The Holiday: Part One

I Love You, I’m Sorry

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: You left the BAU and your boyfriend, Spencer, after a case took a hefty toll on you. You only left behind a letter, explaining yourself and why you had to leave. Four years later, you find yourself back in DC on a whim. You learn that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.

Category: Angst

Warnings: NO HAPPY ENDING, mentions of a past case, mentions of trauma, case related things, reader getting kidnapped but only mentioned, reader lowkey being stalker-y, arguing, mentions of 2x15 “Revelations” but it’s brief, takes place in Season 9 but this is with the Season 7 team, angst angst angst

It’d been four years since he last saw you. You’d left the BAU after a particular case took a massive toll on you and you’d decided the best thing to do at the time was leave.

It was a case in your hometown, no less — the team had no leads and all they had to go off were three bodies tattooed with some kind of weird symbol on their bodies. Before joining the BAU, you were in the taskforce and you’d dealt with something similar. The victims had all been women and the symbol was some kind of branding initiation. You never caught the guy.

And when the team finally got a lead, you and Morgan were sent to check the place out. Unfortunately, it ended with Morgan being knocked out cold and you being kidnapped.

It took the team four days to find you. You were tortured, slashes on your body and the amount of mental trauma you endured during that time was disturbing. He managed to gather most of your team’s belongings and present them in blood as if it were proof that they were dead. You were led to believe that your team was dead for four days.

But by the fourth day, they realized that their unsub was someone who worked for the PD and luckily, they cracked it down and found you. You almost believed that they weren’t real, that everyone was a figment of your imagination. It took Spencer approaching you and actually touching you for you to realize that this was real. That your team was still alive.

And the case took a toll on you. Even after you passed your psych evals and came back to the BAU, you were still flinching at anyone touching you. And unfortunately, it just became too much in the end that you left.

The only person you explained yourself to was Spencer. You left behind a letter for him, I know, not great thinking on your part considering that’s how Gideon and his father left him. But you knew if you talked to him face to face, he would’ve talked you into staying. He was your boyfriend, he always had a way with words that no one else did. And you knew he’d try and get you to stay because this was where you belonged. But you felt totally alone. Even though the team was there for you, you still felt alone.

Four years have passed since you left. And as expected, the only person that found you was the BAU’s very own Penelope Garcia. You only allowed her to tell the team that you were okay and that you were safe but not to tell them where you were. For the last four years, you thought about the team every day.

So what exactly pursued you to come back all of a sudden? Call it homesickness, say it was only because you missed everyone dearly and started thinking about them a lot more recently. Or maybe it was because you only missed Spencer. That’s why you were standing outside of his apartment unit, right?

You were outside, staring at the tall building and you had no idea what brought you here but you were here. It was like you woke up and all of a sudden, you were here. You had no idea what brought you here. But you walked out that door and your feet took you here.

Spencer had been invading your mind as of recently. You had no idea why but it probably had to do with the fact that his birthday was recently. His thirty-second birthday. You wondered what he did, you wondered how he spent his birthday. Did he spend it with the team? Did he spend it with his mom? You wondered if showing up was a mistake. Maybe it was.

Spencer, on the other hand, was carrying about his night in his apartment. It had been one of those nights where he couldn’t sleep, so he’d started the day off at 3am. Probably not the smartest idea because he’d be tired by the end of the day, but at least there was coffee.

He’d turned on the coffee machine and got his crossword of the day ready at the kitchen table. He’d decided to bring some light in by walking towards the curtains and opening them. Granted, there wasn’t going to be a lot of light, but it would’ve helped. Plus, something told him to just open the curtains, so he did.

When he opened the curtain, he usually has a good look at the front of his building. Who’s coming, who’s going, what’s going on. And when he looks down, he sees something odd. Something that makes him question if he’s hallucinating. Have the schizophrenic symptoms finally taken over? Because there’s no way he’s seeing you, right here and right now.

And you’re staring right back at him. In the flesh. And you’re not a figment of his imagination, you can’t be. There were times after you left, where he thought about you and that other women he’d passed by were you. But this wasn’t like those other times. This was different.

Spencer was quick to scramble out of his apartment, almost toppling over his own feet as he struggles to get his slippers on and quickly rushes out of his apartment, down the stairs and towards the entrance of the building. Mind racing with questions and wanting answers as opens the door and blinks as he looks around for you. Because now you’ve disappeared.

Spencer looks around. You couldn’t have gotten far. He even opts to call out your name to the gods. There was no way you were figment of his imagination. You couldn’t have been. You were staring back at him. He’d almost forgotten what you looked like. And he doesn’t forget anything.

You’d managed to escape right when you saw him back away from his window and grabbed a taxi and ordered the driver to take you anywhere but here. You looked behind you and saw Spencer was in the middle of the street, wondering where you disappeared off to.

You had to leave. It was the only option you needed to take. You ended up getting a hotel early that morning. You still had no idea what you were doing here in DC. And it didn’t do you any good with Spencer seeing you. You hated to think it but you’d hoped that he thought that maybe you were just a figment of his imagination. You didn’t want him to go and ask Garcia where you were since she was the only person that knew. And you knew she’d give in because she wasn’t that great at keeping secrets.

Since you opted for staying for a few days, you had to be incognito. And that meant avoiding Spencer at all cost. That didn’t help when all the places you used to go to, you introduced him to.

You thought you were safe going to your local coffee shop this morning, but you walked in right when he was getting his order and you were quick to hide behind a very tall, burly man and rush out of the coffee shop.

Unfortunately, to your luck, Spencer saw you. Or at least thought maybe he did. He’d spotted you the minute you hid behind that burly man and then when you practically ran out of the coffee shop.

He definitely wasn’t imagining you now. He’d seen as you ran far away from the shop and called your name, probably looking like a total lunatic as he yelled your name across the street. You were most definitely caught now. Your jig was up. You should’ve expected this to happen.

Penelope 💕: You’re in town?

Sent 12:34pm

Penelope💕: And don’t even try and lie, Spencer blew your cover.

Sent 12:34pm

Penelope💕: Also, he tried bribing me with a croissant to figure out where you are. I can only hold on for so long!

Sent 12:35pm

Penelope managed to spam your cell phone when you got back to the hotel after your harrowing escape. You decided to send a quick reply with a sigh falling from your lips.

You: Please please PLEASE don’t tell him where I am.

Sent 12:37pm

Penelope💕: Okay, fine. But under one condition.

Sent 12:38pm

You: Which is?

Sent 12:38pm

Penelope💕: Come out with us to O’Keefe’s tonight! It’ll be lowkey, everyone on the team will be there! And you get to straighten this whole thing out because even JJ is asking questions now!

Sent 12:39pm

Your biggest thing was that you didn’t want anyone knowing you were here. You don’t even know what sparked you even showing up in the first place. What were you going to tell them if they’d asked why you were here? There were so many questions you wanted to avoid. Because you’d just left without a trace.

You: Oh, Penny. I don’t know… :/

Sent 12:40pm

Penelope💕: Oh, just consider it! It could be fun for you!

Easy for you to say, Penelope. But she had a point. Maybe it could be fun, seeing the team again. Morgan, Rossi, Spencer. Then again, you almost wanted to avoid him because of how you left him. Was he the only thing holding you back from going tonight? Not to mention, did anyone else know exactly how you left him? They could’ve hated you just as much as you knew he hated you. Your phone dings again.

Penelope💕: I know your gears are turning but trust me, everyone really wants to see you again! Emily was literally talking about you the other day. Please! With sugar on top!

Sent 12:43pm

Okay, that made you feel a little bit better. You did miss them. Maybe Penelope would be the one to help you with your decision.

You: Fine, I’ll make an appearance. But only for an hour!

Sent 12:45pm

Penelope💕: YESSSSS 🥳 I’ll send you deets after work! 😊

Sent 12:45pm

Your plan to avoid Spencer backfired on you, oh, so greatly. Maybe you still could avoid him. Maybe he decided not to go to O’Keefe’s once he found out you were gonna be there.

He never liked the bar scene anyways. He hardly drank since what happened with Tobias Hankel. You prayed for the slight chance that he wouldn’t come drinking with the team. And you even hoped Garcia may have been so excited to tell Spencer that you were coming, she’d blurt it out to him and maybe he wouldn’t go. You hoped you were right.

I hate this already, I hate this already, I hate this already. You thought in your head as you walked to O’Keefe’s. It’s been a while since you’ve been in this area. Your mind is built with memories of walking these same streets with Spencer, arm in arm as he rambled about just about anything. Your heart broke in two as you thought about those times, so simple and delicate before they got ruined. By you.

You walked towards the bar and entered the building, scouting out to look for the team until a chippy voice shouted your name. “Y/N!” Your eyes trailed over to the bubbly blonde, “Over here!” She waves her arm over and you walk over pretty slowly as you join them.

“Well, as I live and breathe!” Morgan stands from his seat, welcoming you with a hug. “It’s good to see you.” You muffle into his shirt that it’s good to see him too and by then everyone pretty much follows with a hug and Rossi kisses both of your cheeks in welcoming. Everyone seems happy to see you. Everyone except Spencer, who keeps sipping his drink and looking anywhere but you like you don’t even exist. And he has the right to that. But he’s not gonna ruin this, tonight.

The night consists of everyone asking you how you’ve been and what you’ve been up to. And not that Spencer cares but he overhears as you mention you work at a desk job in California — the place he knows you’ve always wanted to live — and that you recently got a new cat and that you don’t have a boyfriend. Again, not that he cares.

And then he catches onto something you say. About how you were sorry you left the team so abruptly. And Spencer scoffs under his breath as he spoke — “Least you’re explaining yourself in person now, right?”

Spencer met your eyes and everyone sat there awkwardly after the fact. You knew what that was. A diss at how you left him. You knew how he was. He got petty. And when he got petty, he got mean. It didn’t help that he’d been nursing his drink a bit, too.

Garcia had distracted everyone, asking to join her on the dance floor, to which Morgan, JJ, Emily and even you obliged. Spencer had declined, deciding to stay at your table and Rossi and Hotch went over to the bar to get more drinks for everyone.

Spencer’s jaw clenched as he watched you dance with the rest of his team. How can they act like you didn’t just up and leave them three years ago? Like everything was fine again? How could they just sit there and laugh with you when you broke their hearts when you left? He didn’t forget how Garcia cried for weeks, or how frustrated Morgan was when he found out, or how Emily kept turning over to your empty desk to tell you something but forgot you weren’t there and how heartbroken you left him when he read your letter over and over again.

I can’t stay here anymore. I love you. I’m sorry. He could see your handwriting in the back of his mind. The wires in his head crossing as he wrapped his head around the fact that you were here. I can’t stay here anymore. I love you. I’m sorry. He told you that you two were gonna be fine, you were going to get through this together. I can’t stay here. I love you. I’m sorry. But you left. You left and you didn’t turn back. How could you leave him like that? The same way his dad did, the same way Gideon did. I can’t stay here anymore. I love you. I’m sorry.

Finding himself growing frustrated, Spencer decides to leave. He can’t stay here. Not while you’re here, not while the team can act like they’re happy to see you. He’s infuriated. And he needs to go.

He slams a twenty down at the table and lets Hotch and Rossi know he’s leaving. They don’t even attempt to get him to say, exchanging a knowing glance at the fact it was because you were here but he wasn’t going to pay any attention to that. He heads for the door but he doesn’t realize he’s had an audience this whole time.

You were watching him. You couldn’t help it. You hated the way he glared at you. It pained you that you caused this. You were the reason he hated you. So, when you saw him leave, you decided that maybe you needed to talk, one on one without anyone else present.

You excused yourself to everyone, saying you going to get some water and that you’d be right back and exited the building, seeing as Spencer was about eight feet ahead of you and calling his name. “Spencer!”

Spencer scoffs, turning around as you fiddle your hands together, approaching him. You did that when you were nervous. “Can we talk, please?” Spencer turns back around and continues walking. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”

“Yes, we do. And you know it.” You say as you catch up to him even if he continues walking away from you. “Spencer, I know you hate the way I left. And trust me, I did, too but you can’t blame me forever.”

“Well, I have,” Spencer turns around and faces you. “You left, or did you forget that? Because I sure as hell didn’t.”

