delete button.

Yeah, no chance. I couldn't do it. Deleting it was so final—such a waste.

Instead, I decided to just archive my story. I would be able to keep the comments I had gotten on it, but it wouldn't be viewable anymore—a good middle ground.

I just couldn't upload any more stories. Not even the ones without my crush in it. He would see it and think of me as a crazy stalker, a yandere that was obsessed with him... He probably already thought of me like that.

But okay, I wouldn't let that ruin my semester. Two more weeks until my finals, I would just not take criminology with Professor Reid as professor next semester.

Yes. That sounded sensible. I'd write my finals and then ditch.

I'd hope Professor Reid would forget about it, but that guy had an eidetic memory. If asked, he'd probably be able to tell me what he had for breakfast ten years ago and what weather it was.

Well, no sympathy for dumbasses – That was me. I was the dumbass.

*****

☀︎ POV: Spencer ☀︎

She'd taken it down. No more 'Paper Hearts & Printer Ink'. Yet, it didn't really feel like a win for me.

Now I would never find out if Adriene and Zane got back together. Penelope and Tara definitely had given me their peace of mind about it as well.

And [y/n] didn't smile at me anymore. She stayed away. It was sensible given what happened between us, but still. I missed the smiles and short conversations.

I wondered if the little bunny would return to my classes next semester. She had amazing grades. It would've been a shame, although I probably scared her far enough away to never see her again.

Maybe I should've just stayed quiet about the story.

The last couple of free days I spent in Vegas, visiting my aunt, and now sat there in the hotel's restaurant eating dinner. I had read a book, so I hadn't noticed it right from the beginning, but as I put it down when the waitress appeared to bring me my soda, I saw her.

[y/n] was sitting there, playing with her phone.

What was she doing here?

She was dressed in this tight-fitting black dress, her hair and makeup all dolled up. She was clearly dressed to impress somebody, yet she sat alone. Just like me.

What a suspicious coincidence that she was at the same time in Las Vegas as I was, in the same hotel, eating dinner at the same time, and only a few tables away from me.

I didn't like the feeling in my gut. Not at all. Too often had I been the victim of insane women. I didn't want to – I couldn't – go through something like that again.

Sitting there and watching her for over ten minutes, she still sat there on her own. Why get dressed up like that if you're all on your own? And even if clothes didn't matter, why didn't she already order?

No. That was it. I would confront her. I grabbed my phone and sent her a mail.

***

"Miss [y/l/n],

I don't know what is going on inside your head, but following me to Vegas is undoubtedly not going to help you to get anything other from me than a restraining order.

– S.R."

***

I watched her looking at her phone, frowning. Then she looked around, and her big eyes met mine, looking like a frightened bunny. She shook her head and typed something on her phone. Then mine rang.

***

"Professor Reid,

I can assure you that this is merely a coincidence. I wasn't aware that you'd be here.

– [y/n]

***

Shaking my head, I replied.

***

"[y/n],

Are you sure? Because this seems like a rather substantial coincidence, don't you think?

Almost seems a little too much like a romance novel.

– S.R"

***

An angry sigh left her lips.

***

"Professor Reid,

I'm lacking the time, interest, money, and skills to stalk you.

Trust me, I won't pull an Annie Wilkes on you.

– [y/n]"

***

A reference to Stephen King's Misery. Macabre little thing. I missed her jokes.

***

"Adriene,

So you're trying to tell me you're not my number one fan?

­– Zane"

***

I watched her roll her eyes and lick her lips.

***

"Very funny. I'll laugh next week.

Now please leave me alone. I am waiting for my date.

– [y/n]"

***

My fingers were faster than my common sense.

***

"Your next victim?"

***

An angry gaze now burned itself through my clothes. I seemed to have been crossing a line with my teasing. Only fair since I had pushed her away as far as I had and now seriously started to pull jokes.

***

"Dear ostentatious prick,

'He felt as he always did when he finished a book — queerly empty, let down, aware that for each little success, he had paid a toll of absurdity.'

I liked you. I was crushing for you harder than I thought possible and childishly wrote a story I didn't figure would hurt anybody because I knew I'd never stand a chance with you.

I apologized for it and took it down. I am not going to visit another one of your classes ever again. I even planned that we'd never have to see each other again.

Tonight, that we met, is a coincidence since – surprise! – those happen to exist.

I now regret all the months I spent fantasizing about you and falling for you since I clearly was wrong about everything I thought about you. I feel silly, dumb, humiliated, and I'm clearly braindead.

Apparently, the only thing nice about you is your looks.

So now please leave me alone, as I told you before, I am waiting on my date. And no, it is not a man I needed to stalk, kidnap, drug, or anything else. It's somebody who I met online, who's interested in me, and asked me to come here to meet.

– [y/n] [y/l/n]"

***

Message gotten. Loud and clear. Great, now I felt like an asshole.

***

"Apologies, [y/n],

I did not intend to hurt your feelings. I'm well aware that you don't need to commit crimes to get men to be interested in you.

Have a nice evening.

– S.R."

*****

☁︎ POV: [y/n] ☁︎

Ten more minutes later, I still sat there alone. Kyle had clearly stood me up. I came all the way to freaking Las Vegas, and he didn't even have the balls to write me a text.

If he would've, I could've just... I don't know. I wasn't a big fan of Vegas. I had only come here because Kyle told me to.

I probably looked like a hooker waiting for a customer to approach and ask for my prize, dressed up like I was. I had been so sure he'd been interested in me.

This had been a waste of money, make-up, time, and shaving.

As my phone rang, I quickly looked at it, sighing as I noticed that it was only my professor. He probably thought I made up my date, so I had an excuse to stalk him.

***

"He stood you up, didn't he?"

***

I put my phone aside. I couldn't reply because I'd probably start crying. That's what I got for having expectations. Concentrating on my hands resting on the white tablecloths, I noticed a tear dropping onto one of them.

"Now, don't cry because of that guy, little bunny." I looked up at my professor standing there with his drink. Little bunny? "It's his loss that he didn't show up."

He sat down across from me, telling a waitress to bring a lighter for the candle in the middle of the table.

"What are you doing?" I asked him. "I'm not in the mood to force you to write a novel right now."

He looked at me, sighing jokingly, "Don't be silly; you're the author of us both, [y/n]."

As the waitress returned, she lit the candle between us, and Professor Reid ordered a bottle of wine.

"Seriously, now, what are you doing?" I asked him again. "You were pretty clear about your opinion of me, and I don't need a pity dinner with you."

"It's not a pity dinner. I just thought we'd both look less pathetic when not having to sit and eat alone."

"Aren't people in Vegas usually meeting up with escorts when they want company?" I asked sarcastically, staring at my phone and still hoping for a text.

Accepting the bottle of wine he ordered, the professor started to fill our glasses, chuckling, "Well, I am from Vegas, and although lonely, I've never chosen that type of company."

I looked at the menu the waitress had brought and at the wine bottle. One glass of wine already cost enough; I couldn't even imagine how expensive an entire bottle was.

Shit, I definitely seemed like a hooker.

"The bottle looks expensive," I mumbled, staring at the shiny letters on the label.

Professor Reid nodded, chuckling, "I hope it does. It's a two-hundred-dollar bottle."

My eyes went wide. "Two- Two. Hundred. Dollars?"

He waved me off, "Don't worry, I'll pay for it."

Running a hand over my head, I sighed. "People will think I'm a hooker or your sugar baby."

A pretty smile spread on his lips, paired with his cheeks starting to become pink, "I- I didn't intend it to appear like that. I- I've been stood up more times than I can count and just thought-"

I laughed at the way he started to fidget with his fingers, trying to explain himself. "So we're lying now?"

"I- How am I lying?"

"You have three PhDs, Professor," I reminded him. "I'm pretty sure you can count the times you've been stood up."

He nodded, smirking, "Yeah, true. I also don't date a lot, so the number is so small, they would revoke my Ph.D. in mathematics should I not be able to remember it."

Lifting his glass, my professor held it up.

"To your idiot of a date. If he would've shown up, I'd have to eat on my own."

He made it sound like a light-hearted joke, and I honestly believed there wasn't even any ill intent behind it. Still, it upset me.

"I thought he liked me," I mumbled, lifting my glass as well and clinking our glasses together. While taking a big sip, I hid my disappointment and hurt face behind the glass.

"If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years as I could in a day," he replied, taking a sip as well.

"Quoting 'Wuthering Heights' to me does not make me feel better," I said, yet smiled because as we both had reached for the book weeks ago, things had still felt normal between us.

"Then what would?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Uhm... You're here to visit family?"

"My Aunt and her husband," my professor answered. "What about you?"

"You already know about my date."

His hazel eyes widened. "You really just came to Las Vegas for a man you've met online?"

"Wow. I wonder how you feel about that?" I snorted sarcastically, taking another sip of wine. Judgemental bitch.

He chuckled at my pout, "Come one, Bunny. Don't look at me like that."

There it was again, this pet name. "What?"

"Huh?"

"You just called me 'Bunny.' And I'm very sure you called me 'little bunny' earlier," I confronted him.

Professor Reid began to blush, looking around to avoid my gaze.

"I- I- Uhm... Yeah. I did," he admitted stuttering, and I nodded.

"Okay?" I replied. Now, who seemed a little like Joe Goldberg?

"You remind me of one," he explained after taking a sip of wine. "A little bunny, I mean. Your profile picture was a jackalope bunny; since then, I can't help but make that connection all the time."

He had seen my entire profile. No wonder he thought I was nuts. Still, I liked the nickname. I'd never been given one before, and he said it with so much adoration I could almost think he liked me a little.

"I guess there are worse nicknames," I whispered, making him chuckle in reply.

"Like ostentatious prick?"

I nodded and deadpanned, "Among others."

Staring at the candle between us, I reached out for its flame, playing with it without burning myself as long as I stayed focused.

"Can I ask you a question about... what you read?" I asked, avoiding his eyes while my face burned as hot as the candle was bright.

"Of your works?" I nodded. "Well, I read all chapters of our little story. I didn't read your others, though. Are you planning on becoming an author?"

"God, no," I snorted, self-deprecating. Looking at my phone, I repeated my parents' words, "Can't feed a family with childish dreams."

"Those are definitely not your words," my professor noted, and I frowned.

"How'd you know?"

"Profiler. And your gaze went down to your phone while saying it. I assume your family is your screensaver?" I nodded. "What do they want you to be?"

Thinking of all the pressure on my shoulders, making me shorter than I was and my dreams even duller, I started counting, "Doctor, nurse, lawyer, CEO... Do I need to go on?"

He shook his head. "So you're studying to please your parents?"

"And to make sure I'm in deep debt before ever even fully starting to live."

"Would you want to be an author if there wasn't all that pressure on you?"

That was the first time somebody asked me that. Asked me what I wanted in general.

I gifted him a stupid grin. "Can you imagine holding a book in your hand and knowing that you're the one who wrote it and can live off of it? I mean, I wouldn't do it for the money or the fame, of course, but it would be nice not to feel the urge to cry every time a bill arrives in my mail."

Professor Reid stopped my fingers from playing with the flame. Holding my hand instead. "If you're really serious about it, you should pursue this hobby and make it your job."

"And if I fail?" I asked him, my eyes probably giving away the fear of taking that risk.

"Stephen King is one of the best-selling authors of all time, with a net worth of 500 million dollars. Yet it took years of countless rejections before 'Carrie' was published, and as it was made into a movie the following year, they didn't even write his name right in the credits."

But Stephen King didn't write fanfictions about his professor fucking him. I assumed. "So, I should risk becoming a writer because I could be the Stephen King of embarrassing, obsessive little stories I write, although they should stay in my diary?"

I pulled my hand away and wrapped it around my glass instead.

"I- [y/n], I needed to be harsh so you'd understand the troubles your fanfiction could cause us. It had nothing to do with your talent."

Why the hell was I doing here? I couldn't sit here any longer with the man I was head over heels for and listen to him giving me a pep talk about how my fanfiction wasn't as bad as he initially had said.

"I need-" I grabbed my phone and threw it in my purse. "I really should-"

I stopped trying to explain myself and stood up.

Professor Reid stood up as well, hand running through his curls. "Please don't leave. We haven't even ordered yet."

I shook my head. "I- I need to get a hotel room. It's getting late and- Yeah. I- Thanks for the wine."

As I bolted to the elevator, I could hear quick steps behind me. "Hey, [y/n]. Wait," he called after me. "God, your fast in those shoes."

As he reached me while I frantically pushed the elevator buttons, his hand touched my arms. "Hey, what did I do wrong?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I- I'm awkward, and you're nice to me, and telling me my writing didn't suck, and I really can't crush on you anymore. So I'm running."

The elevator doors opened, and I quickly got in, pressing the button for the lobby and then the one closing the doors.

Just as I thought I had officially ended this strange meeting, Professor Reid reached between the doors, holding up the elevator and getting in with me.

He pressed the buttons again. What was he doing?

"What- I- Go back to the restaurant. Did you even pay? Oh my god, did we just dine and dash?"

He began laughing, shaking his head. "It's added to my bill, don't worry. I just..."

"You just, what?" I asked before he could actually finish his sentence.

"Wanted to make sure you're not running off and... Do you really not have a room?"

I shook my head, watching the floor numbers go down. "I was planning to stay with Kyle," I admitted.

