Perm Era 🥰

A Sunflower in the Graveyard

Post Prison!Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Synopsis: You’re the new kid on the block— joining the BAU during Spencer’s prison sentence and since then, he’s ignored you despite your efforts in trying to start a mere friendship with him. But when all hope seems lost, Spencer seems to show his soft spot for you when a case really gets to you.

Category: Angst/Fluff

Warnings: mentions of an abduction case, mentions of violence & SA, mentions of child murder, please tread lightly! reader taking case to heart, reader breaking down/crying, spencer lowkey being cold towards reader but opens up a bit, reader & spencer being lowkey simps for each other, spencer relating to willy wonka lmao, mentions of the prison arc and spoilers for 12x21 ‘Green Light’ and 12x22 ‘Red Light’

Author’s Note: hey lovelies, so i’m supposed to be taking a break from writing but this one came out of my ass and boom this was the result- i’m really proud of it so i hope you enjoy!

A fourteen year old girl by the name of Alyssa Carter was abducted. And the stakes were high since the BAU team knew that the first 24 hours were very crucial when it came to child abduction cases.

It’d been your first child abduction case since you joined the BAU, which hadn’t been too long. But you couldn’t lie and say this didn’t affect you. Cases regarding children were the worst for you, if you were being honest.

It could’ve been the fact that children were helpless, fragile, unable to defend themselves like adults could. How could anybody treat a child in such a cruel way? This was the reason you wanted a job like this anyhow, right? You wanted to stop bad guys from hurting people. And so here you were. After pining for this job for years, you finally got it at the expense of another agent being wrongfully accused of a crime he didn’t commit.

You’d arrived in Manhattan, where you’d been searching for a preferential child molester who’d already struck twice before by leaving the bodies of the children he’d killed and buried them near a lake stream.

Alyssa Carter’s parents were in hysterics when you got to the PD, since Emily had wanted someone with a lighter touch to speak with them. You’d been good with the families of victims, always talking to them with understanding and even shedding a few tears with them because of how empathetic you’d been with them.

You’d hit the 24 hour mark and the likeliness of Alyssa Carter still being alive was unlikely. It would only be a matter of time before you hit a wall in the case. But you kept the work up, not even wanting to rest until you catch the son of a bitch. You’d been hopped on four hours of sleep and coffee when you’d found it.

The connection with all the crime scenes — a motel six in the smack dab middle of the hunting area. And with the help of Garcia, you were able to find the motel so Emily had joined you, Luke, Matt, Spencer and JJ down there.

You’d questioned the motel employee to see if there had been any suspicious characters or any sign of a young girl matching Alyssa Carter’s features and the motel employee didn’t hesitate to give you the information of a visitor that frequented the motel often.

The name Greg Taylor would probably haunt you forever as Spencer gave the name to Garcia and she’d informed you with a disgusted tone of what Greg Taylor was fully capable of and the horrible things he’d been arrested for prior to this.

You’d found the room and Spencer banged on the door and announced that the FBI wanted to speak with Greg Taylor. It was over two minutes when the door finally opened and the man, who you presumed was Greg Taylor — stood there, skinny and lengthy, tattoos covering his body, only wearing boxers and he’d looked like a deer in headlights.

Spencer had told the man to sit down, that all they wanted to do was talk with him — when you’d heard it. A faint whimper in the bathroom. You’d decided to check the room as Spencer told the man to sit down when he tried to stop you from opening the door.

When you opened the door, you found Alyssa Carter, only in a top and shorts with tear-stained cheeks and pleading for help. You quickly assured to her everything was going to be okay and that she was safe now, quickly calling JJ on your mic and notifying her that you’d found Alyssa.

Once JJ came to retrieve Alyssa, Greg tried to lie his way out of this but you weren’t letting him off easy. Soon as he stood up, you were quick to grab him and turn him around, aggressively pushing him against the wall, telling him just what a piece of scum he was.

Spencer stood there, he’d never seen you get this worked up before over a victim. You were usually the calm and collected one but he knew you were also hopped up on four hours of sleep and coffee, despite how many times Rossi had to tell you to get some rest but you’d refused to listen.

You dug your elbow into the back of Greg Taylor’s neck, like how he manage to subdue his victims. “How does this feel, huh? Do you feel powerless? Do you feel afraid? Well so did Janet MacGee, Ellie Oswald and Alyssa Carter. But we got you, you son of a bitch.” It got to a point where Luke walked in and basically had to pry you off of Greg Taylor. “Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa! L/n, just back up. Come on. It’s not worth it.”

You marched outside, refusing to be scolded like a child, despite knowing how wrong it was. You stood outside of the motel and squatted down on the gravel, taking a moment as you tried to control your angry breathing. You’d never felt this heated before, especially not about an unsub. But something about Greg Taylor made you furious. Made you want to stomp the bastard’s head into the ground.

As you calmed yourself down to the best of your ability, you registered the hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles and even the words — “Are you okay?” Even jolted you into the realization that you weren’t alone anymore. You turned with wide eyes to see Spencer comforting you and that’s a surprise in itself.

You see, you joined the team when he’d been rotting in prison — you essentially replaced him for the time being. He’d been dismissive towards you, cold even since he got out of prison. And you’d no idea why, you were nothing but warm and kind to him. So, you’d taken the liberty in just ignoring him to the best of your ability. If you were paired together, you minimized your conversations to the task at hand, not even making small talk at the coffee machine or when you happened to be sitting next to each other on the jet.

It didn’t help that you also thought he was attractive. It was already tough speaking to him as it is when you found him to be intimidating due to how handsome you thought he was. You’d tried a few times to speak with him but it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with you. So, you stopped trying. You knew when you weren’t wanted, no one needed to sugarcoat it.

But for him to come and ask if you were okay, of all people — you never expected for Spencer to do so.

“Are you okay?” Spencer repeated. It took you a second to realize you were just staring at him. You shake your head, probably from the whiplash you were experiencing with him asking you if you were okay. “Yeah, I guess.” You end up answering.

You look up as Luke takes Greg Taylor into the back of a police car. And you take a sharp breath. It’s okay. You got him. He’ll be locked up for life. You got him. “We got him.” Spencer’s voice turns into one of the mantras you’re saying to yourself internally.

And it’s sudden. You break down crying, nearly falling forward on the gravel and you would have face-planted if Spencer hadn’t been there to catch you. Your cries echoed in your ears as you felt Spencer’s arms tighten around you in comfort. For a moment, he went stiff— almost not knowing how to hold you or what to do and not wanting to mess it up— but the way you’d melted in his touch was enough to make him melt with you and hold you as you wept.

After you’d landed back home, Spencer kept an eye on you. And even offered to walk you home so you got to your destination safely. You didn’t say a word to him — maybe a meek ‘thanks’ but other than that, not a word. He didn’t say anything either and perhaps, he didn’t have anything to. So, you both relished in the silence, in his protective nature that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you while he was around.

Once you got to the door, you looked at him — wondering if maybe he’d leave soon after. He stayed standing right there and well, you didn’t want to send him off just yet, if you were being honest. You didn’t feel ready to.

“Y-You can come in,” You offered with a small shrug. “If you want.” Spencer nods at you and you unlock the door and open the door to your apartment.

You take off your coat, walking into the kitchen and placing it on the chair in front of the table. Spencer takes a look around your apartment, the scent of autumn hits him like a wave and he notices your knick-knacks around the apartment. The bookshelf intrigues him, quick to inspect it as he spots the classics such as To Kill A Mockingbird and 1984, suggesting you were a fan of English literature. He even takes notice of your VCR under your TV and the stacks of films next to the VCR— spotting tapes like The Princess Bride and Grease, also telling him that you’d liked classics and that you weren’t exactly living under a rock.

He knew that maybe he shouldn’t be profiling you the way he was doing now but everything about you was interesting. Which was why he was keeping as far away from you as he could. He was already breaking his own moral code by being here at your apartment, afraid to damage you with his ignorance.

Spencer looks over and finds you, trying to preoccupy yourself awkwardly, like you’re trying to casually deal with the fact that he’s in your apartment right now.

“I…” You quickly turn as Spencer finds his voice. “I can leave, if you want me to. I don’t have to stay.” You shake your head, dismissing the idea. “No, no, I want you to.” You find yourself admitting and Spencer bites his lip as he stares at you and you look like a deer in headlights at your eagerness. “I… I just…” You shut your eyes at the embarrassment of your next sentence. “I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

The words repeat in Spencer’s head. I just don’t want to be alone right now. And you chose him to accompany you in your time of need? Why him? He’s far too damaged for you. No good for you. But you didn’t even ask. He chose to be here. For you.

