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you'll see me in hindsight tangled up with you all night burning it down
pairing: spencer reid x gn!bau!reader
words: 2.5k
summary: spencer's hindsight is screaming at him that he made the wrong decision by ending your relationship
warnings: angst but like in a hot way, happy ending besties <3 spencer's kind of a dick in this for a little bit (he means well, he's just confused), language, allusions to smut, making out, fluff (?) towards the very end but like you gotta really squint
Spencer fucked up.
He's gripping the sink with both hands, water running down his face as he stares at himself in the mirror. The previous week has been hell, almost, and Spencer knows a thing or two about hell. It was the right thing to do, he thinks to himself, but he can't help the part of him that wonders if that's even true in the slightest. His mind flashes back to that fateful night.
"Spencer, what do you mean 'we can't do this anymore?'"
"Us. This!" he said, wildly gesturing to the space between you.
You stared at him, mouth parted like the words were there, ready to go, but stuck behind disbelief.
"Why?" you asked, quiet. Measured. Already bracing for an answer that would hurt. He hesitated. That was all the confirmation you neededโ he didnโt want this either.
"I canโt keep doing this. I canโt keep pretending this is okay.โ
โWhat part of this isnโt okay? The part where we care about each other? Or the part where weโre actually happy for once?โ
โYou donโt get itโโ
โNo,โ you cut in, sharper now. โNo, I donโt get it. Please enlighten me.โ
Spencer ran both hands through his hair like he was trying to yank the thoughts out by force. โPeople I care about get hurt. That's just how it goes. Youโve seen what we deal with. You know how dangerous it gets. I canโtโ I wonโt be the reason something happens to you.โ
You blinked. โSpencer, we work the same job.โ
โThatโs notโ itโs different.โ
โHow?โ You're beyond exasperated at this point.
โBecause Iโ" he broke off, breathing hard. โBecause I really care about you.โ
You laughed, humorless. โBang-up job of showing it, then. Also, whโ you think I don't care? Spencer, whatโโ
โIโm sorry,โ he said, almost a whisper. โI justโฆ I canโt live with myself if something happens to you. I cannot do this knowing I am actively putting you at risk.โ
โLook. I care about you too. Youโre the smartest person I know, and I trust your judgment. But if youโre going to sit here and break us apart, then you better have a legitimate reason.โ You stepped closer. โBecause what youโre giving me right now? Itโs bullshit, Spencer. YOu know that. And Iโm not going to let you overthink your way into a breakup.โ
He looked at you like he wanted so badly to believe you. Like you were the rope dangling over the cliff, and he didnโt trust himself to grab it.
โYes, we deal with hell on a daily basis,โ you continued, softer now, โbut we also come home to each other. It's tedious, and awful, and exhausting, but we have each other, Spence. And Iโโ
You paused. Swallowed hard. Didnโt realize youโd said it until it was already out.
โI love you.โ
Silence.
Something cracked in his expression. He looked at you like that was the one thing he wasnโt prepared for. The one thing that mightโve saved himโ if he let it. So he did the only thing he knew how to do.
Destroy it.
โI donโt,โ he said, voice flat.
You blinked. โDonโt what?โ
He didnโt flinch. Didnโt stutter. Just said it. Like ripping the pin from a grenade and waiting for it to blow.
โI donโt think I love you.โ
It didnโt matter what he meant. It didnโt matter if he was lying through his teeth. Because the second you believed him, the second you stepped back and noddedโ something broke. The damage was done.
Now heโs gripping the sink like itโs the only thing holding him upright, staring at a reflection that doesnโt look like him anymore.
โI am an idiot,โ he mutters to no one. The mirror doesnโt disagree.
He sees you everywhere. On his couch in your pajamas, eating cereal straight from the box. He sees you on the jet, asleep on his shoulder, warm and close and real. He sees the last time you laughed at something he had said. How your head tipped back, how your nose scrunched. He sees your face the first time he kissed you, how your smile made him feel like he was bathing in sunlight.
He sees you and him tangled together in the back seat of his car, your eyes closed and head tilted back as his name falls out of your lips like a prayer. He sees your pile of clothes next to his on his bedroom floor, half forgotten in the haste of needing each other.
