#mgg

[behavioral-anna-lysis]

loser nerd boyfriend core

[lvstfxrlife]

[atlasjoyce]

what's your favorite season of criminal minds??

[lipstickstainedreid]

He’s so boyfriend

[girllblogging777]

THINKING ABOUT : spencer reid is a man of science, but what happens when his girlfriend is a girl of whimsy ?

pairing : spencer reid x whimsy!reader (fluff, established relationship)

notes : a little something based off this lovely request, while i procrastinate on writing my series... please reblog to boost it if you enjoyed, it's the best way to promote a post on tumblr !!

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ a whimsical person is unusual, playful, and unpredictable, rather than serious and practical. typically, spencer likes to rely on the dictionnary for better understanding of the world around him - but when it comes to the definition of this term that fits you so well, he doesn't quite agree with it.

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ unusual, you really are. in the best way, constantly pushing out of the comfort zone he'd always hid in before he met you. you're not afraid of drawing attention, highlighting the joyful glint in your eyes with bright, vibrant colours and a laugh so melodic he'd record it just to play it over and over while he's away from you.

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ opposites attract, to share the purest and most evident form of love he's ever felt. you never fail to impress him (and keep him on his toes) by adding a touch of sprinkles and glitter everywhere you go.

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ like... literally. he was amused the first time you insisted on preparing his lunchbox, when he opened it in the middle of the neat and boringly pallid bullpen just to be met with heart shaped berries and his favorite cheese toastie cut to form a star.

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ you taught him that maybe, life is meant for exploring new things and never settling for the simple routine he thought he'd forever endure. some things are repetitive still, and he loves every second of it.

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ the weekly horoscope you read out loud at breakfast on sunday mornings while he opts for the newpaper, sipping on some new matcha recipe you decided to try, or the yoga sessions you've tried to get him to join, and failed. he'd rather let you flourish in your interests without imposing, and observe from afar with hearts in his eyes.

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ for a boy who was forced to grow up too quickly, who never got to experience the magic of childhood to the fullest, he could swear you're straight out of a fairytale, and adores how you could turn the most mundane thing into something beautiful, healing his inner child in the process.

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ the simplicity of things when it's just the two of you contrasts with the professional aspect of his life - one that he doesn't like to share with you, unless you coax him to open up - and he loves how you don't expect anything in return, you just want him to exist in your bubble of magic and optimism.

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ now, he knows what it's like to have someone patch his physical wounds (with pink bandaids, too) and the ones in his heart with a deep conversation late at night over a cup of herbal tea, in the thrifted mugs you collect routinely.

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ he knows that life can be beautiful when you take time to observe the smallest details, like the warmth and sweet scent of the woman laying next to him in bed, under floral sheets and a dozen of pillows.

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ and he wants this, he wants you so badly he never wants to think about the possibility of his life without you in it. when you ballet flats join his worn out converse in the entryway, and your baby pink blouses find their spot next to his cardigans in the closet, he realizes he'd do anything for the girl of his dreams to stay around when he's awake.

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ you've mentioned a couple of times the idea of a cottage in the countryside, filled with animals and freshly baked goods you'd want to share with him one day. with children, as well, though you didn't need to speak it into existence to know he wants that as much as you do.

౨ৎ⋆˚࿔ and maybe, just maybe, that possibility of pure bliss and lifelong happiness lingered in his brain longer than it should've. for the first time in what feels like forever, spencer reid has hopes of a life and a home outside of the BAU, and it's just a matter of rings and paperwork until that fantasy could turn into reality.

[mggsangel]

𝓢marty.ᐟ ‧₊˚ ⋅

𝜗ৎ ⋅˚₊‧𝓢pencer 𝓡eid

In which.. Spencer tells you facts while you kiss. Smarty.

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

ⓘContent warnings: suggestive end (no explicit smut), making out, glasses!reid, usage of "baby & smarty" as pet names ! Whimpering Spencer agenda.

