ALL I WANT IS FOR SPENCER TO BE REAL 💳💥💳💥

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.”

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.

ok it’s not funny anymore where are my pants guys 🧍‍♀️

could u pls write a fic/blurb of virgin spencer having fantasies of being dominant 🩷 btw live ur work!!!

my first orgasm goes to you! ♡

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, watching of p0rn, bondage, dom and sub dynamics, spencer’s livid mind, imagining of spanking, male masturbation (spencer), dirty talking (he talks to himself while he thinks of you)…

okay… so spencer doesn’t know how he’s gotten into this situation.

he’s not one to… indulge in this kind of activities.

intelligence is correlated with sexual desire. most evidence indicates a negative correlation between intelligence and sexual activity. researchers find that higher intelligence is associated with a delay in the initiation of a wide range of partnered sexual activities, from holding hands to sexual intercourse —that’s why he was still a virgin— . statistically though, scientists have discovered that, the higher the sex drive of the individual.

but spencer could probably count the times he has masturbated in his 25 years of life with one hand. he just… didn’t get the need.

well, that was a lie. there was obviously a need. a physical one. he, like any other man, woke up with morning wood every morning. but there wasn’t a… psychological one. he had never… fallen in love. sure. he could find beauty in a woman. even a man. but… he just didn’t…

couldn’t finish.

he had tried. made research. tried again…

and when he couldn’t make it. he would gave up.

spencer reid has never had an orgasm.

until today.

after trying pretty much everything. he tried the thing he wished he’d never have to use: porn.

just a few clicks and he was into one of the million of pages for it. and there was a lot of… content. a lot of options in which you could choose from.

but one video caught his attention. it was about dom/sub dynamics, and a little bit of bondage. he had informed himself about them, and curiosity won as he clicked on it.

his eyes widened when the view of a beautiful —and completely naked— woman caught his eyes. her wrists were tied to the posts of the bed in which she was laying, cries and mewls leaving her lips along with some ‘stop’s and ‘it’s too much!’s. in between her thighs, a man of his complexion —although spencer was more skinny, lean, but skinny—, laid, devouring her cunt as if he were starved, arms keeping her pinned, still, as the woman tried to scape from the pleasure and overstimulation, hips jerking against the man’s face, thighs shaking, tears streaking down her face.

but what really did it for spencer was not the sight, it was the fact that the woman looked like you. same hair and eye color, same complexion, same full lips… if he took off his glasses he could…

no. that was wrong.

you were his coworker.

it didn’t matter if he’s had the biggest crush on you since you had joined the team a year ago, or that he was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with everything that made you… you.

he had never fantasized about you. well, he had. how couldn’t he, you were beautiful, and smart, and kind, and… and he couldn’t control his subconscious mind while being asleep or what he would dream of. so of course he had had wet dreams about you.

but he had never touched himself with you in mind. he believed that you didn’t deserve to be objectified like that.

so he wouldn’t.

he tried and focus on the video. on the moans, on the groans and touches. and it worked. he was hard. he teased himself over his slacks, slowly, a breath leaving his lungs before pulling down the zipper and pulling down his pants and underwear, releasing his semi and taking it in his hand with a sigh.

he focused on the video, cheeks reddening at the embarrassment he felt for be doing this. but he had to try.

slowly, he started to jerk his cock, long drawn out faps from the tip to the root. he moaned as he played with the sensitive and weeping slit on the head, before continuing.

but after minutes and minutes of trying, his high wouldn’t come. he groaned and stopped. of course it wouldn’t come.

a flash of you passed through his mind and thoughts of you in the position of the woman in the screen, with him being in between your thighs, making you feel good, making you feel so good you couldn’t take it. but he would make you take it.

his cock twitched, and he groaned as he started moving his hand right back up. he was just so desperate to cum. it hurt. and he just couldn’t not think about you. he did all the time. also. you wouldn’t know right? it would just be this one time.

he took off his glasses, and went back to the video, where now the man was pushing up and in between his thighs, pulling a scream from the woman when he thrusted inside her, fast and hard.

spencer’s pupils were blown, his breathing ragged. it’s as if he could see you, see him. fucking you just like that man was fucking the woman. pounding into her swollen, overstimulated and squelching cunt over and over again, pulling his legs up against her chest in a mating press, reaching so deep he was on her cervix.

