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parfaitblogs · 11 days

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oh my lover 𝜗𝜚 s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid undresses you for the first time.

spencer reid x fem!reader. fluff/smut (18+ mdni). 0.8k words. established relationship. borderline body worshipping? actually he just loves you a lot. kind of soft dom!spencer but only if you squint. use of sweet girl and honey.

a/n: i saw a textpost about this and thought it was wonderful beautiful incredible amazing. just a silly blurb because my motivation for writing has been almost nonexistent </3. enjoy my beautiful angels

spencer reid who didn't think he could meet somebody more nervous than him when it came to sexual intimacy, soon learning that he has fierce competition and that competition is you.

spencer reid who had to literally coax you into climbing onto his lap many moons ago because yes, he was kissing you, and you were close, but you weren't close enough and he had since discovered that he needs to feel every single inch of your body to be enjoying himself.

spencer reid who was incredibly patient with you, allowing you to initiate quite literally every time you wanted to do something with him, for he was often in fear of pushing too many boundaries and screwing this all up. spencer reid who would ask before he made any moves, and you who had grown accustomed to quietly whispered phrases such as, 'can i kiss you, sweet girl?', and (more recently), 'do you want me to stop? no? okay, honey. i won't'.

spencer reid who had you laying beneath him on the forest green sheets of his bed, kisses along your skin emitting the loveliest of whines and mewls from your lips, that had him borderline considering quitting every responsibility he had to focus on you. who was oh so hesitant about taking this any further, until you were so lost in a daze that you had subconsciously been pushing your shirt up your torso. spencer reid who had caught the sight, then your hand, stopping you from tugging it all the way off, an amused smile on his lips.

spencer reid who murmured, 'can i take your shirt off?', and then laughed when you had feverishly nodded your head. who took his utmost of time with it, despite your complaints, pressing kisses up along the hot skin of your stomach with each inch the shirt uncovered. spencer reid who had to pause for a moment when he stared down at you, nowhere near fully naked but still so, so beautiful, to the point that his brain was malfunctioning.

spencer reid who's fingers traced the outline of your bra, committing the image to memory the best he could despite the motor fry he was currently experiencing from the sight of you. who then took your bra off with so much ease, and began kissing the skin. again. who repeated every tiny ministration that tugged a moan from your throat, despite being something as small as an open-mouthed kiss on your ribcage.

spencer reid who was trying to stay focussed on the task at hand (undressing you), but getting seemingly distracted by the way you arched your back when his lips had grazed oh so lightly over your nipples.

spencer reid who's fingers finally — finally — hooked under the waistband of your pants, kissing down your body once more, pulling them down your legs at the same time. spencer reid who looked up when he felt the air in the room shift, a layer of intensity coating the two of you, noting the almost worried expression on your face.

who had asked, 'what's that look for?' and then been thoroughly confused when you expressed discomfort for him seeing you fully naked for the first time. who acknowledged that it was the first time anyone was seeing you naked, and it was a big deal, and he knew the feeling all too well.

spencer reid who, instead of continuing straight away, lifted his head back to yours, kissing the tip of your nose and the corner of your mouth, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your hip bones, slowly. who murmured, 'i'm going to think you're incredibly beautiful no matter what, but i will only go as far as you're willing'. spencer reid who swallowed the protests you had on your tongue about that matter with a kiss, shushing you and enforcing a silent promise that you are as beautiful as he says you are.

spencer reid who took his sweet fucking time removing your underwear from your body, marvelling at the sight of you and forcing his heart rate to remain at a normal enough rate so he could enjoy you properly. who kissed you again, and again, and again, mumbling incoherently about how pretty you looked in between each one. spencer reid who shushed you again, a little less seriously, because you were now giggling that he had this big brain of expansive knowledge, and the only word he could come up with for you was pretty.

but, regardless, spencer reid who made you feel so immensely loved the entire night, successfully taking his time to kiss and admire each and every crevice of your body, until you were thoroughly exhausted, but pleasantly fulfilled.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s blurbs ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut

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endless-ineffabilities · 3 months

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chemical override (3)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Both having busy schedules and working in different cities, the reader and Ewan make an effort to keep contact with each other. Will Ewan ever make his feelings known? Will a possible scandal derail their budding romance?