Note𝜗ৎ cute blurb because I need inspo :( send me requests for Spencer guys

"A typical 'kiss' can transfer 80 million forms of bacteria,"

"Is that so?" You mumbled through gritted teeth.

"Yes, and over 700 different bacterial strains can be exchanged, even probiotic transfers, like yogurt an—" You cut him off with a giggle and pulled away from his lips.

"Yogurt?" You scoffed, pressing a kiss to his neck before looking up at his now very fogged glasses. "How would you know that, hm?" You teased lips back onto his neck. You knew Spencer would 'just know', but you loved to hear him try to spit it out while you were— well, preoccupied.

"For research, scientists asked one partner to consume a probiotic yogurt drink containing specific identifiable bacteria—" He whimpered then sighed, clearing his throat. "such as Lactobacillus and Bifidobacterium before kissing, which allowed them to track the transfer of these microorganisms." You hummed in agreement, satisfied with his answer. You kissed his cheek then his lately neglected lips.

"So smart, baby." You cooed at his state, both cheeks and ears flushed pink. Spencer was a smart boy, and everyone knew that, so seeing him so flustered after you called him smart even though it's a daily occurrence made you laugh a bit, and try to push your limits.

"These glasses suit you, y'know?" You mumbled against his ear, tracing your fingers around the frame of the glasses. "Do they?" He questioned you, doubt clear in his voice.

"Mhm, they make you look so pretty Spence," You paused. "and smart." His breath hitched, fingers curling into the hem of your shirt tight.

"Due to historical links with scholarly pursuits, media portrayals of academic characters wearing them, and a cognitive shortcut where the "smart" look triggers assumptions of smarts, seriousness, and competence." He told you, thumbs now tracing the curve of your hip.

"Smarty," You whispered just loud enough so he could hear you, and the effect was well— evident from where you were sat.

[heavenlybodies333]

Viagra, really? -S.R

Spencer Reid x coworker!reader

All you'd wanted was to satisfy a dumb curiosity—whether or not Viagra had an effect on women. It wasn’t like you were going to pop a whole pill and throw yourself at the next human being in sight. It was just a fun, stupid experiment for a boring Wednesday afternoon. You’d split the dose in half, dropped one into each of two steaming cups of black coffee—one for you, one for JJ—and left them on your desk while you stepped away to make Dr. Spencer Fucking Reid his usual. Like you did everyday.

The man had a freakish internal clock—he always took his second coffee at exactly 3:17 PM. You were the one who usually made it for him, and this time, that was your downfall. You had left your desk to go make his usual cup, completely forgetting you’d left the two tainted ones sitting there.

When you walked back in, everything went to hell. JJ looked chipper, a little pink in the cheeks, sipping from one of the cups. Spencer was holding the other spiked one. You stared at the third cup in your hand, the safe, non-Viagra-laced cup you’d made specifically for him, and your stomach dropped.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

He noticed you staring, eyes narrowing behind those glasses.“What?”

“Nothing!” you blurted, voice too high, too guilty. “Just—coffee. You know. Love it. Can’t live without it.” JJ gave you a sidelong glance over her cup, one eyebrow rising looking over at Reid, who of course, had already half-finished the drink.

Fifteen minutes later, he shifted in his seat. Twenty minutes in, he tugged at his tie. Cleared his throat. His cheeks were flushed. You didn’t want to believe it was happening, but it was.

The Viagra was definitely working.

At twenty-five minutes, Spencer Reid stopped typing mid-sentence. His hands froze over the keyboard. His brows knitted in concentration, he glanced at you. His expression unreadable. Then he stood abruptly. His chair rolled back. His hand pressed low to his stomach—almost reflexively—and he muttered, “I need to step out.”

You blinked. “What?” But he didn’t answer. He was already halfway to the hallway bathroom. You turned slowly to JJ. She looked back at you. Eyes wide. “Did he just—?”

“He drank yours,” you hissed. JJ nearly choked. “Then who—?”