‘i can’t please. i can’t! it’s too much!’

spencer whimpered, going faster, hearing the woman cry. would you cry too? would you beg him to stop? would you beg him for more? how would you sound moaning his name? screaming it?

“fuck.”

please spencer, i can’t take it anymore, it’s too much!!!

he could almost hear it. your sweet voice lost in pleasure. could feel your plush soft skin under his fingertips as he’ll spank your thigh, taste the salt on your skin as he’d suck on your neck and chest.

“take it. fucking take it. you know you want it. you know you want this cock.”

he got lost in the moment, pretending with his eyes closed that the moans of the woman were your moans, moving his hand at the punishing ruthless rhythm the man fucked her.

jesus, this felt good…

more spencer, give me more!

“you want more?”

yes, please, please spencer, fuck me more, fuck me harder!

“holy fuck. yeah, i’ll fuck you harder.” his fist moved faster up and down his cock, slicked in his precum. “i’ll fuck you so hard you’ll have a hard time walking for days.” he tightened his hold. “fuuuuuck.” he moaned your name. “you’re so tight. so perfect for me. taking it so well… you were made for this. for taking my cock, hm?”

yes, yes, only for you spencer… i want you to cum inside. please cum inside. breed me, spence.

he groaned, his eyes rolling, a new unknown tight feeling growing in his lower stomach, his dick leaking and twitching like crazy.

“you want me to cum inside? inside this pretty little cunt? want me to breed you? leave you full and dripping?”

he could picture you, nodding, babbling, pleading.

“then take it. take my fucking cum. gonna fuck it so deep… right into your womb. fuck. take it take it take it!”

and with a last moan, his world was breaking up, vision whitening, whole body spasming as thick heavy loads of creamy white cum shot out of his cock, making a mess out of his wooly vest and hand. he was moaning, groaning and gasping, continuing to move his hand through his high, until nothing else was coming out. the video had ended long ago.

he looked up at his blurry ceiling. and groaned.

fuck.

he had just had his ever first orgasm.

and the reason had been you.

@cafekitsune ‘s separators!

@kittyisick ty for your support angel, hope you like it!💋

damn

well..

erika thank you for releasing this masterpiece 🛐

to talk is to bare | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: hurt/comfort, fluff Summary: three times you've never felt enough for Spencer Reid—and the three times he rectified it immediately Content: insecure reader, written with early s2 Spencer in mind (glasses!Spencer rawr), reader wears makeup, implied bad relationships in the past, Spencer is just a sweetheart Word count: 2.4k A/N: entry for #lovers1kevent (congrats @mggslover muah) - the lyric prompt for this is “And I knew how you took your coffee and your favorite songs by heart, I read all of your (self help) books so you'd think that I was smart” from enough for you by Olivia Rodrigo. This was supposed to just be pure angst but apparently, I can't write this man as anything other than the perfect boyfriend.

“Well, actually, Dostoevsky intended the book to be a critique on certain schools of thoughts and ideologies, namely...”

You stare at your boyfriend, nodding along as he explains the intricacies and historical context of Notes from the Underground to you. His smile is kind and excited when he stops, looking at you expectantly.

“Right.” the smile on your face isn't forced, per se, but neither does it reach your eyes. How many times has it happened this month? It isn’t that you’re keeping count of all the times he’s corrected you—truthfully, you can’t, because you’ve lost count. And that’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? The fact that you can’t even keep track of his corrections anymore, because he does it all the time. 

