Love Bites & Apologies

hey so I'm actually so in love with this and the way Spencer is written in this is so perfect and accurate to his character and I'm gonna go feral bc it was so sappy and sweet and made me so happy and rhgrogrjgjr just go read it rn

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

Jasper Hale and gn! reader they're looking around the stream and they see some Quartzite and reader gets excited (it's their fav.. rock)

typically its found in the mountians

a/n: This was so fun to write! This was actually my first request, so I'm glad to get to write it. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!!

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i could listen to you forever

gn!reader x jasper hale (fluff)

words: 535

summary: you find your favorite rock along the river's edge, and Jasper can't help but listen to you ramble.

“Jasper,” you whisper shout to him. Your eyes are only partially open, but you still see something shining in the sunlight towards the bed of the stream. “Jas,” you urge again, this time shaking his shoulder. You aren’t sure why either of you decided it’d be a good idea to rest here, out in the forest, but it’s been some of the best sleep you’ve ever gotten. 

“What is it love bug?” Jasper asks in a soft, sleepy voice. Vampires can’t sleep, but sometimes he gets so relaxed with you that he feels like he could. You yawn, stretching your back, and stand up. One second you’re looking at Jasper resting against a rock, eyes barely open and strands of blonde hair in his face, the next second he’s stood next to you with wide eyes. His vampire speed might be something you never get used to.

“I see something shining over there,” you say excitedly. You absolutely loved all things rocks and crystals, and Jasper knew that well. 

“Well, let’s go look and see what it is, Sugar,” Jasper tells you with a smile. He loves to see you get excited over what you care about, and you love when he calls you those sweet nicknames. The two of you quickly make your way over to the river's age. The sun is hitting just right, and Jasper begins to sparkle just as much as the rock in his hands.

“Is that what I think it is?” you ask him happily. You watch as he rubs his thumb over it, and then holds it up to the light. 

“Why yes, I do believe so,” he says with a smirk, leaning in closer to you. You laugh and gently kiss him. He places the rock in your hand and you begin to exam in it.

“Did you know this is my favorite?” 

“I think you’ve mentioned it,” he says with a smile, “maybe I’ll get it made into a ring for you.” You laugh at his comments, but deep down you know that sounds amazing. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“Haven’t I already told you about it?” you ask genuinely. You could talk about this sort of stuff forever, but you don’t because you don’t want to annoy Jasper.

“You have told me about it, but I wanna hear it again,” he tells you as he grabs you by the waist and kisses the top of your head.

“It’s Quartzite, typically found in the mountains. It’s a metamorphic rock, meaning it’s formed by being subjected to high heat and pressure, that’s made from quartz rich sandstone. Sometimes it’s used to make kitchen countertops.” 

“You sure do know your stuff, sweetheart,” he says with a smile. His southern accent is more prominent then ever when he’s calling you his sweetheart. 

“You don’t mind when I ramble?”

“Darlin’, I could listen to you talk about rocks for the rest of my life, which I’d like to point out is the rest of forever.” He kisses you on the top of the head again and holds you close.

“Well, I guess you’ll be learning a lot about rocks,” you joke.

“I can’t wait,” he says, syrupy sweet. 

Are you currently taking request for jasper ?

Yeah of course! I’m currently working on two other writings for other requests, but I expect I’ll have them finished soon, so please request more! I’ll honestly take requests for most twilight characters lol

playful in potions

gn!reader x cedric diggory

words: 503

summary: y/n gets overwhelmed in potions class, but Ced is there to save the day (and ask y/n out).

“Why must Snape assign the most tedious work?” I mumble to myself as I stir my potion counter-clockwise, which would be fine, but I’m not sure if I’ve stirred seven or eight times. My inability to stay focused while brewing potions might be why my potions OWL was…subpar.

“Hey, do you need help?” I’d recognize the soft velvety voice that’s asking anywhere. Cedric Diggory. The guy that every girl in this school is fawning over. The worst part of it is that I can’t even blame them. He’s gorgeous, compassionate, and benevolent. Anyone would want him.

“Yeah, some help would be great,” I admit my defeat as I watch him continue mixing the potion. He adds in something leafy and green that I couldn’t even begin to name. As he stirs the potion, I watch the soft veins in his hands emerge. His sleeves are rolled up, and my eyes trail up his exposed forearms, and slowly to his chest. It’s strong, and I wouldn’t mind laying my head on it while I listen to his heartbeat. We’re shoulder to shoulder as we (really just him) fix the potion, but I don’t mind being so close. I’m admiring his honey hair when he turns to me.