“I have his.” You looked at the untouched cup beside you. “You took mine. He took yours.” JJ snorted so hard she had to cover her mouth. “Oh my God.”

“This isn’t funny!” you whisper-yelled.

“I can’t believe you accidentally drugged Reid!”

“I didn’t drug him! I—okay, technically, yes, I—” You groaned. “JJ. I gave Spence a goddamn boner pill.” You dropped your face into your hands.

It took him thirty-six minutes to come back. And when he did? You knew immediately. Because he knew. His eyes landed on you with laser precision. He didn’t speak, not at first. He just walked—calmly, slowly—over to your desk. You looked up, throat dry.

“You wanna tell me,” he said angrily hushed, “why I just spent half an hour in the men’s room trying to hide a completely inexplicable erection?”

You stared at him before looking around for JJ to be your saving grace, of course that bitch was nowhere to be found. “Spencer, I can explain—”

“Can you?” His voice was low, sharp. “Because the only logical explanation is that someone laced my coffee with sildenafil citrate.”

You winced. “We were just—curious. JJ and I.”

His jaw ticked. “We?”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to—” You fumbled. “It was for JJ and me! I made two cups, left them on my desk, and then went to get your usual—”

“And you didn’t think to label them?” His voice cracked at the end, furious and scandalized. “You didn’t think to mention the presence of a powerful vasodilator in the office kitchen?”

“Okay, you’re being dramatic.”

“I am hard in trousers I can’t stand up in.”

You bit your bottom lip. “Oh my God, Spencer—”

“Don’t use that tone—like I’m the one in the wrong here.”

You were fighting a laugh. He looked so mad, and so flushed, and so painfully, obviously turned on.

His slacks betrayed him completely. The sharp cut of his jacket couldn’t hide the tension in his body, couldn’t cover the way he shifted, subtle and controlled, like every move was an effort not to feel too much.

“Are you seriously mad at me?” you asked, voice low, eyes darting around.

He leaned in, his mouth near your ear. “I’m hard,” he whispered, “and I’ve been hard for forty-five minutes. You drugged me. You think this is funny?”

You swallowed. “No.” But your voice said otherwise.

“It’s not funny,” you said, grinning. “It’s just—”

“What?” His voice dropped. “It’s what?” He just sat there, visibly hard, visibly panicking, eyes darting toward his lap like his own body was betraying him in real time.

“Reid,” you whispered, “do you want me to take you somewhere private?”

“I—uh—what? No. I mean, yes, I just—” He exhaled sharply and pressed the heels of his palms into his thighs, like that would help the situation. “This is not... I don’t normally feel like this. Not around you. I mean, not because of you. Not—not that I don’t find you attractive, because you’re very attractive, obviously. It’s just—I wasn’t prepared for this. You dosed me.”

You tried not to laugh. “I didn’t dose you, I made a coffee laced with a questionable pharmaceutical as a joke for JJ, and you drank it.”

His eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t make it better.”

“No,” you agreed, biting your lip. “But it does make it kind of hot.”

He gawked. “Hot?”

You leaned in, your voice hushed. “You. Like this. All flustered and mad and trying really hard to pretend you're not turned on in front of me.”

He made a wounded, embarrassed sound and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh my god. You’re enjoying this.”

You tilted your head. “A little.”

“I could report you to HR,” he muttered, though it had no real bite. His cheeks were flushed, jaw tight with discomfort and... something else. He refused to meet your eyes.

“And what would you say?” you teased gently. “‘She accidentally gave me a hard-on in the middle of the bullpen and then looked too hot about it?’”

He groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You’re the worst.” you noticed he didn’t move away when you inched a little closer, nor did he stop you when you rested your hand lightly on his knee.

He looked down at it. Then up at you. And his voice cracked a little when he asked, “What... are you doing?”

You smiled. “Making it up to you.”

