Random Criminal Minds Opinions
Criminal Minds As Random Foods
Spencer & JJ
Spencer Reid
Spencer Reid Moodboard
Spencer Reid Ships
Baking With Spencer Reid
Spencer Reid Boyfriend Headcanons - part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5
Emily Prentiss
Emily Prentiss is a Lesbian
I also have 2 # for writing and thoughts/headcanons etc - #academiareidwrites & #academiareidthoughts which you can find in the tags below!♡
Request guidelines -
I mainly write fluff, I don't think I'm quite comfortable writing smut so no smut requests please! (I'll only ever write implied smut that's not expanded upon)
Please specify if you want fem/male or gender neutral reader, I will always aim to write gender neutral so if you don't specify, that's what it'll be!
Please also specify if you'd like it as a fic or a headcanon as they're both written differently, if you don't specify I'll choose what I think will fit best for what I write!
I also mainly write for Spencer Reid but I'd be happy to write for Emily Prentiss too (I'm in love with her)
summary: you show up to the bureau wearing his sweater
The first thing Spencer notices that morning isn’t the case file in his hands.
It isn’t Morgan talking, or Garcia rambling through the speaker, or even the faint smell of stale coffee lingering in the bullpen.
It’s you. Specifically what you’re wearing. Or what you’re not wearing. Because that is definitely his sweater.
His brain catches it in pieces at first. The oversized sleeves. The slightly worn cuffs. The exact shade of dark gray he remembers because he bought it during a lecture tour in Boston three years ago. The one that’s softer than it should be because he’s washed it too many times.
And it’s on you. Spencer stops walking mid-step.
“Reid?” Morgan nudges him. “You good, man?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Because now you’re turning around, completely unaware, balancing a cup of coffee in one hand and the sweater shifts slightly off your shoulder.
His sweater. On your shoulder. Spencer’s brain, usually operating at a terrifying speed, completely stalls.
“…that’s my sweater,” he says under his breath.
Morgan follows his line of sight. Then grins. “Oh,” Morgan mutters. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”
⸻
You don’t notice Spencer at first. You’re too busy trying not to spill your coffee while flipping through notes, muttering to yourself about timelines and inconsistencies.
It’s only when you feel someone hovering nearby that you look up. And there he is. Standing way too still. Eyes locked on you or, more specifically, on the sweater.
“…hi?” you say, a little confused.
Spencer opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
“That’s—” he gestures vaguely, like words are suddenly optional, “—you’re wearing—”
You glance down. Oh, right. His sweater.
You’d grabbed it last night without thinking. You’d stayed over, fallen asleep halfway through one of his rambles about cognitive bias, and when you left in the morning, it was just there. Comfortable. Familiar.
You didn’t really think about how it would look walking into the BAU.
“…yeah,” you say, suddenly a little self-conscious. “I, um—hope that’s okay? I meant to bring it back but I was running late and—”
“You can keep it.” The words come out too fast. Too immediate. Spencer freezes after saying them, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
Your eyebrows lift. “Keep it?”
“I mean, not keep it permanently, unless you want to, which would be statistically improbable given normal clothing rotation habits, but—” he stops, exhales, visibly trying to reset his brain, “—it looks… good.”
There’s a pause. A very noticeable pause. Because Spencer Reid just said something looks good. And he is not looking at your face. He is very, very focused on the sweater. On how it fits you. On how the sleeves fall past your hands. On how it’s unmistakably his and somehow… better on you.
Your lips twitches, “You’re staring,” you say softly.
“I’m not—” he immediately looks up, which is worse, because now he’s looking directly at you, and his ears are turning pink, “—I just recognized the fabric composition.”
“Oh, of course you did,” you tease.
Morgan snorts loudly from across the room. Spencer glares at him for half a second before looking back at you, clearly trying to recover.
“…you didn’t have to bring it back,” he says, quieter now.
Something about the way he says it, less flustered, more honest, makes your chest tighten just a little.
“I know,” you reply. “But I wanted to.”
His gaze flickers, just briefly, to the neckline of the sweater again.
“…you can still wear it,” he adds.
Now you really smile.
⸻
The rest of the team catches on quickly. Garcia notices first, obviously.
“Oh my God,” her voice crackles through the speakers. “Is that boy genius couture I see?”
You choke on your coffee. Emily leans over her desk, squinting. “Wait… is that actually Reid’s?”
JJ looks between the two of you, already piecing it together, a knowing smile forming.
Spencer, meanwhile, looks like he’s about to combust. “It’s just a sweater,” he insists.
“Your sweater,” Morgan corrects.
Spencer adjusts his satchel strap. “Clothing items are frequently shared among—”
“—people who are dating,” Emily finishes.
Silence. Spencer blinks. You raise an eyebrow. Morgan grins like he’s just won something.
“…we’re not—” Spencer starts, then glances at you, falters, and immediately loses all confidence in the sentence, “—I mean, not officially, not that labels are necessary for—”
You step closer to him. Not enough to make a scene. Just enough that your shoulder brushes his. He freezes instantly.
“…you okay?” you ask, voice soft, teasing but gentle.
He swallows, then nods, “…yes.” But he doesn’t move away. And he doesn’t stop looking at you.
⸻
Later, when the bullpen quiets down and everyone’s distracted with their own work, Spencer finds himself standing beside you again.
He doesn’t say anything at first. Just… lingers.
You glance up. “You’re hovering again.”
“I’m not hovering,” he says automatically.
“You are,” you smile. “But I don’t mind.”
That seems to short-circuit him a little.
“…okay,” he says.
There’s a small pause.
“…it suits you,” he blurts out.
You tilt your head. “The sweater?”
He nods, “I like it better on you,” he admits, quieter now.
That catches you off guard. Because Spencer doesn’t say things like that casually. You study him for a second, really look at him.
At the way he’s trying so hard to stay composed. At the way his fingers twitch slightly, like he wants to reach out but isn’t sure if he should. So you make it easier.
You gently tug at the sleeve. “Maybe I’ll keep stealing your clothes, then,” you say.
His eyes widen slightly. “You can,” he says, almost immediately.
Then, softer, “…anytime.”
Your heart does something stupid in your chest. And for once, Spencer Reid doesn’t try to explain it away with science. He just stands there, a little flustered, a little breathless and very, very aware that you’re still wearing his sweater.
Sorry, but your recent reblog (butch knight) gave me an idea
Like... knight Vi x princess reader, but reader maybe has burnout or is sick, but still has courtly duties and Vi tries to be like "you've gotta rest," and r's like "but I have-" and vi goes "nope, I'm clearing your schedule, and anyone who dares knock on your door right now won't have that hand anymore now get in bed."