“But you can leave, if you want to.” You say, trying not to sound disappointed in your tone but Spencer can definitely tell you are, which is why he removes his brown satchel strap from around his neck and places his bag on the floor. “I won’t leave. You need somebody and… well, I can be that.” No matter how much he wants to run for the hills.

So, you opt for offering him a drink— which he declines and you ask if maybe he wants to watch something while he’s here. You decide to put on Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (since you’d discovered he’d never seen it before and well, him being uncultured just won’t do) and change into some comfy clothes and relax while he’s here.

Spencer had never seen you in casual clothing before. In your baggy sweatpants and argyle wool sweater and white socks— you looked ethereal. He’d never seen you in such a domestic light before. His stomach churns at this, the fear of getting too close to you is strong. His Adam’s apple bobs as he moves closer towards the arm of the couch, maintaining as much distance as possible between you two.

You don’t seem to mind or pay attention to the distance, at least— more so paying more attention to the film you’re watching instead of him and Spencer sits there, trying to pay attention but he can’t — not while you’re sitting next to him, at least. He figures the longer he can stare at the screen, the more he’d be able to focus but he can’t. He really can’t seem to focus around you.

As Spencer watches the scene of Augustus Gloop getting stuck into the chocolate pool, he’s finally enthralled with the film — of course, it’s totally unrealistic because how does Willy Wonka manage to have a pool full of chocolate and why are the parents of these children that were chosen full entrusting into this strange man? But in a way, Spencer finds himself relating to the whimsical man in a sense.

“I don’t know why kids affect me a lot.” You find yourself speaking halfway through the movie and Spencer then turns to you. Catching as you’re deep into thought, like you’d been thinking for a while now and you were just now voicing it. “I don’t have any of my own, I don’t know any kids. It’s just…”

“They’re young,” Spencer finds your voice, adding to your segment. “Defenseless.” He’d remembered this conversation with Morgan before he’d left. When Little Hank was a mere baby in Savannah’s stomach and how Morgan started taking these cases regarding children to heart. Spencer wondered if that had a play into Morgan leaving and he knew it most likely did. And he told him the same thing he’s telling you now.

You shake your head, “You just don’t do that.” Your voice is quiet and soft, Spencer’s not sure he’s ever heard you this quiet. Usually, you’re loud and bubbly and happy-go-lucky. He’s never seen you this sad before. But he’s discovering now that he hates it.

“What matters now is that we caught him,” Spencer tells, looking into your eyes as he speaks carefully. “And that Alyssa Carter is home now with her family.”

“Not to mention a load of trauma.” You add with a small sniffle. “What she went through—” Spencer looks down. “That’s hard for anybody. But she’s gonna make it. And she’s alive. What matters is we did our jobs and Greg Taylor can’t hurt anyone else ever again.”

You bite your lip and you nod at that. Spencer was right. You did your job, you got your unsub, you saved Alyssa Carter. You’ve done everything right. And you need to stop beating yourself up over it.

After that, you and Spencer don’t talk again. And by the time the movie’s over, Spencer looks your way and finds you asleep on the other side of the couch. He smiles to himself, happy that you’re getting the rest like you deserved. He stands up, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV and looks over towards you.

You’re peaceful as you sleep and he’s not sure he’s ever seen anything more angelic in his life. Looking at the throw blanket on the couch, he grabs it and throws it over your body so you can sleep comfortably and he looks down at you a moment longer.

He’d pushed you away. He had to keep you at this distance because he was afraid of hurting you. Prison had broken him down beyond repair. After all the crap he had deal with Delgado, this whole catastrophe with Scratch, which ended up being Lindsey Vaughn and Cat Adams. Having to deal with inmates, threatening his identity and beating him up every chance they got.

And then he met you. And you were the complete opposite of what he was now. You’d extended your hand, you gave him a big grin and the whole ‘I’ve heard a lot about you’ schpeal when you’d first met. He thought you were beautiful, inside and out — that’s how Garcia described you at least when he’d found out about you on one of her visits to see him in prison.

But he’d simply waved with a tight smile and said it was nice to meet you and walked away. After that, you tried with him, trying to say and asked how his day went but he often dismissed— only dealing with the small talk. And he’d kept his distance, not wanting to hurt you but little did he know, his absence just hurt you more.

The day you walked into the office and decided to ignore him, grabbing your coffee next to him and going about your day without a word — sent a sharp pain in his heart. He supposed that things were better now that you ignored him, that he’d finally gotten what he wanted. But this wasn’t what he wanted at all. And he knew that deep down.

And when he saw you tonight, how angry you were, how you didn’t get any rest until the case was solved, he’d wanted to comfort you. He wanted to comfort you in a way he needed back then. And when he saw you squatting with your head in your hands, he found his opportunity and he refused to leave your side until he knew you were alright. And he’d stay for as long as you liked him to.

But he didn’t want to intrude while you slept, he’d had no idea how you felt about him staying the night — no matter how much he’d like to in entirely different circumstances— so he decided the safe bet was to leave. He didn’t want to leave with no goodbye, so he’d left you a note and left your apartment quietly.

When you woke up the next morning, you found the note on the table in front of you and smiled warmly as you read it.

Y/n,

I didn’t want to wake you, so I saw myself out. I hope a good night’s sleep is all you need to feel refreshed. Adults usually need seven to nine hours a night. Anyways, I‘ll see you at work.

-Spencer :)

Hmm… perhaps the Dr. Spencer Reid, the man that barely talked to you, that hardly looked your way, that you’d found attractive regardless of everything that was wrong with him… wasn’t so cold after all.

Louder…

Post Prison! Spencer Reid x Sunshine Shy!Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer on a couch… need I say more?

Category: Smut

Warnings: pure fluff and smut, brief mentions of S12 prison arc in the beginning, mutual pining, grumpy x sunshine trope, kissing, smut warnings: soft dom!spencer, unprotected p in v, fucking from behind 🤭 (my first time writing this bear with me), dirty talk, spencer wants reader to be vocal during sex, creampie

Author’s Note: lowkey not proud of this ugh

You didn’t know how you managed to get here. You never thought you’d be here— dating the man you’d heard so much about and fawned over since you started the BAU.

When he was arrested and convicted of a crime he didn’t commit, Spencer Reid thought all of his luck had run out. He was screwed over in so many ways and this was another thing he could add to the list of ways life has failed him. And once he got out, he was sure he could never go back to who he was.

And while that was true, he didn’t know he’d have you. The newest BAU intern he was sure was here to take over his position in the unit. You were everything he was at twenty-four— lost in a daze of excitement, eager to work and please, not sure what she was doing half the time but managed to do her job.

At first, he’d wanted nothing to do with you but then, in some weird way— you’d won over his heart. Ever since that night on the jet when he saw you reading one of Leo Tolstoy’s works and interrupted you, asking what you were reading and you spent the rest of the night exchanging interesting facts about Tolstoy’s works.

This occurred for a few weeks until Luke had asked Spencer when he was going to finally ask you out. He shook it off, liking what the two of you had at the moment. But after that, he started noticing you more— how excited you’d get when something fascinated you, much like how he did in the past, how your nose would scrunch up in embarrassment and how bright and wide your eyes would get when he would talk about what he knew. And then, on one faithful day— he finally did it. He asked you out and you said yes.

And now here you were, with your boyfriend— almost six months now— in his apartment, on his couch, cuddling with him.

You two were supposed to have a movie night, watching some documentary about animals and you found yourself scooting impossibly closer to him, nudging your body back into his as he was positioned behind you, blanket covering both of your bodies and his hand rubbing at your side, the heat in his touch making you feel tingly so much that you could help but back into him.

Spencer was sure you were doing it on purpose, backing into him like this— because with how you were two were positioned, your ass rubbing against his groin— he was getting hard. And he couldn’t help it. You were the one doing this to him. And after a small giggle, he started getting the hint that you were in fact, doing it on purpose. After the first few times you did it, it was unmistakable that it was him.

“Angel…” Spencer winced in a warning tone. You chuckle again, “Sorry, love, I just… I can’t help it.”

Instead of a serious tone, he gave you an amused smirk and whispered into your ear — “Well, I’m not gonna deprive my angel of her pleasure, now am I?” You turn your cheek to meet Spencer’s eyes and lean forward to kiss his lips, so gently and passionately.