“That should fix it,” he shoots me a gleaming smile while leaning into my ear, “as long as you follow the instructions this time,” he says with a playful whisper. I feel the hairs on my neck raise at the sensation of his breath on my jaw.

“Thank you so much, Ced,” I say the words with a sigh of relief for my grade as he pulls away from me.

“Sorry, what’d you just call me?” His smile drops as he raises one of his eyebrows. I can smell the cologne radiating off his soft skin, but I can’t focus on that as I panic at the realization I called him Ced instead of Cedric.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you didn’t like being called that.”

“I like whatever you want to call me,” he says with a grin. It's the same shimmering smile that has every girl at Hogwarts falling for him. The same one I wouldn’t mind getting to see up close again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The words come out flatly because I’m in such shock at his statement. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone flirt with me so obviously.

“It means maybe I could take you out sometime?” I feel every nerve in my body when he says that. He could realistically be asking anyone out, but here he is, standing next to me in potions, with his shoulder pressed against mine, asking if I’ll go out with him.

“You’re really asking me out in potions class?”

“Would you prefer I wait till Charms?” He smirks, and I can’t help but dissolve into laughter with him.

“Not at all,” I pause as we take a moment just to smile at each other, “I’d love to go out with you Cedric.”

“not all men” you’re right, spencer reid would never

clothing swap

oliver wood x gn!reader

words: 538

summary: Oliver didn’t expect for someone to see him shirtless on the train, but that’s what happens after he spills his pumpkin juice all over y/n.

“Jesus Christ, did you just spill coffee on me?” Your voice jumps up as you feel the hot liquid seeping through your shirt. This is certainly not how you wanted your train ride back to Hogwarts to go.

“Well, it’s actually hot pumpkin juice.” At the sound of his rich Scottish accent, you look up to see a brunette with luminous brown eyes looking down at you. He has a small smirk, which doesn’t surprise you when you look down to see he’s wearing a Gryffindor quidditch sweater.

“You’re kidding me.”

“I am not.”

“Well, all my other clothes are in my trunk, so I guess I’m wearing this through dinner,” the words come out with an exasperated sigh as you push your head back.

“You can borrow my jumper.” He begins to lift his shirt, slowly revealing his toned body, clearly sculpted by hours of quidditch practice.

“Woah! You can keep your clothes on.” He smiles down at you and offers out his hand. With a hint of confusion, you accept, and he lifts you up effortlessly, which is another thing that would surprise you if it weren’t for his quidditch sweater. He quickly leads you out of your train car and towards the bathrooms.

“Where are you taking me?” He doesn’t answer your question, and instead opens the door to the bathroom. The door is somewhat jammed, and he has to lift the handle, but he clearly already knows this, and he opens it with ease. He motions for you to step into the bathroom and locks the door behind you.

“Here,” he says, his Scottish accent still enticing you, as he quickly throws off his sweater and passes it to you. You stare at him blankly, trying not to look directly at his toned body, but you can’t help yourself.

“Do you need me to leave?” He asks with a smirk, making you need a moment to compose yourself.

“No, this is fine,” you say hesitantly before slipping off your shirt, unsure of what to do with it. When you look at Oliver, his face is slightly flushed, and he’s staring right at your exposed body. He quickly clears his throat and makes eye contact with you as he grabs the shirt out of your hand.

“Wait, I’m not sure we’re the same size,” you say awkwardly as he starts to put the shirt on.

“We’re wizards. We’ve got magic to fix those kinds of issues,” he says with a small chuckle as he finishes dressing himself in your clothes. “So, are you going to continue to stand in front of me naked, or are you going to put my shirt on?”

“Oh, sorry,” you say flusteredly before quickly shoving on his shirt. He laughs softly before taking a step closer to you, his face just inches away from yours.

“I’m Wood. Oliver Wood. If you’d ever like to stand in front of me naked again, then write me an owl,” he says in a low playful voice that accentuates all the sexiness in his voice. His hot breath felt good on your neck, and you consider if you might need more time in this bathroom as he quickly unlocks the door and steps out.

the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

''what if my writing isn't good eno--'' what if it's a reflection of your of your soul. what if it has a place in this world. what if you write it anyway

This video made me realize I’m more of a freak than I thought….Spencer Reid my life is yours

these clips made me so wild i had to stop editing and take a smut break

about the writer:

18. they/them. bi. fanfic writer. multifandom. history kid (for shame). remus lupin kin. jasper hale obsessed. probably drooling over spencer reid rn. all fics in my catalog.

catalog

requests: open (especially for Jasper Hale and Spencer Reid)