“You can’t just—just seduce your way out of this,” he stammered. “This is medical. Physiological. I—I’m experiencing venous occlusion and—and increased nitric oxide—”

“God, even flustered, you’re the most ridiculously hot person I’ve ever met,” you muttered, half to yourself.

He stared at you, lips parted. “Are you serious right now?”

You nodded, still smiling. “Dead serious.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Spence,” you said softly. “Just come with me. Somewhere private. I’ll take care of it.”

He hesitated. Eyes searching yours like he was weighing every possible outcome. Then he stood suddenly, stiffly, clearly trying to adjust himself without making it worse.

He stared at you. Then he looked toward Hotch’s office. Empty. Toward the hallway. Quiet. Back at you.

He grabbed your wrist. You barely had time to register it. He pulled you down the hallway, fast and quiet, past the copier, past the tech room, past the old conference wing. His grip was hot and firm around your wrist

You knew where he was going before you saw the door: Storage 4C – Surplus Tech.

Dead zone. No cameras. Half the time even Garcia forgot it existed. He pulled you in. Shut the door. Locked it. Watching him pace in a tight circle, he looked like he might combust.

“This is insane,” he said. “I’ve got dopamine overload, I can’t think straight, my pants—” He gestured wildly toward his zipper. “I can’t even sit down like this.”

You took a slow step toward him. “Then don’t sit down.” He opened his mouth—probably to ask what the hell you meant—but before he could speak, you dropped to your knees.

“Wh—what are you—” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, sharp and panicked.

You looked up through your lashes, palms dragging slowly up the backs of his thighs. “You said you didn’t know what to do, right? So let me.” You reached up to undo his belt, watching the muscles in his stomach tighten beneath the fabric of his shirt.

“You don’t have to—” he choked out.

“I want to,” you said simply.

He made a soft, moan when you freed him from the confines of his slacks—thick and flushed, already straining with pressure. The tip was leaking, glistening, and you could tell just how sensitive he was by the way his thighs trembled the second your breath ghosted over his skin.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Oh my god.” You wrapped your fingers around the base and leaned in, licking a slow, teasing stripe up the underside of his cock. His whole body jolted.

One hand shot out instinctively and tangled in your hair, the other hovered helplessly in the air like he didn’t know what to do with himself. His head tipped back against the wall, breath ragged.

“Y-you’re gonna kill me,” he whispered.

You smiled around him as you took him into your mouth, slowly, letting him feel the heat, the suction, the way your tongue curled just right. He gasped—a sharp, disbelieving sound—and his hips jerked forward before he forced himself back, muttering a frantic, “Sorry—sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You moaned around him in response, letting him know you liked it, and the sound dragged another whimper out of him.

He looked down at you, his face flushed, his lips parted, his expression somewhere between awe and desperation. His fingers tightened in your hair again when you took him deeper, your throat relaxing around him.

“God, you’re—” He cut off with a moan, teeth digging into his lower lip. “You feel... fuck, you feel so good.”

You bobbed your head slowly, deliberately, watching him unravel. He was panting now, trying and failing to keep it together. His knees buckled slightly and his grip in your hair more needy.

“I’m—I can’t—” he stammered, trying to pull you back gently. “You—you have to stop or I’m gonna—”

You hummed low in your throat, and that was it. His cock twitched in your mouth as he came. you sucked harder, mouth still wrapped around him, swallowing everything, hands steady on his hips while he sagged against the wall,

You let him go with one last slow drag of your tongue, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand like it was just another Tuesday.

His eyes were still closed when you stood. Like he couldn’t quite process as you leaned in close, your voice a whisper at his ear, “I said I’d fix it,” you murmured, “consider us even.” And then you turned and walked out—leaving him dazed, pants half-open, jaw slack, completely wrecked in the supply closet of the BAU.