Fluff, hurt/comfort, forehead kisses maybe ;w;
~💜
rest up, amor
—knight!vi x princess!reader
barely the staff ever cared truly for royalty but when it came to your knight vi, she truly never failed. loyal as she was— there was devotion in her powder blue eyes. she ordered with a tone so heavy it could knock down mountains and conquer kingdoms easily, but when she spoke to you her voice was an octave lower, gaze softer than ever— respect, devotion, loyalty, servitude and best of all; love.
you had gotten dizzy, just a little. nothing out of the ordinary. you often got far too tired to carry out your courtly duties but your mother and father persisted you held your chin up ‘like a princess should.’
you smiled when vi told you “you should rest up, princess. you seem somewhat sleep deprived.” vi was always so gentle with you.
“i can't rest just yet,” your smile was as radiant as ever despite the sleepiness seeping through the edges of your droopy eyes. “i have courtly duties and—” your words were cut off by a yawn that forced its way out of your body, your hand reaching to cover your mouth. “pardon me.”
vi gave you a subtle nod. “even if i wanted to, the king desired for me to be exclusively present today, and i wouldn't want to ruin their reputation disobeying.”
“its barely voluntary disobedience if your health is at stake, my princess.” vi responded, straightening, “you need your rest if you wish not to pass out halfway into the hall, m'lady.”
your smile weakened. “i understand your concern, violet, but i can't go against the king and queen's wishes.” a determined look flickered in her eyes, and vi shook her head.
“ill speak to them on your behalf, m'lady, however it is crucial you get the rest that you need.” vi insisted but you couldn't take her help. you blinked away the drowsiness that threatened to take over your body.
“i will be fine.” you said before you tried to walk past vi, tripping over the hem of your own dress and almost falling. vi's muscular hand curled around your waist and easily hoisted you in place.
“you were saying?” you rolled your eyes at her cheeky remark before you regained balance and got up, straightening out the hem of your dress.
“fine... i suppose a small nap wouldn't hurt a soul.” you said reluctantly and allowed vi to guide you to your bed chambers. you felt lightheaded and leaned onto her for support most of the walk and she didn't seem to mind.
in fact, vi seemed to enjoy it. vi made sure you were tucked into your warm bed, hair splayed across the silk, plush pillows. vi gestured for the maids to draw the blinds of the windows and leave— they complied with no questions asked.
vi looked at you, “ill speak to the king and queen for you, my princess,” she knelt by the side of your bed. “but i wish you do not leave this bed until you're well.”
“violet... i cannot neglect my duties as crowned princess.”
“you will not be alive to fulfil said duties if you neglect your own health for the sake of the throne,” vi looked like for a split second she wanted to kiss the top of your hair, run a finger down your jaw and tell you how proud she was of you. but she held back. she smiled.
“come here.” you raised a hand, extending it to hold the side of her face.
vi, caught off-guard, took a glance around the bed chambers before leaning in and letting the side of her war calloused face rest against your smooth hand. vi was beautiful despite the scars, a strong woman whose devotion knew no bounds when it came to you.
“the kingdom's very lucky to have you,” you smiled faintly, “and i find you... so...”
you didn't know what words to use, all composure slipping when you felt the way her hot minty breath washed over your face. your cheeks flushed a faint shade of red and you felt vi’s lips meet yours. it was a slow soft kiss— one that made something in your chest flutter, a feeling you thought you'd lost after so long. vi parted from the kiss, hand hovering over your waist as if trying to determine whether touching you there would be the best decision so far. your eyes lowered, glancing at her lips before flicking back to her eyes.
“i want another,” you breathed out.
“dont get greedy now, princess,” vi said with a playful wink, voice full of light humor but she didn't deprive you.
the next kiss was something needy: her hands trailed down and held your waist, thumbs pressing against the skin and drawing patterns. you pulled her closer, your chest against hers as she kissed you deeper— her mouth was hot on yours. her tongue sleeved into your mouth and claimed her territory making you grin in the kiss. vi smiled too feeling the curl of your lips. your hands reached to hold her face. you both parted, grinning like idiots.
“youre so pretty...”
“i could say the same but pretty would be an understatement.” vi held your body against hers for a bit before she pushed up and away from the bed, leaving you wanting more.
“what if someone needs me?” you questioned.
“if anyone dares knock on this door,” vi drew in a deep breath, “they won't have that hand anymore.” you blushed a little, smiling and allowing vi to tuck you in carefully. she leaned in and her dry lips brushed against your forehead in a small kiss.
you yawned one last time before you drifted off to a deep and well-deserved slumber.
just a some food for thought i wanted to share with u! but skincare with vi im just saying i think she'd look cute with one of those scrunchy headbands with cat ears on them
(bonus points if she lets u apply said skincare - she has this idk,, little smug smile on her face bc of the close proximity and goes, "whats the matter, doll?" HFJSJFH)
i shall take my leave ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ
yes okay but this with college roommate!vi before you guys get together so there's all this unresolved tension --
sfw, vi-shaped
"what are you putting on my face now?"
"hold still! it's a brightening serum --"
"any brighter and i'll start to reflect the sun --"
"vi! the serum is gonna drip!"
vi laughs, biting her lips as you lean forward to slather a thick layer of gooey, transparent serum onto her face. she crinkles her nose as you smooth your palms over her forehead and her nose, grumbling when you get too close to her eyes.
"okay, are we almost done?"
you roll your eyes, though you can't help the smile blossoming across your lips. vi's gaze flickers down and back up again as she goes still.
"just a few more things," you say, reaching for the eye cream.
"and what's this one do?" she asks, eyeing the tiny daub of cream. you sigh, holding it up to show her, trying your hardest not to be distracted by the fact that your nearly sitting in her lap, your legs bracketed on either side of her thighs, her palms gently keeping you steady at the bend of your waist.
"it's an eye cream," you say, by way of an answer.
vi scoffs, "my eyes are just fine, thanks."
"well yeah, you have just about the most gorgeous eyes ever -- but this helps with dark circles and such --" you break off. the air slips out of the room as quickly as a scolded child, and in the stifling, vacuum quiet, vi licks her lips.
"think my eyes are gorgeous, do you?" her voice is lower, husky the way a chain-smoker's might be, except you know that she hasn't smoked in a hot sec because it's competition season. still, the effect it has on you is embarrassing and immediate.
you try to cover for it with a long-suffering sigh.
"d-doesn't everyone?"
vi cocks her head, her eyes bright and sharp and altogether much too focused on you.