A beautiful floral arrangement awaits you as you return to your hotel suite in LA.

Luxury red roses preserved in an elegant black velvet box, accompanied by a printed note on the side.

Congratulations on your new project, darling.

All my love, Ewan.

Your assistant had alluded to a special package having arrived just before you came in, and you're met with this.

It's the loveliest of gestures and you instantly wish to call Ewan to express your thanks. However the hour is late, the digital clock face reading 10 pm. You'd had a long day at work, having gone through the entirety of rehearsals once more. Filming will officially begin in September, and your focus is much needed as you step into a new role.

Noting the time difference - it would only be around 6 am in the UK - you decide to put off calling him for tomorrow.

It's only been a week since he first confessed that he misses you, and since then, he's had no trouble saying it each time you speak, almost as if the floodgates are opened and he's more confident in expressing himself with you.

I told you, Phia had simply said when you shared this with her.

The strong possibility of Ewan harbouring feelings for you has caused you to become distracted the past few days. If he does, why hasn't he asked you out yet? Granted, you'll be working long-distance for a while, but still.

You quickly wind down from a long day and soon find yourself comfortably huddled in blankets with your laptop propped open in front of you. Winding down, of course, includes some time scrolling on your phone or watching things without a care.

A new video catches your attention on Youtube's home page. One of the segments from Ewan's Vanity Fair feature.

Ewan Mitchell on his firsts and currents

You smile to yourself before you even realise it.

The video starts with Ewan introducing himself - "Hi, Vanity Fair. I'm Ewan Mitchell and I'm here to talk about my different firsts and currents." - He smirks at the camera. You smirk right back as if he can see you.

"So first ever role?" he says, directed by prompts behind the camera. "Technically, my first ever role was for a very small, short film called Stereotype ..." He laughs, remembering how young and inexperienced he was. "... and my current role - none other than the One-Eyed Prince. So far, my favourite as well I have to say."

He continues with his first and current favourite film, pets, song or type of music to get into character... and so on...

Then he gets asked about - his first ever and his current celebrity crush - "Uhhhmm," he looks to the side bashfully, clicking his tongue as he thinks of the simplest answer, "I don't think I had celebrity crushes growing up. It could have been some of the actors I admired, that inspired me... "

Such a classic Ewan answer, that one. You wonder how he would also dodge the question of his current celebrity crush.

"As for my current crush... well... it might be someone from the cast of House of the Dragon, actually." He smiles knowingly, as if he's aware that your stomach is in knots as you watch. Who will he say? Phia? Olivia?

"I really admire ... " He says your name, and your eyes widen like saucers. "She's an amazing actress - I think we can all agree - and a very dear person to me... "

Ewan, you sneaky charming bastard.

" ... so yeah," he shrugs, nonchalantly, but he surely knows he just sent you - and the entire fandom - into a tailspin. "I guess you could say she's my current celebrity crush."

Curious, you pick up your phone and get to scrolling. You've turned all your notifications off, not wanting to become occupied because of them during work.

Sure enough, it's an endless flurry of likes, comments, and messages.

In your most recent post, tons of people comment about Ewan's interview, trying to bring it to your attention.

hotdpolska29: girl, go watch Ewan's Vanity Fair video RIGHT. NOW.

melodygellerr: be honest, is this photo for Ewan???

peraltajake99: now she has to say that Ewan's her celebrity crush too !!!

cassiethemendler: forget Ewan... guys she's acc with jacob frickin elordi. Did yall not see the pictures

There's simply too many comments to go through. One statement and already everyone has formed their own opinion, their own conclusion about how things are in your personal life. It's one of the drawbacks of being in the public eye, and you still don't fully know how to handle it.