No shame. Just the soft sound of your boots against the tile, echoing back to him

Spencer Reid didn’t move for a full five minutes. And when he finally did, all he could say was: “…Holy shit.”

a/n: omfg it’s confirmed Matthew is coming back for season 18 of criminal minds im losing my shit

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[thelostmagicians]

Two Teas and a Coffee | Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer’s changed, but JJ hasn’t realized it or the aftermath of JJ’s confession and how it should’ve gone [3.3k]

Warnings: Fluff, Spencer being in love with you, angst

♡

JJ never saw it coming.  

Not at first.  

She had seen every version of Spencer Reid—the awkward genius, the baby profiler, the grieving man who had lost so much. She had seen him at his highest and his lowest, and through it all, she had always thought she knew him better than anyone else. 

So when you entered the picture, she didn’t think much of it.  

You were fresh meat, eager to prove yourself, and naturally, you gravitated toward Spencer. Everyone did, at first. His mind was a magnet for curiosity. He was brilliant, fascinating, full of facts that would bore most people into the ground  

But you weren’t most people.  

JJ noticed that much early on—how you never seemed annoyed by Spencer’s ramblings, how you never cut him off or rolled your eyes the way some of them did when he rambled on for too long. You actually listened. You asked questions. You encouraged him.  

At the time, JJ thought you were just kind. She appreciated it, really. Spencer had been lonely since Morgan left, and he needed someone. She assumed that was all you were—someone filling a space, a way to keep him from retreating back inside himself the way he had after Maeve.  

She didn’t realize it was anything more.  

Not when Spencer began seeing more of you outside work.

Not when you were the first person he asked for after a case. 

Not even when he hugged you a little too tightly after a tough day.  

—

She convinced herself it was just a close friendship. 

And then prison happened.  

JJ had cried in response to the verdict, but you were broken.  

She found you in the hall after they carried Spencer away. You were propping yourself against the wall, eyes on the floor, hands trembling at your sides. When she called your name, you didn’t look up at first. 

"You okay?" JJ asked, echoing her question to Spencer from the night before.

You let out a short, humorless laugh. "No." “He didn’t deserve this,” you croaked, voice heavy with emotion.

“I know,” she said.  

“He—” You took a deep, shuddering breath. “He’s not going to be okay in there.”  

She stood beside you. "He’s strong. He’ll get through this."

You shook your head. "You don’t get it, JJ." Your voice cracked. "I can’t lose him."

JJ didn’t understand. Not then. She had always been protective of Spencer, but the way you said it was different. It wasn’t just concern—it was something deeper, something raw. And for the first time, she wondered just how much Spencer meant to you.

—

Then he got out.  

And the first person he hugged was you.

JJ had been right there, had reached for him instinctively, but before she could even take a step, Spencer had gone straight to you.  

He buried his face in your shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around you, like he needed to feel you to believe this was real. And you—God, the way you held him, whispering reassurances, grounding him—JJ had never seen anything like it.  

That should have been her first clue.  

But it wasn’t.  

Not until she told him she loved him.  

The moment the words escaped her lips, she saw the way his whole body froze. He didn’t look at her the way she had hoped, the way people do in movies when they realize they’ve been in love all along.  

He looked shocked.

And maybe—just maybe— a little disappointed. 

After they were rescued, after the chaos, after everything settled. He had gone straight to you. He didn’t come to her. Not to ask how she was doing. Not to talk about the confession. Not to do anything.

That, more than anything, sent a burning, ugly rage surging through her.  

Then, not long after, she saw him kiss you.

Before she could look away, his hands were on your face, and he was kissing you like he had been waiting his whole life to do it.  

JJ felt something crack inside her.  

It wasn’t just the kiss. It was the way he kissed you—the certainty, the desperation, like he couldn’t bear to go another second without showing you how he felt.  

She had never seen Spencer like that before.  

Not with Maeve.  

Not with anyone.  

—

So when Spencer finally came to find her, she was already bracing for a fight.  

"You shouldn’t have told me, it wasn’t fair" he told her the second he walked into the BAU’s empty break room, his voice strained with tension.  

JJ blinked, caught off guard by the directness. "What?”  