"sure," she answers easily, and there's that signature drawl, the heartbreak-twang that has, in fact, broken many a heart in it's time, but to have it directed at you --
"but i don't care about everyone else right now."
you breath hitches; you try to swallow, fail, and nearly tip back as you fight for some kind of foothold to keep yourself steady.
vi's arm loops around your middle, catching you, easy as anything. she presses you back into her -- chest to chest, your legs on either side of her hips.
"i just care about you."
the noise you make is unprompted, a tiny little moan right at the back of your throat that rakes shivers down the entire length of vi's spine.
it makes her fingers curl into your waist, squeezing for a single second before she catches herself and loosens her grip.
you gasp, steadying yourself with your hands on her shoulders.
"i --"
"sorry --"
you and her both freeze, caught amidst the strangeness of the moment. and then, like a bowstring drawn too taut -- the tension snaps, and you both topple into laughter. you, falling into her, her holding onto you.
"you were saying about the eye cream," she prompts, grinning up at you, even as the pair of you readjust and she looks back up at you with a sweet, open smile.
you blush, biting your lips as you reach down to daub the cream onto her skin, "i was saying -- it helps with dark circles and inflammation -- so you'll look like you got a good night's sleep for once."
you pin her with a look; vi only grins.
you almost hiccup as she leans forward a few inches.
"what's the matter, doll?"
you huff, reaching for a facemask and tearing the plastic open with your teeth. vi watches with raised eyebrows.
"last step -- the facemask."
you laugh gleefully as you open up the mask and drape it over her face. she blinks, nonplussed by the sudden addition of an entire wet paper towel to her face.
you smooth your fingers over the flap for her nose and seal the edges around the sharp cut of her jaw.
"there. all done!"
vi rolls her eyes as you hop off of her lap, wiping off your hands.
"damn, all that flirting, and what do i get? a wet towel in the face."
you tut, "a very expensive wet towel," you correct, to which vi attempts to make a face at you, hindered by the fact that most of her face is covered by the mask.
you giggle, leaning back to admire your handiwork.
"so. do i get to do you after?"
you nearly trip on your way to put your skincare things away. you whip around to find vi leaning against her bed, one leg straight, the other propped up, her arm dangling carelessly from her knee. you wonder who on earth gave her the right to look so damn hot all the time.
"w-what?"
vi's smirk is evident, even from beneath the thick, wet facemask; her eyes glimmer as she looks you over with dark, ravenous eyes.
"after this is done," she motions to her face before her finger swivels towards you, "do i get to do you?"
cool so, being coworkers with bartender!vi, but always trying to one-up each other when you guys share shifts at the local lesbian bar -- seeing who can rack up more tips, get the most numbers -- she's got the hot butch thing going for her but you're not bad looking yourself (and you've got kinda of a manic pixie dream girl thing going for you).
flirting with each other is just par for the course, more than a given, it's baseline at this point. the constant teasing, the slight undercurrent of unresolved sexual tension thickening the air between you on the slow nights (and even on the busy ones) -- you know each other almost too well, her putting a bottle down in front of you before you can turn to try and grab it, you tossing her the bitters for whatever drink she's got queued up next.
"whoops, sorry," she grins, grazing by you, just as you turn to grab another tall glass for a highball; the space behind the bar is... not large, and you often have to squeeze by each other just to pass by, a touch of skin, the skim of fingers on the small of your back, a warm breath at the nape of your neck.
you roll your eyes even as she presses the highball glass into your hand, already filled to the top with ice.
"your welcome, sweetness," she winks.
you purse your lips, sighing as you turn back to the bar and resume your highball. 2oz of whiskey (top shelf), topped off with ginger ale. you smile as you hand the drink to one of your regulars, a tall girl with dark hair and the smoothest skin you've ever seen.
"you know she's in love with you right?" cait asks.
you resist the urge to roll your eyes again, "we're just friends," you insist, though you can't help the way your stomach twists at the thought, "and you were the one who asked for her number -- which she gave you," you add, pinning caitlyn with a look.
cait sips at her drink, cocking her head.
"sure, and it was all fun and games till i realized her heart wasn't in it. and i've got too much self respect to date someone who's clearly already taken, even if the person doing the taking insists on being thick about it," she says breezily, without a single ounce of compunction or embarrassment. you've always admired that about her, how confident she is in who she is, unafraid to ask for the things she wants, when she wants them.
you lean forward with a puff of breath, blowing a loose strand of hair from your face. glancing over, you catch vi laughing at something someone's said, her profile stark and gorgeous against the foggy street light filtering through the stained glass windows. it's a sunday night, and quieter than usual, the place filled with regulars; vi's long since commandeered the aux cord, indie rock playing soft over the speakers.
"i'm not..." you trail off as vi turns and catches your eye. there's a glint of... something smoldering behind her morning-gray gaze and it sets your every nerve end aflame.
cait scoffs, "well. you can lead a horse to water, and all," she flaps her hand, taking another sip of her drink. vi wanders over, slinging an arm around your shoulders. you swallow passed the thickness of your tongue as you try not to think about how you can feel her corded muscles against your skin.
"hey cupcake, we still on for our date this weekend?"
your stomach drops; cait laughs, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
"sure we are, vi -- i mean, who else is going to help you pick out the perfect --"
vi cuts her off with a loud cough, glaring and giving her head a sharp shake. you blink, looking between them.
"am i missing something here?"
cait's lips tug into cat-claw grin.
"always, darling," she teases, batting her lashes before she slides her card across the bar and tosses back the rest of her drink. you slide her card through the register and hand it back with a curious look.
she only shoots you another mona lisa smile before slipping out of the bar. you sigh, crinkling your nose.
"whats up, dollface?" vi asks, bumping you with her hip.
she press your lips, "so... date, huh?"
vi clears her throat, "ah -- yeah, but it's not really a date -- it's more like... uh... a... a consultation."
you pause, your hands caught under the running water in the sink.
"a consultation? for what?"
vi licks her lips; her nose ring catches in the dim bar lighting. you try not to wonder what it'd be like to kiss her, if you'd feel the ring burning cold against your skin.
"just... some stuff i wanted to ask her advice on. she's always been better at -- ah -- gifts... and stuff."
you narrow your eyes, shutting off the water.
"a gift? for who?"
vi's cheeks flush as her eyes cut away from yours, "uh... just..." she hesitates, rocking on the balls of her feet before she shoots you a lopsided smile, "just a girl i've been trying to ask out."
you feel your heart seize, your lashes flutter. you swallow hard, and try not to think too deep into it. you turn to put the clean glass with the rest on the shelf, trying to keep your hands from shaking.
"well, even without the gift... whoever this girl is... she'd be pretty stupid to turn you down."
you make your way to the other end of the bar, gathering up some leftover glasses. vi watches you with dark eyes.