"You- Bunny, you didn't know that man. You can't just stay with a stranger from the internet. Even if you'd hit it off from second 1, this is rushing things and risking your health," the professor lectured me.

"Please don't call me Bunny," I mumbled, feeling like crap. As always, when I got lectured.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

As we reached the lobby, I got out, Professor Reid grabbing my arm again and sighing. "[y/n], I- This is going to sound so condescending, but I don't think you'll be able to afford a room here."

Yeah. Condescending was a fitting word. Like, I'm sorry, I'm a broke student, but it's not like I can't afford the broom closet for the night.

I raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that?" "You said you want to cry when having to pay your bills, and you almost threw up because of a two-hundred-dollar price tag on a bottle of wine. The cheapest rooms here cost 300$, and they're most likely all booked."

Oh. Okay. Yes, maybe he'd been right. 300$ was a lot of money in my world. I didn't even think my credit card would work at such a high price tag.

"Oh, okay. I- I'll just- I'll find a motel," I almost whispered to myself, grabbing my phone and opening a booking site.

I wasn't helpless. I was capable of taking care of myself. Worst case, I would change my flight home and sleep at the airport.

Taking my phone from me, my professor sighed. "This is ridiculous, [y/n]. Please just come upstairs with me. I have a suit. I'll sleep on the couch."

"You have a suit?" I asked, astounded.

This man had at least five COMME des GARÇONS cardigans. Of course, he could afford a two-hundred-dollar bottle of wine and a suit here.

"I rarely travel, so I like to spoil myself every once in a while," he explained himself, and I nodded in broke-bitch.

"Thank you, but I can't take you up on that offer. It's- I- This-"

Professor Reid interrupted me. "I promise I would never try anything indecent. I simply want to know you are safe."

The indecent had been exactly what my mind wanted. I thirsted over this man since I had first seen him ramble about stressors and aggressors. He was so passionate about everything he talked about. I liked that passion dangerously much.

Even thought about how passionate he would be about sex, would he be with somebody that caught his interest and was worth his time.

But now he stood there, trying to ensure me that I was safe, almost like I was made from glass.

"The whole bunny thing, huh?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Innocent, fragile, little thing. If you feel too uncomfortable to share the suit with me, I fully understand, but then at least let me pay for a separate room for you."

I shook my head, having to giggle. He was so oblivious. How was he so oblivious? It was kind of cute, to be honest.

"I think, in general, we both have a very different impression about why I'd be uncomfortable sleeping in the same suit as you."

His lips formed a little o, "It's because of the crush?"

"Obviously," I giggled.

"I- I'm sorry. Sometimes things like that fly right over my head."

I nodded. "Yeah, noticed."

"I'd enjoy your company, though, and maybe we could order room service, and you'd tell me if Adriene decides to give Zane another chance?"

Rolling my eyes, I looked at him. "Now you're teasing me again."

He shook his head. "No, I really want to know. See my invitation as a bribe."

I'd been willing to sleep at a stranger's place who I saw as a rebound for my crush on Professor Reid. I could might as well stay with the man I knew I wouldn't have gotten over in the first place.

"Kay. I'll get my bag."

*****

☀︎ POV: Spencer ☀︎

Opening the suit's door with my key card, I stepped aside and let [y/n] walk in first. She looked around, mouth open and astounded.

I had judged her and called her obsessed, yet here I was, thinking about how I could spoil her with everything I had to give just to see her in this state of awe some more times.

Stepping out of her heels, she shrunk a fair bit. She let her bag fall to the floor and began looking around. The view over Vegas had caught her interest.

She instantly walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked outside.

"Wow," she mumbled. Turning around to look at me, she asked, "Have you seen your view?"

I nodded. "Since I came here a couple of days ago. If you like that, you're gonna love the bathroom."

Raising her brows, she darted away, only to storm to my side again. "Holy shit. You have a jacuzzi bathtub. I- That thing is bigger than my bathroom."

"Feel free to take a bath later on," I offered.

She nodded. "Oh, don't mind if I do."

I took off my suit jacket and threw it over a chair. Grabbing the room service menu, I sat down on the couch.

"What would you like to eat?" I asked [y/n], jumping a little as she hopped over the couch's back to sit next to me.

*****

Dinner and dessert later, I found myself still captivated by this little bunny. She had been, as always, herself. The girl that made me laugh with her sarcastic tone and bad jokes.

"You should publish that book after reviewing some of the changes again. It has potential," I now told her, making her shake her head and giggle.

"You're just saying that because you enjoy the high praises you get throughout the story."

"That's only a little true." I grabbed the bottle of champagne, pointing at her flute. "More champagne?"

Emptying her glass, she shrugged. "I already feel and look like a hooker, so sure. Hit me."

How often was she going to make that joke?

"Stop saying that. You're extremely beautiful," I told her.

A sassy grin appeared on her face. "I didn't say I wasn't beautiful. I'm just saying that I am dressed extremely provocatively – more than I'd like to – and am drinking champagne in a hotel suit more expensive than my entire apartment's furniture,  while sitting there with a man almost twice my age. These jokes write themselves."

"You can go change into your pajamas if you'd feel more comfortable," I offered her, rolling up my sleeves and opening the first few buttons of my dress shirt.

"Yeah..." she mumbled, looking away and biting her lip.

Did she forget to pack them?

"You didn't bring clothes to sleep in? Seriously, what did you plan on—Oh." Realization set in my bones. She hadn't brought them because she'd planned on sleeping naked or in the clothes of this other man.

Clearing my throat and ignoring the picture of her naked in my bed, I offered, "If you want, I'll get you some of my clothes to sleep in?"

She shook her head. "You don't have to. I'll just sleep-"

"Naked?" I interrupted her with a grin.

She rolled her eyes, correcting me. "In my dress."

I shamelessly stared down her figure and then snickered, "You have to admit that I wasn't that far off then."

"Prick." She hit my arm playfully before laying down on the fuzzy carpet before us, staring at the ceiling full of gold accents.

She was so beautiful, eyes shining brighter than the Las Vegas strip.

"Can I ask something that will definitely cross the line?" I asked, making her look at me.

"You read erotica I wrote fantasizing about you. I think we're long past crossing a line."

She said things with so much character I always had to chuckle. "You came to Las Vegas to sleep with this guy, didn't you?"

Her intentions had been very obvious by now. An internet date that had made her come all the way to Vegas dressed like a daydream, no pajamas... I didn't judge her, she was a young woman that had a right to explore her sexuality, but I also detested the thought of this man running his hand all over her.

He would've probably didn't even know what she liked.

Propping herself up, she looked a little surprised, proofing that I was right with my assumption.

"Huh, I was wrong. There's the line." She still spoke with humor in her voice, laying back down, hand in the air, following the folding drawings on the ceiling.

"I'm sorry. I just- I just really don't understand that. He's an asshole that didn't even care to cancel your plans, and you flew out here, probably spending more money than you can afford, just to give him a night he would most likely not even know to appreciate," I explained myself, voice laced with envy.

"We talked for a while and got along. I think I was just getting sick of only ever fantasizing about things and thought he would do."

"You came to Vegas to give that guy your virginity?" I blurted out in disbelief, and she looked at me again.

"Virginity is a social construct made up by man," she told me, then shrugged. "But yeah, kinda."

"You-" My brain struggled to function a little. It surely didn't change my opinion of her, but the way she had written, leaving these fantasies in my brain for weeks... "You write pretty well about sex for somebody you never had it before."

She nodded, a smile on her lips. "Well, I'm not stupid. Also, it's not like I have zero experience, and I read a lot too."

That loser had almost taken her virginity, absolutely undeserving of it.

Looking into my face, she giggled, "You look so shocked right now."

"N-Not shocked, just... really, really glad he didn't show up," I stuttered, making her raise her eyebrows.

"Why?"

"I- I don't know," I lied, and she saw right through it.

Of course.

"Back with the lies again, Professor?" She smiled, and I was certain she knew I'd been envious.

The most interesting thing was that she didn't care about it. I wondered just how deep her feelings for me were.

Feeling the urge to join her on the floor, I backtracked. I didn't want to lay on the floor. This carpet was probably dirty.

I hid my longing to be close to her behind a topic-changing question. "How did you come up with Zane's backstory?"

She shrugged. "Made it up."

"Yes, but how did you get inspired?"

"I watched you and thought of why you do the things you do."

I chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "So you profiled me?"

"The amateur version of it."

"Do it again. Tell me what you profiled," I urged, leaning onto my knees and watching her.

"Well, You have lots of PhDs and BAs. That made me think, why? Yes, having them is nice, but it seems more like you have to prove something.

"You're not talking about your parents, but you're very protective and respectful of the women around you, which made me think you're close to your mother and-or grew up in a very female-dominated household.

"Yet you're single and have no children, although having told us before that you're the godfather of your friends' children. Given these facts, I assume your father left you and you're mother, and since then, you try proving to yourself and him that it's his loss and that you're worth sticking around. It's just hard believing it yourself at times, and the thought of being too much like him messes with your love life because what if you run away too?"

I nodded, hiding behind my poker face how close she came. "Go on."

"You got very passive-aggressive as you saw me at the restaurant. You feared being stalked by me, which made me think of trauma a woman forced upon you since she was obsessed with you.

"You realized your reaction to me being here was too much and backtracked with awkward humor. You blush at times, which makes me think you're shy, were even shyer when you were younger, and women, sex, and family became interesting for the first time when you were in your mid to late twenties.

"You're still nice to me, very sweet actually, which tells me that somehow I did not embarrass you as much with this story as I recognized you in a very weird way. You're just very caught up in norms and uncertainty about this situation, so you do what you do best, and that is removing yourself from the situation."

So she saw me – just like Adriene saw Zane – and still, her pupils dilated, and she was interested in me.

"You're good at that. Are you sure you didn't stalk me?" I joked, and she giggled.

"I'm a writer. I can't even watch a movie without being able to predict the ending."

Maybe I would test that theory sometime and take her out for a movie. If she were up for the challenge, maybe even a Russian one.

"Want to even the square and profile me?" She offered.

"I have an unfair advantage since your fanfiction let me into your head and what you already told me," I told her, but she shrugged.

"It's okay."

Taking a deep breath, I started. "You're a young woman that clearly has a thing for older men. I'd say, growing up, you were always more mature than the boys in your classes. Everyone else around you began dating, but you couldn't find the idea of those drama-ridden boys entertaining enough to do so too. Instead, you read, maybe even more adult books than somebody your age should've."

Her big eyes captivated me, and so I sunk to my knees, crawling towards her while continuing.

"It made you realize that once boys became men, meaning they no longer were as childish as to solely think of a woman's looks and were ready to take care of someone and be responsible, they become interesting to you."

Her breathing became heavier as I leaned over her, one arm holding myself up, the other's fingertips dancing on the skin of her upper arm.

"Dating men older than you is, however, difficult since most of those who use dating apps are the same boys you didn't like in your teenhood, only older. Yet, you're somebody who depends on dating apps since you are too shy to ever see a man in public and just flirt. Some hard rejections while growing up, I assume.

"So you stopped looking for somebody for a while, and when coming to my classes, you found the type of man that spoke to you. I was your professor and therefore off-limits, I also blame some insecurities for your thinking, but that didn't stop you from fantasizing about it, so you began writing about all the little what if's.

"The fantasies felt good because, in them, you could develop not only me in the way you wanted it but could also write yourself to be the truest you there is. Adriene has a dream she can follow without struggle because she has the support of her family and the means to pursue it. [y/n] has a dream and talent, but your family has plans for you, and the academic pressure they put on you keeps you from pursuing what you actually want.

"This fanfiction is actually a very genius form of self-therapy for you. Whenever Adriene or another character struggles, it's actually yourself, and by resolving the struggle in your story and reading the comments that relate to it, you start to understand that you're not alone with them."

Now completely on top of here, I could see every micro reaction she had to me and my words. Had I crushed on her so badly myself before the fanfiction that I didn't realize how obviously she felt for me?

"I'm sorry I took that away from you," I whispered, knuckles brushing over her cheek and feeling the heat of embarrassment on them.

"You probably think I'm pathetic. Come on, say it. I can handle it," she urged for my rejection, but I wouldn't give it to her.

"I think you're the most real person I've ever met, [y/n]. People, including myself, hide their guilty pleasures away from everyone. We're taught who we can and cannot be and how much we are allowed to dream by society without feeling guilty.

"You just continued to dream with a username and a little jackalope bunny profile picture and decided to share your pleasures with others so they can dream as well. Without feeling guilt."

"You're romanticizing how weird our situation is," she mumbled, thinking I didn't notice her back arching so she'd be closer to me.

"It's a guilty pleasure of mine, then. Because I also enjoyed your fantasies more than I should've," I admitted, her eyes searching her face for a lie she wouldn't find.

"That almost sounds like you enjoyed reading about us being together," she whispered.

"What if I did?" I exhorted.

She swallowed thickly, licking her beautiful lips. "Then you're really playing with my fantasies right now."

I stood up, giving her her personal space back. I was not manipulating more of this situation. I knew my words and the effect they had on her. The next step had to come from her.

And if it wouldn't come, I would accept it as well.

Grabbing my jacket, I used it to hide away just how badly I wanted this situation to turn into more and walked to the bathroom.

After a cold shower that only barely helped, I dressed in my pajama pants and an old shirt, laying out my too-big, oversized hoodie for her to wear.