He sees you in the faint lipstick smudge still clinging to the collar of his favourite shirt. In the barely-there marks scattered along his neck and chest, fading now but not forgotten. His fingers brush over them without thinking, retracing each one like muscle memory, each a timestamp of a moment heโd give anything to relive. He wonders if you're thinking of him too.
He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and laughsโ bitter, breathless.
Yeah. Spencer fucked up big time.
You always thought that even if by some horrible twist of fate, your relationship with Spencer were to end, at the very least it would be amicable. You'd be able to work together, be friends, and still stand to be around each other. You were wrong.
Immediately after the fight last week, you were called to Detroit for a case. There was barely enough time to pack, let alone recover. So, you didn't say anything. Neither did he. To the team, or to each other. Itโs easier that way, you thought. The team thinks everything is fine. Business as usual. Youโre partnered up for interviews like always. Briefing side by side. Riding in the same car. Sharing a room.
But it's not all okay. It's not all fine, and you know that. Heโs quieter than usual. You catch him zoning out in the middle of victim statements. His hands tremble when he thinks no oneโs looking. Heโs unravelling. And yet, every time you brush past him, he flinches like youโre the one that left.
He still looks at you the same sometimes. Like youโre his. Like you matter. Like nothingโs changed. And that, more than anything, is what hurts. Youโre not angry. Youโre wrecked. Because you can survive heartbreak. But what he did? That was reckless abandonment. You donโt show someone heaven and then blind them.
Neither of you has had a wink of sleep since then. Even familiar places feel foreign when you're not with each other. What makes it worse is that you're so used to being with and needing each other that it's second nature to you by now. There are absent-minded touches, kisses, lingering hands and eyes that none of you mention.
Thereโs a momentโ small, forgettable to anyone elseโ when his fingers graze yours as he hands you a case file. Itโs nothing. Itโs everything. You both freeze. Just for a second. He doesn't look up. Doesnโt say a word. Just retracts his hand like it burned him.
And thatโs how itโs been. Every second of this trip. A minefield of almosts. Close calls. Words left unsaid and looks held too long. Lying awake all night in the bed as far away from each other as possible. It's driving you insane. Damn Detroit's winter that makes you crave his warmth. And damn this forced proximity bullshit that the universe has punished you with.
Youโre sharing a room, which is objectively a horrible idea, but it wouldโve been suspicious to change it last minute. You'd mentally agreed not to bring it up now, so you had to soldier through. At least thatโs the excuse you told yourself when you didn't protest. And so now, youโre both here, end of a long day, door shut behind you, silence thick enough to suffocate.
You're sitting on opposite ends of the bed like strangers in a waiting room. You hear him sigh behind you. A long, pained sound. And for the first time since the break, he says your name. Itโs soft. Barely above a whisper. But itโs enough.
You turn, slowly. Not because youโre calm, but because youโre not sure what will come out if you speak too fast. Heโs standing now, fidgeting like he doesnโt know what to do with his hands. Like he doesnโt know what to do with you. His shoulders rise with a breath he never quite finishes.
โI canโt sleep,โ he says. โI havenโt. Since that night.โ
You stare at him. โOkay.โ
"Okay? That's it?"
"What do you want me to do, Spencer? Sing you a lullaby?"
"You know what, forget I said anything."
"Believe me, I'm trying," you say, your voice dripping with contempt. Spencer's face contorts like he's confused.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
โIt means,โ you say, finally standing too, โthat you donโt get to say things like that and expect comfort. You donโt get to crack open thisโ this door like weโre still something and then slam it shut the second it scares you.โ
He flinches.
โYou think Iโve been sleeping?โ you continue, voice shaking now. โYou think Iโve been fine? Because Iโve been trying to be. Iโve been trying to hold it together. But itโs really fucking hard when the person I love tells me he doesnโt love me back and then acts like that never happened.โ
He's trying to find the words, he really is, but he can't choose between the part of him that's mad at himself for being an idiot, and the part of him that's mad at you for believing him in the first place. He makes the wrong choice.