As you two kiss, his hands travels upwards towards your breasts, grabbing one of them and squeezing as your tongue explores his mouth, causing him to let out a sigh inside of your mouth.

The same hand travels down towards your wet pussy, causing you to let out your own sigh of content as he sticks a finger towards your clit and briefly rubs. “You’re so wet.” He points out and you nod gently, “For you, always.”

He removes his hand, then deciding to move towards your sleeping shorts — the same sleeping shorts Spencer kept eyeing your ass in as soon as you put them on — and pushed the fabric to the side, along with your underwear and pulling down his sweatpants down a bit to release his cock.

You turn your head to look him in the eyes. This was the first time you were doing it in this position. Usually, you two were in missionary and you were riding him so this was a new experience with the both of you. You want to do this right and you know he wants to too and you look at his eyes as you grab his cock, giving it a few strokes and he gets lost in what you’re doing to him that he nearly cums but he wants to blow his load inside of you, he can’t waste it.

So, he stops your movement and holds your hand as you hold his cock and you both guide it towards your slick walls. He waits a moment before slowly going in and you let out a gasp as he sticks a few or more inches in.

Spencer’s eyes meet yours as he nods to you with wide eyes, “Are you okay?” He asks and you nod eagerly, “Yes, yes, I’m okay. Keep going.” You encourage him and he nods at you as he sheathes the rest of himself inside of you and you stay like that for a second, lost into each other’s eyes once more until he starts going.

It’s not long before he finds a rhythm, tilting his head back in pleasure as he fucks into your pussy, your noises clamoring together as your juice leak down onto his cock. You’re both letting out moans, the sounds drowning the long-forgotten documentary out as he grips onto your hip and drives his cock in and out of your walls.

“Oh, fuck—” Spencer groans into the shell of your ear and you try holding onto the cushion for some type of leverage as he keeps going at an animalistic pace. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby. Oh, my God.“

You try holding back your moans but Spencer notices quickly and is having none of it. He loves when you’re vocal during sex— but sometimes you develop a habit of not making noise, mostly because of how past relationships made you feel in the past. And he refuses to be one of those people— especially when he loves hearing your noises. “Come on, angel— I want to hear what I do to you, please…”

You let out a small moan, slowly breaking out your own bit of confidence that he brings out of you. “Louder…” Spencer tells. You moan, a tad louder this time. It’s still not enough. “Louder.” He demands once more as you go an octave higher. “Louder.” He says, once more. You nearly scream as he continues to pound into you, hand trailing down to your clit as he begins to rub it, wanting you to come right along with him.

“Let go for me, angel. I want to feel you cum around my… my—“ He whines, not being able to finish his sentence as he feels you clench onto him and shriek as you cum around his cock and his hips stutter and he fills you with his warmth.

You both pant after the fact, his cock still inside of you but softening and the overstimulation becoming borderline painful. When you finally open your eyes, you turn towards the credits on the TV.

“Hey, we finished the documentary.”

Let Me Stay

Ex! Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer have gone back to normal, somewhat. But it only takes one conversation to ruin that all again. All you wanna do is stay, but he won’t let you.

Category: Angst

Warnings: not really a happy ending, established past relationship, maeve arc, mentions of death and suicide, takes place during 8x17 “The Gathering”, mentions of 8x17 events, spencer being a lil sad shit, crying, reader was in a past relationship before spencer, it’s just really sad, let me know if i missed anything! <3

Author’s Note: here is part two to “when you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light”! it’s short and sad 🤗 might make a part three???

part one

After helping Spencer, things were back to somewhat normal. You’d both bumped up from only talking on cases to the occasional small talk near the kitchenette or asking how each other’s days were going when you both were in the elevator on the way to the bullpen.

Everyone seemed to notice the change but hadn’t said anything to indicate that they knew. But then you’d heard Garcia gossiping about it in her office the other day to Morgan.

“Can you believe it? They’re finally talking again! Isn’t that great? Small talk can lead into something more! Maybe they’ll finally get together again and my ship will sail!” She’d fangirl and you shook your head with a small chuckle escaping your lips. (She was always so hell-bent that you two would eventually get back together).

Not that you didn’t agree with her, you always hoped you’d get somewhere with Spencer again. You just didn’t know when you could. He was still in mourning over Maeve and you knew he needed time to heal before dating again. You’d wait forever if you had to, unfortunately.

He still seemed quiet during most of the cases or would bury himself in his work to avoid feeling his feelings. And you couldn’t say you blamed him, because if it were you, you’d do the same thing. You have done the same thing. So, with understanding, you left him alone. And you were waiting for him to come to you.

And then you had that case in Minnesota. Your unsub was Peter Harper, he had stabbed women and pulled their tongues out pre-mortem. And you knew that him pulling the tongues out had some kind of significance to him. The disparate set of women victims was chosen at random until they discovered one connection between the women and it was that they all have a very strong on-line presence, their deaths telegraphed by stories in their own online blogs, messages or texts.

They’d finally found him at a public pool, ready to throw a woman in the pool and to wait for her to drown and when the team finally found him, he’d had a knife to his neck, ready to kill himself. You and JJ tried to talk him down off the ledge and told Peter he’d get help and that everything was gonna be okay. But then Reid had spoken up, telling him the truth and the total opposite from what you and JJ were saying.

Peter had killed himself shortly after that. And Reid walked off in frustration. You and JJ shared a look, wondering what the hell that was about.

You’d gone back to the office after filling out your paperwork. You were ready to go home, to relax and to wash the stench of this case off of you. And while you were packing up, you’d overheard Hotch and Reid’s conversation nearby. You knew Hotch was questioning his decision with telling Peter Harper the truth — that it wouldn’t get better, that it was gonna be hard to get help.

And when questioned about it, Reid’s answer was simple. “Well, Hotch, I thought the last time I was in a situation like this, I did exactly what I was supposed to. I told a perfect lie and that didn't work, so this time, in the hopes of saving someone's life, I tried something different.”

And then it was clear what this was about. Maeve. And you’d known that he still wasn’t over her. And of course, it really hadn’t been that long since she died, the wounds were still raw.

When you saw Reid abruptly leave the convo between him and Hotch and head towards the elevator, you knew to follow immediately. You’d worried a lot about him since what happened with Maeve. And you guessed that you just wanted him to be reassured that he had someone in his corner.

“Spencer,” You called in the parking garage and he’d turned around at the sound of your voice and could tell by his sigh that he was in no mood to talk with you but regardless he stopped.

“Look, I really don’t want to talk right now—” And you should’ve just left it at that. But you pushed, like you always do. Instead of walking away, you interrupted him. “I don’t care if you don’t wanna talk, but you know what you’re gonna do? You’re gonna listen.” Spencer crossed his arms, obviously in defense mode as you continued.

“Spencer, we have given you time. We have been there for you thick and thin and all we wanna do is help—” This time, he interrupts you. “Have you ever thought about the fact that maybe I don’t want your help? That maybe what I need is just a little bit of space?”

With that, he walked off.

And you’d officially had enough.

“Do you really think that you are the only person in the world who has lost someone?” You exclaimed and Spencer stopped in his tracks, his back still facing you. “Well, you are barking up the wrong tree because — newsflash, Spencer — you are not the only person who’s lost someone. When I lost—” You pause, not wanting to say his name. “I was… such a wreck.”

You gulp, deciding to continue, hoping your words were getting somewhere with him. “And you helped me, remember? I never would’ve gotten through that if you hadn’t of helped. And I pushed and pushed you away but you didn’t leave. You stayed. All I’m asking is to let me stay.” You walk over to Spencer and he looks down at the ground, avoiding your eyes as you choose to stand in front of him.

You bow your head, wanting to meet his eyes as you put a waiting hand on his soft cheek. You move his head to look at you. “So, let me stay.” He can see the tears forming in your eyes as you practically beg him. His eyes gaze over to your lips before quickly going back to your eyes.

“Please don’t shut me out when all I wanna do is help.” You tell him and instead of nodding and listening to you and asking you to stay, he walks away. Because if he stays any longer, he might kiss you. And you don’t deserve that. Not right now.

He walks away, leaving your heart in pieces and you in shambles. He chose his path, so you must take the same route and forget you’d ask him to let you stay.