"yeah? you think so?"
you nod, "sure -- i mean," you motion at her with an exaggerated gesture before wiping down a section of the bar, "you're kind of a catch."
vi lets out a laugh, it's higher than usual, breathier too. then, she clears her throat. the bar's almost empty now, the last few patrons tucked into the dark corners, chatting quietly amongst themselves.
"right then -- uh -- fuck --" she swears, and it's only then that you notice she's clenching and unclenching her fists.
time seems to unspool around you as your heartbeat thuds up against the base of your throat. you watch her glance down the bar and then back at you as if in slow motion, and you know what she's going to say half a millisecond before she says it --
"i -- i really wanted it to be perfect but... i mean, fuck it -- you're... the prettiest girl i've ever met -- not that that's the reason but --"
you let out a tiny laugh as vi stumbles over her words, her cheeks glowing redder and redder as she bites her lips.
"shit, sorry -- i... goddamnit, this is why i wanted to practice before --" she tosses the damp dishrag on the counter and takes a long breath as if to steady herself.
you shake your head, a champagne bubble giddiness eating up the center of your chest as you watch her.
"no, no, by all means --" you shrug, "take your time." you lean a hip against the bar, feeling ever so slightly insane as she finally looks up to meet your eyes.
"i mean," you intone, "it's not like you have a date this weekend or anything --"
"oh, fuck you," vi snaps, going red all the way to the tips of her ears.
"mm, wish you would," you say, the response so automatic you don't even process the words till they're out of your mouth. you clench your jaw as vi gapes at you.
"what?"
you take a deep breath, crossing your arms. if there's ever a time to lean in, it'd be now.
"did i stutter, or...?" you quirk an eyebrow.
vi stares for a second more before lunging forward to kiss you. somewhere in the bar, someone whistles and claps. you squeak at the messy press of her lips on yours -- she tastes like a whiskey sour and every single missed opportunity you'd ever let slip by. she tastes sweet; she tastes hungry.
she cups your jaw in both her palms and licks into the hot cavern of your mouth until you're breaking open for her, groaning as you stumble back against the bar, your hands finally finding purchase in the hairs at the nape of her neck.
"sweet fuck," she breathes, pulling back after what seems like an eternity and a half later.
"took ya long enough!" one of your regulars calls from the corner of the bar as his friend croons.
"shut up, loris!" vi shouts over your shoulder before turning back to you with a crooked smile.
you lick your lips, feeling lightheaded and breathless.
"so," you say, as you tug on a strand of her electric pink hair, "does that mean i don't get a present any more?"
vi laughs, "well, technically... i haven't actually asked you out yet."
you smile, nodding along, "oh right, right -- that was just a practice run, right?"
"yep, totally."
you lick your lips, "in which case... y'think we can do better?"
vi swallows, her eyes liquid with warmth as she pushes you back against the bar with both palms on your hips.
"mm... i'm sure we can figure something out."
"yeah? and..." you lean forward to languidly tease your lips against hers. vi lets out a thick groan, chasing after you even as you lean back, "that bit about fucking me...?"
vi puffs out a breath, "yeah... 'm sure we can work on that one too, princess."
Hear me out…reader on Spencer’s glasses and he’s struck by how pretty she looks. Or, reader puts her glasses on at work after her contacts dry out, and the team tease her for her glasses, but Spencer can’t help but find them adorable
pretty — spencer reid
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n )
content warnings: fluff
a/n: i went with the first idea !! such a cute one <3
Spencer Reid took off his glasses for two seconds.
Literally.
Just long enough to scrub the sleep from his eyes, to blink away the exhaustion that clung to him after hours of staring at case files. The team had been working nonstop, and even his brilliant mind was starting to fog over. He set the glasses down on the table, rubbing his face with both hands before letting out a long, slow breath.
And that was all the opportunity you needed.
You had been bored out of your mind—stuck in the same chair for what felt like eternity, flipping through the same reports, waiting for something to happen. So when Spencer’s glasses sat there, unattended, you acted on impulse.
You snatched them up before he could even register they were gone.
Spencer didn’t notice.
He was too busy yawning, his jaw cracking as he stretched his arms above his head, his eyelids heavy. For a second, you thought he might actually slump forward and pass out right there on the table.
Grinning to yourself, you unfolded the glasses and slipped them onto your face.
The world immediately blurred.
Wow. You hadn’t realized just how bad his eyesight was.
Everything beyond your own hands was a hazy mess of shapes and colors. You blinked a few times, adjusting, but nope—still useless. How did he function like this?
You were still grinning when Morgan walked in.
His sharp eyes landed on you immediately, and a slow, amused smirk spread across his face.
“Well, look at you,” he said, voice loud enough to make Spencer jolt slightly in his seat. “Looking all nerdy.”
Spencer turned toward him, squinting—which was generous, because without his glasses, he could barely make out more than vague blobs of color. But then his gaze shifted to you, and his breath hitched.
There you were, his glasses perched on your nose, your lips curled in a playful smile.
“How do I look?” you asked, tilting your head.
Spencer’s mouth fell open.
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
Because you looked nice.
No, not just nice.
Pretty.
Really pretty.
Something about seeing you in his glasses made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t explain.
Morgan dropped into a chair across from you, his smirk deepening as he watched Spencer’s dumbstruck expression. “Took the words right out of his mouth. Literally.”
You giggled, reaching up to take the glasses off, but Spencer’s hand twitched forward before he could stop himself.
“No—you, uh. You can leave them on. If you want.”
Your eyebrows lifted.
Spencer swallowed, heat creeping up his neck. “You… uhm. You look very pretty.”
The words came out in a rushed mumble, barely audible, but you heard them. A soft warmth spread through your chest as you bit back a smile.
“Thanks, Spencer,” you said, deliberately ignoring Morgan’s quiet chuckle from across the room.
But then you carefully slid the glasses off anyway, holding them out to him. “I think you might need these more than I do.”
Spencer’s lips twitched into a subconscious pout before he could stop himself.
“You know,” you teased, “to see things.”
He turned even redder, suddenly mortified by his own words. Why would he tell you to keep them on? He obviously needed them to see.
But before he could spiral further, you leaned forward in your chair.
Spencer’s breath caught.
Your fingers brushed against his temples, gently sweeping his hair back as you carefully slid the glasses onto his face. You nudged them up the bridge of his nose with a light touch, your fingertips lingering near his skin just a second too long.
Spencer stared at you, wide-eyed, his pulse hammering in his throat.
“You look pretty too with them on,” you murmured, your voice softer now, almost intimate.
Both of you were silent.
Spencer stared at you. Wide eyed. Mouth hanging wide open.