โYou don't get to say that. You walked away. You believed me when I said I didnโt love you.โ
Your laugh is sharp, disbelieving. โOh, you major fucking hypocrite. Iโm sorryโ its my fault now? Was I supposed to not believe the man I loved when he looked me dead in the eyes and ripped my heart out?โ
He throws his hands up. โI had to! You wouldnโt have walked away otherwise!โ
โYeah? And whose fucking fault is that?โ
โMine! Obviously mine!โ he snaps, voice rising. โIs that what you want to hear? That I made a mistake? That I wake up every goddamn day hating myself for it?โ
โOh, poor you!โ you shout back. โWaking up alone by choice. Because you couldnโt handle the idea of someone loving you. Spencer Reidโ genius, coward, commitment phobe.โ
He moves closer, eyes blazing. โDonโt twist this into me being scared of you. I was trying to keep you safe.โ
You step forward to match him, nose to nose now. โDid I ask? Did I ask you to keep me safe, Spencer? You donโt get to protect me by abandoning me.โ
โOh, get over yourselfโโ
โMe? I need to get over myself? Jesus, you're so full of yourself. I can't even believe that I'm entertaining this right now."
"Nobody's making you stay. Door's right there."
"You know what, Spencer? Fuck you,โ you snap.
โFuck you.โ
You let out a bitter laugh and shove his shoulder. โBold words from someone who doesnโt even have the balls to tell their partner that he fucking hates them!โ
โWHEN did I say that I hated you?โ he roars, hands shaking now. โI never said that. I love you! Jesus Christ, of course I love you!โ
You stare at him, heart pounding in your throat.
โThen do something about it, you moron.โ
And he does.
He grabs your face like itโs the only thing tethering him to earth and kisses you so hard it knocks the air out of your lungs. Itโs angry and desperate and messy, like trying to glue a shattered heart back together with nothing but skin and breath. Your hands fist into his shirt like youโre trying to tear it off or hold him closer, maybe both. Neither of you knows how to be gentle about it.
"You're an idiot," you mumble between kisses.
"Good, we're on the same page."
Your back hits the dresser with a dull thud, and neither of you flinch. His hands are everywhereโ on your waist, your hips, sliding under the hem of your shirt like he canโt get close enough fast enough. His mouth moves from yours to your jaw, down your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses that make your knees threaten betrayal.
He finds that spot just behind your ear, the one he knows drives you crazy, and lingers there like a punishment. No, like an apology. You gasp, hand tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging just hard enough to make him groan.
He is whispering apologies, begging for your forgiveness as he unravels you, his breath warm against your skin.
โSorryโs not gonna cut it,โ you whisper, voice already unsteady as you pull him back to your mouth. โYou need to make it up to me.โ
โI will,โ he promises, between kisses that are more like confessions than contact. โI will. I swear to God, I will.โ
And he did. Multiple times that night. For the first time in a long time, both of you slept. Not just passed out from exhaustion, but real, peaceful, uninterrupted sleep. The kind that only comes when the weight has finally lifted.
You woke up tangled in each other, your head tucked under his chin, his arm tight around your waist like he still didnโt quite believe you were there. He kissed your forehead before either of you said a word.
The case wrapped itself up faster than expected after that. Something about sleep and not repressing your feelingsโ radical concepts, really. You and Spencer cracked the final piece during the afternoon briefing, and the rest of the team rallied around the lead like clockwork. It felt good to feel like yourselves again. Felt even better not to pretend anymore.
Youโre on the jet heading home, fingers loosely intertwined beneath a shared blanket when Emily strolls past and pauses in front of your seat. Her smirk is practiced. Lethal. Oh, this can't be good.
โI was in the room next to yours,โ she says, casually. โI heard screaming. Was gonna knock, actually, see if everything was okay.โ
Spencer tenses beside you.
Emily raises a brow. โBut then the screaming turned into a, uh, different kind of screaming.โ
โOh my God,โ you mutter, burying your face in your hands.
โAnyway,โ she grins, completely unbothered. โGlad you two worked it out.โ
She pats Spencer on the back as she leaves. You and Spencer look at each other, mortified and emotionally prepared to change your identities and leave the country. He leans in to whisper something.
"Worth it."
a/n: wildest dreams og version does something to me man istg, song of all time <3 also I have been sitting on this fic for a while not knowing how to end it so I apologize if it's ass, I've been trying to experiment with writing different POVs and gender neutral reader, I'm tagging this as gn!reader, but I'm so sorry if I've accidentally implied that the reader is female ๐ซ
because your job required so much travel, you and spencer were well practiced in quiet sex. at first, when your relationship was just clandestine meetings in hotel rooms, it was out of necessity.
the first time hotch allowed the two of you to room together, he handed the keys over with a firm look and โbehave yourselves,โ muttered under his breath. spencer flushed and morgan whistled.