You remind yourself he's not doing this to deliberately make you feel stupid, your memory immediately calling forth all the times you've seen him correct other people — his teammates, the cashier at your favorite bookstore, a random person in the park. It's never pointed, nor is the act laced with anything but genuine, loving desire to share his knowledge. He's not like the men you've had to deal with in the past, the ones who jump at every opportunity to show off that they know more than you, that they're correct and you're wrong.

But this is Spencer. Sweet, wholly inexperienced, awkward. Half the time, he doesn't know how he comes across, and you've been dating him long enough to understand that. 

No, his corrections aren’t the crux of the issue. In fact, it isn’t even him. It’s you, and all the treacherous thoughts running through your mind. This damn book you’d read because you saw a dog eared copy in his satchel one day, pushing through pages upon pages of dense material just to catch up and relate with him, only to still come up short and have yourself be corrected.

The sting is still there, lingering and acrid in the back of your tongue. You cannot pinpoint it yet, this But it's Spencer Reid, so you grit your teeth and remind yourself not to take it personally. The words slip out easily. You could almost believe they aren’t lies. “Thank you for letting me know.”

The beam on his face is a reminder that not everyone is as patient, that he's come to expect looks that range from baffled to downright annoyed. Nobody else allows him free reign to talk like this, long winded rambles that get nipped at the bud with a sharp Reid. He smiles, beams at you, and this time the smile on your lips finally reaches your eyes.

“So what did I get wrong?”

“You weren’t wrong,” he’s pulling you in as he answers, lips finding the underside of your jaw and the bitterness dissipates, sweetens into something that makes your toes curl, “Just a little inaccurate.”

Your body melts into him easily. “You don't have to sugarcoat with me.”

“I'm not, it's literature. You can interpret it however you want, I just thought knowing the rest of the context would help you with your opinion.” he's kissing down your neck, breaths ghosting over your skin as he continues to talk, and you sink into his arms, forgetting why you were even feeling annoyed in the first place.

You’re not sure if you like the color you’ve put to make your cheeks flush. It's always been a point of contention in the past, your exes saying you don't put enough effort in, so this time with Spencer, you try. Even though you're not the best at it, even though you feel a little foolish because it seems a little too bright despite all of your hurried attempts to blend it a little more. But it’s too late to change now. You don’t want to go through the whole deal of reapplying your makeup because that would mean running late, so you ignore it and head to the cafe quickly. 

Spencer isn't there yet. You order your drinks, his black and into which you dump an exorbitant amount of sugar. Memorization is his thing, but you've come to learn a thing or two about him in the time you two are dating.

He's a few minutes late, and when he arrives, Spencer’s eyes lock on you. Or, more specifically, your cheeks.

“That bad?” you tease, standing from your seat and leaning over for a kiss. 

“You don’t have the coloring for that shade of red.”

Your brow knits as you pull away. Attempting to hide the flood of insecurity that swept through your chest, you let out a chuckle. Soft, shaky, and accompanied with a confused, “What?”

“It makes your cheeks look a little inflamed.”

“Oh.” 

Regret fills your chest, settling in your lungs until it’s difficult to breathe. You should have trusted your instincts and scrubbed the makeup off. Shouldn’t have tried something new on the one day the two of you can go out. He’s probably embarrassed by you. How silly, being a full grown woman wearing makeup bordering on clownish. 

He must have caught the hurt in your voice, the way your body deflates because he’s quick to remedy. “Hey, what’s that look for?”

It should embarrass you, the speed at which he picks up on your emotions. But he’s a profiler after all, he’s specifically trained for this, but sometimes you wish he doesn’t use it against you. Gentle hands cup your face. Cold hands, perpetually so until you’ve started keeping them between yours. They tilt your head up. 

“Talk to me.” 

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you say is ever stupid.”

You smile, “No, I think we both know that’s a lie.”