If nothing else, hopefully, it would smell like her in the morning.

"You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the couch," I told her, putting a blanket and pillow on the couch. Before she could protest, I told her, "It's only one night on the couch. No big deal. Take the bed."

She nodded, eyes gliding over my body, goggling a little since she'd never seen me dressed in less and as casually as this.

"Okay, Uhm... Thank you for the food and drinks," she said, taking in one last look and leaving me alone in the living room.

*****

☁︎ POV: [y/n] ☁︎

A quick shower later, I was dressed solely in panties and my professor's hoodie. It smelled like him, the bed as well, making me clench my thighs together.

I grabbed my phone, opened my emails, and began typing.

***

"Dear, Professor,

I think I've been wrong. You are a nice guy, after all. Thanks for the shirt.

– [y/n]"

***

"Little bunny,

You should go to bed. And please call me Spencer, at least for the moment.

– Spencer"

***

My breath hitched at the pet name and the fact he called himself Spencer Insisting I should do the same.

I was so desperate for this man. I didn't think he was aware of what his innocent words did to me.

***

"Spencer,

I am already in bed. Are you sure you're comfortable on the couch?"

***

"Why? Would you let me sleep in the bed if I wouldn't be?" He called through the closed bedroom door.

"Of course, I would sleep on the couch instead," I called back, a laugh in my voice.

The ping of a message from an unknown number made me look back at my phone.

***

UNKNOWN: "Well, then, I am perfectly fine here."

***

What the hell?

"How did you get my number?" I asked through the door, making Spencer chuckle.

"FBI, Bunny."

He had used his advantages at work to get my number, but I was the one getting teased. Biting my bottom lip, I saved his number.

***

ME: "Now, who's the obsessed stalker?"

SPENCER: "I am not obsessed. I am interested."

***

I was interested as well. More than I thought I would've been allowed to be, yet he continued to play on the same page as me.

***

ME: "That does almost sound like you're flirting, Professor. Do I need to remind you that I humiliated you in front of your FBI colleagues?"

SPENCER: "That's right. Maybe I should humiliate you back."

ME: "By all the things you know about me that are embarrassing, you wouldn't even have to try."

***

I was getting hot. This conversation's undertones had me all over the place. Stripping off the hoodie, I threw it aside, the cold air making my nipples pucker, which in return, egged on the heat between my legs.

***

SPENCER: "There's something I'd like to know about you."

ME: "What?"

SPENCER: "Are all the things in your story based on fantasies of yours?"

ME: "Wouldn't you like to know, Spencer?"

SPENCER: "Answer the question, and I'll answer one of yours."

***

Through my humiliation, I gave him the answer he wanted. Only getting rewarded with wetness pooling between my legs.

***

ME: "Okay. Yes. My fantasies."

SPENCER: "Interesting. Go ahead; it's your turn to ask something."

ME: "Why did you want to know?"

SPENCER: "Because I want to know what going on inside your head."

ME: "Why?"

SPENCER: "My turn to ask a question. Is your obsession with calling Zane your daddy based on your fantasies about men in general, or is it because he's a substitute for me?"

ME: "Are you asking me if I'd like to call you daddy?"

SPENCER: "Yes."

***

My eyes rolled into the back of my head, and I sighed. Clasping the covers between my legs, I couldn't help but rock against them to ease some of the pressure I was feeling.

If I was going to answer him, I really needed to substitute his name.

***

ME: "I thought it was strange at first, but Zane has certain aspects of himself that make it hard not to want to call him daddy when thinking of sex with him."

SPENCER: "Do you often think about it?"

ME: "Counter question: Do you ever?"

SPENCER: "I'm afraid that this story of yours tapped into fantasies I didn't think I had."

ME: "That's no answer."

SPENCER: "Fine. At first, I was weirded out, but it finds its way into my head over and over again."

SPENCER: "Why that guy?"

***

In which universe could I have the luck of my professor being jealous over my choice to have sex with another man?

Grinding harder against the covers, I wondered if he felt like me, wanted it as badly.

***

ME: "I'm tired of waiting, and romance clearly doesn't work since my taste in men is unattainable authority figures that are almost old enough to be my father."

SPENCER: "I'm not unattainable."

ME: "You are. It would hurt your reputation to fuck one of your students."

SPENCER: "You're no longer my student, though."

***

A whimper escaped my mouth, and for a second, I watched the door to make sure Spencer hadn't heard me.

He hadn't, which made me cocky enough to kick the covers away and spread my legs. The cold air felt good against my hot body.

***

ME: "Did the idea of my date make you jealous?"

SPENCER: "I have no right to be jealous, little bunny."

ME: "I would like you to be."

SPENCER: "I'm afraid you're making me lose my mind if I let jealousy take over."

***

One hand wandered down into my underwear. If nothing else would happen tonight, I could at least indulge in this feeling.

***

ME: "Do you wanna sleep in your bed?"

SPENCER: "Don't tempt me like that."

ME: "Why not?"

SPENCER: "Because I'd take something from you that I have no right to have."

ME: "Isn't that for me to decide?"

***

I let the offer stay right there. I wanted him, and I knew he knew it anyway. If he decided to act on it, I would be welcoming him.

As he didn't reply, however, I placed my phone on the nightstand and continued to rub my clit, now more eagerly since there was nothing more to wait for than the glorious feeling of a so desperately needed orgasm washing over me.

My breathing became louder as I tried not to moan, hips lifting. I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of Spencer and imagining him administrating those touches that lit me on fire.

"Does your offer still—" Spencer asked and immediately stopped in his tracks when coming in.

"Fuck," I gasped as I lay there on full display, quickly scrambling myself up, pulling my hand out of my panties, and covering my breasts.

Staring at me for a long while, Spencer's eyes became darker, his breathing heavier.

"Now, don't let me stop you from what you were doing, little bunny. You seemed to enjoy yourself," he told me predatorial, stepping closer with me caught in his gaze like a helpless rabbit.

Crawling onto the bed, he made me realize the full extent of his pet name for me. "So that's what you're doing when you're all alone in bed?" He asked, and I let him back me down onto the mattress.

He grabbed my hand, forcing it to let go of the try to cover my breasts, and chuckled darkly as he inspected the wetness on my fingers.

Inhaling sharply, he brought them to his face and took them into his mouth, cleaning them from my arousal.

"Please," I whimpered as I thought I would die from excitement.

"You really want that?" He asked teasingly, and I began nodding.

"Since that stupid day, you borrowed me your jacket. I- I kept it on when I..." My words got caught in my through, and another whimper left me.

An animalistic groan escaped Spencer as he growled, "You fucked yourself wearing my coat?"

"It smelled like you," I explained, hips trying to invite him to come closer. "I- I closed my eyes and imagined it to be you touching me."

"Can I kiss you?" He questioned, eyes carefully searching for my consent.

I nodded eagerly. "You can do whatever you want to me."

The second his lips collided with mine, I thought I had died and gone straight to heaven. He was careful at first, but it wasn't long until he couldn't hold back his lust anymore.

As his tongue swapped over my bottom lip, I allowed it into my mouth. Meanwhile, he gently pressed me against the mattress, one leg between mine, putting pressure exactly where I needed it so desperately.

"Oh my God," I whimpered into the kiss, and he backed away. His lips were flushed from our kisses, but that didn't stop the cocky smile of his from spreading on them.

"And there I thought you'd just call me Daddy," he chuckled, moving a hand between my legs, touching me over my soaked through underwear. "Oh, wow. You're dripping, my little bunny. Is that all for me?"

I nodded, rubbing myself against his hand. "All yours."

Spencer got off me, grabbing my underwear, waiting for me to lift my ass and allow him to take it off. As I did, he pulled it down with such a hurried force the flimsy material ripped, making us both laugh gently as he threw it over his shoulder.

"Did you ever have somebody go down on you?" He asked, pressing a kiss onto my knee and lowering himself between my legs.

Propping myself up on my elbows, I shook my head. "You- You don't have to. I know it's more of a women's fantasy that-"

Spencer interrupted me, kissing my inner thigh, "Don't stop me unless you don't want me to touch you, okay?"

I nodded, letting him guide me back down. He began placing kisses on my inner thighs, and his curls tickled between my legs.

The anticipation was driving me crazy, making a loud moan escape me as he finally dragged his flat tongue through my folds.

Liking my reaction, he did it again and again. Then began focusing more on my swollen clit. Spencer's tongue played with it, flicking from side to side and drawing circles onto its sensitive skin, which made my eyes roll back.

"That idiot would not have known what to do with a woman so gorgeous," he said, fingers moving towards my slit, coating themselves with my natural lubricant.

As he carefully entered me with one, I gasped. The instruction was new, filling me with excitement.

"Is that okay?" He asked, cautious of my reactions, and I nodded while he gently began moving his digit in and out of me at a slow pace.

Tongue back on my clit, he began moving his finger faster. The pleasure I received left me breathless, helplessly clawing my hands into Spencer's hair to make sure he'd stay right where I needed him the most.

As he added a second finger, my hips began moving more frantically, making him start to hold me down while eating me out. I moaned and cried in pleasure, trying to stay alert enough not to smother his head between my legs.

With a final swipe of Spencer's tongue, I came, crying out his name, deliciously humping against his mouth as he fucked me through my high.

As my breathing became more normal again, he chuckled against my skin, sitting back on his knees and taking off his shirt.

I hurried myself up as well, hands quickly all over him. Wrapping his arms around me, he let himself fall onto the bed, pulling me with him.

As I lay partially on top of him, his hand moved under my chin, bringing me closer and kissing me softly. The faint taste of myself on his lips drove me to the rim of madness.

Greedily gripping the waistband of his pants, I tried to remove the final barrier keeping him from me. Spencer chuckled, helping me with it and catching me as I almost fell off the bed while throwing his clothes across the room.

"You are so fucking eager," he laughed as I claimed onto him, straddling his lap.

Kissing him roughly, I rocked my his against his hard cock, feeling the precum rubbing itself between my folds and adding to the wetness there.

"Wa- Wait. We need a condom, [y/n]," Spencer spoke breathlessly. His arm wrapped around me so I couldn't move anymore and make his rationality sign out.

"I'm on birth control. We- We don't have to use one," I suggested, knowing I'd dreamed of this moment in so many facets, yet it was always raw, with him claiming me.

Staring into my face, he became stern, lecturing almost. "I hope you didn't plan to be so reckless with the loser you wanted to fuck," he said, almost like a question.

I quickly shook my head. No. Never. Only with him, I wanted it to be this way. "I have a whole box in my bag but- but I'd like..."

As embarrassment killed my voice, he nodded, placing kisses on my cheek and neck. "It's okay, Bunny. I know. I read it."

Before I could feel any embarrassment due to his words, he grabbed my face and pulled me into a rough kiss.

As he pulled away, he growled with a dangerous smirk, "Daddy's going to come inside you, so you fucking know who you belong to."

A high-pitched moan left my mouth. He'd just quoted my story and looked like it had been the greatest thing for him ever to say.

"You wanna stay on top?" He asked, and I thought for a second and nodded.

"Yes, please," I said, lifting my hips.

Letting a hand glide between us, Spencer dragged his cock through my folds, coating it in my wetness. As his head then placed itself at my entrance, I felt the earlier nervousness rush through me again.

I sank down on him, becoming too eager to think of how much I could actually take.

As he was completely inside me, I realized my mistake, the burning between my thighs making me inhale sharply and whimper, "Shit."

I hid my face in the crook of Spencer's neck. I would've jumped off him and rolled into a crying ball on the bed, but I was too afraid to move. It burned.

"Are you okay, Sweetheart?" Spencer asked worriedly, and I sat back up properly, hissing at the stinging feeling between my legs.

"Hurts," I mumbled. "Didn't think it would be that bad."

Wiping away a tear that had freed itself and ran down my cheek, he kissed me gently before resting his forehead against mine.

"It's different for every woman. We can stop if it's too much."

I shook my head abruptly. "N-No. I wanted this for so long. I- I just need a second."

Spencer nodded. He moved one hand to my lower back and the other to my hair, holding me close. "It's okay. We have all the time in the world," he whispered softly. "Just try to relax. You're doing so well already."

The more time passed, the more the pain ebbed away. I became aware of his length and grid stretching me, how he pulsed within me, his head resting firmly against my cervix.

He was so close to me, stroking over my hair, kissing me, and letting me feel him.

I moved a little, bringing his hand down between my legs. His forehead rested against mine as he slowly started to rub my clit in circles.

"You like that?" He asked quietly.

I nodded breathlessly. "Uh-huh."

We smiled at each other softly, stupidly. And as the lust returned, the pain was nothing more than a faint memory that was already blurred.

I began slowly rocking my hips, his hand still working on me.

As I picked up more pace, Spencer searched for my eyes. "Does it still hurt?" He asked, concerned, but I quickly shook my head.

"So good."

Bouncing on him like a little bunny, my moans became unhinged, fed by his low grunts. I threw my head back just to let it rush forward against his lips or his shoulder, kissing him roughly or nibbling on his skin, marking him with my bite marks.

"Keep your eyes on me, [y/n]. Eyes on me, Baby," he ordered after a while, grabbing my face and forcing me to look at him while he began thrusting up into me.

"Is this what you thought it would be like?" He asked with a hoarse voice.

I shook my head, squealing excitedly. "It's so much better."