“Spencer—”

“You left. You wrote a letter to me, just like my dad and just like Gideon because you were a coward and couldn’t face me. We could’ve worked it out, we could’ve talked about it, Y/n!”

“I couldn’t talk to you about it!” And now here you were, shouting at him, this was the last thing you wanted when you decided to come here tonight.

“Why not?”

“Because I know you’d talk me out of leaving!” You take a deep breath. “And I didn’t want that. I needed not to be persuaded by you, I needed to think about this. And I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t. And I hated that I did that to you, it haunts me every single day.” Your voice wavered when you said the last sentence. “Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you. You have to know that I’m sorry.” You go to touch him but he’s quick to back away from you.

“Oh, and you’re making amends now?” Spencer questioned. “You’re just acting like what you didn’t matter? Well, it mattered to me, Y/n. You left and you didn’t care!”

“I did.” You argued.

“No, you didn’t. ‘I can’t do this anymore’? ‘I love you, I’m sorry’?” You furrow your brows at this. And all he can think is — how can you not remember the most painful words you’d ever written to him? “You wrote that to me in your letter. Your letter that you left behind to me, along with your badge and gun. You can’t just slam this door closed and pretend like you’re not at fault when you’re completely at fault. You hurt me, in the only way a person could. How could you do that?”

“I know, I know!” You tell him, shutting your eyes as you pull your hair back away from your face. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. But I couldn’t be there anymore. I wasn’t the same girl that you fell in love with. And you deserved better.”

“I deserved better than that.” Spencer retorted and you nod with a sniffle, “Yeah, yeah, you did.” You admit defeat, wiping your nose.

You walk closer to him as he stares at the ground. “And I’m so sorry,” You tell him. He still avoids your eyes, opting for the ground until he feels your hand on his cheek and you force him to meet his eyes. “And I’m telling the truth. I thought about you everyday. And I love you, I could never lie about that. Ever.”

Spencer looks into your eyes and you can’t make what’s in them. Anger? Sadness? Regret? All of the above? “Why did you come back?” The question lingers above your head and you try to come up with a valid reason in your head. But you can’t come with anything. Why did you come back? You could’ve left this alone, you could’ve moved on because that was the way life went. You could go on, forget anything happened. Was it some form of a guilty conscience for leaving him? Was it closure? Did you need to move on? Did you need Spencer to move on before you could? “I don’t know.” You answer.

“That’s not an answer.” Spencer tells you and you back away from with a scoff, “Well, then what do you want to hear, Spencer? I don’t know why I’m here. I just know that I am now.”

“Why? Did you expect to get back together or something? That maybe I’d just forget what happened and leave it behind in the past like nothing did?” It was obvious he couldn’t forget it.

“No, I-I didn’t expect that, at all—!”

“Then, why?”

“I don’t… know.” Maybe you did know why. Maybe you still loved him. But you couldn’t. Not in this way at least.

“You can’t just stumble your way back into my life simply because — what? You’re lonely, all of a sudden? Is that it?”

You’d had enough. This was pointless when all he was doing was arguing with you and making you feel even worse than you already did. You shake your head — “I don’t have to listen to this.”

“Maybe you need to,” He argued. “Y/n, you were cruel to me. And somehow, you were also the best thing that happened to me. I loved you, did you know that? I tried moving on, I tried — but that didn’t even work out.” It makes you wonder why. But it’s not your business. “When I saw you again, all I could think about was how you left. And how much it hurt when you did. And you’re back now and now I’m more confused than ever. I hate you for coming back. But… I… I can’t even wrap my head around this. I can’t… I can’t be around you. I need to go.”

Spencer shakes his head and begins to walk away. You watch as he does so but not before you tell him — “I knew,” You say and he stops in his tracks. “And for the record, I loved you, too.”

Spencer stands still for a moment before he continues walking. And he turns his back on you, just like you did him years ago. There was time where he would’ve spun around and forgave you and held you and kissed you until you needed a breather but that time was long gone. Because now, he couldn’t even stand to be around you. You watched as he walked away from you and you know you deserve that.

You two were on different paths and maybe that’s the way it had to be. You’d book a flight back home when you got back to your hotel tonight. Because he was right, you couldn’t stumble back into his life, begging for forgiveness when you left him the way you did. That was the way life went, you move on.

And you supposed you should start doing that now. Since Spencer was on his way to doing so, already.

Let Me Ease Your Worries

Spencer Reid × Midsize!Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer finds it hard to understand when you need reassurance. When you tackle the topic, he wants to show you just how much he loves your body (smut with plot).

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: negative self talk, body dysmorphia (may be sensitive for people with ED experiences), swearing, kissing, nudity, oral sex (f!receiving), intimate touching (Spencer and reader touch each other's genitalia briefly), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie.

A/N: This is the first smut fic I've posted in literal years, so be patient as I edited this super quickly 🙏 there's no real sub/dom dynamic although there are moments where Spencer is on the subbier side. Although this is listed as midsize!reader, plusize!readers are also welcome, I just thought certain descriptions wouldn't fit the exact experience of a plus-size person.

Spencer was the smartest person you had ever met. IQ of 187 with 3 PHDs and 2 BAs under his arm deemed him an academic weapon. He was an expert when it came to statistics and basically everything else that piqued the genius’ interest. Literature and texts were no match for him as he whizzed through them at lightning speed, each glyph sticking to his brain in a lifelong bond.

With all his knowledge, it wouldn’t be unrealistic to assume there was nothing Doctor Spencer Reid could not achieve - except being able to comprehend the fact you needed constant reassurance, that is.

You had been dating the boy wonder for two years and it was safe to say you had never felt happier or luckier. He was sweet and caring, yet timid; but that didn’t stop him from worshipping the ground you walked on. Spencer thought he was subtle about it, but he clung to you like a lost puppy - he was hopelessly in love.

Thus, it was near impossible for the young man to think that there was ever a doubt in your mind that you weren’t the most beautiful girl to him.

Self-confidence was never your forte. Your childhood and teenage years were spent focusing on school rather than boyfriends and first kisses. Not that you wouldn’t have liked to. The opportunity just never revealed itself before Spencer - and you blamed that on your body. A soft, friendly face had no effect when paired with your round stomach and filled-in hips and thighs.

Spencer hadn’t actually realised you were insecure about yourself, because why would you be? All he saw was a natural beauty and happiness gleaming off of you.

So when the time came where your insecurities got the best of you, your boyfriend wasn’t the exact blueprint of awareness. Ever the oblivious boy, he couldn’t figure out why there were days when you went quiet or didn’t reciprocate his affection as much. Being a profiler at the BAU should have made him better at this, you thought.

That was until you had a particularly harsh day after work. With long shifts at the bookshop and days spent apart from Spencer because of his job, you were mentally exhausted. At 5.30pm, you shoved the key into your front door and sighed, happy at last to be home. A tired Spencer clad in red checkered pyjama pants and a Caltech t-shirt was sprawled on the sofa. He had messaged you a few hours before that the case had closed and he was returning home for the rest of the weekend.

He flashed you his signature toothy grin and got up from his comfortable place amongst the cushions and blanket, padding across the wooden floor in his cute purple and red socks.

“Hi,” he spoke softly as he leaned down to give you peck on your cheek. “I missed you.”

You smiled and nodded, reaching for his hand and rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. “Missed you too.”

Despite knowing each other for five years, you were both still shy in the other’s presence. You had had the occasional make out session and even managed to share a few nights tangled amidst the sheets after mustering up the courage. Nonetheless, you acted as if you had only been dating for a month.

After kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag on the floor, you plopped on the sofa in your usual corner, resting your head on the back.

Spencer remained by the front door, standing awkwardly and playing with the fingertips of his right hand. He looked utterly adorable with his pyjama bottoms loose at his hips and his t-shirt sliding off a shoulder - but his eyes hid something flickering behind them.

The sound of him clearing his throat resonated around the room and you looked upwards. Spencer opened his mouth to say something and then quickly shut it.

“What’s wrong? You’re gaping like a fish.”

You giggled and he smiled in return, letting out a light-hearted sigh.

“Is something up? You … you didn’t kiss me like you usually do when I’ve been away on a case.”

And he was right. It was like a routine to jump into his arms and cover him with kisses every time you were apart. But today you couldn’t shake the heavy feeling looming over you: that you were less than he deserved, both in actions and looks.

You didn’t want to display your worries so openly, so you beckoned him to come over with a stretch of your arm and a weak smile, holding his face between your palms once he neared. You craned your neck and placed a soft kiss on his cracked lips.

“I’m sorry, Spence - nothing’s up, just tired.”

Spencer quirked his head to the side as he looked down at you, the profiling cogs in his brain turning to read the expression on your sullen face.

“On average, women tell three lies to their partners and co-workers daily - and I can tell you’re lying.”

You rolled your eyes, avoiding his gaze to escape the intimidating and unblinking look he sported when trying to guess what was going on in your head.

“You’re annoying when you’re smart, do you know that?”

He knew you were teasing him and he chuckled, shaking his head before sitting down next to you. He hovered his hand over your thigh before setting it back down in his lap; outright displays of affection were still a guessing game for Spencer, never knowing if you wanted his touch or not, or if it was the right course of action.

“It comes in handy when I know you’re worried about something. You gave a vague answer, you avoided eye contact, and you scratched your neck before answering. All of those factors, especially self-grooming and self-soothing behaviours, are signs that one is lying.”

Although often a blessing, Spencer’s intellect was a curse when you tried to hide your anxieties.

“Just a bad self-image day, darling.”

Only confusion spread across your boyfriend’s face.

“What do you mean? You’ve never mentioned this before.”

“Because I didn’t need to before. I just …” You paused. “Not feeling very good about myself. About how I look.”

It should’ve been easy for him to understand what you were getting at, but he looked completely lost.

“I don’t follow.”

You shifted to better look at him and crossed your legs underneath you, Spencer mirroring your position. Somehow, you had to explain what insecurity felt and looked like to this supposed all-knower of things.

“Sometimes Spence, I don’t feel very confident in how I look. In how I am perceived.”

Spencer looked at his hands for a few moments before looking up and saying, “61% of adults express negative thoughts regarding their physique, but I wouldn’t think you’d showcase that. Did something trigger this?”

You shrugged, wrapping your arms around your torso in an attempt to shield your body from his strong stare.

“I feel like maybe … I don’t deserve you, like I should look better for you, be prettier.”

Spencer’s mouth fell slightly agape, the first time he had been rendered speechless all evening. His eyes seemed empty, searching for the next thing to say to an answer he never expected leaving your mouth.

“What do you mean prettier? You’re my girlfriend, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he said this with a slight tremble in his voice which indicated disbelief.

“You just say that because you have to.”

If he was puzzled before, now he was completely dumbfounded.

“I don’t understand where you’re going with this. No one forced me to say that.” He went silent for a second. “Covering one’s body with their arms is an attempt at shielding oneself, thus indicating fear and insecurity.”

Spencer wasn’t sure if he gave you a reason to feel insecure about yourself. Sure, he wasn’t the best person at expressing his love through words and physical affections, but to him it was undeniable that he adored you.

“Why do you feel insecure about yourself? Did I say something or imply that I don’t want you?”

The opportunity to speak up about the deep-rooted hatred you had for your physique had never surfaced until now. It was a situation you weren’t too keen on taking, even though you wished he’d asked about it earlier.

“No, no at all, you didn’t say anything! You’re nothing but kind to me.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows, urging you to continue.

“I feel like my body shape isn’t ideal and one day you’re going to realise that and leave me.”

You didn’t mean for it to come out all at once: a breath, a tumble of words, two years’ worth of worries and unsaid thoughts out in a matter of four seconds.

A tense silence blanketed the room, the small distance between you feeling larger than ever. It was difficult to decipher the expression on the boy’s face: his eyebrows furrowed deeply as he often did when he couldn’t grasp something and his mouth shaped itself into a sad pout. Spencer stuttered before speaking.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean I’d leave you? I- I- “

“Spencer, I’m fat.”

That was it, that’s what you had been implying all this time, what you ached to confess. His eyebrows went back into place, straight as a line.