Summary: It’s your birthday, and you throw a party in hopes Spencer Reid shows up because truth is, you only threw this party for him…
A/N: ngl writing this gave me bad flashbacks and now I never want to drink again…(I’m still going to)
BYR(b4 u Reid): Alcohol, mentions of drunk people, drunk kissing (yes lawd), awkward Spencer, season 1 Spencer, reader is over 20, no use of y/n, and sexual content. Lmk if I'm missing anything.
It was getting later into the night, people were stumbling around, dancing, taking shots, and playing beer pong. It had now become a full-blown party, and everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives.
You were a little buzzed, not too much. You were pacing yourself, holding off. You were waiting for someone. He promised he'd come. And Spencer Reid never broke a promise.
Especially not today. Not on your birthday.
“Birthday girl isn’t even drunk yet! This is not good.” Your roomate Sarah shouted, clearly several drinks in. “I’m waiting for someone.” You replied, sipping from your cup.
She rolled her eyes and snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re waiting on that nervous little FBI chihuahua.” Your mouth fell open slightly. “Don’t be rude. He’s sweet. And yes, I am waiting.”
She sighed dramatically. “Well, good luck with that. This is definitely not the kind of place he’d show up to. You’re going to get stood up.”
You shook your head. Spencer wouldn’t do that. If he wasn’t coming, he’d at least call. He’d explain.
Still, as the party kept going and the minutes ticked by, you couldn’t help but feel the little twist in your stomach. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he got too nervous. This really wasn’t his scene.
Maybe the party was a bad idea.
You sighed, slipping into your room. Thankfully, it was empty. No couples, no drunken chaos. Just your stuff, your bed, and the hum of bass through the walls.
You sat at your vanity, looking at yourself in the mirror. You’d put effort into tonight. Found the perfect dress, something cute but not over the top, just enough to feel confident.
You knew Spencer didn’t care about appearances like most people. That’s part of why you liked him so much. But still, you wanted him to see you at your best.
You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in. It was silly to get this upset over a guy. You told yourself you’d take a few more drinks and forget about it in the morning.
Then your door creaked open.
“Sarah, I’ll be out in a bit.” You said without looking. But then-
“Hey.”
You turned quickly, and there he was.
Your whole face lit up. “Spencer!” You squealed, rushing to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He froze just for a second before placing his hands nervously and gently on your waist.
“You came! I was worried, I thought maybe…” you pulled back just enough to look at him. “I thought maybe you weren’t going to show up.”
“You were worried about me not showing up?” He asked, eyebrows raised.
“Of course I was! You are my main guest.” You beamed at him. He blinked like he couldn’t quite process your words. You were always open about how you felt, always flirting, always dropping not-so-subtle hints. But somehow, Spencer Reid, certified genius, 187 IQ, turned into a socially anxious mess whenever you did.
It wasn’t that he didn’t notice. He just wasn’t sure how to reciprocate it back in a way that wasn’t so awkward. You made flirting seem so effortless, so easy. He on the other hand would just make a total fool of himself.
You tugged his hand. “Come on, we’re taking a shot.”
But he didn’t budge. You looked back and saw the nerves written all over his face. “Everything okay?”
“I,um, I don’t know anyone here. And I’ve never… drank before.” He admitted.
You tilted your head, smiling at him softly. “Aw, I get to pop your cherry?” You teased, then quickly added. “I’m kidding Spence. You don’t have to drink. We can just hang out and laugh at the ones who had too much.”
His eyes softened. “I don't want you to be bored. It's your birthday.”
“Well you're here so I won't be bored.” you said sincerely. “No, it's okay… I want us to have fun. I’ll get over it.”
“Spencer we don't have to, I promise you,” you assured him, looking deep into his eyes so he knew how serious you were. “I want to.” He replied.
You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll take baby sips first.”
And then, to his surprise, you kissed his cheek. He blushed instantly.
You led him out into the crowd, fingers still laced with his, grabbing two bottles. “We can sip on these until you get a bit more comfortable.” You said into his ear, he nodded.
You then introduced him to a few friends, watching his posture shift slowly, the tension starting to ease once he realized no one was judging him. If anything, your friends seemed impressed with how highly you spoke of him. He noticed the way you held onto his arm, how you made him feel like he belonged.
“How’re you feeling?” You asked as the two of you stepped outside for some air.
“I feel… good. You know a lot of people.”
“Yeah, I tried to keep it small but, well, word got around.”
“I think it’s fascinating. That you’re so comfortable with people.” You looked up at him, smiling. “Some people think I talk too much.”
“I like it. I like listening to you talk.” He said it like it surprised even him. You blushed. “Really?”
He nodded, then straightened up. “Actually… I think I’m ready for something stronger.”
You grinned. “Alright, big guy. Let’s go.”
Inside, you let him pick the drink. You poured two shots and handed him his cup.
“You ready?”
He gave a tiny nod, and you clinked cups. The moment he drank it, he coughed, making the worst face. You handed him a chaser immediately.
“Thanks.” He said hoarsely, lips pink and eyes wide.
Soon, he loosened up even more. You could tell, he held your hand more confidently, his hand occasionally finding your waist. You liked it. He seemed…freer.
“Beer pong?” You suggested. He gave you a look. “I don’t know. I’m not great at throwing things.”
“You’re good at math. I’m sure there’s some equation you can solve to get it right.” He smiled. “I’m pretty sure the game requires physical coordination, too.”
You looked him up and down. “Well, physically, you look good.” You teased giving him a thumbs up. He blushed and you led him to the table.
Shockingly, you two were winning. Granted, your opponents were very, very drunk, but still.
When Spencer made the second-to-last cup, you cheered, high-fiving him. Your fingers interlaced and lingered, until he pulled away.
You turned toward the table, ready to shoot your shot until your felt Spencer’s hand find your waist, then slid down your back to the hem of your dress slightly adjusting it because it had ridden up a bit.
Your breath caught.
So did his.
He couldn’t believe he just did that, neither could you.
You won the game. Of course.
You guys took celebratory shots, Spencer was getting better and better each time.
Spencer sat on the couch and gestured to his lap. “What?” You asked, heart skipping. He didn’t answer, just gently pulled you down to sit on him.
One of his arm wrapped around your waist, resting on your thigh, while the other interlaced with your hand.
“Are you comfortable?” He whispered into your ear. “I always am when I’m with you.”
He looked up at you smiling. Butterflies. Everywhere.
You both sat, just watching people, content in the buzz of the room, the safety of his presence.
His fingers were now smoothing over your skin, rubbing gently, innocently, on your thigh.
You knew he probably didn’t even realize what he was doing, but it made your thoughts spiral. Your heart beat faster.
You both sat together for a little longer, having conversation about everything, your guys cheeks were flush but starting to slowly cool down. You could feel Spencer’s gaze on you, soft but nervous, like he was building up the courage to say something.