With one swift motion, he turned us around, having me lay on the bed. As he began pounding into me, my delirious mind slipped up. "Fuck, Daddy," I moaned loudly, not knowing how he'd feel about it in all seriousness.

His hips staggered for a second, and he met my gaze with a praising smile. "Good girl. Such a good fuckin girl."

He growled deeply, arms caging me in underneath him as his pace picked up again, our skin slapping loudly against each other, my thighs hurting most deliciously due to the impact.

"Fuck, fuck," I cussed, rocking against him as I felt my second orgasm approaching. "Daddy, please, I-" I interrupted my own, begging for release with loud moans.

Spencer's hand moved down between us, rubbing me again. "That's it, come for me, Bunny. Come for Daddy."

The crashing wave hit me suddenly with an unstoppable force. I threw my head back, arching into his final thrusts as he came inside me.

Dropping to his elbows, he kissed me softly, and his thrusts came to a halt. His knuckles brushed over my cheek as he looked at me. "Are you okay?"

I let out a deep, satisfied sigh, "Fuck, that felt good."

He pulled out, laying down next to me. "I know virginity is just a social construct created by men, but thank you for letting it be me."

I nodded, deadpanning, "Charity work for the elderly."

He gasped in fake appall. "What?" He asked, starting to tickle me. "What did you say?" He asked again, not stopping as I laughed. "I think I didn't hear you correctly."

"Stop it," I begged through my giggles. "Stop, Spencer." As he finally stopped, he pressed another kiss on my lips.

"You wanna try out the jacuzzi tub?" I asked, and he sat up.

"How many bubbles do you want, little bunny?"

I pushed myself up, declaring, "A lot."

*****

"How do you feel?" Spencer asked once we lay in the tub, me between his legs, his arms wrapped around me.

I shrugged. "Strangely enough, the same as before. Except that I now know how it feels to fuck you."

He leaned forward for a second to kiss my cheek, then made himself comfortable again.

"Are you mad at me for writing that story?" I asked, not daring to look at him. Should his face give the answer away, I didn't want to see it.

"No," he sighed. "I was never mad. At first, I was extremely uncomfortable, not knowing how to react, but now, I'm actually glad for it."

"It's still weird, though, right?" I asked, making him chuck and pull me closer.

"Yeah," he admitted. "But I can live with a little weird. Normal would be boring."

I pressed the button on the side of the tub, turning the jacuzzi function on. Turning it up some more, I sighed relaxed, stretching. I was sore—a nice kind of sore.

For a while, we just lay there, listening to the sounds of our own breathing.

"Should you ever decide to turn 'Paper Hearts & Printer Ink' into a novel, I'd love to proofread it, do some of the jobs you'd need an editor for, or answer your questions about working for the FBI," Spencer spoke into the silence between us.

I chuckled, "You're not just being nice now because we had sex, right?"

I practically heard him shaking his head. "No. I- I guess I just like your type of weird. The way you wrote about Zane and Adriene... If being with you is like being with Adriene, I'd like that."

"So you're crushing on the fictional character I created?" I asked, turning around.

"I love how she loves Zane, although he's an idiot at times. If you're anything like her, I need you."

The shit-eating smirk on his handsome face said it all. He knew it was a self-insert. He just wanted to play it cool. Dork.

"Who says I'd need a Zane, though?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

He shrugged. "Wishful thinking."

"Now, wouldn't I just make an amazing profiler," I giggled.

"What makes you think that?"

Laying back against his chest, I simply said, "I was right about us fitting together."

"I'm in Vegas until Thursday. If you'd like, I'd want you to stay with me," Spencer offered. "We could go on a couple of dates, I show you around, and we'll test your hypothesis."

Okay. This was a permanent thing. No one-time thing. If I was dreaming, I definitely didn't want to wake up.

"I'd love that," I said, adding sassily, "But I don't get why people love coming to Vegas, though. So I hope you're not planning on taking me to a casino."

He was silent for a second, then reluctantly said, "I'm banned from casinos in Vegas. I- I might've pushed my luck when I became a young adult."

"You counted the cards?" I snickered, hearing him snort behind me while trying to defend himself.

"In my defense, it came naturally to me." As our laughter ceased, he added, "I hope you're okay with boring museum and bookstore dates."

He had read my story, so I answered, "You know I am."

Turning on the bubbles some more, I looked out the big bathroom window while Spencer figured out how to turn on the bathroom TV, putting on an old black and white movie with Marilyn Monroe.

He sighed happily, handing me my water bottle since he insisted that I needed to stay hydrated. Taking the bottle from me, he kissed my cheek and cackled, "And all of this because of a fanfiction."

[not3book]

“anything for you.”

pairing: spencer ‘spence’ reid x gn!reader

summary: the reader welcomes spencer back after a particularly long case and spencer comes back with a realisation

warnings: too much fluf???

608 words

lower case intended!

[y/n] sat comfortably in spencer’s house reading a book they picked out of one of his many bookshelves, waiting for him to come home.

in the small time they have been together, it had become a ritual for [y/n] to be waiting at spencer’s house after a case. [y/n] would: cook a meal, both for spencer and them, light some candles, and wait for him on his sofa with a book. it was something that brought spencer and [y/n] comfort, as they both anxiously waited to see eachother after his cases.

this ritual had become even more important this time since the case he was coming back from was particularly long. the time away from [y/n] made spencer realise that he missed his partner deeply, not just emotionally but physically too.

whilst he was on the case, trying to hunt down another white male in his late 30s, spencer could not get [y/n] out of his head. every time he came back to his hotel room, all he could think about was how he wished [y/n’s] arms were wrapped around him.

physical touch was something new they had introduced into the relationship since spencer was a germaphobe and because of this, hated touching peoples hands. [y/n] was very apprehensive of introducing it into the relationship but it was something they deeply appreciated so they decided they would slowly introduce it.

both [y/n] and spencer had been spending a lot of time at each others apartments and just before spencer left, both of them had just recently started sleeping in the same bed, cuddling each other to fall asleep. [y/n] had gotten used to this, so when spencer had to leave for his job, it meant that they missed having spencer wrapped in their arms dearly.

[y/n’s] thoughts were disrupted when they heard the lock turn and the door fling open, they quickly got up to greet their boy friend, “hi, baby!” they smiled warmly and quickly embraced him.

“hi, my love,” he grinned, “what did you cook? it smells amazing.”

“i cooked your favourite!” they said excitedly.

 ' , —

spencer took this time to get changed from his work clothes, into comfortable wear. he made his way to the kitchen where [y/n] was cleaning the dishes they had dirtied because of the meal and he leaned against the doorframe, admiring his partner.

[y/n] finished cleaning the dishes and turned to walk out the room, “jesus spence, you scared me!” they said startled, walking past spencer to get to the living room.

spencer followed them as though he was a lost puppy, [y/n] plopped themselves on the sofa. spencer pouted at them and [y/n] looked at him curiously before asking, “what’s wrong spence?”

“i missed you so much during the case,” he whined as [y/n] stared at him lovingly, “all i could think about was your hugs, your kisses, your cuddles — all my thoughts were being invaded by you!” he explained, “it was almost like i was craving you but, i couldn’t even do anything about it since you where nowhere near me.”

[y/n] smiled at him, “oh yeah?”

“yeah.” he pouted, crossing his arms in the process.

“i think we should do something about that shouldn’t we?” spencer nodded eagerly.

[y/n] laid on the sofa, indicating to spencer to lie down with them. he quickly plopped himself onto [y/n] as they wrapped their arms around him, rubbing soothing circles into his back with one hand, and with the other, playing with his hair.

“mmmm, this feels so nice, thankyou my love.” he said loving all the attention he was receiving.

“anything for you.” they said whilst smiling.

[specialagentlokitty]

Reid x Male!reader - just need you

I was wondering if I could request a Spencer Reid x Male reader, where reader gets severely injured on a case and reader admits how he feelings afraid that if he doesn't he'll die before ever telling Spencer how much he means to him. Maybe reader either while in the ambulance or in surgery reader has to be brought back? Maybe he goes under twice? - @xweirdo101x 💜

The pain so was blinding, so excruciating you felt like you were being dragged down to the deepest depths of hell and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You were practically gasping for air, hand clutching on to Reid’s who was sat by your side in the ambulance since he wouldn’t let you go alone.

“Just keep holding on we’re so close, we’re so close!” Reid rushed out.

Reid was trying his best to stay calm for you, but seeing you pale, half dead, it was hard.

You did this to protect him, to keep him safe, you jumped in front of him, it should’ve been him laying on this stretcher, not you.

Your dazed eyes looked at him, and you weakly squeezed his hand.

“Don’t.. dont.. blame yourself…” you rasped out.

Reid looked at you.

“Why did you jump in front of me? If you didn’t I would’ve been hit in the shoulder, it would’ve been okay. You know that.. you knew I would’ve been fine…”

You laughed weakly, and it turned into coughing and struggling to breathe.

Reid placed the oxygen mask around your face, holding it there and listened to you take deep breaths.

“B.. because.. I didn’t.. I don’t want you.. to get hurt…”

You gave him a weak smile and rested your head back on the table.

Reid was fighting with his tears at this point, he didn’t know what to do. You were his friend, he cared for you, maybe more then he ever wanted to admit, but he didn’t want you to die.

You couldn’t leave him, it may have been selfish but Reid didn’t want you to leave him.

He thought of all the times you spent together, laughing, crying, supporting him through everything.

You were the one constant thing in his life.

He felt someone pushing him away and he snapped out his head to see them trying to get your heart to beat again and it was like the world fell apart.

“(Y/N)!”

They wouldn’t let Reid go with you through the hospital no matter how much he begged, pleaded trying to pull the federal agent card.

They wouldn’t let him through.

While they were pushing you through the hospital you suddenly bolted up for air, gasping as you frantically tried to get up but they wouldn’t let you.

“It’s okay! You’re okay!”

“R.Reid! I.. I need.. Spencer…”

“He’s waiting for you in the waiting room but we need to get that bullet out of you.”

They rushed you into the operating room, and had to fight just to keep you in place.

They went to put the mask over your face in order to put you under but you grabbed the man’s wrist to stop him.

“I… you need.. you need to tell him…”

All the doctors shared a look and a nurse walked over to you.

“Tell who?”

“S..Spencer… I.. I love him.. tell him…”

She quickly nodded her head and gave you a gentle smile as she put the mask over your face.

“I’ll tell him.”

You were quickly knocked out, and they got to work.

Reid wasn’t sure when the rest of the team would get there but all he could do was pace around.

He was stressed, he wanted to be by your side to make sure you were okay but he knew they wouldn’t let him so all he could do was sit there and try keep his head clear.

There was so much he wanted to say to you before it was too late, but he couldn’t, all he could do now was wait, try not to think about the statistics of everything and just stare at those dreaded doors waiting for someone to walk out with any information about you

[ladygenius]

Crimson Nights & Predators Part II

Description: After sneaking away at Rossis wedding to escape from lurking predators y/n and Spencer discover a safe place for both of them

Pairing: Reid x female bau reader

Content: pining, jealousy, just protective cutiepie Spence

Warnings: alcohol consumption, a couple swear words

Wordcount: 1150

Her serenading giggle echoed through the luxurious halls of the ancient building. Kings and Queens must have dined here some long-forgotten day, Spencer thought to himself. Her hand in his definitely made him feel as if being of Royal Blood himself.

As they were running through the halls and up a lavishly carpentered staircase their laughter almost managed to overshadow the splendor all around them, leaving even the countless portraits of ancient aristocrats staring down with jealousy. Jealous of those joys and passions only bodies of flesh and bone could be touched by.

But what had that to do with Spencer's and y/n's relationship?

Even now, it was obvious to him, that this was nothing but a dream, he would eventually have to wake up from. But right now he didn't care about the real world. The next day at work or his next awkward move when he felt self-conscious around her. Right now, he wanted this fairytale.

"Where are we going, y/n?", he couldn't help but be curious.

"Oh, you'll see.. Alright. It must have been about.. here!" After turning another corner, she made an abrupt halt in front of the most opulent-looking door they'd come across thus far. All the others were white but this one was made of elegant mahogany wood, all shiny and adorned with little golden ornaments. He had to admit, he was more than intrigued by the secrecy their little adventure had in store.

And y/n knew. She smirked at him proudly, as she admired his perfectly sculpted profile while he was admiring the sight of the mysterious door.

Oh, he'll fit right in there, she thought to herself with anticipation.

"Wait till you've seen what the inside looks like Doc", y/n gently slipped in front of Spencer, their bodies briefly touching.

Carefully she turned the knobs of the winged door and got them both open simultaneously with some effort. "Ready to have your mind blown?"

By god, Spencer was quite convinced he couldn't possibly be ready for anything this woman had in store. The luscious timbre of her voice alone was enough to make his head spin.

She stepped into the room confidently, darkness swallowing her at first, but the light thrown in from outside the window still allowed him to admire her perfect silhouette. He followed her cautiously, barely being able to make out a thing while y/n was clearly looking for the light switch. A sudden noise made them both startle, as the heavy doors to the room slammed shut. Y/n burst out into laughter about the high-pitched shriek that had just escaped her throat. Or was it Spencer's?

"Damn, I can't see a thing. Where's that goddamn light switch?"

"Woah easy, agent y/l/n. Weren't you here before?" He was quite amused by her sudden outburst.