"You shouldn’t have told me you loved me," he said again, firmer this time. "It was selfish, JJ."  

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, so now it’s selfish to tell someone how you feel?"  

"Yes!" Spencer snapped, stepping closer, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite name. "Because I didn’t need to know that. You didn’t need to say it. What did you think was going to happen? That I’d just—what? Drop everything? That I’d throw myself at you?"  

JJ flinched. "Spence—"  

"You don’t get to do that," he cut her off, a sharp edge to his voice. "I’m not your backup plan, JJ."  

"That’s not what this is about!" she shot back, feeling the heat rise in her chest.  

"Then what is it about?" Spencer demanded. "Because as far as I can tell, you dropped this confession on me after years of nothing, when I finally found someone who makes me happy. And now—now what? I’m supposed to apologize? I’m supposed to feel guilty?"  

JJ exhaled sharply, her fingernails digging into her arms. "I didn’t know I was going to say it, Spencer. I didn’t plan for this, I didn’t—”. "I don’t know what I expected!” She yelled, tears of frustration stinging her eyes. "But I didn’t expect you to just—just disregard my feelings like this! I didn’t expect you to move on so fast!”  

"Fast?" Spencer laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Fast? JJ, I have spent years thinking I wasn’t good enough for anyone. I have spent years being alone, thinking no one could ever love me the way I wanted to be loved. And now, when I finally have someone who does, you think I should just—what? Erase that? Drop everything? Forget that you have a husband and a family? To wait for you?"

JJ swallowed hard, the words hitting her like a blow.  

"You never even gave me a chance to begin with," Spencer said, his voice soft, but still fierce. "And maybe, maybe there was a time where I would have jumped at this—where I would have given anything to hear you say you loved me." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "But that time has passed, JJ. And you—you need to be happy for me. The way I’m happy for you and Will."  

JJ felt something in her snap.  

"You’re choosing her over me," she accused, her voice breaking.  

Spencer’s face twisted with something like disappointment. "JJ—"  

"You are!” she insisted. "I’ve known you longer than she has, Spencer! I’ve been there for you! I’ve seen you at your worst—"  

"And yet you never saw me at all."  

The words stopped her cold.  

"You may have known me longer," Spencer said, his voice quiet, more raw. "But you never really knew me. You never cared to understand me."  

JJ opened her mouth, but nothing came out.  

Because she knew, in that moment, that he was right.  

—

JJ didn’t go straight home after the argument.

She sat in her car for a while, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white, Spencer’s words repeating over and over in her mind.

"You may have known me longer, but you never really knew me. You never cared to understand me."

She had never seen him that angry before.

JJ wasn’t even sure what she had been expecting when she confessed to him, but it wasn’t that. Not the sharp edge in his voice, the sheer finality in the way he spoke. Like whatever bridge that had once existed between them was now burned to ash.

Eventually, she made herself drive home, even though she didn’t feel ready to face her family.

But the moment she stepped inside, Henry sprinted into her arms, and Michael wasn’t far behind, chattering excitedly about something he had done that day.

JJ swallowed the lump in her throat and crouched down, hugging them both tightly.

Will was in the kitchen, finishing up dinner, glancing over his shoulder with that easy smile of his. "Hey, babe. I heard from Emily, Are you okay? Did you get checked out?"

JJ hesitated. Then she nodded. "Yeah, just feel like shit."

Will didn’t press. He just wiped his hands and walked over, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Go sit, I got everything."

She watched him as he moved through the kitchen, effortlessly balancing cooking and keeping an eye on the boys. He had always been like that—steady, reliable, taking care of things before she even needed to ask.

She had never doubted Will’s love for her. That he would always put her and their family first.

And she had always wanted that for Spencer, too. She wanted him to be happy, to find someone who would love him the way he deserved.

On the drive home she tried to convince herself that’s all this was. That she was just watching out for him. Making sure he didn’t get hurt again.