“Actually, when it comes to measuring one’s weight in accordance to their height, you’re at a healthy weight. Although the BMI scale was used as a way to calculate this in the past, it has been deemed inaccurate because-”

“Spencer, stop! I don’t care about facts, I feel ugly and I’m scared you’re going to realise that!”

You huffed, the strand of hair which had fallen across your face flying out of the way. You rubbed your hands across the expanse of your thighs, squeezing your knees. Spencer’s erratic hand movements and scientific explanation were halted.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout,” you said more calmly.

It was clear he didn’t know what to say. You had never interrupted him mid-rant, you always reassured him you were more than happy to listen. He made a scratching sound at the back of his throat, shifting his eyes down before meeting yours again, his cheeks now flushed in embarrassment.

“I think you’re beautiful. I always have.”

The comment hit a sore point in yourself. Beautiful. A word only your boyfriend had ever told you; and well, your parents, but that was a different scenario. It felt foreign, like you were taking something that didn’t belong to you.

“Spence, please, you don’t have to say that-”

“I mean it. I truly mean it.” You could tell he was being honest because of his gentle voice and wide eyes. “I don’t lie about these things. I look at you and I see someone I love, and that someone happens to be beautiful in my eyes. Nothing about you could push me away, I’d be crazy to do so. You’re stuck with me forever.” He smiled softly, trying to ease the tension in the air.

His words were sweet, but not sweet enough to dissolve your doubts.

“But you work with women who are so much prettier than I am.” You paused and said the next part quieter. “Thinner than I am.”

“Yeah, I know that. And?” That wasn’t the response that would exactly help.

“And! And, Spence! Thinner is prettier.”

“Actually, aesthetics are subjective-” You glared at him before he could continue his next statistical lesson.

He nodded, playing with his fingertips again - a habit he had developed in order to collect his thoughts.

“The first time I saw you, I thought you were prettier than anyone else I had ever met. I liked how your clothes hugged you, the way your shirts and sweaters settled around your torso. I liked that pants and skirts looked a certain way on you, because your hips and thighs made them stretch out. I still hold those views.”

He lifted his head to utter the last part.

“If what you’re implying is that because you don’t have a flat stomach - the current beauty norm - I’m going to find you unattractive, then I’m going to have to ask you to re-evaluate your method of deduction, because I prefer your body over anyone else’s.”

That’s all you wanted to hear. “Thank you, sometimes I forget.”

Spencer took a few seconds to ponder before asking, “I’ve never told you that, have I? Like, out loud.”

You shook your head meekly, smiling at him to show that you weren’t angry. “No, not really.”

Now he understood. He had never expected that you needed to be told what he thought about you to know that he was crazy about your body, about you in general. Or that it needed to be repeated, or else you’d forget.

“Can you tell me when you’re feeling this way? I didn’t know you had these thoughts, you never told me. I assumed you just … knew that I found you attractive, always.”

Communication. This was new, but a step into the right direction.

“I’m sorry for never being open about it - I will from now on.”

The brunet placed his hand over yours, which had been resting on your knee for a while now.

“I really love you, I’m sorry I don’t say it a lot. I find the weight you’re at to be really appealing, although you don’t need my approval - weight has no correlation to the strength or amount of love one is capable of receiving.”

It was impossible not to kiss him: this perfect man sat in front of you in his home attire, messy strands and waves of hair surrounding his face, uttering the kindest words which were specifically directed towards you.

You grabbed his face between your hands once more and pressed a kinder, more loving kiss to his lips. Spencer further smooshed his face against yours, playing with the frayed ends of his pyjama bottoms to ground himself - that fluttery sensation in his chest when you kissed never went away after all this time together.

Once pulling back, you rested your forehead against his, blindly searching for his hands to take them into yours. You stayed like so for a while until your boyfriend whispered, “Can I try to show you how pretty I find you?”

You straightened your back in surprise. “Show me how?”

A faint blush tinted his cheeks as he traced the bumps of your knuckles with his forefinger. “I’m never the one to initiate this, but … I’d really like to be intimate with you. I-In bed.” His stuttering was nothing short of cute. Spencer wouldn’t be Spencer without being formal when it came to your sexual life.

“You want to have sex with me, is what you’re trying to say?” You couldn’t help but blush as well, at the fact the prettiest boy you had ever laid eyes on wanted to be intimate with you; touch your body and make you feel good.

“Y-Yes, that’s what I mean. Precisely.”

“That’s the first time you ever proposed that yourself, y’know?” you teased, knocking your fist into his shoulder lightly. He chuckled and shrugged. “I try my best.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, shifting yourself onto your knees. “You can show me. Right here.”

And that was the go-ahead he needed.

He surged towards your lips, covering them in a clumsy but loving kiss, while he held your face in his large hands. A whimper escaped your mouth at the sudden movement, letting Spencer lay his weight on top of you after pushing your legs forward by pressing his fingers on the bend of your knees. Your thighs encapsulated him, a feeling which he never admitted to enjoying so much - until now.

“I really like …” He kissed you. “The way …” Another kiss. “Your thighs feel around me.” Kiss, kiss, kiss.

Your thighs tensed around his waist, tightening the grip around his body in response. Your hands moved from behind his neck to his back, rubbing them up and down in a soothing manner.

You could already feel Spencer softly rutting into you, his body flush against yours as he ground his half-hard cock into your inner thigh. You had never seen him so eager, always hesitant and embarrassed to make the first move, or take the lead.

But this was different. Although nervous, he wanted to show you how much you meant to him, how beautiful he thought you were, how your body drove him insane.

Spencer started kissing down your neck, finding the way to the sensitive spot between your neck and jaw. “I r-really like kissing you, because your skin is so warm,” he whispered near your ear. You whined, gripping his t-shirt in your fists as your hips cant forward.

You wanted to say so much, needed to. However, you were caught in the feeling of the brunet’s lips moving downwards, carefully pushing the buttons of your shirt through the slots as his open-mouthed kisses trailed across the top of your bra.

He finished unbuttoning your blouse and knelt down between your legs, cautiously placing his large palms over your clad breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze. You could tell he was mindlessly ogling them, focusing on the way the flesh moulded into his touch, and this made your face heat up.

“I don’t t-think I need to explain how much I like your um …” He cleared his throat. “Y-Your chest.” He flicked his eyes upwards to meet yours, smiling bashfully - you bit your lip and nodded. Spencer took it as a sign to take off your bra, reaching his hands behind your back to unclasp it. The garment billowed and he quickly pulled it away before discarding it onto the floor.

His pupils dilated when he glanced at your breasts, all bare in front of him, only for him to see. You felt exposed and went to cover yourself with your arms before he grasped your wrists. “You’re beautiful, you don’t need to cover yourself.” His expression radiated warmth and comfort. I have to trust him, you told yourself. With hesitation, you set your arms aside and Spencer’s hands were instantly on your chest again, his fingertips digging into the supple flesh and leaving red dotted marks behind.

You squirmed underneath his touch as you felt so seen, so exposed. It was still hard to focus on the moment and let the boy you love so dearly show his attraction to you. It was always such a challenge to do so, but now more than ever because the little confidence you had had a minute ago slipped away from your grasp when he started to undress you.

You clenched your fists by your sides, looking anywhere but at Spencer as the anxiety bubbled at your sternum. Suddenly, your face was moved and you were looking at your boyfriend again, his palms warm against your already-blazing cheeks.

“Do you need to stop?” You shook your head, unable to speak.

Spencer bit his bottom lip in thought. “I know I don’t express it well, b-but I really am attracted to you. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re beautiful. We’ve done this before, h-haven’t we?”

You nod.

“Then trust me when I say I want to see all of you. I just want to …” He swallowed deeply. “Want to be close to you.”

In reality, you were both nervous and you knew that Spencer was probably just as self-conscious about his own body as you are about yours. With a deep sigh through your nose, you nod once more to tell him to continue.

His lips were back on yours and his hands moved down to grip your hips, squeezing the fatty tissue; you felt so undeniably soft, between his fingers and against his stomach.

You pawed at his t-shirt, signalling him to take it off. He clumsily pulled back and attempted to remove it in typical Spencer Reid fashion: his head got stuck and his right arm bent in the most uncomfortable manner. You snorted underneath your breath and helped him out by pulling the bottom of the shirt over his head.

“Are you that eager?” you teased, slowly easing into the atmosphere and finding comfort.

“I’ve literally been trying to tell you that,” he exclaimed with a huff and pulled your body down from your thighs, scooting himself down until his face is hovering over your stomach.

“Spencer, what are you-”

“Please, I just want to taste you”, he said with doe eyes, his fingers already on the button of your jeans.

You shifted your hips a little, now extremely aware of yourself and how your tummy looked from Spencer’s angle where he was situated between your thighs.

“I’m not sure, my stomach looks odd-”

“I’ve dreamt about having your stomach pressed against my forehead as I eat you out for the entire week I’ve been away, please just trust me.”

Your face heated up.

“Fucking vulgar, I thought you were a sweet boy.”

His face flushed in embarrassment at realising what just left his mouth. “Can we stop focusing on what I said and just let me get on with it?” You giggled and agreed with his statement.

In a few seconds, your jeans were slipped off your legs and Spencer’s nose was buried in your panties, nuzzling the faint wet spot in the middle of the fabric. Your breath hitched at the sensation as you tried to mentally convince yourself to enjoy the moment.

His index and middle fingers hooked around the edge of your underwear and moved it to the side, finally revealing your glistening pussy. He sighed and his eyes fluttered shut once his tongue met your slit for the first time in ages, dragging the muscle along your sex.

Your thighs shuddered around his head and you tried your best not to let out a sound. This was soon deemed useless once Spencer flattened his tongue against your clit, gently spreading your lips with his index fingers.

“Oh shit.”

Your brain already felt like mush - your hyper-sensitivity was something you were ashamed of, but it deeply pleased your boyfriend.

He hummed in approval of your comment, pushing his nose against your clit to slip his tongue into your entrance, basically tongue-fucking you at a slow pace. It contrasted the usual way he hastily lapped at your pussy and made a mess of the entire thing, getting drunk on your taste. This time, however, he was really trying to show you how much he worshiped your body, despite his shy demeanour.

It eventually got impossible to stifle your sounds, even if a hand was clamped over your mouth. Soft breaths and gentle moans floated around the room, while you subconsciously moved yourself against his face.

In order to get a better hold of you, Spencer hiked your legs over his shoulders after removing your panties and placed his hands on the smooth expanse of your tummy, tenderly kneading it. What you could only describe as butterflies, although cliché, erupted inside of you. You wanted to move his hands away, tell yourself that part of you was disgusting and unworthy of admiration, but the pleasure Spencer was giving you and the love radiating off of him stopped your worries.

He continued to suck on the raw skin and flick his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves, every so often pushing his entire face into you and exhaling out of pure hunger. You loved how he always made sure you were enjoying yourself when he went down on you, how he showed no discomfort in having his mouth, nose, and chin buried between your legs and getting drenched in your arousal. And you knew how much messes rubbed him the wrong way, but he surely seemed to be relishing in making a mess of you.

You hadn’t noticed yet, but Spencer had been rutting his hips into the cushion of the couch for a while. He was aching to be inside you, to have your warm walls tighten around him; but your pleasure came first and foremost, especially since you were so concerned about him not being attracted to you - that was definitely not happening.

He whimpered into your cunt as he grew harder, his poor weeping cock restraining against the fabric of his boxers, his pants, and the surface beneath him.

“Fuck, I’m c-close”, you gasped, sooner than usual.

The comment sent Spencer into overdrive: he alternated between sucking harshly on your clit and spreading his tongue all over your lips and inside of you, just dying to have you cum on his face. One of his hands was still on your stomach, but the other was holding onto your waist tightly. All he wanted was to feel your soft flesh between his fingers, against any part of his body. Even the pudge of your stomach that you tried so desperately to hide drove him mad.

With one last lick to your clit, your orgasm hit you abruptly. Your hands fumbled until they found Spencer’s hair and tugged and pulled, pushing him deeper against your pussy as you soaked his face in arousal. You felt him groan as it vibrated against you, mirroring the way you were gasping for air and moaning out in pleasure. His arms were wrapped tightly around your thighs, using them to ground himself as he suffocated between them.