As part of PR for your new film, you and Jacob had been tapped to make appearances in public together, photographers hired to make it seem like the two of you are on a date.

The whole thing confused you. You're friends with Jacob, and naturally you hang out with him anyway. All this celebrity subterfuge seems unnecessary. But he was kind enough to guide you through it. "It's just part of the job," Jacob assured. "This whole Hollywood thing is silly, isn't it?"

Since you're both single actors, it wouldn't hurt for people to believe you might be dating. It attracts attention and any publicity is good as they say.

As long as you know what's true, then the public can believe whatever they want.

You end up liking and responding to some comments, and ignoring most of the other ones that pry too much into your private life. Never mind the haters, who also give their own two cents about your alleged involvements with Ewan or Jacob.

Suddenly, the screen is brightened from an incoming call from Ewan One-Eye . You are still pleased with yourself about the name. Your excitement is spiked as you press answer. Having a crush never gets old.

"Mornin', you," you greet him. 11 pm for you in LA, 7 am for him in England.

"Evening, darling," he says with a smile. He's still in bed, with one hand behind his head while the other has his phone pressed to his ear. First thing in the morning, and he feels compelled to call you. If that's any indication, the boy doesn't lie when he says he misses you every day. "You about to go to bed?" he queries.

"Mhmm," you hum, lying down and mirroring his position. "By the way, I think I've got a secret admirer or something."

"What? Who?"

Struggling to hold back a laugh, you continue, "I think you're missing the point of a secret admirer."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighs. "Anyway, what's going on? Are they bothering you?" He sounds worried already, but a bit more should be fun.

"No, but I found a box from them in my room."

"Did they break in?" He sits half-upright, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you breathe out a tired laugh. "Ewan, I'm - " ... kidding, you want to confess, but he rambles on.

"If you need me, I can take the next flight out."

"Ewan - honey - I am messing with you. I do appreciate the floral arrangment box, by the way, thank you."

A beat of silence. He slumps back down on his pillows. A smile creeps up unrestrained on his lips. He fondly thinks that his girl almost gave him a heart attack at 7 am.

And he loves it.

"You're welcome," he replies. "And if I wasn't fully awake before, then I am now. Good work, darling."

You're pleased - he didn't deny the admirer bit of it all.

"Seriously now, thank you. They're the best surprise after a long work day."

"I'm glad you like them," he says sincerely. "Rehearsals still going on?"

"Yup, two more weeks of this, then a month-long break, and finally filming in Atlanta."

"Hmm," he says, then pauses, framing his next question as best he can. "Are you... do they... that PR relationship business, is that - "

You help him to it. "Well, technically, yeah," you respond. "But they're not laying it on thick with Jacob and I. Everything is alleged by the media and no one will make any sure statements."

When you shared the truth of the pap walk, he had a bunch of questions about it. He had sounded detached and cold at the beginning of that call. Then you complained about relationships for publicity, and he quickly got the gist. You'd think his mood took a complete 360 then.

From sounding completely disinterested with Jacob, Ewan then took to reassuring you that he's a good guy who would respect your boundaries. He's still not a fan of the whole thing, but it's your job.

And... well... it's not like he's your boyfriend or anything. What claim could he have over you?

"And something you said has the public divided," you add.

"What did I say?" he smirks, playing it coy.

"Ewan."

"You're going to have to elaborate, darling."

An idea pops up in your mind. Two can play at this game, Mitchell. "Listen, I'm flattered that I'm apparently your celebrity crush, but you can't say shit like that! I don't think my boyfriend Jacob would appreciate it. He's very protective, you know."

A full minute passes, you hear his heavy breathing on the other line. He wants to curse out at the picture you presented but holds back for you.

Then, "You're so funny, darling."

You laugh genuinely, and all his worries dissipate. "I know."

"A downright comedian."

"Thank you."

"I can't believe you're my celebrity crush," he sighs dramatically.

"You put that on to yourself, mate."