ELIZA MY GOD (no pun intended) 👏👏👏

When I'm Down on My Knees, You're How I Pray

who? Spencer x afab! reader

content warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+ content, unholy use of bible verses, inaccurate use of religious themes, oral (m), fingering (f), reader has hair that can be pulled, mention of religious trauma, Jesus Reid, please let me know if I've missed anything else!

a/n: Believe it or not, I actually toned down the blasphemy in this fic. Huge thank you to @minswriting for answering my 20 million questions about this because I've never written smut before and that's the majority of what she does. (Also she came up with the title, it's a Lana lyric)

thank you to @cafekitsune for the MDNI divider and @saradika-graphics for the stained glass divider

word count: 1.3k

You’ve spent your adult life avoiding anything related to church and religion. Growing up in an overly religious household and being forced to attend church services twice a week, in addition to the Bible study and choir practice, meant that anything related to religion left a bad taste in your mouth. While you’ve never outright mentioned this to Hotch, he seemed to pick up on it and respected your wishes, never sending you to interview priests or visit cathedrals that had been the scene of a crime. At least, until he had respected your wishes until this case. He paired you with Spencer and sent you both to investigate an older crime scene at a nearby church. Despite your best efforts, you were unable to weasel out of your assignment, so here you were, stuck thinking about the fact that you were going to church with the one person you’d always been attracted to since joining the BAU.

You were oddly quiet as the two of you walked through the building

“So, what are your thoughts?” Spencer asks, breaking the silence.

“Being here brings back all of the religious trauma I endured as a kid and you looking like Jesus is certainly not helping.”

You see Spencer furrow his brows in confusion, his gaze shifting from the church to you, “I-I’m sorry, did you just say I look like Jesus?” 

“Yeah, I did. Except you’d be the one I’d get on my knees for,” you say teasingly, shooting a wink in his direction.

He chokes on air, “e-excuse me?”

“Anyways, let’s go check out the confessional,” you reply, wanting to get out of the church as soon as possible.

As you step into the cramped confessional, you can feel Reid close behind you. You can feel the effect your teasing remark had on him as his bulge presses against your back, though you’re sure the action is unintentional on his part. 

You turn to face him and glance down at the tent his pants, “do you want some help with that?”

His face flushes, “w-what?”

“Shhh, let me take care of you,” you mumble as you get down on your knees in front of him. 

You hear his breath hitch in his throat as you undo his belt. You quickly unbutton and unzip his pants, pulling them down and leaving him in his boxers. You palm his bulge and glance up at him, “Looks like you enjoyed the idea of me worshipping your cock.”

He whimpers and nods. You slowly pull his boxers down, freeing his length. He whimpers as you run your thumb over his tip, collecting the leaking precum. “You like that, baby?” you ask, looking up at him. 

He nods his head pathetically in response. You bite your lip and wrap your hand around his length, giving a few experimental tugs. The sound of his whimpers went straight to your cunt, leaving you desperate to hear more.

“My heart is glad and my tongue rejoices, Psalm 16:9” you recited before you slowly lick the underside of his cock, going from the base to the tip. You can’t help but smirk slightly at the moan that escapes his mouth. You wrap your lips around him, only taking a little more than the tip into your mouth. You look up at him as you swirl your tongue around his length, loving the way he’s reacting to your teasing. His eyes are dark with lust as he looks down at you, enjoying the view, but clearly wanting more. You slowly take more of him into your mouth and you feel him tangle his fingers in your hair as he lets out a loud moan. You keep going until he hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag slightly. Spencer gently caressed your hair, a subtle way of telling you to be careful.

You start to bob your head, going at a teasingly slow pace, savoring the moans and whimpers that he lets out. You hollow out your cheeks around him and he groans in response, bucking his hips slightly. You pick up your pace as he grips your hair, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He groans and uses your hair to guide you, forcing you to go faster. You moan around his length and something in him snaps. He holds your head still and starts bucking his hips, thrusting into your mouth, causing you to gag each time he hits the back of your throat. You look up at him with tears in your eyes, loving the sight of him with his head thrown back and mouth open. He moaned your name so prettily, the sound echoing around the church.

You feel his cock twitch and he starts to pull out, but you grab his hips and hold him in place. He cums with a loud groan, shooting his seed down your throat. You eagerly swallow his load before leaning back, a trail of spit and cum. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as you stand up. You can’t resist the urge to wink and say, “Amen” 

He takes your face in his hands and pulls you in for a rough, needy kiss. His tongue slips past your lips and he groans at the taste of himself on your tongue. His hands move down to your thighs and he picks you up, placing you on the prayer ledge without breaking the kiss. 

“From the fruit of their lips people are filled with good things and the work of their hands brings them reward, Proverbs 12:14,” Spencer whispers in your ear as his hands slowly trail under your skirt, his fingers tracing your thighs as they get closer to your core. You moan softly as his fingers brush against your panties and he starts pressing open mouth kisses to the side of your neck. You let your head fall back, giving him more room to kiss and suck on your neck and collarbones. He smirks and gently sucks a mark on your pulse point as he pushes your panties to the side.

“You’re so wet, angel,” Spencer murmured against your skin. “Did you get all worked up using your mouth on me?” 

You whimper quietly as he uses one of his fingers to spread your wetness around. He doesn’t tease you for long, within moments you feel the tip of his finger brushing against your clit. You moan in response, his touch sending sparks all over your body. He begins to gently rub your clit in a circular motion, working you slowly.

You gasp loudly when he slips one of his fingers inside you, his long, slender finger reaching far deeper than yours ever could. He slowly pumps his finger in and out, letting you get used to the sensation before adding a second finger. His pace increases and he curls his fingers, brushing against your g-spot. You moan his name, causing him to pick up speed. 

“Does that feel good, angel?” Spence asked lowly, watching the way you fell apart under his touch.

 “Uh-huh, so good, Spence”

He smirks as you clench around his fingers. His thumb moves to rub your clit as he continues thrusting his fingers. 

“You gonna cum for me?” 

“Yes, yes, ohhh god.” You moan loudly, shaking as you let go, your thighs squeezing around him. 

“I wanna be inside you, angel,” Spencer mumbled, pushing your skirt up. 

You nod and lift your hips to make it easier for him. You can hear a low moan slip from his mouth when he exposes the lacy panties you’re wearing that day. He hooks his fingers in the waistband to pull them down, but gets interrupted by the ringing of his phone.

He reluctantly answers the call, “Reid.” 

You listen quietly as he speaks, trying to get your breathing back to normal. He hangs up the phone and pouts, “Hotch wants us back at the station.”

“I gathered,” you mumble as he steps back, giving you room to stand up and fix your skirt.

“If you want, you can come by my hotel room later? Finish what we started?” He offers as he pulls up his pants.

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

so close to deactivating my account!!! 🤗🤗🤗

“can i be the little spoon” all day EVERYDAY SIR 🫡

Baptized In Fear

Summary: Spencer struggles to fight the demons that haunt him through withdrawal. You're there to remind him he doesn't have to fight alone.

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Mentions of previous drug addiction/withdrawal. Mentions of sleep paralysis. Some religious verbiage in a non-religious setting. Fingering (f!receiving), unprotected P in V sex (birth control mentioned), dry humping (my beloved), some praise, creampie (fingers burning as I type that). Best friends to lovers/two idiots in love (giggling and kicking my feet)!! A little angsty (I'm SORRY).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader/afab!reader

A/N: This song-fic is based on Baptized In Fear by The Weeknd, so I strongly recommend listening to it while you read, but it's not mandatory :) God I've missed writing LMAO I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!! :') <3 and if you DO enjoy it, please feel free to like, reblog, drop a comment, whatever your heart desires because I truly do appreciate any feedback I get on my works :) Friendly reminder that my requests are open btw okay I love you all MWAH!!

I fell asleep in the tub, I was met with paralysis

My foot hit the faucet, water started flowing in

Spencer woke with a sharp gasp, his gaze darting toward the frigid water now pouring over his skin. His fingers twitched at his sides, submerged and pruny. His eyes fluttered as he fought to keep them open. When had he dozed off? 

Couldn't scream for help, I just slowly felt the pressure hit

Moving one toe was the only form of motion left

Can't breathe for air, can't breathe

It was almost as though cement flowed through his veins instead of blood, keeping him anchored to the bottom of the porcelain tub. His pulse skyrocketed at the sound of the doorknob twisting followed by a sharp bang against the solid wood, but he couldn’t move. Logically, he knew that auditory hallucinations were normal for sleep paralysis. That didn’t stop them from being horrifying each time they happened. 