But now, standing in her warm, bustling home, with Will taking care of dinner and the boys playing at her feet, she felt something ugly crawl up her spine.

Because Spencer finally had a chance at happiness- happiness with someone else, someone that wasn’t her.

And she was jealous.

She thought about how Spencer had gone straight to you after his release. The way he held you. The way he kissed you. The way he chose you.

Did he take care of you the way Will took care of her?

When you had a bad day, did Spencer know exactly how to comfort you? Did he cook for you? Hold you? Brush your hair out of your face, without a second thought, the way Will did for her?

If she and Spencer had gotten together—if she had realized her feelings sooner—what would they be doing right now? Would Spencer be standing in the kitchen, making dinner, smiling at her like she was his whole world?

JJ clenched her fists.

She had no right to feel this way.

She had a family. A husband who loved her. She had made her choices, and she had never regretted them.

So why did it feel like she lost something?

Why was there an ache inside her she couldn’t quite name?

Maybe because, for the first time, she was coming to terms with the fact that she and Spencer were never going to happen.

And it was her fault.

—

JJ tried not to let it get to her.

She and Spencer had years of friendship between them. A bond that couldn’t be broken so easily.

One night—one argument—didn’t change that.

And yet, things between them hadn’t been the same since.

There was an awkwardness now, something heavy that settled between them in the quiet moments. It wasn’t that Spencer was avoiding her—if anything, he was trying. She could see it in the way he made an effort to talk to her, the way he still offered her those random tidbits of information he knew she’d find interesting, the way he searched for cracks in the wall she had built.

But JJ wasn’t sure if she wanted to let him back in.

Because every time she looked at him, she remembered the fight. His words, sharp and unforgiving. The way he had looked at her—not like a friend, not like someone he trusted, but like someone who had failed him.

She knew Spencer well enough to know he wasn’t trying to hurt her. But that didn’t change the fact that she still felt angry. 

At him.

At you.

You, who knew nothing of the past—who had no idea about her history with Spencer or the complicated web of feelings she had buried so long ago that she convinced herself they didn’t matter.

And yet, she couldn’t escape you.

You were everywhere.

Weeks had passed since that night. Since Spencer’s words cut deeper than she cared to admit.

The way Spencer gravitated toward you in the bullpen, how he always seemed to position himself near you, even when there was plenty of space elsewhere. The way he looked at you—soft and unguarded, as if you were something precious and rare.

She realized, with a strange sort of ache, that she had never seen him look at anyone like that before.

And it wasn’t just him.

You never seemed exasperated when Spencer launched into one of his long-winded rants, the kind that had even the most patient members of the team zoning out. Instead, you listened intently, nodding along, asking questions, actually absorbing the information.

JJ had spent years learning how to keep up with Spencer, but you? You made it look effortless.

Then there were the subtler things, the things that spoke volumes even in the silence.

Spencer had always been fidgety, his mind moving a mile a minute, his body following suit—bouncing his knee, tapping his fingers, shifting from foot to foot. But she noticed now that whenever his leg started bouncing under the table, all it took was the briefest touch from you—a gentle hand on his arm, a slight brush of your fingers—and he immediately stilled, his entire body relaxing.

JJ wasn’t sure if you even realized you did it.

But Spencer did.

And he let you.

He wasn’t a huge fan of pda, at least not in front of the team. But lately, it seemed like the distance between you two had disappeared. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but he seemed to be doing little things—things she would have never imagined him doing with anyone else.

She noticed it now: the way his fingers casually brushed against yours when you passed him a file, the way he gave you a soft smile when you caught his eye, the way he kept looking at you like you were the only person in the room.

And the others had noticed, too.

Luke had raised an eyebrow when Spencer absentmindedly reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Emily had smirked when Spencer leaned down to whisper something in your ear and you laughed, nudging him with your elbow. Even Rossi had made a passing remark about how Spencer seemed different lately, more at ease.

But what struck JJ the most was the way you and Spencer seemed to exist in your own little world, oblivious to how obvious it all was.