"Hmm." He sure did. He wasn't lying in that interview - you are his celebrity crush, but that seems reductive. He likes you, he misses you, he loves being around you. "The only right answer would have been you. You're the one I think about all the time."

He says things like this, so sweetly, and it's everything. It drives you off kilter that you get tongue-tied at work when you think about it.

But he hasn't said or done anything more. The flowers were a nice touch, sure. Maybe he's gearing up to it? Does he have something up his sleeve?

In the moment, it appears not. He's flirty, as he always is, but you've had a damn long day and the butterflies in your stomach are exhausted too.

"Ewan, I'm gonna go to bed."

"Oh. Right."

"Long day tomorrow. You know how it is."

"Of course. I... I miss you, darling. Sleep well."

"Mhmm," you find yourself responding, not mirroring his statement. "Bye, have a good day."

You end the call, wondering if he caught on at the end. Perhaps you sounded a bit too dismissive, but a voice in your head says, hey - if he wants you, he gonna have to show you. It'll take a lot more than flattery and banter to win your heart completely.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

That night in London, Ewan sits in a corner booth of a pub with Tom, Luke and Elliott and it's relatively causal, with the boys just catching up over a few pints.

Until Luke mentions you and Jacob, questioning whether that whole story was real or not.

"Absolutely not," Ewan says immediately, shifting in his Adidas tracksuit as if to take up more space so the boys will pay attention. "I talked to her about it and it's all just PR nonsense, trust me."

"Look at this one gettin' all defensive." Tom claps Ewan on the back in jest.

"Well it's true," Ewan just shrugs. "They're not together."

Elliott jumps in, eager to rile Ewan up even more. "For now at least. I've heard that these PR couple things eventually get a little too real, if you know what I mean. The lines tend to get blurred."

Ewan slings his pint back, before engaging. "What do you mean?"

"Well, look at it this way," Elliott explains. "She hangs out with the guy a lot. They laugh, dine and work together. Maybe they even have to make out several times for the film. It's easy for feelings to spring up from all that business."

"Life imitates art, innit?" Luke offers.

"Yeah, maybe soon it won't just be PR. I've heard of some celebrity couples who did that," Elliott says.

Luke adds, "Wasn't there that one PR couple that got married and all? Who was it - I can't remember now - "

Tom intervenes, wary of the way with which Ewan grips his pint glass. "That's all nonsense, come on. Surely that's not a common occurence. I worked with all you guys, and I can't stand any of ya. If anything, she'll be so sick of Jacob after they work together." That earns him a laugh from the twins, who then assign him to get the next round as payment for that jibe.

Ewan stays silent, his mind whirring. Usually, the boys wouldn't mind. They know it's just his way, being a focused and observant lad on and off set. But they sense something else underneath.

The twins share a look, a bit guilty due to Ewan's expression.

Ewan looks up and reassures the table, "Hey, it's alright. Whatever she chooses to do, I get it."

"But come on, mate," Tom says. "Everyone knows you like her. Literally everyone. Even she knows it, I bet. Why don't you just make the bloody move already?"

"I dunno," Ewan starts, not sure of the answer himself, "it just didn't seem like the right time, with her being off across the pond for the rest of the year."

"So what, you're just going to let it slide? Do you want her or not?"

"Mmm, I do." Ewan keeps to himself most of the time. But Tom's got a way to loosen his taut edges.

"Well, as promised, I'm gonna get us all another round," Tom declares, earning cheers from the twins.

Two pints turned into three, then six, seven and so on. Pretty soon, the lads get properly and well smashed. Ewan's never been the biggest drinker, but when the social situation calls for it, he can put them back just as well as the next guy from the Midlands.

"So come clean, mate," Tom drawls, his arm slung around Ewan's shoulders. "Are you in love with her already or what?"

Ewan laughs, rubbing a hand over his face to wake up a little. It doesn't work - the glare of the warm overhead lights is strong and make him feel woozy.

"Could be," he says. "But that's none of your business." Smirking, he points at Luke, "Or yours," then at Elliott, "or yours."