He relents. He knows you’re right; there are moments where you don’t make sense. “Not stupid, just…” his eyes roam your face while he searches for the word to use as compromise, as though he’ll find it tucked somewhere in your pretty features, “Lapses in discernment.”

You roll your eyes at his fancy vernacular, the attempt to soothe his mistake. “I think I prefer the layman’s term.” 

Spencer laughs sheepishly, then presses his lips to your forehead, “I’m never using that to describe you.” he murmurs against your skin, and then, “I'm sorry.”

Antarctica could melt from the warmth in your chest.  “You don't even know what you're apologizing for.”

“I upset you. That's reason enough.”

You sigh, pulling him to join you on the plush booth seat you'd managed to secure for your date. “Well, there's nothing to forgive.”

He accepts the coffee you hand him, corners of his mouth curved in a gentle smile. He sips, and you stew in silence, knowing that you shouldn't be leaving him guessing like this. He'd want to know, you can tell by the way he's studying you, the way he wants to examine and turn over your thoughts and reactions like he does with everything else in his life. But he waits, lets you open up if you so wish.

God, he's perfect.

“I was just having second thoughts about my makeup,” you murmur finally, “And you kind of confirmed it. I told you it's stupid.”

“Not stupid at all. I'm sorry,” you wonder if he takes his coffee sweet to match his personality, this asshole, “It was an insensitive comment. And for what it's worth, you look beautiful regardless.”

“Inflamed cheeks and all?” 

He laughs, pulling you to his side, lips firmly planted on your cheek “Inflamed cheeks and all.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have worn the blush after all; you're sure he's making you flush scarlet just by being such a sweetheart.

“Oh Spencer knows her.” the teasing tone in Derek Morgan’s voice normally makes you smile, but something about his tone makes you pause. You stare at the TV, where a new show is running, eyes zeroed in on the blonde actress.

“Spencer knows her?”

“Knew,” your boyfriend supplies, “Very briefly.”

Derek Morgan gives him a knowing smirk that has your stomach churning all the way to the end of the night, when you’re getting ready for bed.

You're in his apartment, in an old pair of his plaid pajamas and a t-shirt that fits you surprisingly well. It always makes you smile, his slight frame, the way you could easily steal his clothes and they wouldn't dwarf you too much. But tonight, Derek's words ring over and over again, bringing forth the image of her—Lila Archer, dazzling, perfectly curvy, an actress on a popular TV series… and apparently, a friend of his. You aren't really sure where this jealousy is coming from. He’s a trustworthy man, and you know he loves you. Still, the image of the beautiful actress persists, even as you climb into bed with him.

He's reading as he usually is, the low lamplight casting shadows over the sharp planes of his face. Without even looking, he shifts the book to his other hand, freeing up an arm to draw you to his body. It's easy, quiet, his heartbeat fluttering beneath your ear as you rest your head on his chest. The exact opposite of your own heartbeat right now.

“What's on your mind?” 

“Nothing.” It should be a sin, the way you keep denying your feelings. But it's just so silly, and you're a grown woman. Jealousy and insecurity shouldn't be consuming you like this, and yet…

“Please don't lie to me,” his fingers are in your hair, tangling deep into the strands and seeking for your scalp. They’re soothing and rhythmic upon contact, lulling your body into a sense of relaxation even though your heart still hammers at your chest.

“Why do you say that?”

“You usually remind me to use the overhead lights when I read.” fingers putting pressure on your scalp, traveling to your temple. He has you in the palm of his hands, “You didn't do that tonight. And your heartbeat's going at an abnormally high rate, even though I'm quite certain you didn't do anything strenuous before coming to bed. What's going on?” 

Damn him and his attention to detail, and the way he’'s learned your little quirks and oddities. He puts down his book and you turn your face to hide into his chest.

You chew on your bottom lip, reminding youself that this is Spencer, he wouldn't judge. “How’d you know her?” your voice is muffled against his shirt, “Lila.”