"Why, yeah. But it's not where I remembered it somehow." As he was trying to help her find it, she almost stumbled over his feet, instinctively holding onto his chest to steady herself. 

"Careful there, Klutz." His strong grip on her waistline immediately sent chills down her spine. While his eyes were slowly adjusting to the lack of light, the two of them stayed like this much longer than it took for y/n to regain her balance. He could now make out the linings of her face again, losing himself inside the gleams of light reflected in her widened orbs. The crimson-colored fabric underneath Spencer’s fingertips almost seemed to vibrate against his skin as he felt his own flesh burning, melting until it could finally be one with her.

“Oh”, y/n’s hand reached somewhere behind his back, her chest leaning in on him closely. With a sudden clicking sound the room lit up in flames – that’s how badly the actually quite cozy sepia light dazzled his vision at first. “Found it.” She shyly took a few steps away from him, her cheeks tinted in a soft shade of rose.

It was only now that Spencer took notice of the imminent splendor that was the essence of the room - or rather - the hall around them. His face froze as he was admiring the endless sea of bookshelves filling every corner of what must have been the single hugest library he has ever seen his entire life. How could I not know about this? he asked himself.

“So?” y/n cockily folded her arms in front of her chest, observing him closely. “Is this awesome or is this like, awesome squared infinity?”

His heart lit up at the woman of his dreams being equally excited about this sight of pure pleasure to him: books as far as the eyes could see, stacked from ceiling to floor onto the most extravagantly looking bookshelves. Their copies protected by fancy leather and clothbound covers, some of them undoubtedly first prints or at least rarest collectors’ editions. Not even he could read all of them in a week.

“Oh my god”, was the first thing Spencer could utter after an eternity of simply staring in awe. “This is incredible, y/n. How on earth did you find this?”

“Well, it might be that earlier this evening as I was taking a little extra-long in the restroom to hide from certain coworkers of ours, I started strolling around. And I couldn’t get past this door without risking a look by the life of me."

Her fingers carefully ran along the curved surface of an expensive-looking globe in the library's center. The dreamy look on her face was a sight he couldn’t ever possibly get enough of.

“Knew it!” Y/n victoriously chimed as she got open the top part of the globe, literally splitting the world in half with just one move. Yeah, that depicts perfectly what she’s doing to his own on a daily basis. The inside of the globe revealed an old-school minibar. “You really wanna drink some of this?” Spencer exclaimed in his signature surprised high pitch as y/n was studying the different bottles inside.

“Oh, come on, Rossi pays this place a fortune for tonight anyway. I’m positive they can spare like two fingers of whatever this stuff is in here. Yuck!” She scrunched her nose disgustedly at smelling the bottle but went along pouring the dark liquid into two fancy whisky glasses anyway.

“This might be a little rough. But you know, we’re in a gentleman’s environment today, so we’re doing gentlemanly stuff. To going astray.” Her glass clinked against his own.

No. To going astray with you, Spencer thought to himself.

Final Part III

[slytherbun]

ash

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer and reader go to a party so they could humor a friend and realize once again that it’s not their scene.

word count: .5k words

note: this is kind of a prologue to something i wanna write. it's high school spencer and reader but he's the same age as her, the usual age for sophomores.

It was humid out, the crickets were loud and your hair was frizzy as it laid on the back of your shoulders but none of it mattered at all. The long sleeved plaid flannel was tied around your waist while you sat on the curb and the smoke coming out of your lips is what drew him in at first.

You were completely ignorant to the party inside and instead favored twisting the blunt around between your fingertips while crushing any ash under your dark checkered vans as it fell with each puff. 

You were so out of it that you didn’t hear him walk up behind you at first until his raspy voice spoke. “What are you doing?” Jumping a bit with shaking shoulders, you put a hand over your racing heartbeat and turned your head to glare at the sight before you. What you thought was going to be another stupid highschool football player, was in fact the complete opposite. 

Your eyes softened quickly when you realized who it was. 

Spencers’s voice sounded deep and different and little did you know that it was because you looked pretty tonight, despite the fact your mascara was starting to sweat off onto your cheeks. 

His lanky legs were covered in jeans that had holes in his knees, meanwhile his converse laces were about to fall out but it seemed he didn’t care about them because he of course had his bag over his shoulder. You knew at least three to four books were hidden inside it, despite the fact the atmosphere was a party with music and drinks.

“Jesus warn a girl before you scare her death, hmm?” You replied. Spencer sighed and shook his head, sitting on the curb next to you with a cringe at the germs and bugs currently on it. You noticed his disgust but ignored it with a grin. “Want a hit?”

He rolled his eyes at you but nodded and took it between his fingers, which caught you by surprise. But you realized what he was doing quickly and narrowed your eyes at him as you watched him dab it out onto the road. “What the hell, Spence? Do you know how much those are?”

“Relax, I know you have a bunch more that you can just take out at any moment. I want to go home, are you ready?” You stood up with a nod and brushed off the back of your legs. “I’ve been ready since we got here. You know I just had to humor my friend and go dance for a minute.” You quipped back with a grin and turned to start walking.

Spencer’s driving scared you so it was usually you driving him around. He followed behind you like a lost puppy as he glanced back and forth at the dark road while the two of you walked to your car. It was a piece of crap but it worked most of the time and you loved it.

Almost as much as the nicotine you couldn’t be without and Spencer watched with a raised eyebrow as you grabbed the cigarette from behind your ear and the lighter that was hanging out of your front pocket. You pushed the unlock button on your keyring so Spencer could get in the passenger seat while you lit the stick and sat in your seat to roll down the windows.

“Where to sweetness?” You hummed and started up the car.

The same car you still had as a brokenhearted twenty-six year old.

[hotchfiles]

an au in which spencer reid is the next chosen librarian.

it's my first day at work. i don't even have a parking space. i really think i should get a parking space before i am assigned to fight an evil conspiracy.

— flynn carson, the librarian: the quest for the spear.

[beelmons]

No one is as hot, happy, or cool as Instagram shows, some people are bald

Genre: Fluff Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader CW: None Series: Part of Technophobe in Recovery Summary: Your friend Spencer didn't really understand social media, until he found out that it could be used to hit on people, more specifically to hit on you. Perhaps if he had a profile you would look his way?

Social media is a narcissist’s crack, at least that’s what Spencer always thought. There are so many ways of keeping communication, what’s the point of plastering every detail of your life for the world to see? As FBI agents, the entire team knew to thread carefully when it came to public profiles. Of course, all of you kept it light, without giving locations away, and taking every precaution Penelope had told you to take.

—He liked your picture?! —Penelope screamed from your behind. She had sneaked up on you and caught a sight of your phone to see the username of a very popular S.W.A.T. member on the “liked by…” section of your Instagram.

—First of all, ouch. —you joked, pretending like her scream hurt your ear—and second, he didn’t only like the picture, he is in my DMs right now asking about my day.

—You go, girlfriend—Emily joined as her and JJ got closer.

The not-so-subtle scream from Garcia had gathered everyone’s attention, and shortly there after the familiar faces that walked the ballpen had gathered around you.

—Whoa, baby girl, what’s all the commotion about? —Morgan asked once him and Reid had joined the rest of your coworkers by your side, his hand instinctively reaching for Penelope’s shoulders.

—Miss hot and smokey right here. —she pointed in your direction— The super-hot SWAT captain from last raid just liked her picture on Instagram and slid into her DMs.  

—I think this is the first time I’ve been in a conversation where I don’t understand a single word. —Spencer had furrowed his eyebrows in plain confusion— Is that a good thing?

—It’s like a modern version of a mating call, Spence, you like someone’s picture to capture their attention, let them know you are interested, and then message them privately to see where things go. —JJ explained in the young doctor’s direction.

As everyone’s attention went back to your phone, Spencer found the perfect opportunity to swallow down the knot that had formed on his throat. Never could he have guessed that from all the people you were surrounded by, decorated officers, top-of-the-field lawyers, fellow elite FBI agents, the one person he had to worry about was trapped in the rectangular gadget he hated the most.

Not that the team knew, they suspected yet he had never admitted to it, but Spencer liked you. He wasn’t the one to act on his crushes almost ever, he liked when things developed naturally, which apparently was not going to be the case with you now that “super-hot-swat-captain” was “sliding into your DMs”, whatever that meant.

—You guys are making it a bigger deal than it is. —you tried to shut down the chatter in the office— He hasn’t even asked me out, just asking random questions.

—Come on, you don’t talk to someone on Instagram to make friends. —Morgan affirmed.

—And you look good good ok that picture. —JJ added.

The statement made Reid stick out his neck, he wanted to catch a glimpse of what everyone else what admiring; in his eyes, you always looked good, what could be so special about that one pic— Oh. He could feel the heat on his face spreading through every corner of his head, and some other places to the south he was doing his best to avoid; the way the lighting was ideal to your face, the pose that highlighted the best features of your body, and an outfit he could tell made you the most confident. A whole other person that he seemed not to know, and yet prayed in his very soul he could, at least, get the chance to one day.

Reid cleared his throat as he noticed everyone, specially Morgan, staring a bit too long, and with embarrassment he headed back to his office. The traces of the smile he had earlier in the morning were long gone, his serious expression taking over instead, with a slight furrow on his brows. He grabbed a random file as he walked to his desk and pretended to work intently in wrapping up some paperwork.

—Okay, that’s enough. —not being used to such praise and attention to your private life, you snatched the device away from Penelope whom, at some point, had gotten her hands on it— We’re not snooping on my love life right now, there’s tons of paperwork to do and the next case could come at any time.

The team reluctantly left your work area, not before threateningly asking for updates whenever you got one, and you were free from their questions once again. On the corner of your eye you were able to notice a rather sulky Spencer sitting on his desk, his troubled expression not going unnoticed by the rest of the team as well, to any stranger it would look like your average agent on the job, but to those who knew him was obvious, and boy, did you not know him.

You decided to disobey your own advice and visit his station instead, you leaned over the furniture with a concerned expression and he looked up questioningly, as if your presence was not required.

—Spence, you good? —you asked amicably.

—Sure, I’m fine. —his answer was quick and apparently emotionless—Got a lot to do, though.

Without giving you a chance to speak any further his sight went back to the file in his hands. You muttered a tired “okay” and headed back to your desk to finally get to work. The feeling of having done something wrong didn’t go away for a while, even if strictly you had made no mistake. You liked Spencer, and you figured you had left enough clues for him to pick up on them, but so far he hadn’t made the first move, and you were beginning to think perhaps he just wasn’t interested, after all, you were the first one to volunteer whenever he offered an extra ticket to his obscure events, and there’s no way he didn’t notice the creeping blush on your ears that one time he would mutter live translations during the Korean film festival.

On his side, he was only pretending to read and type on the computer, he wasn’t able to concentrate at all. Would you maybe take interest in him if he liked your every picture? If he wrote you a DM even if he still didn’t quite know what that meant? If he posted shirtless pictures occasionally? Or showed off his tactical gun? Hold on, those thoughts were getting too specific. Without even noticing, he had landed on the SWAT captain’s profile. He knew how to vaguely navigate profiles thanks to Garcia, but any further than that was a mystery for him. He couldn’t help to feel like this guy was a little pretentious, absolutely not the kind of man you deserved, or even would like; Penelope was right, you can know a lot about someone thanks to their social media.

—Stalking the competition? —Derek’s voice scared Spencer out of his wits.

His fingers quickly hit the close button on the browser, and he jolted upwards. When he realized the weight of the words said to him he nervously looked around, thankfully you were nowhere close to a hearing range, to his relief.

—Just curious, that’s all. —he said in a lower voice as he rubbed one of his eyes.

—I get it, kid, —Morgan offered a handsome smile and a supportive pat on the shoulder— social media can sometimes be the source of lots of negative feelings, it’s not a perfect tool, but it’s fun. You don’t have to worry, chicks love your old-school techniques too, you just have to, you know, actually use them on a girl for them to work. —he signaled with his head as you walked from Hotch’s office, where you had been discussing details of a report with the Unit Chief, to the office’s kitchen—And, sometimes, an “I’m sorry I was a jackass to you” goes a longer way than any like on a picture.

Spencer watched carefully as you made your way through the ballpen, he was the body language and microexpressions expert, he knew you were feeling down and, guiltily, he was the reason behind that. Without answering his friend he skipped from his seat towards the entrance you had just walked by. As magic, and as usual, the second he was in front of you any other logical thought seemed to disappear from his brain, you had that effect on him.

—Hey. —he said, you answered with a slight smile and turned in his direction— I just wanted to apologize for being so dismissive earlier.

—That’s fine, Reid. —you answered with a swatting of your hand— Sorry I upset you.

—No, you… —he sighed and looked down at his feet— you didn’t upset me, sometimes I just have a hard time understanding modernity, and it can get very overwhelming.

—We know, we know. —you reached over to squeeze his arm reassuringly, and he could have sworn his heart was going to jump out of his chest.

—I just don’t get the point of it all.

—Well, there isn’t really much a point. For a lot of people it’s a source of pride and vanity, sure, but some of us just want to share pieces of our lives to those we love the most.

—And that includes sexy SWAT captains? —he asked in a tone that seemed to be smaller than the rest of his sentence.

—The people you love the most, and some other randos, too. —you corrected with a small laugh, not wanting to even pay attention to the SWAT captain, since truth was you weren't interested— It can also be a great way to make sure you don’t lose important memories.