After a few more laden breaths, you relaxed your legs and loosened your grip on his hair. You peered down to see a blissed out Spencer resting his cheek against your inner thigh, his thumb drawing circles into your hip.

“I’m sorry about that,” you said with a laugh.

He hummed as he pushed himself upwards, subtly moving his crotch to settle against your pelvic bone for more friction.

“I should be saying thank you really.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, a thank you for what a wonderful job he had done. The taste of yourself lingered in your mouth.

Although you attempted to lengthen the kiss, he pulled back and heaved, “now please can I be inside you, I really need it so badly, it hurts.”

There was the usual needy and whiney boy you knew.

“Yes yes, I’m not going to leave you hanging, pretty boy.”

You swiftly pushed his pyjama bottoms down with his boxers and Spencer kicked them off to help. His length was hard against his pelvis, the tip all red and swollen after having nothing but humping the couch to help him get off. Gently, you wrapped a hand around the base and squeezed. That got a whine out of him, his jaw slack and still covered in your slick. You slowly dragged your hand up his shaft, tightening your grip as you neared the head and circled your thumb over his slit that was already spurting pre-cum.

“Please f-fuck, please just let me inside you, I’m already close to coming.”

“Already?” You raised your eyebrows teasingly.

“S-Shut up,” his voice wavered as he struggled to hold himself up, his hands planted on either side of your shoulders.

You let out a chuckle before letting go and resting your palm on his waist to encourage him. Nervously, he lined himself up to your entrance and tried his best not to push in all in one go. In his excitement and neediness, he missed and his cock slid up between your folds, his tip rubbing against your clit. You both exhaled.

“F-Fuck sorry, I just-” Spencer could hardly speak. His knuckles were turning white from the way he was holding the arm of the couch; he was dying to have you engulf him so he could place his hands all over your sweaty skin.

“It’s okay,” you breathed out. “Let me help.”

You reached down and grabbed his cock once again and pushed the head against your pussy. Spencer could already feel the heat emanating from you and it only spurred him on more.

With a little wiggle of his hips, he started to inch himself inside you. The warmth of your cunt gradually surrounded his dick. So warm, so wet is all he could think about.

You took him further by placing your hands on his ass and pushing. Once he was fully sheathed inside you, your boy genius could no longer think straight. All he wanted was to cum and tell you how much he loves the way you make him feel.

Hurting you or causing any pain was the last thing Spencer wanted, so he carefully pulled back until he was almost entirely out and then pushed in again with a quiet squelch.

“G-God, you feel so g-good,” he whined.

Honestly and truly, you hardly heard what he was saying because you were completely focused on how he was stretching you out so deliciously, mouth agape and eyes closed.

It didn’t take long before Spencer started to shallowly thrust into you, your gummy walls fluttering and spasming around his throbbing cock.

In an effort to be closer, Spencer laid on top you, chest to chest, and hid his face in your neck. His hands found a home in your hair, gently massaging your scalp.

Nothing could have felt any better than this: your lovely boyfriend making love to you, his nimble fingers caressing your body into a state of peace and bliss. And for him? Well, his girlfriend’s plush body pressed against his skinny figure was better than anything he could imagine.

You lazily ground into each other, whimpers and hot breaths leaving the both of you. Your hands were splayed across Spencer’s back, desperately keeping him as close as possible.

“I love you, I love you so much,” he whispered.

This man was a dream come to life and he was so sweet while being so.

You swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth before replying. “I love you too, a lot.”

He peppered kisses across your neck and traced your skin with his lips, leaving a layer of dew behind. In return, you left a few kisses on his shoulder when your head wasn’t tilted back in pleasure.

You were so tight around him and you felt so unbelievably full. Now, you weren’t going to say that Spencer had the biggest dick you could think of, but that wasn’t the point - you fit perfectly with each other and your pussy had basically moulded itself to fit snuggly around his length like a glove. You couldn’t imagine yourself having sex with anyone else, not that you wanted to anyways.

You moved your head to the side and kissed his cheek, moving a hand to rest amidst the mess of hair you loved so dearly. He had just shaved that morning so his stubble wasn’t there to scrape against your lips.

“I r-really love- oh fuck.” Speaking during intercourse wasn’t a skill Spencer had mastered as of yet. The feeling of his approaching orgasm had him reeling and he was mustering all the strength he had left to express how much he enjoyed your body and how it made him feel.

“I love … I love how you feel a-against me. You’re so soft and warm.” He gasped as he teetered on the edge.

“Your s-stomach and thighs and h-hips … God.” He hiccupped. It was hard to talk, his hands holding onto your waist.

“They’re all s-so … so soft. It drives me … insane, it- fuck drives me insane.”

Never had you felt so loved as you did at this very moment: enveloped in the arms of the boy you loved, skin-to-skin, whispering the most heartfelt words into your ear.

You wanted to reply, tell him that his words meant so much to you, but the way his tip was stamping into your sweet spot had stolen the breath out of your entire body. All you could do was gasp and let out moan after moan.

Spencer’s bony hips were smacking into the plush of your ass as he fucked into you deeper, his rhythm faltering as it all just became erratic.

“Gonna come,” Spencer whispered, as if he was asking for permission.

“Y-Yeah, go ahead,” you managed to mumble. And that’s all he needed.

With a high-pitched moan, he spilled into you as his hands moved around, just trying to grab any inch of you that he could, loving the feeling of the fat around your thighs and waist. I love you’s were muttered into your skin while his orgasm kept hitting him in waves. His hips stuttered as rope after rope of cum was milked from his tired cock, your cunt pulsating at the fact you were so close as well.

The brunet finally stopped thrusting after a while, going soft inside of you as his breathing slowed down.

“I love you too by the way,” you said quietly, scared to break the silence.

You could feel his smile on the side of your neck.

“You didn’t come yet,” he murmured before his hand found its way between your bodies, a thumb pressing onto your clit. Your body jolted in surprise.

“You really don’t h-have to, darling.”

“But I want to, want to make you feel good.”

You giggled. “You already have, silly.”

“Yeah, but you deserve more.” What an angel.

At least, you weren’t so far off from climaxing and thus a few tight circles helped you come for the second time that evening.

You laid on top of each other, not wanting to move from such a sweet embrace. Spencer had shuffled a little lower once he pulled out of you, not caring that his cum had started to ooze out of you and smear against his upper thigh, and rested his head on your chest. He couldn’t resist putting his hand on one of your boobs either.

“All that I said … it’s true,” he confessed. “I love you a lot and I think you’re pretty. And I love the parts you hate about yourself.”

You hugged him tighter, not sure how to express the appreciation you had for him. “Thank you, you don’t know how much you mean to me, Spence.”

He left a kiss on your collarbone before saying, “We need to get you cleaned up before you get a UTI. Do you know that up to six out of every ten women in the United States experience one?"

Anything for Ellie

Spencer Reid x Single Mom!Reader

Synopsis: Your daughter, Ellie’s birthday is coming up and you plan on baking a cake for her. But when you accidentally break the eggs you just bought, your handsome neighbor, Spencer comes to your rescue.

Category: Fluff

Warnings: post prison! spencer, pictures above don’t indicate how reader is supposed to look! reader’s ex is a piece of shit, spencer lowkey being a dad, mentions of cheating and divorce, reader’s daughter being kind of a wingwoman, mentions of the prison arc but they’re brief, (spencer’s been gone for three months and reader has no idea why), mutual pining, reader’s daughter having an absent father, minor angst, a minor mention of maeve, baking- i think that covers it 🤷‍♀️

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! i’m a sucker for single mom!reader x spencer reid so here it is! will most likely make a part two <3

part one

“Mommy, can I help?” Your almost-five year-old, Ellie begged, reaching her arms up to grab anything you’d been holding. You both had gone to the store and were now coming up the stairs back to your apartment after getting what you needed.

Ellie was turning five in a few days here and had wanted a big birthday party with all of her friends in your apartment. You’d wanted to go all out for your little one, wanting her to have the best birthday party ever.

It’d only been a year since you and your ex had signed divorce papers. While you were married, he was off screwing his assistant at the banking firm he worked in. And you’d caught them in the act, on your bed. You were devastated to say the least. But in a way, it felt like a relief.

Let’s just say, you weren’t happy in your marriage. Your ex wasn’t very helpful when it came to your marriage. He’d nitpick every single thing that made you you, called you a hot mess every now and again and was never appreciative of anything you did for him. And another thing — he was a good dad, just not a very present one. Ever since she was born, it seemed like he wasn’t interested in the parenthood. He’d let down Ellie over a gazillion times and you weren’t sure he’d be able to keep his promise about showing up for her birthday party. There was always something more important and that wasn’t fair to you or to Ellie.

So, you did what you could, scraped up money you had saved and got an apartment in D.C., you’d rather be happy homeless than co-exist with him further. You’d luckily found a quaint apartment, two bedrooms and even managed to snag a bakery job with the help of your friends. Things were turning up for you and for Ellie.

“Here, why don’t you grab this bag?” You say, handing her a paper bag of the plastic cups, plates, napkins and utensils since it was probably the one thing you could trust her to hold.

Ellie had been singing a song, about how she was turning five and she kept reminding you that her birthday was in a few days and how excited she was. You loved that she’d been excited for it. You remembered the day she was born vividly. You were in labor for fourteen hours with no help from your ex, since he was asleep the majority of Ellie’s birth but every minute was worth it to have a little you by your side. You were lucky enough that Ellie was blessed with your genes and had soon enough become your little twin.

You made your way to the door, trying to reach for your keys in your pocket but the paper bags were in your way and you didn’t want to drop one of the bags since it had the eggs you were going to use to bake Ellie’s cake and you didn’t want to break them. You groan as you try to reach in your pocket without trying to drop the bags but your hand slips and down goes the paper bag with the eggs and you wince as you hear the eggs crack.

“Oh, no.” You sigh as you bend down pick up the mess. You’d have to hold off on baking Ellie’s cake tomorrow night, the day before the party. You’d been a bit of a perfectionist and just wanted to bake the cake a few days before.

You nearly thought about crying in front of your soon-to-be five year-old over cracked eggs when a shadow stood over you and your daughter. “Hi, Mr. Spencer!” Your daughter greeted your next door neighbor with a wave and you looked up and did a double-take as you saw the tall lanky man stand over you. He was wearing a brown sweater, black slacks and converse, holding his mail in his hands. But to be honest, he looked a little different. Hence, the double-take.

“Hi, Ellie! Everything okay over here?” Spencer asked as he kneels down to help you clean the mess you made. Ellie answers for you, “No, my mommy broke the eggs.”

You look up at Spencer. “Hi, Spencer. We’re all good here,” You manage to say as you scrape up the bag. “I’m just…” You throw your arms around. “As you know, a bit of a klutz.” You look over at your daughter. “Looks like we’re gonna have to bake the cake tomorrow night, Ellie.”

You stand up and Spencer and you’re still shocked at the fact that even standing, he’s still taller than you. His hair was wild with chocolate locks, with warm yet tired brown eyes and stubble growing on his face. He was always gorgeous.

It’d been a while since you’d seen Spencer, living next door to him for over a year now. For about three months, he’d completely disappeared and you almost wondered if maybe he moved but standing in front of you, clearly he didn’t.

You manage to grab your keys out of your pocket while holding the bags but Spencer had come to your rescue and managed to grab both of the bags from your arms and you unlock the front door, Ellie running inside, to mess around no less. You turn back to your neighbor and give him a small yet appreciative smile as you take your bags back from his hands. “Thank you, Spencer.”

“No problem.” The man says. You look at him and squint your eyes and Spencer gives you a confused look. “Sorry, I don’t mean to stare, it’s just… it’s been a while. You look a little… different.” You admit and his face falters for a moment. “It’s a good different, I promise you.”

Your downstairs neighbor, Rita — a seventy year-old woman who lived alone with a dozen cats — had a theory that Spencer may have been abducted by aliens. Granted, she was a senile old lady that watched too many UFO shows but it made you wonder why he disappeared for a minute. You knew he was an FBI agent, his job must’ve been too demanding because you’d hadn’t seen him until now.