“I, um… I have a present for you.” He said quietly, fingers now fidgeting with the hem of your dress. Your heart skipped a beat. “Spence, you didn’t need to-”
“I wanted to.” He cut in, his voice firm but still shy. His eyes searched yours. “Can I give it to you? In your room?”
Your stomach fluttered. You nodded, lips tugging into a smile as you stood and offered your hand. He took it, his fingers trembling slightly against yours as you led the way to your room.
You shut the door behind him, and took a seat at the edge of your bed, and he joined you. Close enough for your thighs to brush. You watched, your chest tightening, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He opened it carefully, revealing a delicate gold necklace with a tiny diamond that shimmered under the soft light.
“Spencer…” your voice came out barely above a whisper. “This is beautiful.”
“You like it?” He asked, eyes hopeful, and nervous. “I love it.” You said genuinely, looking at him. “It’s perfect. I’m wearing this everyday.”
His mouth twitched into a small, relieved smile. “Can I put it on you?”
You turned without hesitation, he brushed your hair out the way, his fingers lightly touching your skin, featherlight and cautions, and that little contact sent a warm ripple down your spine.
He clasped it at the nape of your neck with slow, precise movements. His fingers lightly ran down your spine, and you turned to him, throwing your arms around his neck in a hug. “Thank you. I love it so much, Spence.”
“I’m really glad.” He said, his voice soft, eyes a little stunned by your closeness. His hand smoothed up and down your back, you pull back a little.
Your guys faces only inches apart, eyes low, and dazed. Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore, he was tired of depriving himself of you.
His hand came up, gently cradling your jaw, his touch careful. Then, slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, hesitant, he was scared you were going to pull away.
But you didn’t.
Instead, you kissed him back like your life depended on it, you had been waiting so long for this moment and you were even willing to wait longer. Your desperation flattered him. He never imagined he could make someone feel this way.
“I’ve wanted this so bad.” You murmured against his lips, brushing your thumb along his cheeks. “Really?” He asked, you just nodded and deepened the kiss more.
His hands found your waist, bolder now, pulling you onto him, your words had given him confidence. You settled there easily, legs on both sides, hands cradling his face as your kisses turned more insistent.
You pushed him down onto your bed, hovering over him, your lips moving from his lips down to his jaw. When his hands dropped from your waist, unsure again, you gently grabbed them and brought them right back to where they belonged.
You continued leaving a trail down his neck, teeth grazing his skin, listening to the tiny breathy sounds he couldn’t hold in. You barely heard it but, it was there. Your name, a whisper that lit something wild inside of you.
You reached for his tie, loosening it, and discarding it somewhere on the floor in your room. Your fingers hovered over the buttons of his shirt, you glanced up at him, silently asking for permission.
He nodded slowly, jaw tight with want, and you undid them, one by one, revealing more of him. He propped himself on his elbows, and pulled you into him for another kiss.
You slowly slid the shirt off of him, moving the fabric off of his arms. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your dress, dragging it up slowly, cautiously, until the edge of your underwear peeked.
You broke the kiss to take in this sight of him, your fingers exploring the planes of his chest, the softness of his skin. You planted kisses on him, over his heart, and when he tilted your chin up with his finger, his lips found yours again, hungrier.
You felt him, hard beneath you, pressing up against you, and instinctively, your hips rolled down against him, pulling a surprised moan from his mouth.
“Spencer…” you breathed out, your voice barely hanging on. His hands gripped your waist again, then slid lower to your ass, guiding your hips as he moved you over him with more intention. His breath was shaky, his voice low and warm and desperate.
He said your name, like a confession.
You grind your hips down again, his hands gripped you tighter, encouraging you to keep going, to keep moving against him. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, mouth parted in disbelief at the pleasure that rolled through him.
He looked completely undone, and it was just from you sitting on him, fully clothed.
You leaned down, kissing along the column of his throat, letting your lips linger just beneath his ear. “You okay?” You whispered, breath warm against his skin.
He nodded quickly, then stammered out. “Y-yeah. Definitely. More than okay.”
You smiled, biting back a laugh, because the way he looked, completely wrecked already, was maybe the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You sat up slightly, hands trailing down his chest, appreciating every inch of him.
“You’re really something else.” You said, brushing your thumb across his lower lip. He caught your hand, kissed your palm. So gentle and slow it made your breath hitch.
“You’re the one that’s something else.” He murmured, voice hoarse. “You’re perfect, everything you do.”
That made your chest ache, you leaned down, kissed him again, slow, deep, and meaningful. You needed him to feel what words can't say.
Spencer grabbed your waist, gently guided you onto your back, moving over you cautiously.
His mouth moved to the side of your neck, your dress slipped higher as you spread your legs slightly, letting him fit between them.
Your fingers found the back of his neck, pulling him to your lips. Spencer’s hand slid slowly up your body, tentative but curious, his fingers tracing the edges of your dress as it rose. When he finally pulled back to look at you, really look, his eyes landed on your black lace underwear, and he just admired.
He couldn’t believe this was real, you felt like a dream.
His fingers brushed over the fabric, hesitant. Gentle. You watched the awe on his face, the way he took you in like you were something sacred.
“Do you… want to take them off?” You softly ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes darted up to meet yours, wide and startled. His chest rose and fell faster now, the weight of the moment clearly settling over him.
“We don’t have to.” You said quickly. “We can take things slow, Spencer.”
He swallowed hard, and gave you a nod. “I-I want this. I really do. I just… don’t want this to be…” he paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t want it to feel like a one-time thing. You’re not that for me.”
You nodded, smiling at him, your chest warm. “I know. Me neither.”
With a soft exhale, he gently reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it back down to cover you up.
He moved off of you, grabbed your hand pulling you up on your feet. His hands were careful, reverent, as he adjusted the strap of your dress onto your shoulder.
You reached for his shirt, draping it back over his shoulders and slowly buttoning it up, watching his cheeks flush a soft red under your gaze.
He cleared his throat. “What?”
“Nothing.” You said, smiling.
He hesitated, then asked. “Did you… want to keep going?”
You but your lip, nodding. “Of course I did. But I agree. When we do decide to… take that next step… it should be special. Not with a bunch of drunk people stumbling around downstairs.”
He laughed quietly, relieved. “Yeah..”
You kissed him again, softly.
“Should we go back to the party?” You asked, fingers laced with his. He nodded. “You go for now, I’ll be out there in a bit.” He tells you, you smirked at him knowing why he was going to stay back.
“Alright, if you need any help or anything just give me a call.” You teased, he looked at you shaking his head at your teasing. “Very funny.” He sarcastically said, but you caught the small smile tugging at his lips.
