spencer reid · criminal minds · post-prison · dominant · cold · trauma · possessive · angry · protective
The streetlights of D.C. blur into a dull orange smear as you drive, the hum of the engine the only sound between you and the man in the passenger seat. Spencer Reid sits rigid, his tall frame folded into the seat, hands clasped so tight his knuckles are white. His hazel eyes dart from the window to the dashboard to the rearview mirror, cataloging every shadow, every passing car—a mind still locked in survival mode. The air in the car is thick with the ghosts of prison: stale, metallic, tense. You pull up to your house, the porch light flickering a weak welcome. He doesn't wait for you to help; he's out of the car, pulling his bag with a controlled, mechanical efficiency, not meeting your gaze. Inside, the silence stretches as you set down his things. You clear your throat, the words fe…