“So, where have you been? Ellie and I have missed you.” You smile and Spencer opens his mouth and it looks like there are gears running through his head and he shrugs, “Oh, just… a vacation. Of sorts.”

A vacation, of sorts. Huh. You start to wonder if maybe Rita is right about an alien abduction. You nod, not knowing how to respond to that and luckily, your daughter is a good icebreaker because she comes rushing back to the front door where you are talking with Spencer. “Spencer! I’m turning five in this many days!” She tells him, holding three fingers up.

“Oh, wow!” Spencer bends down to her level. “You doing anything special for your birthday, Ellie?” Ellie nods once more, “Yes! We’re having a big birthday party for me and I’m gonna get a lot of presents and cake!” This then causes your daughter to turn to you. “Mommy, can’t we bake the cake, now?” Ellie begs, beaming her signature puppy eyes that make you say ‘yes’ to anything for her.

“I’m sorry, babe, I broke the eggs so we’re gonna have to wait until tomorrow when I can go to the store to get eggs to bake the cake, okay?” You ask, running a hand through her hair and she looks down in sadness. The last thing you wanted was to make her sad.

“Uh, actually,” Spencer speaks up. “I have eggs, if you’d like to have them to bake your cake.” He offers and you shake your head, surprised he offered. “Oh, thank you for the kind offer, but it’s alright.”

“No, take them,” Spencer insists. “I don’t need them and if I use them, they’re not going to be good anyways, since I can’t really cook anything.” He chuckles to himself but you still have hesitation written on your face. Spencer sees it, tilting his head to meet your eyes and pushes — “I insist.”

He always knew what to say, how to fix the issue. The first time you met, you had gone over to his apartment to ask if he had any juice since it was the only thing Ellie wanted to drink when she was sick and you’d just run out. Luckily, Spencer had had juice and formally introduced himself to you. Since that day, he never forgot you. He never forgot the way your hair was sticking out of your messy bun, that you were wearing a pastel pink robe and mismatched socks, like he did often. It was then that he wanted to get to know you. Luckily, you baked him cookies as a token of your gratitude the next day and the rest was history.

“Take the eggs, Mama! Take the eggs!” Ellie begs as she bounces, grabbing you by your arm and you finally give in, “Okay, I’ll definitely pay you back for the eggs. I do appreciate this a lot, Spencer.” You tell and he nods, “Hey, what are neighbors for? I’ll go get those for you, right now.”

Spencer heads back to his apartment as you and Ellie make your way inside of yours and you place your bags on the counter and take a breather. Spencer is gone for at least ten to fifteen seconds before showing back up with the eggs, like he said he would get for you.

“Here you are.” He says, handing the carton to you. “You really didn’t have to do this, Spencer. Your generosity…” You trail off but he shakes his head, “It’s really no problem. Just as long as you have me with a cup of sugar.” He jokes and you laugh along with him.

Suddenly, Ellie appears behind you and looks at your neighbor and asks, “Spencer, will you help me and my mom bake my birthday cake?” You look down at your daughter. Her spark and confidence was something you definitely didn’t pass down onto her.

Spencer responds with nothing except wide eyes and an open mouth. You’re quick to jump in and speak for him. “Spencer probably has other things to attend to, Ellie.” You look back at him. “You definitely don’t have to.”

“Please, Spencer! Please!” Ellie begs with puppy eyes and you look at him and joke — “Don’t fall for her puppy eyes. She gets away with a lot around here because of them.” Spencer chuckles and looks at you, “Uh, if it’s okay with you. I really don’t mind staying.”

You raise your brows, “You don’t?” Spencer shakes his head, “Yeah, why not spend my time with a four-year-old princess and her beautiful mother?” He jokes and you will your cheeks not to turn a shade of crimson at the beautiful comment. Him thinking you were beautiful made your stomach churn and your heart skip a beat.

You stared at him. There was something in his eyes that was tired and sad, like he needed this. He was never like that, usually his eyes lit up and to some degree they did, but you worried for him silently, especially since he sort of dodged the question about you asking where he was. You decide for him to stay, to which Ellie excitedly grabs him by his hands.

“Come on!” Ellie drags Spencer as she pulls him towards the kitchen and he lets her. “El, what do we do before we start baking?” You ask her. “Wash our hands!” Ellie says and grabs a chair to stand over the sink as you put soap into her hands and you look at Spencer as he makes his way over to the sink and put soap into his hands as well and you do the same.

Ellie grabs her apron that you bought her for baking so she doesn’t get it all over her clothes and you put on your baking apron and you all soon begin.

You put the ingredients together, consisting of sugar, flour, cocoa powder, baking powder and baking soda and you let Ellie do the mixing as you begin to work on the frosting.

“Mr. Spencer?” Ellie asks the man standing next to you as you work your magic. “Yes, Ellie?” Spencer asks, dividing his attention to her. “Where were you?” You turn to your daughter, wondering where that came from. But with her nosy nature, you aren’t very surprised by the question.

“Uh, I was working, Ellie. You remember my job.” Spencer speaks softly to her, reminding her. “Right, you’re a spy.” Ellie says as she continues to mix. “I am a spy, yeah.” Spencer chuckles a bit as he replies.

He is quick to then change the subject before Ellie can ask anymore questions. “Let me ask you this, Ellie, do you want to see a magic trick?” He did this often when Ellie needed focus her attention on something else, it helped stimulate her brain, Spencer claimed when he did it the first time he’d ever witness her have a meltdown.

“Oh, Ellie, you love magic.” You comment. Ellie had a moment where all she was into was cartoons and she’d recently just watched Strange Magic and had fallen in love with the concept of fairytales and such. In fact, the party was fairy-themed, wanting her friends to dress up as fairies.

“Would you like to see a magic trick?” Spencer asks and Ellie nods vehemently and Spencer looks around and finds a piece of paper and looks around for a pen, which he finds on your counter and shows Ellie the items. “Now, watch the pen.”

He quickly stabs the pen through the paper, making Ellie gasp and the pointer side of the pen is on the other side of the paper and Spencer tilts and pulls the pen from the paper and the pen isn’t broken and the paper doesn’t even have a dent in it.

“Wow!” Ellie exclaims. “How did you do that?” Spencer shakes his head, “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

Your heart skips a beat as Spencer treats your daughter like she’s his own, almost. Your ex wasn’t good with kids, which was probably why he didn’t bother having a good relationship with Ellie. But Spencer, since the day you met, seemed to always have an affinity with kids. He loved watching over Ellie and he was so caring and trustworthy. You’d almost wished Spencer was Ellie’s father instead, considering her biological one wasn’t very present in her life.

“You done mixing the powder there, kiddo?” You ask, taking those thoughts out of your head and she nods, “Yes, Mama.”

“Alrighty, wanna help me whisk the frosting?” It was Ellie’s favorite part after all. “Spencer, do you like chocolate cake?” Ellie asked as she made her way over to you and you sat her on the counter. “I do. My favorite donuts are actually chocolate with rainbow sprinkles.” Ellie beams with excitement at that, “That’s my favorite, too!”

After a while, you finally finish baking the cake yourself since Ellie seems so cooped up on Spencer and showing him her room upgrade since she recently wanted to fill the walls with posters, and she wanted to show him her new toys and she had him show magic tricks to her.

Eventually, Ellie grows tired and winds up falling asleep on the couch. As you tuck her into bed, you find Spencer cleaning up your kitchen and you smile to yourself. He was always such a neat freak, perhaps you liked that about him. “You don’t have to do that.” You say, making your presence known and the man turns to you with a shrug. “I don’t mind.”

You begin to help as you wipe down your counter. It’s quiet for a moment before you speak again. “You, uh, you were wonderful with Ellie today. You sure you don’t have any kids?” You joke.

Spencer shakes his head with a sly chuckle, “No, I don’t.” You raise your brows, still messing with him. “Oh, yeah, no, I do have a few godsons, though. Henry and Michael. And then, my old colleague’s friend named his son after me. I guess you could say I’m just good with kids.” He tells and you smile.

“You’re a natural at it.” You compliment as you throw away the paper towels you used to clean your counter.

You think to yourself as you guys go quiet once more. And then you decide to carry on the conversation with a question Ellie wanted you to ask Spencer. “Oh, uh, when I was putting Ellie to bed, she wanted me to ask you if maybe you’d like to attend her birthday party this Saturday. You totally don’t have to come, but she wanted me to ask anyways.”

Spencer ponders this for a moment, “Work depending, sure, I’d love to.” He narrows his eyes for a second. “Something tells me she’ll always do the ruling around here.” He jokes and it makes you chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, that’s kind of how it is.”

There’s a moment as the two of you pause and he stares at you with a wondering look. You seem to be gazing back at him. To be honest, Spencer had had a crush on you since the day you came to his door asking for juice.

Of course, before then, they’d lived next door for a while and Ellie was pretty loud behind those thin walls since she was a kid and you most likely encouraged her to be playful and there were times when it was quiet in his apartment and all he could hear was your laughter and hers. And he wondered who was on the other side of that wall. He hadn’t experienced a childhood such as Ellie’s and he was left wondering if he’d ever be able to have something like that. And wondered what it was like for Ellie to have such a wonderful mother.

“How are things… with you?” Spencer asks and you shrug, “Same old, same old. Ellie has been a riot. I swear, she’s into something new everyday.” Spencer pauses you for a second. “Y/n,” He spoke. “I asked how you were doing.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you swallow the lump that has formed. You’d never been used to getting asked that question. You often deflected, talking about Ellie since she was your pride and joy. Spencer had profiled you — knowing he probably shouldn’t have — and had theorized that you only talked about Ellie just to not talk about yourself. It often stemmed from a fear of judgment or vulnerability, he knew. He knew why it was like that for you, not having a very present ex that could care less about you and your daughter and only striving to be strong for Ellie. He wished he could take your pain away, especially after learning your story.

“I’m…” You think for a moment. How were you doing? Truly? “I’m okay, I guess. I’ve just been… stressed. But who isn’t?” You shrug. “I’m a single mom, working at a bakery 24/7 and when she has her days off, she spends them with her kid.” You tell.

This leads to Spencer’s next question. “Will, uh,” Spencer clears his throat. “Will Ellie’s dad be making an appearance at this party?” You sigh, rubbing your temples, something you did often before talking about your ex. “He promised he’ll try but that’s code for ‘maybe not’.”

Spencer frowns and you shake your head, “I just wish he could be a good dad for once. Show up on time, be there for his kid. No matter what happened between us, I still want Ellie to have her dad around. Just the other day, she was asking if she even had one.” The thought made Spencer upset and even brought you back to tears again, when you thought about the day that she asked.

“Well, if you ask me, he’s missing out.” Spencer told and you could tell it was genuine. “On you and Ellie.” You give him a small smile, he always seemed to know what to say to make you feel better. It was Spencer’s specialty, being your personal therapist and trying to make you feel better in every way, shape or form.

You look at him. You wonder what he’s been through, where he’s been. It seems like his thoughts are misplaced, seem to be elsewhere. His eyes are hiding something and he’s keeping his guard up. And with this new look, this rough side of things, you wonder if he barely made it out alive.

“Spencer?” You ask and he hums, looking at you. “You’ve been gone for three months.” You say and he looks down at his hands. “Were you like… undercover or something?” He rubs his hands on his pants and he’s looking anywhere but you, now.

“Would it be alright if… maybe we didn’t talk about it?” Spencer asks and you nod, “Yeah, yeah, totally. I get it.” And you did, there were things about you that you were hiding from Spencer, too. “I’ll tell you eventually, it’s just… it’s still fresh.” He admitted. You nodded, “Of course.” You’d been patient and you’d wait until he was comfortable and ready to tell you where he was for those three months.

“Uh, I should— I should go.” Spencer tells, standing fully and beginning to walk towards your door before looking back at you. “Does Ellie still like princesses? I want to get her a gift.” He tells and you nod, “She’s into fairies now, but she’ll love anything you get her. You totally don’t need to get her anything, by the way.”

“Nonsense,” Spencer shakes his head. “What time is the party on Saturday?”

“At two.” You smile. “I will hopefully be there.” Spencer says.