It was frustrating, the way she kept catching herself looking for something—some proof that she still knew Spencer better than anyone else. That he wasn’t really different, that you weren’t the only one who saw him.

She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Maybe she was just trying to remind herself that she still knew Spencer, that there was still some part of him that was hers—even if it wasn’t in the way she had once imagined, but in the way that came from years of friendship, of understanding each other in ways no one else did.

But it was getting harder to fool herself of that.

Because the way Spencer was with you… it was different.

JJ had spent years convincing herself that she and Spencer had a connection that no one else could touch. But now, she was starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, she had been wrong.

And the worst part?

She wasn’t sure what to do about it.

—

The three of you were stationed at a table, going through case files late into the evening. JJ had barely said a word to Spencer that didn’t pertain to the case, and she knew he noticed.

“Do you want something to drink?” Spencer asked after a while, his voice tentative, another olive branch extended her way. “Coffee? Water?”

JJ glanced up at him, her expression unreadable. He was trying, she knew that. But it still didn’t sit right with her—the way he was acting like things were fine, like they could just slot back into place without addressing the damage that had been done.

Before she could answer, you spoke up.

“I’ll get it, Spence,” you said, shaking your head lightly as you stood. “I need to stretch my legs anyway. Both of you relax for once and stop thinking about the case, at least until I’m back.”

Spencer hesitated, but at the slight nudge of your hand against his arm, he gave in, slumping back into his chair.

JJ watched the exchange in silence.

It was so easy for you, the way you just knew what he needed before he even did.

The awkwardness was palpable, even as you walked back into the room, three cups in hand. The atmosphere between her and Spencer had been tense, but now, it was like everything had shifted.

You placed a cup of coffee in front of JJ, a cup of tea in front of yourself, and a cup of tea in front of Spencer, your movements careful, but sluggish from the lack of sleep.

“Two teas and a coffee,” you said lightly, your back to them as you made your way over to the board, eyes scanning the case notes.

JJ blinked, her gaze drifting from Spencer to you, then to Spencer again.

“You don’t drink coffee anymore?” she asked, trying to sound neutral.

Spencer shifted in his seat, his posture suddenly stiff. “Not really.”

JJ swallowed. “Since when?”

Spencer didn’t look at her immediately. Instead, his gaze was on you, the familiar soft smile that had been reserved for so few people now spreading across his face. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he shrugged, a subtle but unmistakable affection in his posture.

“I don’t know. A while, I guess,” he answered simply, his voice low and easy.

JJ’s stomach twisted in a way she couldn’t quite explain. She’d seen it—the way Spencer looked at you, the way he sounded when he spoke to you. He was different now, and the realization hit JJ hard.

She hadn’t been paying attention. She hadn’t been listening, hadn’t truly seen what had been right in front of her.

And suddenly, it felt like the weight of her frustration—the anger that had been building for weeks—was slipping away. Maybe, just maybe, she had been looking at the situation all wrong.

JJ looked at Spencer for a long moment, realizing just how wrong she’d been. She had let her own bitterness and hurt cloud her judgment, had let the past define their friendship, when what really mattered was the present. And she wanted to fix that.

With a deep breath, she smiled at Spencer, the tension in her shoulders easing.

She stood up, walking over to where you were standing at the board. You looked up briefly as she approached, and JJ could see the soft warmth in your eyes.

“I was thinking about the timeline,” JJ began, standing beside you now, glancing at the board, eager to refocus on the task at hand.

You nodded. “Yeah, the key thing is we need to tie everything together—look for patterns in the victim’s movements.”

As JJ stood there, side by side with you, she knew now that Spencer was right. And as she watched you both—watched you understand him, steady him, love him—she realized something painful. There had never been a chance for her. Not really. Not since you walked into his life. Maybe, if you had never entered the picture, there would have been a future for her and Spencer. But that’s all he was to her now.

Her biggest what if.

And you?

You were his always.