Spencer’s heart pounded in his throat, threatening to leap from the seam of his lips and dive for the drain if he were to open his mouth even a fraction. He was dizzy. Debilitatingly dizzy. The bright fluorescent light stung his eyes and made his head throb. 

He had to get out of this tub. 

Spencer focused all of the energy he could muster on wiggling his toes. He knew that once he got his toes to move, the rest of his body would follow behind shortly after. The sound of footsteps outside of the bathroom sent another pang of icy panic shooting up his spine, tightening the band-like sensation currently squeezing the air from his lungs and causing his ribs to ache. It felt like a rock was lodged in his throat, blocking his airway as he struggled to just wiggle his damn toes. 

Trying to remember everything that my preacher said

Tryna right my wrongs, my rеgrets filling up my head

All the timеs I dodged death, this can't be the way it ends, no

Spencer’s eyes slipped shut, exhaustion weighing them down. He was clammy despite the freezing water steadily rising, filling the tub beyond its normal limits. The gurgling sound of the overflow draining was muted by the incessant pounding at his bathroom door, the knocks sounding urgent and threatening. 

A tear dripped down his cheek as he recalled what his recovery coach had preached to him about withdrawal. Testaments about how excruciating it would be, how it would test his sanity… but it was a necessary evil. His only choice was to fight the craving for the sweet relief of the needle or lose the career he worked so hard to excel in. Lose the family he’d made from said career. Lose you. 

The water was now tickling Spencer’s chin, having slumped down into the tub presumably before he’d drifted off. His body was shivering violently, yet he still couldn’t lift a finger. Memories flashed behind his eyelids as he recounted every near death experience he’d had since joining the BAU. As he recounted literally dying and coming back to life at the hands of Tobias. In a way, he found it sardonic that he’d survived everything that he had just to die in a bathtub. All because he was too weak from withdrawal to fight the crippling grip of sleep paralysis. 

Figure in the corner I can't quite see 

I just know the shadow's staring at me

It gets closer, it gets closer, it gets closer now

Spencer’s eyes fluttered, opening in silent protest and staring unblinking up at the popcorn ceiling above. If this was to be the only movement his body would allow, then so be it. At least now he had something to focus on besides the barrage of memories blurring together in his mind or the overwhelming guilt consuming his entire being. 

His heart nearly stopped on its own accord when he caught sight of a dark, shadowy figure in his peripheral vision. He couldn’t move his eyes to bring his gaze to it directly, something he was both grateful for and terrified about. It felt as though whatever it was was staring directly at him, pleased by his unfortunate predicament. 

A tear dropped down into the water as the figure began to glide forward. Then another. And another. No matter how many times he repeated to himself that this was just a hallucination conjured up during the worst episode of sleep paralysis he’d ever experienced, the figure persisted, inching closer and closer. 

Figure in the corner laughing at me 

Water fill my lungs, vision blurry

Heartbeat slower, heartbeat slower, heartbeat slower

A low, rumbling chuckle filled the air as the water rose past Spencer’s lips now. The figure stopped at the edge of the tub now, its presence sinister. It was as though it was taunting him, gloating about its existence outside of the godforsaken bathtub he was about to drown in. 

His shallow breaths rippled the water as it began to rise underneath his nose, then above it, smothering any last shred of hope he had of breaking free of his paralysis and escaping what was about to become his ceramic grave. His body instinctively began to choke, fighting with strength he didn’t have to try to rid itself of the intrusion, but it was in vain. 

The popcorn ceiling blurred as muted sobs bubbled beneath the surface, his lungs burning with each failed breath. Spencer felt his pulse slow, the once frantic rhythm of his heart diminishing to a haunting lento. His eyes drifted shut as the water caressed his eyelashes, the final image his mind could summon being the first time he made you laugh, your head thrown back and your hand clutching his arm for support—the moment he’d fallen in love with you. 

Voices will tell me that I should carry on

Voices will tell me that I should carry on

“Spencer!” 

Spencer woke with a gasp, an intense wave of Deja-vu crashing into him as he jolted up. The freezing water that had surrounded him was gone, replaced by the comforting pressure of your hands on his shoulders and the blanket pooling in his lap. He blinked hard, trying to clear the haze from his vision as he took in his surroundings. The bathroom walls were no longer there. Instead, he found himself facing the plain, impersonal walls of the hotel room where they were staying while on the case. Spencer met your concerned gaze, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he realized not only had he woken you, but he had also worried you with his nightmare. 

Hotch had paired you together to double up, since the available rooms were limited. He figured that, as best friends, neither of you would mind. And you hadn’t—if anything, it gave you a chance to watch over Spencer, knowing he wasn’t doing as well as he’d claimed. You knew him too well to believe that. 

After Spencer was rescued, you started noticing the signs of addiction almost immediately. The shift in his personality was expected, given everything he’d been through. It was painful to accept, but you knew he would never be the same person he was before Tobias—and that was okay. You’d adjust to whatever version of him emerged. You were just happy that he was alive. But when the fidgeting grew constant, when his eyes seemed to drift into nothingness, when the bruises on his arm appeared, hidden under layers of long sleeves and cardigans… that’s when you knew it was time to step in. 

You’d confronted him about it, promising to not say a word to Gideon or Hotch as long as he swore to get help. And he did. The following day, he joined The Beltway Clean Cops, and to celebrate, you treated yourselves to takeout from your favorite spot and spent the day binge-watching movies together, enjoying the rare day off. For the first time since facing the needle that fateful night, Spencer felt hopeful. He felt seen. He felt loved. 

“Spence?” 

Your hushed voice snapped him out of his thoughts, his hazel eyes re-focusing as they traced your face. Your hair was tousled from sleep, your t-shirt wrinkled and pajama shorts askew, and your eyebrows were pinched together as you studied him in the dim light. But even so, he thought you looked like an angel. His angel. 

“Are you okay?” You whispered, moving your hand from his shoulder to press it to his forehead with a small frown. “You were crying in your sleep.” 

Spencer nodded, sucking in a shaky breath as he felt his pulse slowing. “I-I’m sorry for waking you. I just–” He swallowed, savoring the feeling of your hand now carding through his hair to soothe him. “I’ve been having these awful nightmares, and when it’s not nightmares then it’s episodes of sleep paralysis. A-and I know that’s to be expected with withdrawal… they’re just getting worse and more frequent and it’s making me want to avoid sleeping if it means I can avoid them.” His voice cracks on the last word, a tear slipping down his cheek as his eyes flicker down to his lap. 

Your frown deepened, your heart tightening at his words, until a thought crossed your mind. The room had two full-sized beds with a small nightstand between them, but that was easily movable. “What if…” you started, rising from where you sat beside him on the edge of the bed. “What if we push the beds together? I could hold you, and if you have a nightmare, I can wake you up. Would that help you get some rest?”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for the right words. He wasn’t sure if it would help him rest or keep him awake, given how he'd stayed up all night just to make sure he wouldn’t pop an erection from being so close to you. From the moment he’d met you, he’d been smitten, but he quickly accepted that you probably wouldn’t feel the same. So, he’d kept his feelings to himself, never crossing the line into anything more than friendship. “U-um… yeah. Sure. We—we can do that.” Spencer cleared his throat, nodding before awkwardly scrambling to his feet.

After arguing over where to put the nightstand and a few lighthearted jabs at Spencer’s strength (the beds were heavier than they looked), the beds were pushed together and the both of you were settled underneath the covers. Spencer was as stiff as a board, staring straight up at the ceiling while you set the alarm to wake you both in the morning. Turning the lamp off and rolling over onto your side, you stifle a chuckle at how rigid Spencer is. 

“Spence? Are you cold?” 

Spencer shook his head, his taut face barely visible in the moonlight streaming through the cheap, thin curtains. “No, no I’m not cold at all. I just—” he cut himself off with a huff. “I-I’m not used to sharing a bed with someone. That’s all.” 

You hummed in acknowledgment, propping yourself up on your elbow. There was almost a foot of space between you, leaving Spencer dangerously close to the edge. “C’mere, doc. I won’t bite.” Your voice was teasing yet gentle as you reached out, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. “I can’t hold you if you’re about to fall off the bed.”

Spencer sucked in a breath, his eyes closing momentarily as he tries to cling to his composure before he shuffles closer to you, almost resembling an inchworm with the jerkiness of his movements. Once he’s laying a few inches away, you grin softly. You close the gap between you, resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arm around his waist. 