—Important memories don’t just get lost. —he joked.

—Not everyone has eidetic memory, Spencer. —you shook your head and reached into your back pocket to take a hold of your phone, your profile still open on the picture that had gotten him so excited before which you quickly tapped away to scroll through your posts—Like, look at this one, this is a picture of Rossi’s carbonara.

—You could get that any time.

—Yes, but what if I transfer or quit? I want to be able to remember that I used to have this amazing food with you guys. —you scrolled a bit further— Oh, this one is from Hotch’s birthday, when we surprised him by bringing Jack to the office, that was fun. This is a trip I took with my family. That’s a cute cat I saw on the street, nothing worth noting but surely worth keeping.

As you kept going down your posts your lips curled into a bigger smile. Memories were nice, they were fun, especially the ones you liked to share, they brought you joy and warmth, and he noticed, in fact, that’s all he could look at, the bright smile on your face as you reminisced. He wondered if, maybe, you would smile the same when remembering him, perhaps years from now, or during lazy weekends, on a random Thursday, when the fragrance of his cologne seemed to linger in the air, in a similar way he was used to thinking of you.

—Hey, that’s me! —he said excitedly when he noticed a picture you had posted months ago of the two of you together.

—Oh, yes! This is when we went to that event, what was its name? Like lollapalooza but for books.

—Litepalooza. —he added

—Right, it was so lame we decided to leave and go have something to drink, we ended up in that Mexican coffee shop where we tried the... Spicy Hot Chocolate!

—Spicy hot chocolate!

The screaming of the name came out of your mouths at the same time and it was followed by a loud laugh. On the caption it read “Awesome days, awesome friends.” and a heart emoji following. Most of your pictures were of other people, or other objects, or by yourself, as far as he could tell he was the only person, outside your family, to appear on a picture alone with you. The mere fact that he felt special for it made him feel ridiculous.

—Your lips were red the rest of the day. —you let out a final chuckle— It’s not so bad. Think of it as a digital scrapbook. I know, I know, you are not big on digitalizing things, but not everyone is crafty enough to make one!

—When you put it like that, yeah, it doesn’t sound so bad.

You took a second to look into his eyes, and you could have sworn that your suspicions of him not being interested were wrong. Before making it awkward he hit you with a soft “let’s head back”, to which you complied.

The rest of the day went by pretty fast, before you knew it was time to head back home, thank god, serial killers had taken a weekend off and you didn’t have to travel for a case on Friday. You didn’t have any plans, so a night in it was. Before you headed out you made sure to stop by Spencer’s desk and he let you know that he had something to do before heading home and you should go back first.

The appointment in question was with no other than Penelope Garcia herself. Spencer shyly slipped past the door of her office after knocking on it almost ashamedly.

—What can I do for you, boy wonder? —she asked, spinning her particular pink furry pen in her hand.

—I was wondering…—he began to explain—could you maybe help me create an Instagram profile?

—Do my ears deceive me? —she asked with an astonished expression—Spencer Reid, are you sick?

—No, I feel fine. —he answered earnestly and a little puzzled, unaware of the undertone.

—Then this must be a miracle! You have come to the right place my child, we are going to make the most irresistible profile ever!

—Wait, before we start… —he interrupted the girl’s clicking and she looked at him expectantly—Can you tell me what does a DM stand for? Has been bugging me all day to not know.

—Oh, boy genius, your analog brain is thirty, but your digital brain is five.

With her snarky remark, the both of them got to work.

You kept turning on your bed as you watched a random, very uninteresting, show on Netflix. Your night in, regardless of it being what you needed, was boring to the core. You didn’t think your night was going to pick up until you saw the screen of your phone light up with a notification. A very odd username caught your attention enough to skim through them.

[Instagram] dr.sreid started following you

[Instagram] dr.sreid liked your photo

[Instagram] dr.sreid liked your photo

[Instagram] dr.sreid: Hey, guess what?

You bit your lip in attempt to not look like an absolute clown with the wideness of your smile. Hurriedly, you unlocked the device and headed to the pretentious social media app.

You : No fucking way.

You : How did you even manage to make one?

dr.sreid : Garcia helped me.

dr.sreid : Is it too weird?

You : A little. But it’s nice seeing you adapt to modernity.

dr.sreid : I still have no idea how to use this properly, I also don’t understand what’s the difference between this and texting.

You : Jesus, this must be killing you.

You : Hold on, I’ll follow you back and call you instead, enough dm-ing for today, I gotta give you a break.

dr.sreid : I have no idea what you just said, but sure.

You laughed at his confusion, regardless of his genius brain he hated familiarizing himself with technology, and he could learn about it pretty easily, but he just didn’t enjoy it in the minimum. You headed to his profile as you promised, he had followed 6 people, Morgan, Rossi’s official writer account, JJ, Garcia, of course it was the first account he followed, Emily Prentiss, and you. The profile picture was an impromptu photo of them in Garcia’s office, since he barely kept pics around in his phone, and his only post was an old picture taken on your birthday by Penelope herself, both of you unaware that it even existed. In it, he was struggling against you trying to smear his face with buttercream, his hands on your wrists, and both of your smiles the biggest you had ever since, the caption read “Favorite picture, favorite person.” with a heart emoji following. You couldn’t put a name on the way it made you feel, but the butterflies in your stomach were giving you a hint, you followed him back, liked the picture, and dialed his number. You couldn’t go a second without hearing his voice.

The next day at work you would get an earful about having ghosted the SWAT captain, and the only thing that replaced the outrageous news about your love life was the realization that Spencer had, in fact, made an Instagram account. After some teasing and internal jokes, the office went back to normal.

Spencer would only post a picture every couple of months when a special occasion arose, by the request of his friends, and when Penelope managed to get his hands on his phone. However, from that day on, he was the very first person to like whatever photo you were to post.

[luveline]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky. 

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely. 

Total quiet. 

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?” 

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?” 

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?” 

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…” 

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?” 

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.” 

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.” 

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh. 

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated. 

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry. 

“Spencer?” you ask quietly. 

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?” 

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?” 

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups. 

“Where are you?” 

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him. 

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.” 

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?” 

“Where was I?” 

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed. 

“Still where?” 

“Did you hit your head?” 

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.” 

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk. 

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.” 

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.” 

“…What?” 

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.” 

“I annoy people.” 

“You don’t annoy me.” 

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here. 

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?” 

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection. 

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?” 

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly. 

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.” 

“Am I in trouble?” 

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?” 

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.” 

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says. 

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room. 

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark. 

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly. 

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!” 

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer. 

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask. 

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again. 

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.” 

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers. 

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year. 

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.” 

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.” 

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!” 

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity. 

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.” 

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly. 

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says. 

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway. 

“I don’t want to be alone forever.” 

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates? 

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess. 

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.” 

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol. 

“She kind of looked like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” 

“Is that why you make all your jokes?” 

“What jokes, babe?” 

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.” 

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?” 

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.” 

“Spencer, you remember everything.” 

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.” 

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him. 

You’re happy to. 

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled. 

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse. 

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully. 

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally. 

“Can I come home with you?” he asks. 

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.” 

— — 

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.” 

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.” 

“So you want three?” 

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.” 

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time. 

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?” 

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him. 

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory. 

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that. 

The avocado is making him feel sick. 

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?” 

“I think I'm gonna throw up.” 

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes. 

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button. 

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.” 

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.” 

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.” 

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now. 

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said. 

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say. 

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again. 

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.” 

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. 

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask. 

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

[lizzyk137]

I'll Be There For You- Part Two(A Spencer Reid Fanfic) (Reader X Spencer)

Description: You and Spencer still haven't worked things out with how he treated you but when Spencer gets a shocking and scary phone call, will he finally admit his feelings and apologize? Warning: Guns, stalking, mention of suicide, school break-in, murder, knocking people unconscious, hatred, lying, BAU standoff with unsub, hospital, attempted kidnapping, sexually suggestive material (like the smallest pg-13 bit of material), and some good ol' fashion fluff. Part One Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

"Jesse!"

Spencer rolled his eyes as he heard your squeals come down the apartment hall.

"Stop!" You playfully said, giggling.

Spencer sighed and closed his book, waiting for Jesse to say goodbye to you before he could go back to reading. Your happy squeals were too distracting for him to concentrate on what he was doing.

In the past month, everything you did made it hard for him to concentrate. Ever since he saw you walk towards him in the club, he couldn't take his mind off of you. He knew you were a fixation, so he didn't need to deal with his problems, but he didn't mind it for some reason.

You both didn't talk as much as you used to but you were always polite to him and offered him a smile when you saw him which was more than what you wanted, but it wasn't awful. Spencer was starting to become back to being his old self. You were still hurt by what he did to you, but you were happy that he was becoming himself again.

Jesse and you had started going out, mostly hanging out, but things did get steamy once or twice, never going over the line, but the makeout sessions weren't bad. You liked the way you felt with Jesse, but it didn't compare to how you felt when you were with Spencer and those still lingering feelings.

You hadn't forgiven him, but he also hadn't apologized to you either, so things between you were at a standpoint.

Spencer's phone went off as he closed his apartment door. He didn't bother to look at the caller ID before he answered, "Spencer."

"Spencer..." Y/N's voice came through the phone shakey.

Spencer stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of her voice. "Y/N? What's wrong?"

"A man," she hiccuped before taking a small breath in, "a man is in the school, and we're under lock down. I'm in a closet hiding. Please..." A sob broke through the phone, and Spencer swore he felt his heart break in two. "Someone is outside the classroom..." The line went dead.

Spencer's brain went into overdrive, and he was instantly on a call to Hotch, filling him in as he ran down the street towards the school you taught at. Within ten minutes, he was flashing his badge to a police officer who pointed at the man in charge.

"FBI Doctor Spencer Reid," Spencer said, breathing heavy as he showed his badge again to the police chief, "Has anyone been able to get in and see if everyone is okay?"

The police chief, a larger set man with sandy hair, nodded before speaking up. "We have a team of guys in there now sweeping the the area, no shots yet, luckily the school was closed for the day for a/c cleaning so it isn't filled with kids, but there are quite a few teachers in there." He pointed to a screen behind him, which showed images from the swat team's body cams.

"Spencer!" Morgan's voice rang out behind him. He turned around to see Morgan holding his gun and vest.

Spencer gladly took it and put everything on as the rest of the team got caught up with what was going on.

"The school is clear." A woman's voice rang through the speaker in front of them. "No sign of the suspect, but we did find something that is out of the ordinary in one of the classrooms. Room 204."

Spencer's heart stopped for a second when he heard the room number. It was your room number.

He was five paces ahead of everyone as he made his way down the halls to your classroom. He stopped when he saw what was by the closet door. A bouquet of red roses was left by the closet door with a small note card reading, "I love you," on the front of it.

"Did you find anyone in this classroom?" Spencer hurriedly asked the police officer next to her. "Y/N Y/L/N. This is her classroom, she called, saying she was in a closet. Did you find her?"

"Nothing so far, we're still getting a head count on who was actually here and who we have."

Spencer reached for the closet door in front of him to find it locked. He rattled the door some more but no give. "Can we get someone to open this? Now, please?"

One of the police officers stepped up and picked up the lock, then moved to the side for Spencer. He opened it to find you unconscious, mouth taped with colourful duct tape, hands tied with roped to your ankles with a wound on the side of your head that was bleeding. "We need paramedics!"

He gently took your head in his hands, making sure you were still breathing. A paramedic gently pushed him out of the way as they undid the duct tape and rope and then checked you over.

Spencer stood back as they looked you over, nervously playing with his hands. They picked you up and put you on a stretcher, then wheeled you out, Spencer one step behind them.

They lifted you into the ambulance, Spencer climbing in beside you. Hotch watched as they closed the back doors and drove away.

"Guys, let's get with local PD on this. Call Garcia and ask her to pull the surveillance footage. Let's figure out what happened here."

The team dispersed, JJ talking to the police chief on who made the 911 call, Morgan asking questions to the swat team who did the search while Rossi and Blake went back to classroom with Hotch.

"Red roses are a symbol of love and affection." Blake started as she crouched down towards the bouquet once they reached the classroom. "With a card saying I love you, it looks like something someone would give to their partner. Has Y/N been seeing anyone lately?"

"I don't think anything serious, but look at how it's laid. It's purposely laid there, like a shrine. It would be laying differently if she had dropped it when the alarm went off." Rossi said. "Why lock her in a closet for? Why take the time to tie her up and silence her with duct tape?"

"She had some type of wound on her head that knocked her out. She already wasn't going to make any noise or move, so why go the extra mile to be sure?"

Rossi looked at the inside of the closet, blood splattered on the side where your head was. "Enough of a hit to cause blood to splatter."

"Maybe he wanted to come back to finish whatever he had started." Blake said.

Hotch examined the closet. "Maybe, but how did he know where she was? This closet isn't very big, I wouldn't think a grown woman would fit in here, plus there were more easily accessible teachers he could have gotten to."

Rossi raised his eyebrows. "Maybe the unsub has a student in her class?"

Hotch nodded. "Let's find out who's in her class and if there have been any problems in the past with the parents."

They turned to leave when heavy footsteps running down the hall caught their attention as a large body came barreling into the classroom. A large man stood there out of breath, visibly shaking.