He opens your door, you following behind as you watch him go out into the hall. “Thanks for letting us use your eggs.” You say, handing him back the carton of eggs. He’d only had about two left now. “It’s no problem. Anything for Ellie, right?” You nod in agreement, “Anything for Ellie.”

You both exchange your goodbyes and Spencer goes back to his apartment and you shut your door. You smile to yourself as you get ready to settle down and relax.

You think of Spencer as you do so. Since the year you’ve lived here, you may have harbored a crush on the man. And why wouldn’t you fall for him? Spencer was such a good guy. He was trustworthy, he was more of a dad to Ellie than her own father was. But you knew better. Spencer had known your baggage, how could he be attracted to you? A single mother, who could barely pay her rent. As much as you wanted to be loved — the way you deserved to be — that was just never gonna happen. And that was the way it was gonna have to be, unfortunately. You’d rather have him as a friend than ever blow it with him.

But little did you know, Spencer was other side of the walls, thinking about you. He’d always had a thing for you. You were so caring and kind and wonderful. Not to mention your little girl, who had so easily won Spencer’s heart with her charm. Why wouldn’t he like you? But he knew what it would lead to. After Maeve, he pretty much believed he wasn’t capable of love again. You proved him wrong. But after him being gone for three months — due to him being at Milburn Correctional Facility, being framed for a crime he didn’t commit — he supposed that would be too much to put on you. And he didn’t want you carrying that his baggage when it was already so heavy.

If only you two knew what the other was thinking.

🤓☝️ may i request for your first time series the first time spencer lets reader take control during sex? not too sure how you feel about sub spencer but im horny for it and i’d love to see what you do

edging sub spencer genre: smut 18+ cw: sub!spencer x dom!reader, mentions of spencer being insecure about his masculinity, mentions of p in v sex, tied hands, handjob, edging, breastplay, oral (f receiving), thigh fucking, bit of degradation, religious comparisons wc: 2,4k a/n: am i a sub spencer fan?! pull up in the- yes lol i very much am. i cannot even call these drabbles anymore. if anyone is wondering why your requests are taking so long, this is the reason. my first time exploring this dynamic. i hope you'll enjoy, let me know your thoughts!

“Come on, baby. You’re the one who begged me for this.”

Spencer whimpered underneath you in response. He sat up straight on your shared bed, upper body rested against the headframe, long legs spread over the sheets, as your naked body hovered over his. And most importantly, his hands were tied behind his back with a silk red fabric.

Spencer craned his neck, trying to press his lips to yours, but you simultaneously leaned away from him. You shook your head, tsking. “What did I tell you?”

Twinkling hazel eyes blinked up at you, his eyebrows caught in a slight furrow.

“You can’t tell me you forgot,” you purred, fingertips trailing the curve of his jaw. “What did I tell you, Spencer?” you repeat with more force in your tone.

He visibly swallowed as your nails dragged down his neck. “That I’m not allowed to touch you.”

“And why’s that?” You hummed.

“Because sexual denial will increase the release of dopamine, and—oh…” he closed his eyes in delight as your nails continued their path down his chest.

“—and the release of oxytocin and serotonin. It will… in general… Jesus… make you more sensitive, which will heighten your pleasure.”

He had hurriedly finished his last words, letting out a deep breath of relief once you nodded in confirmation. 

“And all we want is for you to feel good. Isn’t that right, baby?”

He nodded fervently, a deep moan escaping his throat as your fingers grazed the skin of his upper thigh, carefully avoiding his throbbing length.

-`♡´-

It had all started last week, when you came home on a dreary Thursday evening. Immensely frustrated from your day at work. 

Spencer oftentimes suggested sex when you were feeling stressed out. Sexual intercourse is known for lowering blood pressure and boosting happy hormones.

Usually this would result in him leading you to the bedroom where he’d gently press you down onto the mattress. He’d crawl on top of you, lips immediately finding yours, giving gentle pecks as his hands roamed up and down the sides of your body. 

You’d have sensual sex. Sweet. Vanilla. It was the norm, and when it came to sex, Spencer wanted to keep to the norm. Sexuality and masculinity were deeply intertwined for him, and in both of these aspects, he felt like he didn’t fit into the traditional roles of a man, causing him to feel the need to approach sex textbook-wise.

The sex was good for the both of you. You never minded seeing your boyfriend on top of you. His lips slightly agape as he fought back his moans, hair falling into his face with every push of his hips, shoulders shuddering as he came inside of you. And for Spencer, he was always happy to be there. 

So, it was entirely new when you came home that day and tugged him by the collar of his shirt the second you entered the house. Spencer’s mouth was still in a gasp when you hungrily pressed your lips to his, tongue finding his without building the moment up like you’d usually do. 

Your body pulled flush against him. The softness of your breasts pressed against his hard chest. He was able to feel the peaks of your nipples even through the fabric of clothes.

“Are you okay?” Spencer choked out as you cupped him roughly through his pants. 

“I just need you, Spence. I need to use you.”

Those words were almost enough to make him spill in his underwear. And indeed, the second you had moved to the couch and straddled him (an entirely new position), taking his cock in your soft hand as you sunk down onto him, it took an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to fill you up with his release.

You needed the control and security after having been bossed around at work. Spencer, on the contrary, felt too much in control at his job. Setting a profile and finding evidence and whereabouts on an unsub was very precise work, not even mentioning the huge amount of pressure on saving people’s lives. 

He never realized how good it felt to let go. To trust someone else in taking charge, in taking care of him. At that moment he didn’t think about portraying a certain type of masculinity. Instead of holding back his moans and settling on deep groans, he whimpered against your mouth as you fucked him. Squirming and whining underneath your touch as he begged you for more. 

His reactions didn’t go unnoticed by you. When you both had recovered and were cleaned up, you brought up the subject of this sub-dom dynamic, and it was very easy for Spencer to give in to exploring it more.

-`♡´-

“P-please.”

“What’s that?”

“Please touch me,” Spencer softly cried, fisting the pillow behind his back with the little grip he had.

You leaned in closer. Your breath tickled against his neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before you licked a bold stripe up the skin. 

A strangled moan left his throat. You smiled at him, pleased with yourself. It deeply turned you on that you could do whatever you wanted to him, that he’d beg you for anything that you could give him. 

His body responded to every ghost of your touch. Your lips trailed his throat, feeling the heat radiating off of him. Occasionally leaving lingering marks and bites until you made your way up his jaw.

“Is this what you wanted, Spence?” You teased as you put your hand around his thick shaft. 

“Yes,” he moaned, his head falling back against the headboard. “Exactly that.”

You pumped his length in a steady rhythm, flicking your palm to enhance the sensation. 

“You’re doing so good for me, baby. Such a pretty boy. Your cock is so hard and ready for me.” 

He shivered at your words. He didn’t know how he got so lucky to have you hovering above him, breasts swaying with every movement of your hand. You were so good to him. When his gaze blinked from your breasts to your face, seeing you seductively smile but your eyes radiating a gentle sweetness, he started wondering if there might really be a God. You were too heavenly to be here on Earth, pleasing him like there was no better enjoyment in life.

Your eyes were fixed on his cock, watching his precum gather at the tip. You circled the sensitive skin with a soft stroke of your thumb. Spencer used the momentary distraction to dive in, his lips catching around your nipple. “Oh god,” you gasped in pleasure, the sensation going straight to your core. His tongue made quick work of stimulating the nub. His cheeks were hollowed as he sucked, giving his everything for the mere moments he might get of tasting you.

Spencer was internally grateful when you didn’t stop him. As a matter of fact, your fingers knotted through his hair as you tugged him closer to you. It helped him keep his balance as his still tied hands clenched around the air. 

He continued his kisses to the rest of your breast once he was confident enough that you wouldn’t tell him to stop. He sucked on the soft, full flesh, leaving marks that would remind you of this moment days from now.

“Look at you sucking on my tits. You’re so desperate, aren’t you? Such a little slut for me.”

He moaned around your nipple, a wave of need fluttering through your stomach. You pulled on his hair, sharp enough to leave a pleasurable sting of pain. “Look at me.”

Wide doe eyes met yours. “‘m sorry.”

“Too distracted by having my tits in your face to look me in the eyes, huh?”

“Sorry, you’re just too pretty,” he truthfully muttered, eyes fleetly falling onto your breasts before blinking back up.

He looked so pretty like this. A red flush painting his neck and cheeks. His lips were just as swollen and red as he pouted at you. A smug smile lingered on your face, and you pulled him back in, leaning forward to not have him stretch his neck too far. The kiss was sloppy, hungry. You were not able to tell whether his whimpers were because of the kiss, or because of your touch as your hand had found its way back to his cock.

You fastened the motions of your wrist. His mouth was parted, a pretty song of whines escaping. You sucked down on his bottom lip, mirroring the action he always did when kissing you. 

“Oh, baby.” The moan came out in a gasp. His hips started stuttering, stomach clenching as he neared his release.

“Are you almost there, Spencer?”

“Yes! I’m almost there, I’m almost there baby. Please don’t stop.”

You released your grip on him. His length remained hard, standing upright as if you were still holding him.

The desperate cry that left his lips should have made you feel bad. Instead, you found yourself getting even more turned on. Sure that your thighs were slick with your wetness by now.

“Why—why did you do that?” He whimpered accusingly, as if betrayed. “I was so close.”

“Ah, I know, baby,” you faux pouted. You had to bite your lip to hold back a sadistic smile as you noticed his glossy eyes, looking more green than they usually were.

“I’m just keeping you to your promise,” you reminded him. He tilted his head like a confused puppy. “When you told me you’d always make sure to make me come first.”

“But we weren’t—”

“Uh, uh, uh,” you shushed him, index finger pressed to his lips. “Don’t you want to please me?”

He softly kissed your finger, “Of course I do.”

“Then start using your mouth for better things than complaining,” you cooed at him before carefully standing up on the bed, making your way forward until his face was right below your cunt. Spencer wiggled on the sheets until he lay flat on his back, arms in a bit of an uncomfortable position, but not enough to bother him as he had a perfect view of your dripping pussy.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in a prayer. You softly chuckled, bending your legs so that they were spread on either side of his face. Slowly, you lowered yourself until his tongue, which was already sticking out, made contact with your folds. You hissed at the sensation, your clit throbbing in the same way it always did before he ate you out.

He started lapping at your pussy, gathering your sweet slickness and spreading it over the lips. He flicked his tongue over your inner lips before sucking on them. As much as Spencer adored giving you the reins, nothing compared to the shaky, uncontrollable whimpers that left your mouth. Sounds that were made because of him. Sounds that were made for him. 

“Keep making those sounds, sweet girl,” he mumbled against your pussy, the vibrations echoing through your body.

After more worshipping kisses to your cunt, his lips finally settled down on your clit. Your back arched when he started sucking on the sensitive button while simultaneously pressing on it with the tip of his tongue. He truly was your toy, no silicone object giving you the ecstasy that he could give you. 

“Oh God, Spencer. You’re so good at this,” you stated in a heavy breath. The feeling of your orgasm coming up was close to overwhelming, and you were whimpering as your vision hazed.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes. Oh, fuck, I’m—”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence, instead crying out a moan as your release hit you. Your legs started shaking uncontrollably, your pussy pressed even harder against his mouth as you rode out the aftershocks, muffling his deep moans. The feel of his nose against your overstimulated cunt was dizzying. 

“I need to lie down,” you said, out of breath. Shaky Bambi legs as you climbed off of him. Your body didn’t allow you to move much further. Settling on lying down on top of his body, spreading your legs to give his achingly hard cock room to breathe.

Your cheek rested against his sweaty chest. Spencer reached out to trace your face, huffing in annoyance when he remembered his hands were still tied behind his back. 

He hummed when you pressed a wet kiss to his chest. “Finish for me, baby.”

Then you squeezed your thighs together. Spencer swallowed when he realized what you meant. His cock was enveloped between your plush thighs, and when he experimentally lifted his hips, he discovered how good the act felt. 

“Jesus, that’s nice,” he groaned. 

Wasting no time, he started pumping his hips up, using your thighs as a cocksleeve. The wetness that was gathered on your inner thighs (and was still dripping out of your pussy) working as lube. 

Your fingertips lazily trailed over his chest. “Doing so good for me, baby. Show me how good you can make yourself feel.”

