crazychaoticizzy
IZZY
20s | she/her | Latina | INTP | Scorpio
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Lip Gloss - S.R
a/n: wow this is really short and i feel like i overuse the lip gloss shtick but
masterlist
‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧
pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader
summary: in which spencer really likes your sparkly lip gloss
warnings: none? fluff
wc: 0.5k
Pink. Sparkles. Lip gloss. Those were the only thoughts running through Spencer's mind as he walked into the break room. Which this was a surprise to him because usually his mind was running a mile a minute--mathematical equations, book references, and case theories. But when you were near that was all reduced to a heaping pile of nothing. Especially now, as you leaned casually against the counter, in pink pumps and matching skirt that definitely wasn't up to the dress code, but he wasn't sure if you cared.
Cradled between your hands was a white mug, its side inscribed with the words 'Britney survived 2007. You can handle today' in stark black letters. He had no idea what it meant, but he noticed it was your favorite, a staple in your daily routine, unless it found its way to the top self, an inconvenience Spencer would subtly always rectify when he went to pour his own cup.
The focal point of his attention, however, was your lips, more precisely, the sheer layer of shimmering gloss that clung to them. Words were forming on those same lips, presumably directed at him, but they seemed to dissolve before reaching his ears, his gaze transfixed by the glistening movement of your mouth.
"Huh?"
With a smile, you pressed your glittering lips together and took a step in his direction. He managed to clear his throat, trying to redirect his attention to your eyes, but his gaze remained helplessly planted.
"I swear, half my routine is just reapplying this stuff after every sip," you said while your thumb worked diligently to wipe away the sparkling smudge from the mug.
"Considering the non-Newtonian fluid dynamics of the lip gloss's polymeric substances, which exhibit both viscous and elastic properties, it leads to a higher propensity for adhesion and cohesion on substrates with varying thermal coefficients."
Your fingers absentmindedly toyed with your earlobe as you cocked your head, a bemused furrow forming above your eyes, but your smile remained diminished.
"Sorry, that went right over my head," you laughed, nose scrunching in the process. "But it's sweet of you to assume I caught all that."
"Oh, sorry, well, lip gloss is made of oils and waxes that give it that shiny appearance. However, these ingredients don't fully absorb to your skin, so when you press your lips against something, like a hot coffee cup, the excess transfers over."
Heat suffused his face as he registered the unwavering attention you afforded him, as if you were hanging on his every syllable. He sensed your struggle to comprehend, but your effort was evident. He really liked having your attention.
"So, with all that brainpower, do you have any tips for keeping my gloss on my lips instead of my mug?"
"Maybe a straw?"
Your laughter was like music to his ears, filling his senses as your hand, perfectly manicured, lightly touched his arm. A rush of warmth flooded his neck, and he looked at you, momentarily lost for words, as you murmured, "I'll try that out, thanks, Dr. Reid."
"Spencer," he corrects.
"Right, well, thank you, Spencer," you said, standing on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, before twirling on your heels, your smile lingering in the air.
Spencer could feel the stickiness on his skin, his fingers pressing against the spot you had left, feet glued to the ground. He starting to think he really likes lip gloss.
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Imagine some sweet banter with Sanji in the kitchen…
“You want to take this outside?” Patty frowned, slightly bothered by Sanji’s laid back attitude after slowing the line.
“Are you asking me to dance because I kind of had my eye on that blonde at Table 8?” Sanji smirked as he walked down the aisle, slipping the tweezers into his apron.
Thriving on the buzz of the kitchen rush, you manoeuvred around Patty with a tray of desserts in your hand with a spin and landed in stride with Sanji in the aisle.
“It’s adorable that you think you have a chance with her, Sanji.” You teased and glanced back at Patty speaking a little louder so he could hear. “I’m certain that Miss Table 8 prefers men with coloured hair.”
The cooks chuckled and nudged Patty with cheers of encouragement. He may have been a little gruff on the edges but you grew to break down his walls just enough to brighten up his day.
Returning to the task at hand, you moved aside a bowl of frosting and set the tray down as Sanji did the same.
As the two of you fell into the usual groove, he leaned in a little.
“Feeling a tad bit jealous there?” The cook smirked.
You quirked a brow and dipped your finger in the icing bowl that you had experimented with earlier that day (only for Zeff to throw a fit about it).
“Oh Sanji, if only there was something to be jealous of.” You pressed the decadent cream onto the tip of his nose and smiled at your artistic work.
Stepping back with a laugh, Sanji wiped your attack off and admit his defeat. He needed to be careful otherwise his heart would physically jump into his eyes.
Your eyes caught the beautifully constructed fish on the plate and pat his shoulder. “Zeff’s going to throw you into the East Blue if he sees that.” You warned.
Sanji pressed his hands over his heart, his brows knit together curiously. “Are you offering to resuscitate me?”
You held your gaze but as the weight of his words settled into your mind, your eyes briefly flickered to his lips. If you kissed him, you’d need resuscitation immediately after.
Shaking your head at his antics, you smiled and made your way back to your station. Perhaps you could calm your racing heart when there was a sea of people blocking the blonde from your view.
It was better not to reply and let him win this playful round.
Despite being in a kitchen, there was something different brewing between the two of you.
Proud of himself when you folded, Sanji began his return to his chopping boards when the kitchen doors opened and Zeff called him back almost immediately. Upon returning to the table, Sanji explained his pride and joy of the evening.
His True Bluefin Sauté.
“The day the Baratie serves something like that is the day hell freezes over.” Zeff snapped and the clatter of plates told you that he had binned the dish.
Oh boy… You took in a deep breath while trying not to be so distracted by the duo. Twenty seconds of background shouting later, your timer went off and you swapped pastry trays filling the kitchen with the sweet smell of sticky date pudding.