You opened your bedroom door and stepped out, flashing him one more smile before closing it behind you.
“Where have you been?” Sarah asked the second you turned around. “I was with Spencer.” You replied casually.
Her eyes widen. “Did you guys just-”
“No, we didn’t.” You cut her off quickly. “Let’s step away, come on.”
You led her away from your room, and thankfully she had gotten distracted by someone else and wandered off.
You glanced around the house, realizing how tired you were of the party. Your home felt overcrowded, loud, and no longer fun. You were close to calling the cops on your own party, but luckily the neighbors beat you to it.
You stood outside as an officer explained the noise complaint and curfew.
“Alright, sir. I’ll shut it down.” You said with a polite smile. He nodded, and you waved him off.
Back inside, you cut the music and made the announcement. “Alright guys, party’s over.” You watched everyone slowly trickle out. “Sorry.” You said to a few as they passed.
Spencer found you shortly after. He looked concerned. “What happened?”
“Police got called.” You told him with a shrug.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” You smiled. “Honestly, I was about to call them myself if people didn’t start leaving soon.” He laughed, and you joined him.
Once it was just the two of you, and your very drunk roommates who had knocked out in their rooms, you both started cleaning up a little.
“It’s a mess.” You said, tossing red solo cups into the trash bag. “Yeah. People are gross.” He muttered as he poured out a half-full beer. “Thank you for helping me.” You said sincerely. “No problem.” He replied, flashing you a sweet smile.
After most of the mess was cleaned, you both settled on the couch. You leaned into his side, his arm wrapping comfortably around you.
“Can you spend the night?” You hesitantly asked, titling your head up to look at him. He nodded almost instantly. “Of course.”
You smiled, but he suddenly stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“Left something in the kitchen. I’ll be back.” He assured you. You nodded, watching him walk off. When he returned, your eyes lit up. He was holding a small cake with lit candles. It was your birthday cake, the one you had completely forgotten about.
He started singing softly, and your cheeks hurt from how hard you were smiling.
“Make a wish.” He said once he finished, and you did. You closed your eyes and blew out the flames.
He held the cake out toward you. “Take a bite.”
You eyes him suspiciously but leaned in anyway, and sure enough, he gently pushed the cake into your face. Just a little frosting dotted your nose and chin.
“Spencer!” You gasped, laughing as you lightly hit his arm. He laughed too, setting the cake down, and then leaned in to wipe the frosting from your skin with his finger. You watched him as he brought it to his lips, sucking it clean.
He moved closer, pressing his lips to yours.
“Happy birthday.” He whispered as he pulled back just slightly. You smiled at him. “Thank you.” And then you kissed him again, slower, softer…
Dividers from @hyuneskkami !!
Writing this was fun!! I love bold Spencer! 🤭 also listen to the song, I just rediscovered it and became obsessed again. Live, Love, Laugh Charli xcx <3
Thank you to all who reblog & comment!! I really appreciate it sm!
YOU HAVE 4 MESSAGES FROM : vi x f!reader vi is typing . . . lang. , enemies -> lovers if you squint REPLY NOW ? . . . “ howdy neighbor ”
LEIGH REPLIED TO YOUR MESSAGE : absolutely freaked out at 4am (hello from now 10 am……) freak bitch (vi) is backkkk get her out of here before i pounce stupid lesbian
Whether you’re a princess or a maid or whoever you are she’d be stunningggjejdjdjs
She’d protect you with her life istg. Can’t get enough of this woman. And when she’s all sweaty from training??
Or coming back from a battle and seeing you after not seeing you for a while???
I’m gonna collapse🫣
oof oof just thinking about knight!vi laughing and joking with the rest of the young knights, but turning into a blushing puddle the second she meets your eyes in the mess hall (all the men around her start whooping and wolf-whistling until she snaps at them to quit it because it's rude to act like that in front of the crown princess), looking back at you with a shy little smile and a lopsided shrug. you, cocking your head with a tiny wink, going back to listening to your father drone on about foreign politics.
knight!vi coming back from battle, victorious, her armor and chainmail stained dark with blood, the color already oxidizing to an ominous brown-black. there are streaks of something on her face, smeared across her cheek, something dark enough for your question whether it's blood or dirt -- her tearing off her helmet and nearly stumbling as she swings off her horse, her chest heaving.
you're struggling out from behind a row of guards twice the size that you are, relieved tears in your eyes when she finally drops down on one knee in front of you, one of her fists pressed to her chest in the customary salute --
"i'm back," she says, her voice a little hoarse, her words a little breathless, "just like i promised, princess," she adds, glancing up with a particular light in her eyes.
it takes everything in you not to kiss her right then.
instead, you straighten your spine and flatten your shoulders, your voice only shaking ever so slightly as you raise it above the sound of the whistling wind --
"good, and you must remember, you're always to come back to me."
PLEASE elaborate on the version of knight!vi where reader is asking her to show her how “the matters of the bedroom work” PLEASE. you would genuinely have my soul i beg
also adore your fics have the best day!!!
hnnnnghhhh okay okay okay okay i am def gonna write more in the knight!vi universe but like --
+18, mdni, vi-shaped and also very historically inaccurate
knight!vi who gets assigned to be your personal protection by your father, the king, bc he doesn't trust any of the other knights, who are all "young men of a certain elk", and he doesn't think to consider the fact that you might not be interested at all in young men at all, regardless of their "elk".
vi though -- you've always had your eye on her, the way her body is so sculpted, the way that she can keep up with any of the "young men" in question, in the mess hall, drinking and laughing and making dirty jokes. and sure, she tries to be respectful, but you see the way she watches you too, her eyes lingering on the bend of your corseted waist just a beat too long to be totally innocent, the way her eyes go wide when you catch her, the way her cheeks flush and she tries to look like she wasn't just staring every time you meet her gaze.
knight!vi who could swear that you'll be the death of her, with the way you court trouble, and its nearly all she can do to keep you from being discovered by the king, pleading with you when you try to sneak out for the nth time that month, her fingers clasped around your wrist, trying not to think about how soft your skin feels compared to hers.
"oh come now, vi... it's not like i'm doing anything bad..." you say, and the way your voice drags over the word "bad" makes her want to jump into a pit of venomous snakes -- it'd be less perilous than the traitorous thundering of her heart, or the way her stomach clenches at the sensual sweep of your lashes as you bat your lids at her.
"princess," she says, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice, "you know the king --"
"what my father --" you say, raising your voice slightly as you flounce back to your mirror and resume brushing out your hair, "doesn't know won't hurt him," you finish, resolutely setting down your gem-encrusted brush. it's a beautiful thing, glittering in the flickering candle-light. vi's eyes linger on it, wondering how many families it could feed for the winter if it were sold at market.
she swallows around a soft sigh.
you shoot her a triumphant little grin, knowing you've won.