“Is this okay? Or, if you’re comfortable with it, you can be the little spoon,” you whisper, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart underneath your ear. His hands lay stiffly at his sides, picking at the sheets nervously. After a beat, he finally relaxes, sinking into the mattress with a shuddered breath before he answers. 

“Can I be the little spoon?” 

His voice is meek and trembling, like he’s on the verge of crying. But you don’t question it. Instead, you nod, moving so he can roll over onto his side. When he’s settled, you curl into him from behind, snuggling into his back and wrapping your arm around his waist once more. 

The warmth of his body pressed against yours is more comforting than you expected, and with a soft sigh you surrender to the lull of sleep. 

I've been baptized in fear, my dear

I've been the chief of sin

Washing my soul within

Spencer lied awake, the minutes ticking by agonizingly slowly while he stared at the bleak wall and counted every one of your soft breaths puffing against his neck. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep. Quite the contrary, actually. He was desperate for even just a few hours before you both would have to wake up and meet the others at the precinct. But he had a problem. 

Somehow, in your sleep, you’d managed to shift so that your face was only centimeters from the back of his head, rather than pressed against his back. Your arm, once draped around his waist, now hugged his chest, while your thigh rested across his hip and your calf dangled in front of him. You were practically curled around him like a koala.  

Normally, he wouldn’t have any qualms with that. He’d longed for the chance to be this close to you for ages. But your calf was pressing against his crotch in an infuriatingly enticing way, and he was stuck in the dilemma of moving your leg and risking waking you or letting your leg stay where it was and use all of his will-power to stay awake so he wouldn’t drift off and subconsciously hump against your leg like a frantic animal from the wet dream he was bound to have. 

He finally opted on moving your leg once the feeling of your face pressing into his neck and your lips skimming across his skin caused all of his blood to rush south. Slowly–oh so slowly–he brought his hand up to gently grab your calf. Your bare skin was silky and warm in his hand, making his eyes flutter shut as he fought the urge to groan. 

A murmur slipped from your lips at the feeling of his touch, causing him to pause out of fear that he’d woken you. After counting the seconds between your breaths to ensure you were in fact still sleeping, he eased your leg up, ready to move it off of him when you stirred. Your grip on him tightened, pulling him impossibly closer as your leg pressed down into him even harder than before. 

The friction from your leg pressing against his now aching cock made his breath hitch, a whimper slipping free into the night air before he could stop it. He was convinced now that, for whatever reason, the universe was pulling a cruel prank on him. Punishing him with the feeling of your body pressed against his but not allowing him to actually touch you. Not in the way he craved to at least. 

The sound was enough to rouse you from sleep, a result of becoming a light sleeper since joining the BAU. Spencer stiffened, his body going rigid as he felt you lift your head, gathering your bearings. Then he felt your leg press into him again, this time intentionally. 

“Spence?” 

Your whisper in his ear sent chills down his spine. He swallowed hard, praying to whatever could hear him that you weren’t disgusted or upset at him because of his erection digging into your calf. After a beat, he finally whispered back. 

“Yes?” 

Shifting again, your hand trailed down his chest to rest on his tummy. Spencer was convinced his heart did an actual somersault in his chest. 

“Do you want help with that?” 

If words could stop a heart, then those surely did the trick. Spencer blinked hard before pinching himself, ensuring himself that he wasn’t dreaming again. When he winced from the pinch, he did it one more time for good measure. Nope. He was awake. 

When he didn’t answer, your hand slipped even lower to tease the waistband of the pajama pants he wore. His cock twitched at the sensation of your nails slightly dragging back and forth along the sliver of exposed skin there, and his lips parted in shock as you whispered into his ear again. 

“The hormones released during sex help promote sleep…” Your voice was raspy still, adding a sultry edge to your already sinful offer. “...which you really need.” 

Spencer swallowed, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally managed to speak. “Y-you don’t have to offer something you don’t want to do just because you f-feel bad for me.” His voice cracked with a mix of defeat and embarrassment. 

That cleared any remaining sleep from your veins as you moved to sit up. A frown pulled at your lips as you rested a hand on his shoulder, gently urging him to turn over. “Hey,” you murmured, sadness lacing your tone. “Spence, look at me.” When he finally turned over, your heart broke into fragments. Tear streaks glistened on his cheeks in the dim moonlight, his face forlorn and downright pitiful as his lower lip trembled. 

“You know me better than to assume I’d ever offer something I didn’t want to do.” 

Spencer knew you were right, but his mind couldn’t bring itself to accept it. To him, it had always seemed utterly illogical that you could ever feel even a fraction of what he felt for you—let alone be drawn to him enough to offer that. And yet, here you were, looking at him with a fondness that made his heart stutter. 

“Are you…” He swallowed hard, reaching up to wipe his tears away. “Are you sure?” 

You nodded, offering a small smile. “Of course I am, Spence. I–” Sucking in a breath, you averted your gaze to the bed before continuing despite the heat rushing to your cheeks. “I know it probably wasn’t my best idea to make a move the way I did, but I’ve… um. I’ve had feelings for you for a really long time and I just figured since you were hard that that was as good of a time as any to finally say something about them.” Your fingers picked at the fabric of the sheets, your nerves running rampant now that you’d finally put your feelings out into the open instead of keeping them tucked away. 

Spencer stared at you in silence for a moment, slack-jawed and doe-eyed. When you finally brought your gaze back up to his, the sight made you chuckle. That snapped him out of it, his face flushing as he cleared his throat and sat up. 

“I-I feel the same way,” he said less than elegantly. Fumbling for words, he continued. “You are… everything. You’re everything to me. You always have been. I knew you would be the moment I met you.” 

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes at his words, and a small, disbelieving laugh left your lips at his admission. Instead of replying with words (which were failing you at the moment anyways), your hands cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a kiss. 

I've been baptized in fear, my dear

Like Paul, I'm the chief of sin

Washing my soul within 

Spencer gasped in surprise against your lips, stiffening for half a second before melting into your touch. His lips sought yours out tentatively, his head tilting just enough to find the perfect angle. His hands found your waist as your mouths worked together, resting hesitantly there as though he were afraid that if he touched you too hard you’d disintegrate into thin air and he’d wake up alone and aching like he had so many times before. 

But this was real. 

Your hands slid from his cheeks into his hair, tugging gently as you pulled him closer. A soft groan slipped from his lips as your tongue brushed his lower lip, silently begging for entrance. He eagerly granted it, whimpering slightly at the molten sensation of all of his blood rushing south once more. 

Spencer, in a surprisingly brazen move, pulled you into his lap, propping up against the headboard. His hands slid from your waist up to rest on your ribs, his thumbs tracing the space below your breasts through the thin fabric of your shirt. He reveled in the shiver that coursed through your body, taking it as a sign that you were enjoying his touch and letting his hands trail higher until he was gingerly cupping you, thumbing over your pebbled nipples. 

“Spence,” you breathed, breaking the kiss. Your chests heaved, the both of you panting and wild-eyed as your gaze met. “You can take it off. I want you to… Please?”

That one simple word was almost his undoing. Please. You’d said it so sweetly. So needy. He’d gladly give you everything your heart desired and more if that’s how you asked for it—though he knew he’d give it to you regardless, no begging necessary.

Spencer nodded, letting out a shaky breath as his fingers found the hem of your shirt. He tugged up, lifting it over your head and tossing it to the ground without a second thought.

He might as well have tossed his brain with the fabric, considering that it was now rendered completely useless at the sight of your bare breasts right in front of his face. His eyes widened in awe, making you duck your head into the crook of his neck to shy away from the intensity of his gaze.

“Like what you see?” You murmured teasingly, nipping at his skin gently before placing an open mouthed kiss on his jaw.

“There aren’t enough words in the English language to describe how much I like what I’m seeing right now.”

Spencer’s answer sent the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy, fluttering wildly as you pulled back to grin at him. Your hands found his chest, steadying yourself as you shifted in his lap. A breathy groan filled the air as the movement pressed your hips together, the hint of friction feeling almost electric as pleasure zipped through the both of you.

You repeated the motion, grinding against him with a soft sigh. His hands fell to your hips, squeezing as he guided your movements. His head tilted back, smacking the headboard with a quiet thud.

“Ow!” He huffed out indignantly, but he was grinning, savoring the giggles bubbling from your lips as you laughed at him.

“Guess you could say I’m a real knock out, huh?” You teased, squealing as he pinched your side and rolled his eyes at your lame joke.