"Y/N. Where is she?" The man said just as Rossi spoke.

"Jesse?"

-------------------------- ~~ ----------------------------

"She has just a small concussion, nothing major. Just monitor her for the rest of the night." The doctor told Spencer and Morgan, who had been waiting for Y/N to be released from the hospital.

"Spencer, Hotch wants one of us to stay with her tonight. From what it's looking like, it's not just a random attack." Morgan said after the doctor left.

Spencer nodded, and him and Morgan waited outside of your room while you got ready. Once you were through, you checked out of the hospital and headed back to your apartment. Police officers were stationed outside of your apartment door, and you looked at Spencer questioningly.

"It's for your safety. Let's head inside."

Y/N nodded and was about to head inside when she heard her name called behind her. Turning around, Jesse stood there down the hallway with a worried look on his face.

"Y/N... I've been so worried about you." He came closer to you and ran a hand through his hair. "They wouldn't let me see you at the hospital."

"Jesse..." You started to say, but Jesse spoke, interrupting you.

"Let me stay the night? I want to make sure you're okay."

"Jesse," you sighed, "Spencer is going to stay the night with me. I'm fine. Please get home safely."

Jesse flexed his hands and curled them into fists. "You're going to let him spend the night with you? After how he's treated you. Come on, Y/N, just let me spend the night."

You looked up at Spencer, nervously crossing your arms around your body, hoping that he would see that you were uncomfortable. He looked down at you and cleared his throat. "Jesse, she'll be okay. It's late, why don't you go home? She'll have two police officers posted outside of her door tonight."

Jesse laughed angrily. "Sure, I'll see you tomorrow." He spat then stormed off.

Spencer turned to look at you worriedly. "Is he normally that angrily?"

"No, he's been getting that way since I broke things off." You said, rubbing your arms from the sudden chill you felt. "He's been coming by the apartment excessively for the past two weeks begging for me to let him in, but I haven't. He's even left me gifts outside my door."

Spencer nodded and brought you inside the apartment, "Why don't you go pack some of your belongings that you'd need for a few days? I'll be right here."

He watched you walk into your bedroom before calling Hotch. "Hey, look into Jesse Hammers. The last two weeks, he's been coming to the apartment trying to get in or leaving gifts after she ended things. He showed up to the apartment tonight and got angry when she rejected his offer to spend the night."

"Yeah, he showed up at the school earlier and got upset when we had him leave. Got even angrier when we wouldn't tell him where she was. We'll keep a close eye on him."

"Spence?" He turned around to see you standing by the couch with an overnight bag.

"Y/N, does Jesse know where I live?" You shook your head no. "Hotch, I'm going to take her to another location. Can we get a decoy in the apartment?"

"You want to make it seem like she's in the apartment?"

"Yes. I'll leave the lights on to make it seem like someone is here." Spencer said his goodbyes and hung up. His expression softened when he saw the look of fear on your face.

"You think it's Jesse?" Your voice barely a whisper.

Spencer cleared his throat before saying, "We don't know, but we are going to do anything to make sure you're okay."

You nodded and moved closer to Spencer, who unconsciously wrapped his arms around, holding you close. You nuzzled your head into his chest and let yourself take a deep breath and relaxed for the first time that day.

"It's late. Let's get you out of here." Spencer took hold of your hand and got the all clear from the two officers outside your door before getting you into his apartment.

It's been months since you were last in his place, but it still looked the same. You took a deep breath in. The smell of Spencer filled your lungs and gave you a sense of calm. You set your stuff down on the couch as Spencer locked the door and then drew all the shades in the apartment. He turned on a few lamps but kept the place mostly dark.

"Get some sleep, I'll be here if you need."

Spencer sat down on the couch, grabbing a book from the coffee table. He could hear you tossing and turning, but within an hour, you were asleep, small snores coming from his bedroom. He was happy you felt safe enough to fall asleep, and soon his eyes started to droop, and he succumbed to a dream land.

What awoke him next was the sound of two gunshots. He quickly sprang up, heading to his bedroom to check on you. You were wrapped up in a blanket standing by the door with a scared look on your face. Spencer held a finger to his lips, signaling for you to stay quiet.

He grabbed your hand and brought you to the bedroom's bathroom. "Stay in here. Call Garcia, tell her to get Hotch." He whispered. Spencer handed you his phone, then gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and left before you could process anything that had happened.

Your hands shook as you unlocked his phone and dialed Penelope's number. "Heyo, what can I-"

"Penn, shots were fired at Spencer's place... Send help, please."

"Sending them your way, love. Stay on the phone with me."

Spencer looked through the peep hole of his door while quietly unlocking it. He slowly opened the door and cleared the hallway before checking on the two officers that were shot down. One was dead, but the other bleeding. "Apply pressure here." Spencer said as he sat the police officer up and put the officer's hand up to his shoulder. "Did you see who did this?"

"Yeah, that guy from earlier who got upset and left. Came back one more time after you guys left, demanding to come in. He left and then came back. We told him to go home, and that's when he shot at us." The officer grunted. "I'll radio for help."

Spencer nodded, then got up, making his way in through the half opened door. The living room was clear, along with the kitchen. He then made his way to the bedroom, where he found a female officer alive and unconscious on the floor. He went to clear the bathroom when he heard a body hitting the floor from the hallway.

Creeping up to the door, he saw the officer he just helped lying on the ground, bleeding from his head where it looked like he was hit from a pistol. He stepped over the officer and noticed his door was opened, and then a scream filled the silent air.

Rushing forward, quickly clearing the rooms, he headed to the bedroom where he found Jesse pinning Y/N to the wall, a hand around her throat, slightly lifting her up off the ground.

"Jesse, FBI, put her down."

Jesse laughed, continuing to look at Y/N and not even bothering with Spencer. "Go ahead, shoot. But once you do, you'll hit both of us. If you shoot me, you also shoot her, so go ahead."

Footsteps coming into the apartment could be heard, and soon the team was behind Spencer, guns drawn. You turned your eyes to look at the team, seeing Spencer's eyes locked onto you with a worried but determined look on his face.

"Jesse," Blake spoke, "we know how you're feeling."

"How do you know? I know all about you. She won't shut up about you. None of you know how I'm feeling." He roared, tightening his hold on you, as he pointed the tip of his gun to your temple, causing a cry to slip through your lips as the cold metal touched skin.

"She rejected you, and now you're upset, which is totally understandable, but doing this won't help." Hotch said, walking closer to Spencer.

JJ spoke up next. "Why don't you let her go. Keeping her like this won't make her not reject you."

"Shut up!" Jesse screamed, pressing the gun harder to your head and his hold on your neck tighten, your lungs gasping for air as the tips of your toes no longer touched the ground.

"Jesse," Rossi chimed in, "We know you care for Y/N. You don't want to see her hurt. That's why you're upset about her spending the night with Spencer. That's why you came back tonight, right? That's why you came to the school and left her a gift. You knew she left you because of her feelings for someone else. You didn't want her to get hurt again like she did before. That's why you were going to take her away, so you tied her up and knocked her unconscious."

Jesse slammed your head against the wall. A scream pierced the room as he slammed your head once more. "It was the only way to keep her safe." He said through gritted teeth, spit flying into your face. "The way he eyed her at the club that night. I had to watch him watch her, and even though her attention was on me, I knew it was for him. I watched for months as she hung on to his every word, waiting for him while he talked to someone, watching as he slowly let her go. I had to step in. Can't you see just how precious she is?" He turned away from you, his hand slowly letting go of your neck as he turned to face Spencer.

The gun was still pressed against your head, and his body was covering yours. You knew if they shot, the bullet would hit you too. Your weekly trips with Blake to the gun range helped you understand that there was no way you would make it out unharmed if any of them took a shot, and they all knew it and so did he. It was a suicide mission. He would take you down with him if he had to. You read enough behavioral books because of Spencer to understand what Jesse was doing and what the team was doing to get him to calm down.

By now, the conversation they were having had blurred as your brain racked what was happening, and your lungs took in as much air as they could while he choked you. You took in a shaky breath as you turned your head slightly to look over at everyone.

"Let her go, Jesse. We both want her safe. You know, if we shoot that she gets shot also. You don't want to lose her. I know what you want. Let her go and take me. It's me you're mad at." Spencer said, putting his gun back into its holster. Jesse smirked, and you could see the hatred in his eyes, and you knew what he would do if he got his hands onto Spencer. And you couldn't let him do that.

But hearing what Spencer said, it triggered something in your brain. Anger. He said the same thing during the standoff with Maeve. He was treating you like you were her. Helpless and fragile. He couldn't bear to lose you because of how fragile he was, not because you were fragile. He wanted to rewrite what happened a few months ago with Maeve. He wanted a happy ending. He wanted to save the girl.

But you weren't Maeve.

And you didn't want to be treated like such.

You rebuilt yourself up all these months that Spencer was gone. You spent the last two weeks handling Jesse. Sure, it wasn't as long as what Maeve had, but you weren't going to hide away. You had a life to live, and you were going to live it. Jesse was a road block, but you sure as hell weren't going to let him stop you, and you weren't going to let Spencer treat you like you were still the shy, fragile girl he met all those months ago.

But he loved that girl. That was the girl who led to some of the best moments you have. The biggest smiles, too much laughter in one moment, and the large amount of love that grew for him. And you didn't want to see him get hurt again, not by Maeve, not by Jesse and not by you. You knew getting angry at Spencer right now wasn't smart, but it might help get Jesse to back down so he wouldn't hurt Spencer if he got his hands on him.

"Don't treat me like I'm her, Spencer." You spat. "I don't want you taking my place just so you can write a wrong. I'm not her, and I would never want to be."

You could see the hurt flash across your face and JJ nervously whispering your name as the room fell silent. Jesse turned to look at you, analyzing your face like it was a puzzle to be solved. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, just like Spencer was, trying to comprehend what you were doing. So you decided to push.

"I hate you, Spencer. I hate how you treated me for someone who couldn't even face you. Who couldn't even tell you the truth, or anyone else the truth. Look at where that got her and her ex-fiance. I loved you so much, but you threw it away for a voice on the phone." Spencer's face was morphing into something you wish you never had to see -pure agony. You knew every word hurt him, some of it the truth, but you could see the smirk starting to form on Jesse's lips, so you continued. "Jesse, at least, didn't hide his feelings. Told me what he wanted and didn't make me wait. I was too afraid to be hurt again, so I rejected you, Jesse, but you make me happy. I want to start over."

Jesse turned around to face you, his body still in a position that didn't allow for a clean shot if needed. He smiled down at you, which normally would make you smile but right now it made you want to throw up but you forced a smile on your face as one of your hands let go in his arm and went up to cup his cheek.

"Really?" He whispered.

You nodded, swallowing the vomit that was coming up at the thought of being with the man who had stalked you. "Really."

Jesse's hand let go of your throat, and the hand with the gun dropped to his side. His body still covered yours, so as he bent down to bring his face to yours, you did the most stupidest thing you ever done.

You rammed your knee into his groin.

It took a second for him to bend down as the pain shot up through his body, and you took your fist and punched into his diaphragm, causing him to gasp out as the air left his body. You reached for the gun, twisting your body around as his arm twisted, trying to hold onto the cold metal object. You took your heel and slammed it down between where his shin met his ankle and you slammed your elbow into his stomach area once more, causing him to lose his grip just enough for you to take the gun out of his hands.

Collapsing on the ground, breathing heavy as panic set in, you pointed the gun at him, his eyes growing wide as realization hit in.

"Y/N..." He whispered, confused, his knees collapsing beneath him. Morgan and Hotch grabbed him quickly, cuffing him up. They dragged him out as he screamed your name over and over

JJ and Blake rushed over to you, Blake taking the gun from your hand as JJ held you close as you broke down.

Rossi walked up to a stunned Spencer, who watched as both girls tried to calm you down. "Go to her. She needs you."

"You heard her. She hates me." Spencer said, turning away from you and headed to the bedroom door.

Rossi grabbed his arm, stopping him and pulled him close. "She said those things to protect you. She knew he would've killed you the second you gave yourself to him. She's the one who's loved you all these months. Go to her."

Spencer turned his head back to look at you, wrapped in a ball as JJ rocked you gently.

Before he knew what he was doing, his feet brought him over to you, crouching down next to you as Blake gave him space. His arms wrapped around your body and pulled you away from JJ and close to his body. "You're okay, Y/N. No one will ever hurt you again. Just cry it out."

You clung to his small frame and sobbed, your cries echoing throughout the apartment. Spencer shushed you as he stroked your hair. He pulled you on his lap and gently rocked you until your cries calmed down and the tears didn't flow as hard.

"You're okay, sweetheart. I won't let anyone hurt you."

An hour went by, and your body had eventually calmed itself down, but you still clung to Spencer. "Y/N, we have to get up. We need to get you checked out by the EMTs, okay?" You nodded slowly, not wanting to leave the warmth and safety of Spencer's arms. But before you could get up, Spencer hoisted you up and awkwardly got to his feet and carried you out and down the apartment building's stairs. The cold making you both shiver as you neared the building's front door.

"I'm sorry..." Spencer whispered, not looking at you. "I shouldn't have treated you like I did. I should've realized how stupid I was being. I hurt you, and I was too blind to see it."

"Spence..." Your voice barely audible through the wind.