โthank you, sir. you wonโt regret it, i promise.โ
you cut your eyes at morgan, who quickly fell back in line for the elevator.
spencer pulled away from your feverish kisses, chuckling under uneven, rapid breaths.
โwhat?โ you questioned him, his amusement contagious.
โitโs justโฆ whenever i imagined the first time we were assigned to the same room, i expected to feel relief at not having to sneak around anymore. but really iโm even more aware of our coworkers in the next rooms over.โ
your lips curl into a smirk as you bring your arms around his neck, staring up at him.
โiโm naked in your bed and youโre thinking about our coworkers?โ
โi just,โ he brings his hips back to yours, settling himself right when you need him, โi donโt like anyone else hearing your pretty noises. all for me,โ heโs mumbling against your neck. โplus, weโd never hear the end of it from derek.โ
you gasp out a laugh in response as his hands find your waist, squeezing their way down to your ass, the backs of your thighs, repositioning your hips slightly to meet his at the perfect angle. you groan together, and spencer is quickly smashing his mouth against yours to muffle the sound.
heโs everywhere, hands on your breasts, kissing the jut of your hip bones and pulling your panties to the side. as he tweaks a nipple between the fingers of his left hand, his right holds your leg up as his tongue dives between your folds. your back arches as your hand flies to cover your mouth. you know the routine.
he eats you out sloppily for a few minutes before surging back to your lips. without breaking the kiss, heโs reaching for the pillows above your head. immediately, you know what he wants. you flip onto your stomach, lift your hips in muscle memory. spencer settles one pillow under your hips, the other under your head. he pets your hair and leans down to peck your shoulder before shoving his boxers off. on nights when spencer is especially worked up, often still buzzing off the adrenaline of capturing a particularly difficult unsub, he wants you from behind. this way, your noises are muffled by the pillows, his against your neck, while he sinks onto you. faster and faster, until the bed begins to squeak and he has to change his pace.
heโs bucking into you slowly now, his chest flush with your back. with your hands intertwined, his lips against your ear, hes whispering, more to himself, over and over, โall mine.โ
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
โ Live Streamingโ Interactive Chatโ Private Showsโ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch โข No registration required โข HD streaming
Warnings: Explicit content, face-fucking, I was horny, kind of lengthy what was meant to be short blurb (Not as long as his dick), and tears from dick-sucking, mentions of face-sitting- fem! reader in mind and female anatomy is implied.
Enjoy your dinner, loves <3
What am I thinking about? Oh, I don't know. Maybe about this particular photo of Spencer. About how when you're sucking his cock, one hand at the base reaching the length of him you couldn't reach with your mouth, tongue swirling his leaking tip, other hand fondling his balls, his hands would be tangled in your hair, nails scratching against the skin of your scalp.
He'd feel so good, just wanting to thrust his hips into your pretty, drooling mouth but he wouldn't want to hurt you. Even though the thought of you choking on him with tears pooling from your eyes did bring a strange, warm tightening to his lower stomach.
The sight of your swollen lips, furrowed brows, and big, glossy eyes staring up at him just made him want to use your throat. He's never been one to be rough but the way you looked so sinful and heavenly- a contradicting, delicious cocktail for trouble just triggered something in him he didn't even know he had.
When you pulled from his wet, glistening length he whined, your big eyes gazing up at him through those thick curtains of lashes. "I can feel you wanting something. Do you want to fuck my mouth?"And after a few moments of contemplating, discussing safe words and actions- he was thrusting into your mouth like it was your pussy, deep and desperate. His jaw was slack, never looking away from you as he had his hands on the back of your head, fingers gently threaded through the strands. His jaw would clench before it fell open again as he groaned and moaned, vulnerably letting out a few whimpers and whines when you hit just that right spot. When he finally spilled himself into your mouth, his eyes actually rolled back as he deeply moaned your name, chest heaving. Of course, after he'd praise you, telling you "You were so good, love. So good. Let me reward you." And after he had you drink some water, he'd have you ride his face like you owned him.
"REBLOG PRETTY PLEASE"- Matthew Gray Gubler (real)