"Hey! C'mon," Tom protests, feigning hurt. "Am I not going to be the best man at the wedding?"

"No way, Aegon the Magnanimous," Ewan shakes his head. "My brother'll be the best man."

"So there will be a wedding," Luke says. "Does the bride know about it?"

"He hasn't even asked her out yet," Elliott teases. "I triple dare you to ask her out right now. Right fuckin' now, Ewan."

"No," Ewan says, but in his sloshed out state, he secretly considers just doing it. "I gotta go for a smoke, lads. Tom was right, I can't stand you anymore."

"Oh, boo!" Tom shoves him out of the booth. "Hurry back, lover boy."

Ewan makes his way to the alley behind the pub. He's thankful that a pub at midnight offers the perfect setting to disappear into anonymity. Everyone's just as drunk or they simply don't care about celebrity culture.

He takes a few puffs of his cigarette, the nicotine quickly reawakening his nerves. Thinking back to the twin's suggestion, he thinks, why the hell not? Why shouldn't he ask you out already? Who cares about the PR shite? If word gets around that you're his, the facade about you and Jacob will get shelved.

With his cig lodged between his teeth, he has to take extra care to call you, the glare of the screen not doing wonders for his inebriation.

The lines beeps, and he's met with your voicemail. You must still be at work or just getting off it.

Still with Jacob. Something in him stirs, and it's not just the bloody alcohol.

He clears his throat, prompted by the notification to leave a message - "Hey, darling. Hey... beautiful... I guess I'm missing you and I... I miss you, isn't that funny?" he starts, proud of himself for making the joke. "I'm out with the lads right now... had a couple of pints. Maybe one too many? I don't know. And... uhhh - "

He stomps his smoke under his shoe, nervous ticks getting the best of him. Here he goes, make it or break it. "I was thinking about you. As I always do. Because I've never felt like this about anyone before. Ever. And I'm sorry it took me this long to ask, but I want to be with you. No - that's not right, it's too quick... I mean, yes, I want to be with you, but I gotta do this right. I want to take you out, properly, on a date. Will you... will you please? I've got some business stateside and I could have that scheduled sooner, and I could come see you. And we could... I just want to see you. So fucking badly, baby. I - I - okay then, I suppose that's all. Good... good morning? No - evening. You're beautiful and I just..." he sighs deeply, because words will never do you justice. "... goodbye."

The line cuts off and he tucks his phone away. Smiling to himself, he feels euphoric from getting that off his chest. The message was coherent enough, he thinks proudly, and it couldn't have sounded better all things considering.

If he could pat himself on the back, he most definitely would. He can already see it, the perfect first date with you.

The lads are going to go nuts over this, he knows for certain. He makes his way back inside the pub, a boy renewed.

A lover boy, as Tom and Phia call him.

No truer words have been spoken.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It's 10 pm yet again when you make it back to your suite. Having notifications on your phone turned off while you're at work, you're met with a barage of messages and the usual social media frenzy.

But only one thing stands out - a voice message from Ewan One-Eye, sent just around 4 hours ago.

You settle in for the night, making sure you're all prepped to go to bed before playing it, thinking you can maybe call him afterward.

You hear the beep, and the message starts - "Hey, darling... uhhhh so hey, I - uh fuck I'm missing you right now, must be at work eh? And I miss you - " You note how he sounds drowsy but his words are punctuated. Like he's making an actual effort to simply speak. You realise he must be drunk. What's a drunk Ewan doing calling you? " - that's so funny, innit? Which suits cause I'm just a bloody joke cause I took too long... to tell you... that I... I think about you all the time, I'mcrazyboutyou y'know... I wanna be with you... withyou - " He's drunk, you keep reminding yourself that he's drunk. But the effect of his words aren't diminished. He's got you hooked. " - I got work out there too... so I'll - uhhh - see you then and... take you out then and - fuck - kiss ya... I want to kiss you so fucking badly, baby. You're perfect for me, and so beautiful, and I wish Aemond would wed your character cause - as th'twins said - life imitates art!" He snickers at his own remark, and it's the most endearing thing ever. "So... yeah, good, darling. Goodb - " and the line cuts off.