“We had a case in Los Angeles.” he pauses, as if considering if he should say more. Right. Confidentiality. You nod, accepting his answer.

“Must have been a high profile one then,” you muse, “Or were you just hanging around Hollywood studios with Derek?” It’s an unfair statement, but you can’t help it.

“No, no, it wasn’t like that.” You look back up at him and oh there’s guilt swimming in pools of honey eyes. “I mean, we kissed once, but I swear, nothing beyond that.”

You exhale. A kiss. He's kissed a TV starlet. 

This shouldn’t even be an issue. This is before you were even in the picture after all. It’s not fair to uphold him to some weird standard. You certainly had relationships before him. But none of them had been as stunning as Lila Archer. And if he could have Lila Archer, then what is he doing with you? 

“Hey,” his other hand comes to stroke your cheek, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles, “Talk to me.”

It's a difficult thing, being mature and communicating when you just want to stew, but god he's so good, you can't punish him for this, for anything. “I thought you said I was your first girlfriend?” you say instead, teasing him.

“You are, but you know, I’ve kissed before, and been on dates—”

“With Lila?”

“No, with JJ.”

Oh.

“JJ?”

JJ? His lovely, warm spring day beauty coworker JJ? He went on a date with her? And kissed Lila Archer. It’s almost ridiculous, thinking about the type of women he's had dalliances with—lithe, blonde, perfect, before he settled with you. 

“Yeah, I took her to a Redskins game,” he says, his hold on your face still light. There's room to move if you want to, space to pull away should you need it and god he's just so perfect.

“You have a type, huh?” it comes out unbidden, sharp but dulled by a bitter laugh.

“What do you mean?”

“With women,” you reply, trying to temper the snappy tone of your voice. It's not fair to lash out at him like this, you know that, yet you can't help it. It's habit at this point, a form of defense that your exes have all been too happy to participate, “I'm the outlier.”

And apparently, he's an outlier too because his voice grows even softer, eyes searching your face with an anxiety that fills you with guilt. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” you sigh, arm draping over his waist and hugging him tight. 

He returns the favor, tangling your legs together until you're a mess of limbs under his sheets. “Then what's wrong?”

“Sometimes I just feel like—like I'm not good enough to be dating you.” there it is, whispered into his chest, striking straight to his heart. “And now, knowing that you could have had all of these — these women who could pass for models—”

“Angel,” the way he says the nickname makes you hide even further into his chest. He closes his arms around you, holding you so tightly it's difficult to breathe, but that's okay. Let him fuse your bodies together, let his breaths be yours too, “That's not true, you know that's not true.”

“Isn't it? You're so — you. Intelligent, well decorated in academia, an an elite FBI unit…”

He laughs, “I’m also an endlessly annoying know it all, I failed my gun license exam more than once, I don't have abs—”

“You don't need abs,” you counter, fingers clutching on his shirt.

“Wouldn't you rather be with a guy with a six pack?”

“I'd rather be with you.”

He gently moves away from you, hands finding your face to make you look at him. “And I'd rather be with you.”

You pout, “You can't use my words against me, ‘s not fair.” 

He laughs again, leaning to capture your lips in the gentlest of kisses, “I want you, I chose you, and I adore you,” he's murmuring between each kiss, hands cradling your face, “And if you have these thoughts again, tell me, so I can keep reminding you just how much I love you.” 

➺ My masterlist | Event masterlist

➺ thank you so much for reading <3

SOMEONE ASKED ME SOMETHING AND IT GOT DELETED

when are we getting part 4 of “anything for ellie”?? (no rush!)

hopefully soon! i’m trying to figure out how i want part four to go 😅 every time i come up with a new idea it fails so stay tuned lol

OMG i loved Anything for Ellie, it was so cute!

thank you!! 💛

i wanna lick his stubble

hey queen 💁‍♀️💁‍♀️