Your giggles devolved into muted moans as he leaned forward to mouth at your nipple, pinching the other between his fingers as you rocked against him. Your eyelids fluttered shut at the sensation, the desire pooling in your lower stomach growing hotter by the second. Your hands drifted up his chest to rest on his shoulders, using the leverage to rock against him even harder.

The ache between your legs was dizzying. A whine slipped free from your lips when you felt his muffled moan on your skin, his tongue laving across your nipple before he switched sides. The cold air against your warm, spit-slicked skin sent chills down your spine.

“Need you,” you mumbled, letting your fingers slide down to the bottom of his shirt. “Can I take this off?”

Spencer nodded, releasing your nipple with a soft pop as he sat back just enough to pull it off and toss it to the floor to join yours. Your eyes greedily drank in the sight of the newly exposed skin, taking note of every single freckle and scar you saw before you leaned in to kiss him again.

This time, it felt desperate. Messy. Primal. Gone was the hesitation, the exploration of something new, instead replaced with a hunger only each other could satiate.

Hands roamed across skin, silently pledging your devotion to one another as your hips continued their frantic movements. Spencer’s fingers dug into your hips as he broke the kiss, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“I-“ he swallowed hard, fighting to hold back a moan as you rubbed against him just right. “C-can I please fuck you? Please?”

It was your turn to fight back a moan as you gazed down at him, the dim moonlight illuminating his features in the most hauntingly beautiful way possible.

“God yes.”

At your answer, Spencer found the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your thighs with a newfound urgency. You rolled off of him, ignoring his whine as you shimmied out of them.

“Well? Aren’t you going to take your pants off?” You arched a brow, motioning to his still-clothed lower body with a sly grin.

Spencer was frozen, his kiss-swollen lips parted as he stared at your now completely naked body. You hadn’t been wearing any panties under your shorts, a revelation that had him almost cumming on the spot. Blinking, his mouth opens and closes a few times before his brain finally catches up.

He hurriedly shoved the plaid fabric of his pajamas pants down, kicking them off the end of the bed along with his boxers. “There,” he whispered, moving to hover above you. Before you could respond, his lips were on yours once more.

A shocked gasp caught in your throat as his fingers found your core, running up and down your slit to collect your wetness before dipping into your folds. A groan rumbled against your lips as he pressed a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out slowly as the heel of his hand pressed against your clit.

“You like that?”

His question wasn’t cocky. It wasn’t arrogant. It was genuine curiosity, wonderment threaded through his hushed words as he pulled back to take in the sight of you underneath him. When you nodded, he grinned, kissing your forehead before whispering again.

“Can I add another?”

“Please do.”

Spencer didn’t need to be told twice. He added the second digit, thrusting his fingers and curling them to try to find that small patch of nerves tucked away inside you. A smirk graced his lips when your back arched, the small cry leaving your lips letting him know he’d found it.

Your body writhed under his as he pounded his fingers into that spot, unrelenting in his mission to make you fall apart beneath him. He could feel your walls tightening, your wetness coating his hand as you neared the edge.

“I-I’m—Spence!”

Your legs thrashed, your eyes squeezing shut and hands gripping the sheets as you came hard. Spencer watched, his gaze reverent as he slowly pumped his fingers, coaxing you through your orgasm.

“That’s it,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your open mouth. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Trembling, you let out a breathy laugh as you finally opened your eyes. “Fuck, Spence. C’mere.” You pulled him down, threading your fingers through his hair with a dopey smile.

He settled between your spread legs, his breath hitching as his hard cock pressed against your thigh. “I… um…” His eyes fluttered shut as you angled your hips, reaching down to line him up with your entrance. “I didn’t bring any protection—“

“I’m on birth control, sweetheart. And I’m clean. Does that work for you?”

Spencer groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck and nodding against your warm skin. The idea of fucking you already had his knees weak. But fucking you raw? He felt like the most blessed man alive, favored by whatever entity existed.

It took every ounce of willpower he had not to immediately cum as he sank into you, inch by devastating inch. The feeling was pleasure in its purest form. Redemption. Salvation.

A guttural groan ripped its way from his throat as he bottomed out, panting into the crook of your neck as your fingers carded through his hair. Everything about you felt perfect. Too perfect.

“I won’t last long. I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured sheepishly, lifting his head to look at you. His cock twitched at the sight of you, all flushed and spread out beneath him. He gave a tentative thrust, moaning at how your body seemed to grip him, pulling him back in as if he belonged there. He’d spend forever inside of you if he could.

You shushed him, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “That’s okay, baby. Don’t apologize,” you reassured him, dragging your nails gently down his back.

He shivered, swallowing hard before nodding. His hips began to move, slowly at first before his control dissolved completely. His hips began rutting into yours, the lewd sound of skin against skin filling the air between pants and moans.

Within minutes, Spencer was trembling in your arms, his pace faltering. You brushed his hair back from his face, a satisfied smile lingering on your face as you looked up at him through hooded lids.

“That’s it, Spence. You’re doing so good. Made me feel so good, sweetheart. Cum for me.”

Spencer’s hips jerked at your words, his mouth falling open around a moan as he filled you with everything he had. He swore his vision gave out for a second, replaced instead with explosions of color behind his eyelids. His chest heaved as he gulped down air, rolling off of you with a quiet groan before flopping onto the bed beside you.

Once he’d caught his breath, Spencer leaned over to press a kiss to your temple before urging you to get up and go pee. You whined, shoving him away playfully and grumbling the entire ten steps it took for you to reach the bathroom (and flipping him off when he cackled at your awkward waddle to try to prevent his cum from dripping down your legs and onto the floor).

Figure in the corner I can't quite see 

I just know the shadow's staring at me

It gets closer, it gets closer, it gets closer now

When you returned, Spencer opened his arms, pulling you into them and whispering about how thankful he was for you and how, now that he had you, he’d never let you go. He peppered soft kisses along your jawline, then across your cheeks, murmuring about how beautiful you were as you dozed off against his chest.

For once, he finally didn’t feel the gnawing craving that usually chipped at him throughout the day. He finally felt like he could breathe.

Figure in the corner laughing at me 

Water fill my lungs, vision blurry

Heartbeat slower, heartbeat slower, heartbeat slower

Lying there with you, holding you in his arms and cradling your body against his, he finally felt at peace. So much so that when he started to drift off, he didn’t panic like he usually would. No.

Instead, he simply pulled you closer, finally allowing sleep to take him. Because he knew if his demons came back to haunt him at any point during the night, you’d be right there beside him, fighting them with him.

Voices will tell me that I should carry on

Continued A/N’s: I’m a dumbass and accidentally fell asleep without setting an alarm so I’m posting this just a little later than I want to but here it is!! :’) Again, I hope you guys enjoyed 🫶🏼 -K

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

👋

Fave criminal minds episodes?? Any season

ooooo good question- my favorite season overall has to be Season 5 but i have a list of my favorite episodes from every season hehe

Season 1 — Riding the Lightning

Season 2 — Jones

Season 3 — Elephant’s Memory

Season 4 — To Hell… And Back

Season 5 — 100

Season 6 — Lauren

Season 7 — It Takes A Village

Season 8 — All That Remains

Season 9 — Gatekeeper

Season 10 — Rock Creek Park

Season 11 — A Beautiful Disaster

Season 12 — Surface Tension/Spencer

Season 13 — The Capilanos

Season 14 — 300

Season 15 — Saturday

can you tell i love the spencer reid centered episodes? 🤭

crying brb (why is he not real 😞)

all those dreams where you’re my wife

gif by @reidgif

inside your mind - the 1975

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

summary: coming down from the highs of sex, Spencer and Reader talk about his brain and its thoughts.

genre: fluff & angst

word count: 2.1K

warnings: no use of y/n, proofread, this is an old piece of writing.

masterlist!

Panting softly, your breath mingled with his, your chest rising and falling in tandem with Spencer’s. Your body felt weightless, the afterglow of your shared passion wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Sweat clung to your skin, and the soft hum of his heartbeat echoed in your ear where your head rested against his shoulder. The intimacy of the moment felt sacred, a shared silence that spoke volumes without words.

Spencer was unusually quiet. Not that his silence was uncommon—he often retreated into his mind after moments like this, his thoughts working in overdrive as if the endorphins had unlocked new pathways in his brilliant brain. He’d once explained to you that post-coital clarity often helped him connect dots he’d never considered before. You’d always found it endearing, a quirk that made him uniquely Spencer.