"What the fuck," is all you can speak out into the quiet room. Lying back on your pillows, you actually laugh out loud and kick your feet like a puppy-love drunk highschooler.

The sun is rising across the pond and Ewan has probably just made it back home, immediately collapsing in his bed all wasted.

But he's getting a call tomorrow - and you pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that his intentions are clear, drunk or otherwise.

Kismet is a funny thing. Once a fan of the show, you're now an actress on it, about to date the Aemond Targaryen.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Ewan's eyes flutter open. The sunlight is weakly coming in from the window shutters in his room. Confused, he glances at the digital clock face and it reads 6:18 PM.

So he slept through the whole day. Brilliant.

It's unlike him to mind his phone first thing after waking up, so he trudges to his bathroom to douse his face with cold water and brush his teeth for a good long while, trying to recall the events of the previous night.

It had the usual workings of a proper pub night with his lads, and he barely remembers the last night he got that sloshed. But anyway, all in good fun, and he genuinely enjoys their company so it must be worth the pounding headache he feels right now.

The lads... an unknown and possibly excessive number of pints... Oasis playing on the speakers... Tom generously buying a round of drinks for everyone in the pub... and of course, you.

The memory has his attention, and he thumbs through his phone as he makes his way to his kitchen to prep his staple black coffee with seven sugars.

He remembers it - kind of - leaving a voicemail, and he's pleased that he finally, finally asked you out. Never mind that it took him getting drunk off his noggin to do it.

But there's nothing from you. Not a message, nor a missed call, nor a voice note.

He tries not to let it worry him right away, but it does. Maybe you didn't hear it yet. Maybe you were too tired from work and weren't checking your voicemails.

Maybe... maybe...

His phone suddenly buzzes in his palm and he mumbles, fuck's sake, out of surprise. But it's not you calling. It's his publicist.

"Hello, good evening. How are you doing?" he greets cordially.

"Ewan!" she exclaims. "Finally! I've been trying to get a hold of you all day."

"Oh, right," he says guiltily, "I'm so sorry, I just had a long night and - "

"I know, Ewan, I know. The whole country - no - the whole world knows by now. Bloody hell, it's always The Sun, isn't it? Those idiots, I swear."

He straightens at that. If a tabloid is involved, it can't be good news. "What's happened?"

His publicist sighs, ready to relay the news, "The Sun did a story on you and the other cast members. About having a wild night out in the pub. It's useless fodder, really, nothing wrong with having a night out."

"Right, right... but - " Ewan says, sensing there's something more. Something worse.

"There's a picture of you with a girl - "

"What?"

"I think I've seen her before. She must be a cousin of the Tittensors? You know her, of course."

"I... I don't - "

"Anyway, according to the paper, you and her were flirting it up a storm at the pub. She had her arm around you and everything. Do you want to look it up now? I can give you a moment. I'll stay on the line."

"Fuck," Ewan mutters to himself as he does a quick search of his name. The headlines make him wish he never did so.

House of the Dragon Stars On A Wild Night Out: INSIDE SCOOP!

EWAN MITCHELL SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY LADY

Aemond Targaryen IN LOVE? See PICTURES Inside!

"I don't think I remember her," he swears to his publicist, "I was just drinking with the lads and there might have been others that joined us but I - what the fuck - I don't - "

"It's okay, Ewan," she reassures him. "We can deal with this. This bullshit just comes with the job, as you should know. It'll be fine."

No, it's not fine.

Because it dawns on him why he hasn't heard back from you.

"Fuck."

💌 next chapter

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Not drunk Ewan thinking his voice message sounded a lot better than it did! 😂

The story will extend further than 3 parts, as it turns out! In the next one, the reader and Ewan will be reunited - any guesses on what will happen?

Comment and let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist 💕

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #chemical override #aemond targaryen x reader

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