He nodded, a whine leaving his lips as he fastened his speed. His eyes were transfixed on the curve of your ass, craning his neck to get a better look.

He’s never experienced a feeling as sentimental as this. The rough pleasure of the sex mixed with the gentleness of your head resting against him. He couldn’t get closer to Heaven than this.

“You feel so good,” he whined. “You’re not stopping me this time. Right?” He asked for confirmation, his voice shaking in doubt. 

You laughed, the sound vibrating against his chest. “That really took a toll on you, huh? I won’t, I promise.”

The slight tension in his body resolved. Making him feel enough at ease to let go. He placed his feet firmly on the bed, using his knees to lift himself up, making you let out a yelp as he fucked your thighs.

The silk wasn’t enough to hold him back, the fabric tearing as he moved his wrists. His hands immediately found your head, holding you against him as his hips stuttered. Your moans were entangled in each other as he spilled his cum all over your ass. 

His stomach clenched underneath you, and you soothingly shushed him. Reassuringly caressing his chest and shoulders as he came down from his height.

-`♡´-

“You okay?” You softly mumbled once his heartbeat had calmed down.

He nodded, a lazy smile displayed on his lips. “I’m okay.”

“I wasn’t too rough with you. Was I?”

“No,” he answered, holding you closely against him. “You were perfect.”

Dream A Little Dream

Bf! Spencer Reid x Gf!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Spencer comes home from work and finds you sleeping in bed and he’s completely mesmerized by you as you sleep.

Category: Fluff

Warnings: spencer likes watching you sleep (but not in a creepy way), fluffiest of the fluff, cuddling, talks about weird dreams and dream analysis, spencer is completely infatuated with you 🤭

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! i got this idea bc i love love love cuddling fics with reid 🤭 i wish this man were real so bad :( anyways i hope you enjoy this hehe

“Honey, I’m home,” Spencer smiled gently to himself as he heard the words leave his mouth. He never imagined he’d ever say that out loud to anyone. But now he had you. It was as if he still couldn’t believe it every time he said it.

He’d called out to you but there had been no answer. Granted, it was three in the morning, he figured you were probably asleep by now.

Spencer softly closed the door and he placed his satchel down by the door and removed his converse off from his feet, placing them next to your shoes near the table they’d had near the door. He scrunches his nose as his mismatched socks (he’d opted for a light blue sock paired with a yellow sock with patterns on it) patter on the floor as he walks towards the kitchen.

By the evidence on the stove, you’d made chicken Alfredo pasta. A good chunk of the pasta is left on the stove — you most likely saved it for him because you worry about how skinny he is — and he smiles to himself. At least you ate.

He makes his way over to your guys’ shared bedroom and that’s when he sees it. You’re on the bed, sleeping soundly and bundled up under the covers but sprawled across the bed, holding his pillow, no less and wearing one of his old CalTech sweatshirts. On the bed is your laptop laid far away but not too far where it would fall off the bed. No, it looked like you were in the middle of work and decided to take a break and instead had fallen asleep.

Spencer leans against the doorframe with crossed arms and a warm smile as he watches you sleep. He’d often took advantage of the times where he’d come in from work late.

He liked watching you sleep. But not in a total creep kinda way, absolutely not. He more so liked seeing you so well-rested since you were always up on your feet, dealing with work and stress and never really taking a break from anything since you were so independent. It was one of the many things he liked about you. But in all seriousness, it might’ve been his favorite thing about you.

He adored the way your nose would scrunch while you slept and the way that you snored softly into the pillow. Sometimes, you’d even had a dribble of drool onto the pillow and he even found that cute. He’d found everything cute about you.

Eventually, he’d had enough of just looking at you and decided to join you. The first thing he’d done was remove and close your laptop and carefully place it on the dresser. He even opts to put it on the charger for you.

He begins slipping off his slacks along with his dress shirt and cardigan and puts on a gray t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms and quietly climbed into the covers next to you.

He carefully places his hand on your arm and rubs it soothingly and you stir a bit and scrunch your nose up once more and open your eyes to see your boyfriend, smiling warmly at you.

“Hi, honey.” He whispers and you inhale deeply as you smile sleepily at him. “You’re home!” You cheer tiredly as you scoot closer to him, you head resting on his chest and inhaling his scent as you snuggle as close as you can to him.

“I am home,” He smiles as he holds you impossibly closer. He looks down at you as you keep your eyes closed and hold him as tight as you can. “Are you okay, sweet girl?”

You nod into his chest as you open your eyes and look up at him. “I’m perfect, now that you’re here.” Spencer smiles softly at you as you rest your head again on his chest.

“Were you in dreamland?” Spencer asks with a crooked smile.

There was an abundance of times where you’d dream strange dreams. Like one time you were being chased by a hot dog or the other time you were awake on a gurney while doctors performed open-heart surgery on you. Point of the matter was, you had weird dreams.

And you could brush those off as getting food poisoning from a hot dog and never eating them again or when you fell asleep watching Grey’s Anatomy but you always dug deeper into your dreams.

Like you being chased by a hot dog could meet something that’s entirely harmless is causing you stress or overwhelming you. Or the fact that maybe you had a fear or an anxiety of being awake while having open heart surgery. You were one of the few people in Spencer Reid’s life that read into your dreams. He wasn’t one to believe in dream analysis, but you did. And so he’d often asked what you dreamed about this time, since you had dreams like that so often.

“Mhm,” You smack your lips with a sigh and curled up impossibly deeper into his chest. “This time, I was flying without wings.” You said and he furrowed his brows with an amused smile on his face. “Flying without wings?”

You nod once more, “I was suddenly floating and all of a sudden, I was falling and right before I hit the ground, I woke up.” You told him and he thinks to himself at this.

“When you dream about falling and then suddenly wake up just before hitting the ground, it's usually due to a "hypnic jerk,"” Spencer tells, being the rambler he was. And you gladly listened every time. The first time you’d gone out with him, he kept apologizing about his rambles about whatever was on his mind. You assured him that you really didn’t mind, you loved listening to him talk.

“It’s an involuntary muscle contraction that happens when your body is transitioning between wakefulness and sleep, often interpreted by your brain as a sensation of falling, causing you to jolt awake.” Spencer tells and you shrug, “Yeah, it was something like that.”

Spencer smiles softly, pulling a strand of hair behind your ear as he rubs your back, back and forth with his hand. You drifted off for a moment before looking back up at him and he kept his eyes trained right on you. Like you were his only given vice, something worth living for and fighting for. To which, you were. To him, at least.

“How was work?” You asked and he turned away from you as he answers, “We can talk about it later.” Which was code for, ‘I really don’t want to talk about it right now but I mean it when I say we can talk about it later’. And when he was ready, he’d talk about with you. Eventually, he did.

“Right now, I just wanna stay here with you.” Spencer told and you smile into his chest, “I missed you.” You tell and he chuckles, “I missed you, too, sweet girl. And I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You snuggled with him, hiking your leg across his torso and holding onto him as you closed your eyes and your breathing evened once more. He smiles, looking down at you and not wanting to move a muscle to disrupt you. He probably wouldn’t get much sleep tonight since he’d be too busy staring at your sleeping features and silently thanking God you were in his life and that he could share these moments with you.

And in the morning, he’d tell you that he asked Hotch for a few days off in advance because he wanted to spend as much time as he could with you. Your guys’ schedules always seemed to be opposites and the only time you’d ever really get together is in bed, like this. You deserved a few days to be with him and he you.

But for now, he’d let you sleep and veer off into dreamland again.

ATE ONCE AGAIN!!

THE PERFECT FIT • SPENCER REID

SUMMARY : In a tense, overworked precinct, the team grapples with the challenge of an elusive suspect and considers an undercover operation. Rossi identifies a perfect candidate for the task, trusting her experience and ability to seamlessly blend into the unsub's world.

PAIRING : fem!reader x spencer reid

a/n : hi it’s me again! so obviously this is just the first part of a hopefully long series ? i have a lot planned but if you have any suggestions pls send them my way!

i know the use of 3rd person might bother some people but I’m struggling sm writing in 2nd or 1st person so i’m sorry in advance for that

you will learn so much about the reader along the way so rest assured the mysteries will soon all be revealed.

english isn’t my first language so i’m sorry for the mistakes!!

wc : 3.2k

tysm to my sweet angels @cerisereids @g4rvez-r3id for your insights and help on this first chapter<33

══════════════════

In a precinct nestled within the city of Los Angeles, California, the air was heavy. The scent of stale coffee was persistent along with the monotonous hum of an overworked fluorescent light. The room buzzed with urgency, its walls plastered with boards full of frantic scribbles and blurred photographs — each a crucial piece of the puzzle in their elusive case. The table was a chaotic landscape of empty coffee cups and half-eaten takeout cartons, remnants of their unwavering dedication. The BAU team gathered around, eyes laden with fatigue and spirits running low, as ten days of chasing an elusive lead had left them both weary and resolute.

JJ leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. "We've got nothing. Ten days and nothing."

Morgan tossed the file he was reading onto the table with a frustrated sigh. "This guy's like a shadow," he grumbled, his tone thick with annoyance. "No prints, no DNA, no camera footage. Garcia, is there any way to bypass his loops and get to the raw feeds?"

Garcia's image flickered on the video call screen, her expression determined. "Oh, I've been down the rabbit hole with this one. Our guy's not just looping the traffic feeds — he's gone full Hollywood on us, splicing scenes together like a pro editor. He's got a digital cloak of invisibility, and trying to untangle that mess is like peeling an onion, layer after layer of encrypted nonsense. I'm working on a backdoor algorithm to slip past his smoke and mirrors, but this dude’s playing hardball with the big leagues. It's a serious code tango, and he's leading."

As Garcia spoke, Rossi sat at the table, his eyes scanning the chaotic room, taking in the exhaustion on his team's faces. When Garcia finished, he leaned forward, his voice calm but firm. "We need to think outside the box here. This guy's clever, but he can't be perfect. There's always a mistake, something overlooked."

The team absorbed Rossi's words, a collective silence settling over them. Meanwhile, Reid stood by the map pinned to the wall, absorbed in his own world. His fingers traced lines between cities, a maze of interconnected thoughts. The map was a mosaic of colored pins and scribbled notes, each representing another victim. Brunettes in their mid-20s, lured from dimly lit corners of strip clubs, where the unsub's charm and confidence masked his dark intentions. Each victim shared a haunting similarity—small stature, easily overlooked, but deeply missed by those who loved them.

Hotch turned to him, noticing his intense focus. "Reid, what about the geographical profile? What are you seeing there?"

Reid, still deep in thought, replied, "He's moving in a logarithmic spiral pattern, starting from urban centers and expanding outward. I've calculated the average distance between abductions to be about 7.3 miles. By applying this pattern and factoring in the time intervals, I could probably estimate his next move with some degree of accuracy. It's a bit like plotting a Fibonacci sequence across the map." His team listened, trying to grasp the complexity of his deductions.

Morgan, eyebrows raised, said, "Alright, genius, break it down for the rest of us."

Reid nodded, using his hands to illustrate the pattern in the air. "Basically, he's moving in a way that covers more ground over time, making sure he doesn't hit the same spot twice," he explained, tracing a wide spiral with his finger to show the movement. "If we look at how far apart the abductions are and how often they happen, I can make an educated guess on where he might go next."

Prentiss leaned in, her voice thoughtful but with a hint of urgency. "If we can predict where he'll be next, maybe we could set up an operation to catch him in the act. We've got the patterns, the locations, and we know his type."

Morgan nodded, his expression serious. "If we do this, we need to be crystal clear about the risks. This guy's not just smart — he's a genius. High IQ and extremely cautious. He knows how to stay two steps ahead and cover his tracks. If he even senses we're onto him, he could vanish without a trace."

Prentiss continued, her mind racing through possibilities. "We need to think this through, consider every angle. An undercover operation is risky, but it might be our best shot. We need someone who can blend in seamlessly, someone who wouldn't raise suspicions or tip him off."

Hotch glanced around the table, weighing the risks. "An undercover operation could work, but none of us fit the victim profile. We need someone who matches his usual targets."