But tonight, something was different. His quiet wasn’t contemplative—it felt heavier, like the weight of his thoughts pressed down on both of you. You couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers hesitated as they traced lazy circles on your back, the way his chest rose with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

“What’s wrong, handsome?” you murmured softly, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze. His chin, which had been resting lightly against the crown of your head, shifted as he tilted his face toward you. His eyes, usually warm and filled with an endless stream of curiosity, now held a flicker of something else—something guarded.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just looked at you, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as if he were weighing his words. You could see the gears turning in his mind, the way he struggled to reconcile his thoughts with the honesty that had always been the cornerstone of your relationship.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he said finally, his voice soft but unconvincing.

It was a lie—a glaring, obvious lie. Spencer was many things: a genius, a profiler, a man who could recall entire books word for word. But a liar? Never. You knew him too well, knew the way his eyes darted away for just a fraction of a second when he was trying to mask the truth. He knew you knew, too, which made his attempt at deception almost endearing.

You propped yourself up on your elbow, your fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from his damp forehead. “Spence,” you said gently, your tone a mix of affection and concern. “You’re a lot of things, but a good liar isn’t one of them. Talk to me.”

His lips parted as if to protest, but the words caught in his throat. He sighed again, this one deeper, as though the act of holding everything inside was physically exhausting. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t scare me,” you replied, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

He let out a breath, his gaze darting away for a moment before returning to yours. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “It’s just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

You frowned, leaning closer. “Try me,” you said softly. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just tell me what you’re feeling.”

His hand moved softly, almost reverently, to the back of your head. His fingers threaded through your hair with a gentleness that sent shivers down your spine, pausing now and then as though he were mapping the curve of your skull. There was something purposeful in the way he touched you, something that felt more like exploration than comfort.

“I wish I could know you the way you know yourself,” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. His fingers continued their journey, tracing invisible patterns that only he could see. “I want to be able to have your brain all laid out in front of me, every thought, every memory, every piece of you.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, his voice soft but steady as he continued, almost to himself. “The back of your head is at the front of my mind.”

He fell silent for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to untangle the thoughts swirling in his mind. His hand didn’t stop moving, the gentle rhythm of his touch grounding both of you in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice tinged with hesitation. “Sometimes, when you’re asleep, I’ll just… watch you breathe.” His eyes flickered toward you, searching your face as though bracing for judgment, but his hand never faltered.

“I’ll watch the way your breathing slows, the way it evens out. It’s like… proof. Proof that you’re real, that you’re here with me. And then I start to wonder…” His voice trailed off, but the weight of his thoughts lingered in the air.

His fingers stilled briefly before resuming their gentle path, tracing the base of your skull as though it held the answers he was searching for. “I wonder what you’re dreaming about,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost fragile. “I wonder if you dream of me, or of the things you love, or the things you want in life. And I can’t help but think about how much I want to know every part of you. What makes you happy, what makes you sad, what you think about when no one’s watching.”

His other hand came to rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. His gaze was intense, those wide, earnest eyes searching yours for understanding. There was no shame in his vulnerability, only a raw, unfiltered need to be known and to know you in return.

“I don’t want to miss anything,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “You’re the most important person in my life, and sometimes it terrifies me how much I feel for you. Like… like I’ll never be able to express it the way I want to.”

The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. His hand lingered on your cheek, the other still cradling the back of your head as though he could hold your thoughts in his palm.

He let out a soft, shaky breath, his forehead lowering until it rested against yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, the words almost too quiet to hear.

For a moment, he stayed like that, his eyes closed, his breathing syncing with yours. His hands stayed gentle, as though he were afraid of breaking the moment. And then he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a desperation that spoke of a love too big for words.

In the quiet that followed, his touch said everything he couldn’t, and you let it.

In the gentle quiet of the room, Spencer’s voice broke through like a fragile thread, hesitant yet determined. “I mainly watch you sleep because I’m terrified of my mind,” he admitted, his tone a mix of vulnerability and unease. He hesitated, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as if debating whether to pull the veil back on his inner torment.

His gaze dropped to the floor, his breath catching slightly as he continued. “When I sleep…” he started, the words trembling on the edge of his lips. “I dream that you’ve been taken. It’s always the same. I’m helpless, paralyzed—every step I take feels like wading through quicksand, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t reach you.”

His voice grew quieter, a raw edge creeping into it, but he forced himself to keep going. “By the time I finally get to you, it’s too late. You’re lying there…” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, as though the very memory of the dream clawed at his throat. “You’re lying on the ground in a pool of your own blood. And the only thing I can see, the thing that haunts me even after I wake up, is the ring on your finger.” The room seemed to close in on you, the silence heavy and suffocating. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to such a confession. You’d never talked about marriage—not explicitly, at least—but there had always been an unspoken understanding between you two. You both wanted it, you both felt it in your bones, but life had never given you the time to explore that possibility.

But hearing Spencer speak of the ring, of the symbol of everything you meant to him, in such a terrifying, haunting context—it shook you. The dream wasn’t just about losing you; it was about him failing you. About the one thing that represented his commitment, his love for you, now twisted into something horrific, something he couldn’t escape.

Your mind raced, trying to process the weight of his words, the depth of his fear. You could see it now—the desperation in his eyes, the vulnerability in the way he held himself. Spencer was afraid. Afraid of losing you, fearful of not being able to protect you.

In that moment, the love between you felt both fragile and immense. You reached out to him, your hand finding his, the warmth of your touch grounding him in the storm of his emotions. You didn’t need to say anything—he already knew how much you cared. But still, you squeezed his hand, hoping to convey everything that words couldn’t.

Spencer finally looked up, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s supposed to be a symbol of everything good, everything I’ve ever wanted to give you. But in that moment, it feels like a mockery—a cruel reminder that I couldn’t protect you. That I failed you.”

The room fell silent, his words lingering in the air like a fragile echo. He looked at you then, his gaze pleading for understanding, for some assurance that the horrors of his subconscious didn’t define him.

“Spencer Reid, you could never fail me, not ever. Don’t ever think that,” you said softly, your voice steady but full of the weight of everything you felt. Your hands found their way to his face, cupping his cheeks gently, guiding his gaze to meet yours. You could see the self-doubt in his eyes, the fear that had taken root there, and it made your heart ache.

He opened his mouth to protest, but you pressed your forehead against his, a silent plea for him to hear you, to understand. “You’ve given me so much in this life, Spencer,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, but every word carried the depth of your emotions. “So much that I never thought I deserved, but you showed me that I do. You showed me that I’m worthy of love, of happiness. That I’m worthy of you.”

You could feel the weight of your words sink in as Spencer’s breath caught, his eyes flickering with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. It wasn’t just the love you had for him—it was everything he had done for you, everything he had helped you realize about yourself.

You gently pulled one of your hands away from his face, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached for his hand, placing it over your chest, just above your heart. “This…” you said, your voice catching in your throat as you pressed his hand against the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. “This is because of you. Every beat, every breath—it’s because of the love you’ve given me. You make me feel alive in a way I never thought was possible.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, his gaze dropping to where his hand rested against your chest. The quiet intensity of the moment wrapped around both of you, and you could feel the weight of everything he was carrying—the fear, the guilt, the love—and you wanted to lift it off him, even if only for a moment.

You leaned in slowly, your lips brushing against his forehead in a soft, lingering kiss, a silent promise that you were there, that you always would be. Then, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes, you whispered, “Spencer, you don’t ever need to worry about failing me. You’re everything I’ve ever needed. And I’ll never let you forget that.”

Spencer’s eyes fluttered closed, and without thinking, he leaned in to kiss you, his lips gentle against yours, a kiss that spoke of gratitude and love, a kiss that grounded you both in the present moment. When he pulled back, you couldn’t help but smile, brushing your thumb lightly over his cheek.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. And before you could respond, you kissed him again, this time deeper, letting the weight of everything you had just shared hang in the air between you like a promise, unspoken but undeniable.

thank you for reading!

please like & reblog if you enjoyed!

masterlist!

taglist! @pleasantwitchgarden

wip ask game!

i got tagged three times so i might as well hehe

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. tag as many people as you have wips. people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

• the sunflower in the graveyard (pt. 2)

• a very needed vacation

• free now (pt. 2)

• moon song

• you feel like home

@beenreidingaboutyou @cheriesbucky @reidrum <33