"so -- are you coming, or not?"
knight!vi who starts to relax around you after a while, who tells herself that it's harmless, the charming banter, the careless little quips, the way you lean into her touch for comfort -- she tells herself that she's just upholding her sacred oath -- she is duty bound to protect you, to do well by you, and to keep your best interests at heart. and isn't that what she's doing? and if that includes offering you a hand to hold when you need it, a shoulder to cry on when you're frustrated with your father's growing impatience for you to marry then --
so be it.
knight!vi who overhears you one night, your pitched whimpers and bitten-off moans almost unmistakable (because she'd be lying if she hadn't found herself imagining what you must sound like); she moves as if in slow motion, her limbs shifting without much thought from her -- she watches herself almost from outside of herself as she pushes into your chambers and finds you -- your skin glistening in the dim candle-light, one of your hand fisted in the silken sheets of your bed, the other shoved between your thighs, your hips rocking down --
"princess --?" her voice comes out hoarse, and you gasp, scrambling back up the bed, eyes wide, but the moment you see her, you swallow, letting out a tiny whine.
"v-vi --"
vi nearly crumples, her knees going weak (what she wouldn't do to hear you moan her name like that again, and again, to be the one kissing it from your lips, to work you open over her fingers till her name is the only one you can remember --)
"oh -- fuck -- apologies, princess -- i -- i didn't mean --" she tries to spin around, her cheeks burning as she realizes what she's doing, what she'd walked in on.
you clear your throat delicately; there's a soft shuffling of sheets.
"i -- well, there's no use being coy about it now, i suppose..." you say, your voice flippant, though vi can hear the subtle shake beneath your words. she squeezes her eyes shut once and takes a breath.
"no, princess -- it was inappropriate of me to -- interrupt --" she turns and drops to one knee, her head lowered.
"oh stop it --" you huff, and you sound so petulant that she looks up, only to find you sitting up, your hair a mermaid tangle falling over your shoulders, your skin glistening in the dim half-light. you look nothing short of ethereal.
"princess..."
you bite your lips, looking suddenly bashful, glancing at her before your eyes fall back onto your lap. you start to pick at an invisible loose thread in your silken sheets.
"i -- i thought that since... my father's so dead set on marrying me off... i might as well --" you swallow, waving a flippant hand, though the way your voice trembles leaves vi soft and breathless.
"might as well..." she repeats, letting her voice trail off as she takes a hesitant step forward. you make a face, cheeks burnished beneath the flickering candlelight.
"no one talks to you about this --" you wave your hand again, casting about for the right word, but finding none, you shrug, "stuff."
vi lets out an incredulous laugh, though she manages to pass it off as a cough as you shoot her a half-hearted glare.
"none of your tutors ever..." vi asks.
you roll your eyes, "you really think my royal tutors are going to teach me about the what happens in the marriage chambers?" you slump back into your fortress of pillows, "i know less about sex than the common milkmaid."
vi sighs, carefully perching on the edge of your bed. a part of her is thankful that she'd chosen to forego her heavy armor in favor of a lighter leather tunic. she props her elbows on her knees, legs spread, and tries to think.
"i'm sure it's not as bad as you --"
"how on earth am i to pleasure a -- a man if i can't even pleasure m-myself?" you sound pained, exasperated. vi purses her lips, heat crawling up the back of her neck as a truly terrible idea slithers into her mind. it coils her gut and tangles at her heartstrings. it makes her mouth water and her throat squeeze.
"well --" she says, her words halting, "i don't know much about men..." she keeps her voice as steady as she can, her gaze fixed on a middling point, her entire body angled away from you as if she could will this idea away even as the words tease passed her traitorous lips --
"but i do know a few things about pleasuring women."
knight!vi who no longer wonders if you'll be the end of her because now she knows -- now she knows how you look, your body arched over your silken linens, how you sound when you gasp in pleasure, how your lashes flutter seconds before you come undone around her fingers, your breath heaving from your chest, your eyes unfocused, glazed over with want as your fingers search her out.
"there... easy, princess..." vi soothes as you soften into the tangle of pillows and rucked up sheets.
you let out a breathy little laugh, blowing a strand of hair from your face. you look radiant, spring-kissed and flower-strewn and vi has fought against warriors three times her size but somehow, it's still the hardest thing she's ever done, pulling away from you --
"well," you say, pushing up onto your elbows and cocking your head at her, your doe-eyes dark and wide, "i think that does it."
vi frowns, watching you. you offer her a corner of your bedsheets to wipe her fingers, she stares for a whole three seconds before she realizes what you're doing and hastily shakes her head. you flash her a lopsided little grin before dropping it.
"that does... what, exactly?" she's almost afraid to ask, and under any other circumstance, she might've been stripped of her rank for speaking so informally to you, but given that it isn't under any other circumstance (and she's still got your juices dripping down her wrist) --
"i shall tell my father that i no longer wish to be wed."
"what?" vi gapes.
you tug down your nightgown with neat, prim little movements, tucking your feet underneath you as if your thighs hadn't been wrapped around her forearm just minutes ago.
"you've proven to me something that i've suspected for a long while but --" you sigh, reaching for your water glass. vi makes a short, abortive movement towards it before thinking the better of it and keeping still. you take a small, contemplative sip of water, "well, it's not exactly orthodox, but there's no use lying to papa about it."
vi frowns, her heartbeat quickening in her chest as she blinks at you.
"which is...?" she hedges.
you stare at her, almost expectant as you flutter your fingers through the air.
"that i could never be satisfied by a man, because... i simply don't seem inclined towards them that way."
vi licks at her suddenly very dry lips.
"highness, i'm not certain that's how political marriages work."
you roll your eyes, "oh highness, now, am i?"
vi flushes, her eyes downcast.
you scoff, "no, i'm perfectly well aware of how political marriages work, my most loyal knight," you tick your tongue over her title and she almost winces, but she glances up to find you grinning, that self-same lopsided little thing, sharp as daggers, sharp as the first thin crescent of a waxing moon.
"but. i refuse to be married to someone a don't love, and seeing as i could never love a man, i'm afraid the only answer is for me to never be wed."
again, vi frowns. "but... the throne --"
"will come to me when my father dies."
"no woman's ever ruled without anyone by her side before."
your grin stretches and stretches, and for the first time in a long while, vi remembers that you are most definitely your father's daughter.
"i never said i'd be alone."
vi gulps, "then... who'll you have?"
you flick a strand of hair from your bare, light-kissed shoulder.