"Y/N... I love you. It took me a while to understand that these feelings were more than just platonic. That I was scared to ruin what we had that I jumped to someone who made me feel even a fraction of what you made me feel. When I got the call from you today, it made my feelings and worries more apparent to me. I can't lose you. If I did, I'd lose myself. There would be nothing else in this world that could make me smile or feel loved. Not in the way that you do."

"Spencer." You said louder, even though your throat made it hard.

He finally looked down at you and stopped walking. You undid one of your hands that was wrapped around his shoulder and brought it up to his cheek. You ran your thumb over his sharp cheekbones and gave him the first smile you had all day. "I understand. I forgive you."

Spencer's face broke out into the biggest smile, and he kissed the top of your head. "Let's get you checked out."

-------------------------- ~~ ----------------------------

"Spencer, I swear to whoever is out there in the universe, if you don't get up, I'm leaving here without you!"

Spencer groaned and blinked his eyes, trying to focus. He could hear you yelling from the other room about getting up, but the smell from your bed was intoxicating, and he didn't want to leave it.

It's been half a year since he told you his feelings and everything with Jesse had gone down.

Things were better. Some days, you had your doubts and fears, and you would panic when a door would slam, but you both worked through it together.

Spencer couldn't believe he finally was with his dream girl, even if he was too stupid to notice it for so long, and he wasn't going to take it for granted. Every day was an adventure with you, and he loved every second of it.

He annoyingly got out of bed and got ready for the day to walk out of your bedroom to find you curled up on the window seat reading. You were wearing a floral dress with your hair slightly curled, and you looked gorgeous. He wondered how he got so lucky because you were always able to take his breath away.

You looked up from your book, and you gave him a smile. You got up and made your way over, wrapping your arms around him and breathing in his scent. It always made you calm, and you never wanted to go too long without it. When Spencer was away on cases, you'd go over to his place so he'd always be near, even if he physically wasn't. He was your happy place.

"You look so good. Are you sure we have to go?" Spencer mumbled into your hair.

"Sadly, yes." He unwinded his arms from you and have you a pout. "Come on, maybe if you're lucky, you'll get the corner piece of the cake."

"Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll get a piece of something else." He whispered, watching you walk away towards the door.

"I heard that." You called, walking out the door, causing him to rush behind you and quickly catching up to you so he could wrap his arms around you from behind.

His hands traveled around your body as he lips found their way to your neck, causing you to moan as he kissed his way around your neck. "See, this is way more fun than a kids' party."

You groaned. "Spence, you know that gets me every time."

"I know." He whispered his breath on your neck, sending goosebumps down your body. He pulled away and gave you a small kiss on the check as he gave a light squeeze to your body. He took your hand in his and smiled. "Come on, I want that end piece of cake."

You laughed, walking towards the stairs, and Spencer gave a light smack to your butt. "Spence!" You shouted, chasing him down the stairs, both of you laughing.

You both never thought you'd be this happy, especially with someone. Never thought you'd love someone this much. Someone who you could be yourself around and love you unconditionally.

Spencer stopped running and grabbed you, twirling you around. He stopped, his lips touching yours as he breathed heavy. "I love you, Y/N... I'm never letting this go."

"I love you too, Spencer."

He stroked your hair. "I'll always be there for you, sweetheart." His lips connected to yours, giving you the softest kiss as you mumbled out.

"And, I'll always be there for you."

Let me know what you think down below! I'd appreciate it! Seeing part one blow up like it did and seeing notifications daily that someone liked or reblogged my work makes me so incredibly happy. Thank you liking the things i come up with!!!! Wishing ya'll happiness and love -lizzy

Taglist:

@kylakins88

@katieannrichards

@taygrls

@vivi-wtz

@nofacenonamelikekira

[sixofpomegranates]

Can you write one where Spencer Reid goes shopping for lingerie with his plus sized girlfriend??

♜ 𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 ♞ -𝚂.𝚁.

A/N: !Skin Color & Ethnicity Neutral! Saleswoman experience straight from my own trauma. 🥲

CW: slight angst, fluff, comfort | Mentions of Weight/bullying, insecurity about body, anxiety, pining, self-hate,

**********

*picture does not describe the looks of the reader*

**********

Is there anyone comfortable with buying clothes in a store anymore?

Is there any chubby girl that is comfortable with it?

What about underwear?

I feel like buying underwear in a store is even worse.

I'm a girl of bigger size. I never fit in anything small ever. Puberty gave me a J-Lo butt but didn't spare me from having the rest of my body fit the new curves.

Online shopping became a thing when I was out of the woods, when I was old enough to have the damage of judging, skinny girls in trendy shops embedded in my mind.

There is nothing worse than standing next to your friends that pick the cutest outfits, and you just know that the biggest size in the store is maybe a 6.

Well, there is. Having a saleswoman come up to you, looking you up and down and telling you they don't cater to your size... Have been there. I cried for the rest of the day.

This is why I love online shopping.

Sure, we can go into details about how it's terrible for the environment to order things and send them back... But the feeling of safely trying on stuff at home?

Not having to stand in front of mirrors that, combined with the harsh lighting, make you hate yourself?

Being able to take the clothes off and just send them back if they don't fit, without the looks of a skinny woman on you?

It is indescribable. It changed my life and my relationship with my body.

Sadly, sometimes you are out with your boyfriend... And men rarely struggle with their body image. They definitely can as well, don't get me wrong, but a sweetheart like Spencer that never has to watch his calories because he stays a skinny pretty boy no matter what? He isn't fully aware of how women still compete with each other when in stores.

He doesn't know the nervous feeling of looking through the sizes of the rack, eyes on you, mouths snickering that you won't find something your size anyway, or that you maybe have luck at the store selling tents.

Yes, we're now in a time where women start supporting each other, strangers ready to throw fists for you to stand up for what's right, but we still have a long way to go.

Women are still trained by society and social media to compete with each other to fit social norms and acceptance. Hopefully, our children will never have to feel like we did growing up.

Going to a mall for a shopping date between Spencer and me isn't something new. He loves having me around when running his errands and then just calls it shopping dates which end with me getting treated for dinner.

But the last couple of times we were intimate, Spencer discovered what fun it is to rip my underwear from my body and go completely feral.

Needless to say, when we passed the store I usually order from online, he pulled me in to replace the ruined pieces and maybe find some more things for me to feel sexy in.

One year of dating, and I am still not entirely sure if he's aware of the issues I have with my body. I am honest about my struggles nowadays, but he just has this smile and way of talking about me and my looks that make me feel like he can't see any of my insecurities.

The women working here come in all sizes and colors; one woman even wears a hijab. It makes me feel comfortable shopping for my underwear; these are all beautiful, friendly, non-judgmental women that just make me feel normal.

Buying clothes should make you feel like this. Normal.

After grabbing some of my favorite panties, ones that don't roll under your stomach when you sit down and actually cover your whole butt and not just one cheek, Spencer and I wander off to the more sexy clothes.

I practically jump at the garter belts in bigger sizes and the tights made for big thighs, and when I turn in Spencer's direction, he lifts a purple lingerie set.

"Please," he says, looking at me with his puppy eyes.

I take the set from him. It's pretty. Expensive, but underwear is expensive nowadays anyway... And fuck, this is sexy.

The waistline has a tough elastic band. I have a soft stomach, so I fear it could leave a visible line through my clothes and make me look like a pressed sausage.

"I don't know..." I whisper, noticing that Spencer has already picked my size. "You'd look so pretty," he insists, and I sigh. "It's underwear. It's not like you'd see it much anyway."

"It's lingerie. Made to be seen by those worthy and make you feel sexy and confident knowing you're wearing it," he corrects me, wiggling his eyebrows.

In theory, I want it. In reality, I fear never wearing it because I could feel ridiculous in it.

Since my youth, I have refused to try on things in stores. You could say that it's a coping mechanism to protect me from past discrimination.

If it doesn't fit, I lack the guts to return it.

Staring at the piece for a while, I decide to take the risk and toss it into my shopping basket. Should the set not fit properly, it'll become something solely for the bedroom to make Spencer happy.

"You win," I tell him with a smile as his grin widens. "Happy?" He nods. "The happiest," he answers, pressing a kiss onto my forehead.

We look around some more and finally pay, the cashier telling us how to ensure the items are returnable should they not fit.

Hearing that the tag must still be attached to the article, Spencer promptly removes it from the purple lingerie set. "We're definitely keeping that," he whispers into my ear, smiling his boyish grin.

Finally, at home, I find a moment to myself. I walk into my bedroom and try on my new underwear. Everything fits as perfectly as always. But I still haven't tried on my lingerie.

I actually dread it.

I undress from everything and stare the set, laid out on my bed, down.

I don't fear trying it on. I shouldn't fear trying it on.

It's just clothes... But the initial feeling of disappointment when things don't fit or looked better on you in your fantasy...

"Okay." Taking a deep breath, I try on the set.

As predicted, the waistband is a little tight at my stomach. It's not as bad as I expected it, but old habits die hard, and I still try to search for the blame on myself.

From the front, everything looks like a dream. The bra sits perfectly, doesn't pinch or make my boobs look pointy in a way that screams Madonna's cone bra. The panties give my body an hourglass look.

It's perfect, except for the way the panties slightly dig into the soft fat of my belly.

Spencer knocks politely before coming in. The second he sees me, his jaw drops to the floor.

He walks over, sitting down on my bed. "You look so pretty," he whispers.

I turn to the side, running over the small roll the underwear creates. Spencer's eyes follow my hands; I know he sees this imperfection.

"Do you think?" I ask him, and he nods eagerly. "I'm so lucky to have you," he answers, lovesick.

"I don't like the roll it creates right here," I say in an act of self-sabotage, thinking I could get him to agree.

"Is it uncomfortable?" he asks me instead. I shake my head, and he nods, "I didn't notice it before you mentioned it. It's not a big deal, honestly. It's still hot as hell. Thanks for letting me buy it."

Suddenly I feel like giggling. Apparently, Spencer does see all the parts I am insecure about; he just doesn't give a fuck about them.

I look beautiful to him, and the only person finding something they don't like about things I want to feel sexy in is myself because I was taught to dislike my body and find problems with it.

Looking into the mirror again, I start feeling silly. You really don't notice the roll if you don't concentrate on it. I run my hand over the expensive material, feeling a burst of confidence run through me.

I turn around as Spencer giggles. "What?" I ask, and he reaches out for my hand. I take it, and he pulls me onto the bed. "I just like having a pretty girlfriend," he states, kissing me softly.

Pretty girlfriend. I like being his pretty girlfriend as well.

As I pull away, I press a kiss on his flushed cheek. "I'm lucky to have you too, Spence."

.

⚡︎✿{Spencer’s Masterlist}•{Requests/Feedback}•{Guidlines}✿⚡︎

[xsimbaaa]

This scene makes me feral…

The watch, the jaw, the wrist flick, the VEST….🤤

[specialagentlokitty]

Reid x reader - patiently in love

Um!! Would you mind writing a Spencer Reid x reader where the reader (maybe fem! If you could?) is a sweet, creative girl who has just. Been in denial about her feelings for Spencer for years? She’s been his friend for a while, has always comforted him in times of need, and loves listening to his fun facts!! She thinks he’s charming and downright gorgeous but can’t muster up the courage to make a move? 👉👈 - Anon💜

Watching Spencer from across the room, all you could do was smile as you watched him reorganise his books in size order this time.

You loved his little quirks.

You loved him.

Everything about him.

To you Spencer Reid was perfect, and he always had been, ever since you were kids.

“(Y/N)?”

“Huh? What?”

“Are you okay?” He asked, worry in his tone.

You quickly nodded and rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly.

“Yeah, sorry. I got lost in my own world.”

“You always do.” He smiled, “have you finished that painting you were doing?”

“Oh not yet. I’ll do it when I head back to the city.”

He nodded his head and gestured to the chess board.

You had absolutely no chance of beating him, and you knew that, but you didn’t mind. He sometimes let you win, but you would get annoyed and tell him to play properly.

“You know there’s a game like this, which lets you see what can of person your opponent is.” He mused.

“Oh really. What is it?” You asked.

“It’s called Go, it’s Japanese.”

You hummed and nodded your head, thinking about next move before you finally made it.

“Did you know the last person you think about before you sleep is either why you’re happy or in pain.”

Spencer smiled and made his move.

“Memories are stores for both long term and short term at the same time.” He replied.

“If we have a plan B, our plan A is less likely to work out.”

You guys carried this on for the rest of the game.

You stayed on the topic of psychology since it was something you had a passion for.

You loved learning random facts about it, and since Spencer was like a Wikipedia page, he had loads of random facts about it as well.

Finally the game ended. He won but you were close to beating him this time.

“You’re nearly there.” He chuckled.

“Only because you’re going easy on me.”

Getting up, you walked over and lightly flicked his forehead which made him pout.

Spencer stood up, towering over than you.

He really had grown since you last saw him.

“I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“You’ll always be younger than me Spence, but 6 months.”

“Seriously?” He chuckled.

“Yup!”

Grinning from ear to ear, without thinking you kissed his cheek and called that you were going for a shower.

God he was everything, and you wanted him to be yours.

But you just couldn’t do it, you couldn’t muster up the courage to admit to him that you loved him, and you had for a while.

You didn’t want to mess anything up, and if you were being honest you weren’t sure how he felt about you.

So, for now it was better to stay friends, and least until one of you decided to make the first move