JJ nodded, her voice bringing a sense of determination to the room. "It has to be someone who can handle the pressure, someone with the right look and demeanor. We need to find the perfect fit, someone who can walk into that world and not get noticed until it's too late for him."

As the conversation unfolded, Hotch noticed Rossi sitting quietly, lost in thought. There was a hint of something in his eyes—mystery, perhaps a plan forming. "Dave, you've been awfully quiet. Something on your mind?”

Rossi looked up, a sly grin forming. "I think I’ve got someone who fits the profile perfectly. She’s got the right look and experience to navigate his world without raising suspicions."

Morgan raised an eyebrow, a touch of concern in his voice. "You sure she can handle it, Rossi? This is a big operation, and the unsub is dangerous."

Rossi nodded confidently. "She's more than capable. She's tackled the toughest cases. And, she owes me," he added with a grin.

Hotch hesitated, his mind racing through the implications. "Dave, this is critical. We're talking about a case that could easily go sideways at the slightest misstep. The stakes are higher than ever, and we can't afford any mistakes. I need to be sure that whoever we bring in is not only skilled but also completely reliable. Are you absolutely certain she's the right person for this? Because if anything goes wrong, it won't just be on her. It'll be on all of us."

Emily chimed in, "Hotch, we don't really have many options. If Rossi trusts her, maybe we should give it a shot."

Rossi met his gaze, his expression earnest. "I trust her, Aaron. She's proven herself time and again, and I wouldn't call her if I didn't believe she was the perfect fit. I know how much is riding on this, and I'm telling you, she can handle it. She's exactly who we need."

Hotch thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, Dave. Make the call."

Rossi stood and reached for his phone, stepping into the hallway. The team watched him dial, anticipation hanging in the air. The phone barely rang once before she picked up, her voice playful and teasing. “David Rossi, you never call just to chat. What’s up your sleeve this time?”

Rossi chuckled, a warm sound amidst the grim atmosphere of the case. “I need to cash in that favor. Think you’re up for a mission?”

She laughed softly, exuding an air of confidence. “A mission? Sounds intriguing. You know I can never say no to you.”

“Great. I’ll have my technical analyst send over the files and the location details."

Just before they hung up, Rossi's tone shifted to serious. "And kid, it’s a bad one."

The change in mood was palpable, and her response was immediate, filled with determination. "I’m on the next flight."

Rossi returned to the room, his expression resolute. "She's in. Let's get to work."

The team gathered around, the tension in the room shifting from frustration to determination. They were tired, yes, but they were also resilient. And they wouldn't stop until they caught their ghost.

══════════════════

Meanwhile, in New York City, the BAU’s soon to be guest star had just ended the call with Rossi. Excitement and apprehension danced within her as she stood in her cluttered apartment. Her eyes landed on the half-unpacked suitcase spilling clothes onto the floor. With a sigh, she muttered, "No rest for the wicked, I guess." The room, filled with personal photos capturing laughter and love, wrapped her in a warm embrace as she took it all in.

Rossi's call had reignited a sense of purpose, pulling her from the comfort of her home into action. It had been a long time since she'd seen Rossi, and much had changed in her life. The thought of reconnecting with him brought a flutter of anxiety.

As she began packing, her phone vibrated on the table. She paused to check it, noting the incoming files and a plane ticket to Los Angeles. A quick glance at the clock revealed only an hour before boarding. A flutter of nerves settled in her stomach.

The Behavioral Analysis Unit was renowned for its sharp minds and unparalleled expertise in profiling and solving the most complex cases. She couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the thought of working alongside such a distinguished team. The prospect of engaging with these brilliant minds was both thrilling and daunting, as she wondered if she would measure up to their exceptional standards.

With her bag packed, she reached for her gun, the final piece of her preparation. She carefully checked the safety, then holstered it securely at her side, feeling the familiar weight against her.

She headed down the corridor and knocked on her neighbor's door. The elderly woman opened it, eyes widening in surprise. "Oh my goodness, I cannot believe my eyes! What a lovely surprise," she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine warmth. "When did you even get back? I didn’t even hear you."

"I just got back last night," she replied with a smile. "How have you been Mary? It's been too long."

"Oh, things have been alright. But I see you've gotten some color! Where have you been then?" the neighbor asked, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

Her mind flickered to places where the sun blazed hot and secrets ran deep, but she simply replied, "Oh you know, just around."

They chatted for a while, the conversation flowing easily. Her tone turned apologetic as she continued, "I actually need to leave town again, and I feel terrible asking, but would you mind keeping Meow Meow for a little longer?"

"Of course, I can keep Meow Meow. He's been such a delightful guest," Mary replied. "I'm just glad you're okay. You take care, and stay safe out there."

After saying their goodbyes, she stepped out into the bustling city streets. As she walked, she pulled out her professional phone, feeling the familiar pang of guilt as she noticed the barrage of missed calls. Pausing for a moment, she stared at the screen, conflicted. The calls were a reminder of the obligations she was leaving behind. With a deep breath, she typed a quick, almost cryptic message, "I'm sorry," and tossed the phone into a nearby trash bin, the action feeling both liberating and heavy with consequence.

With her personal phone in hand, she continued toward her destination, ready to face whatever awaited her with the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Los Angeles.

══════════════════

The airport was packed, a sea of people surging forward, each caught in their own whirlwind of departure or arrival. She, however, felt detached from this chaos, lost in her own thoughts as she navigated the serpentine security line. Her mind was razor-sharp and focused, yet there was a persistent irritation gnawing at her. It was more than just the grumbling about long lines or the seemingly endless wait. It was the silent anxiety that came with carrying a gun through security.

She understood the necessity, of course. The world was a precarious place, and security measures were there to protect, not to inconvenience. But the knowledge did little to quell the discomfort as she watched the TSA agents meticulously inspect every item in her bag. The process felt invasive, as though she were under the spotlight for a crime she hadn't committed. Each moment seemed to stretch, a slow-motion parade of scrutiny and suspicion.

As she reached the front, she handed over her documents, her concealed carry permit perched atop the stack.

The agent, a young man with weary eyes, examined her papers closely. "Ma'am, I'll need to check this permit with my supervisor," he said, his tone apologetic yet firm.

She nodded, forcing herself to remain composed. But a flicker of anxiety sparked within her. She'd left her former job only yesterday, a position that granted her the right to carry. Could her departure really have been processed so quickly? It seemed unlikely, yet the worry lingered in the back of her mind.

"How long will it take?" she asked, her voice steady but laced with impatience.

"Not too long, I hope," he replied, though his uncertainty did little to ease her mind.

Time seemed to stretch, each moment heavier than the last. Her thoughts raced with possibilities. It was improbable that her resignation had already worked its way through the system, wasn't it? The agent returned, looking apologetic. "We’re having some trouble with the system," he explained, "but we're working on it."

Her patience was wearing thin. "I have a flight to catch," she reminded him, a sharper edge to her words.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. We're doing our best," he assured, motioning for her to step aside.

She complied, though the wait felt eternal, each second amplifying her concern. Finally, the agent returned with a nod. "You're all set, ma'am. Thank you for your patience."

Finally, she was through, a wave of relief washing over her as she hurried toward the boarding gate. Her steps quickened, heart pounding with the urgency of making it on time. She flashed her ticket to the attendant, who gave a cursory nod before scanning it and waving her through.

Boarding the plane felt like crossing a finish line. She walked down the narrow aisle, searching for her seat, a window seat with the promise of a view that might offer some distraction. She stowed her bag in the overhead compartment, her muscles tensing briefly as she lifted it.

Once seated, she allowed herself a moment to breathe, leaning back as the familiar hum of the aircraft's engines enveloped her. It was a comforting white noise that seemed to cocoon her from the outside world. She reached into her purse, fingers brushing past a tangle of essentials until they found the tablet.

Taking it out, she settled it on her lap, the screen lighting up with a touch. The files she needed were there, downloaded and ready. She took a deep breath before diving in, knowing the images and reports awaiting her were not for the faint of heart. It was a necessary darkness, one she was both familiar with and perpetually disturbed by.

She shifted in her seat, her eyes drifting back to the images on her tablet. She opened the medical examiner's reports, seeking clarity amidst the chaos.

"Victim 1: Body discovered in the trunk of a stolen vehicle. Multiple stab wounds to the torso. Evidence of sexual assault, but no DNA trace due to condom usage. Defensive wounds present, indicating a struggle. Bruising on the face and neck, consistent with manual strangulation severe enough to damage the larynx but not the cause of death."

"Victim 2: Similar profile to Victim 1. Well-nourished, good dental hygiene. Numerous contusions on the face, indicating blunt force trauma. Marks on the neck suggest choking, though not fatal."

Immersed in the grim details of the reports, she was jolted from her focus by the polite yet firm voice of a flight attendant standing beside her.

"Ma'am, we'll be taking off shortly. Could you please fasten your seatbelt?" the attendant asked, offering a reassuring smile.

Caught off guard, she blinked a few times, her mind slowly returning from the depths of violence and chaos to the present moment. "Oh, of course. Sorry about that," she replied, offering an apologetic smile as she reached for the seatbelt.

With a quick, practiced motion, she secured the belt, feeling the familiar click as it locked into place. The attendant nodded appreciatively before moving down the aisle to ensure other passengers were also ready for departure.

As the hum of the engines intensified, she took a moment to steady herself, then returned her attention to the screen. The world outside might have been preparing for takeoff, but her mind was still entrenched in the darkness of the case, eager to uncover whatever truth lay hidden within those files.

Victim 3: Found in an abandoned car, positioned haphazardly in the trunk. Multiple sharp force injuries to the chest and abdomen. Signs of sexual assault with no DNA evidence preserved. Defensive wounds on the arms and hands, suggesting a fierce struggle. Bruising around the neck indicates choking, with damage to the trachea insufficient to be fatal. Facial bruising present, indicative of repeated blunt force trauma."

With a sigh, she closed the ME’s reports. The brutality was difficult to stomach, but she had a job to do. She turned to the BAU profile, curious to see the psychological insights they had pieced together.

The BAU had outlined a profile that was both intriguing and frustrating in its lack of specific detail. They suggested the unsub was a white male in his 30s, characterized by a disciplined and cautious nature. His proficiency with technology was evident—hacking traffic security feeds and leaving no digital trace required a high level of skill and intelligence. He was organized, methodical, and deeply familiar with law enforcement procedures, as evidenced by his ability to avoid leaving DNA or identifiable traces.

Their theory was that he might have been rejected or humiliated by a woman similar to his victims, fueling his rage. He was a predator, choosing his victims carefully, and his MO suggested a compulsion rather than a need.

She found the BAU's insights valuable but sensed gaps in their understanding. The unsub's unpredictability and geographic spread made it difficult to pin him down. She knew they were up against a formidable adversary.

Her focus shifted to the witness statements, each pause in her reading a moment to absorb the unsettling patterns.

"Witness 1: Described him as discreet, seated in the darkest corners. Rarely engaged with others, but when he did, it was brief."

She paused, letting the words sink in before moving on.

"Witness 2: Noted his attractiveness but also his aloofness. He was watching the victim intently before she approached him, lured by the cash he offered”

"Witness 3: A bartender recalled serving him drinks on his visit. His voice was calm and composed, with an edge that hinted at something darker underneath. He never drank much, always aware, always in control. He left a generous tip, but there was an unnerving intensity in his eyes."

Each account painted a picture of a man who was meticulous, calculating, and intensely focused on his target. He seemed to have rehearsed every move, ensuring he left nothing to chance during his solitary visit. The pattern was chilling in its precision, a testament to his predatory nature.

The last section of the files was dedicated to victimology. It was stark in its clarity—each victim was a brunette in her mid-20s, small, and pretty. The unsub's rage was unmistakable, directed with a chilling intensity towards these women. It was personal and filled with a fury that spoke volumes about his psyche.

As the plane cruised through the sky, she pondered the unsub's motivations. His hatred was a dark mirror, reflecting a twisted perception of the women he targeted. The pattern was there, written in the blood of his victims, and she was determined to decipher it before he struck again.

“FERTILISE US!!” screamed my ovaries

the wet hair?? oh im so sick 😭😭😭😭😭😭

he’s giving once-ler is his “how bad i can i be?” stage 😭😭😭