Zeff snapped his fingers at you as you were bringing the latest delicacy over. “Change aprons, you’re my ‘second’ from now on.”
You placed the tray down and called for a server to take the desserts to their respected tables before shaking your head at the owner of the Baratie.
“Zeff, I can’t. I mean, I could but I’m working on the fruit pies. They’re delicate and need-”
“I know, they need your undivided attention. Patty can keep an eye on them. I want you overseeing this kitchen now. No more dual sous-chefs. Seems like the list of people I can trust is growing thinner by the day.” Zeff instructed and looked at Sanji.
“You’re off the line. Now get out there and wait the tables. Go!”
Shoulders tense, Sanji tugged off his apron and threw it on the table. From the way you saw his jaw clench, you knew he was holding back some unsavoury comments. Once the furious cook had changed and left the kitchen, Zeff turned to where you had been watching Sanji and picked up on the sadness in your eyes.
“And you - don’t even think about letting that Little Eggplant pick up so much as a fork in here. Understood?”
You had almost not replied if the man hadn’t snapped his fingers. Focusing back, you realised he was staring at you with a hardened expression
“Yes, chef.” You nodded half-heartedly.
Zeff grunted and then disappeared to another part of the restaurant.
Patty walked by to set a new dish down on the table in front of you and handed you a fresh apron. He also noted the way your posture sank with Sanji’s absence.
“Come on, this kitchen isn’t going to run itself.” He said kindly. "You can see him later."
Masterlist here (for more One Piece)
#i absolutely love this person’s work#it always has such a movie scenario vibe to it if that makes sense
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Imagine having the power of the beast titan and being absolutely terrified of a 5’3” motherf*cker.
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note: the character fics are written for and word count will appear in parenthesis or brackets beside the track title. not all titles of the fics are the same as the song titles.
You Just Didn’t Like Me That Much
Reincarnation
Love of My Life
God and the Government
Right Person, Right Time
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take my breath away
pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: you help spencer train for his fitness exam. he kind of just wants to kiss you.
a/n: some fluff (and something short) after i broke my own heart (and my brain) in my last hotch fic! i’m truly in my criminal minds era. enjoy
wc: 1.3k
warning(s): reader is a runner so im sorry to my unathletic friends. but this is all fluff
“Spence,” you said, unable to bite back your smile, “how are you this bad at running?”
“I’m—” he held up a finger as he caught his breath and shook his head. “I’m not bad at running. My form… is perfect.”
“We barely made it a mile in,” you said, and you chuckled as he keeled over, his hands on his knees. “It can’t be that perfect.”
“It is,” he insisted, on the edge of wheezing. “I’m just unathletic.”
“You never did sports as a kid?”
“I graduated high school at twelve,” Spencer breathed. “I was too busy studying. Reading. Doing anything other than sports.” He looked at you and shook his head. “And I’m not crazy like you.”
Your smile only grew. “You should put your hands over your head. It helps get more air in.”
“That’s actually a rumor.” He shook his head again. “When you raise your arms, muscles that contribute… to the bucket handle movement of your ribs—” He heaved a sigh, his brows furrowing, and again, you held back a smile. You were sure this was one of his only weaknesses. “—they’re not able to function properly.”
“Alright, genius,” you said, mockingly but with love. “Recover however you like. You clearly need it.”
Spencer pouted as he straightened up, his whole face contorted in discomfort. When your boyfriend asked you to help him train for his upcoming fitness test, you didn’t think much of it—you got a full ride through college because of track, and you keep healthy with morning runs, so you were happy to help.
You’d thought about straight up offering a myriad of times—mostly after bearing witness to his attempts at running in the field. One time, the two of you were paired up to do some interviews, and it ended in a chase. By the time Spencer caught up, nearly dying on the sidewalk, you already had the unsub subdued and cuffed.
(It took him a while to live that down with Morgan.)
Spencer was gifted at other things, sure—not just everyone is a classified genius with an eidetic memory, and he’s the youngest recruit in history—and you loved him more than anything. But you couldn’t not make fun of him, just a little bit.
His face was still red, his glasses fogging up a bit from the humidity, and his hair was a mess, so you moved closer in order to brush the stray strands out of his face.
“Running isn’t my thing,” he said. “Well— fitness isn’t my thing. I’ve got everything else covered.”
“Oh yeah?” You started smoothing back the strands of his hair, and you offered a crooked smile. “Then why are we out here trying to improve your mile time?”
“Because it would be nice if Gideon doesn’t have to get all my fitness stuff waived again, and if I want that, I need the help.” His eyes didn’t leave yours, and once you finished, your hands lingered on his cheeks. You nudged his glasses back up to their spot. “And I think I’d run a marathon and die trying if it meant I got to spend more time with you.”
Your eyebrows rose. “If you want to run a marathon, I could probably get you there. It would take a lot of time together, though.”
“Please, no,” Spencer breathed. “Just the time together part.”
You grinned, and you patted him on the cheek before you pulled away. “Running is good for the soul. Why do you think I’m so happy all the time?”
“Well, this morning you said you were happy because of me,” he said. “Yesterday, it was because we had our first case-free weekend in two months. The other day—”
“That coffee I had?” you interrupted.
He nodded. “How’d you know?”
“Because you made it for me,” you said, “and I love it when you do that.”
Spencer shrugged. “You do it all the time for me. It’s only fair.”
“But that’s proof,” you said. “Running does make you happy.”
“Running does release endorphins, but anyone who likes it is crazy,” he repeated.
“That doesn’t sound scientifically backed.”
“The way I feel right now beats science,” Spencer huffed. “And you’re not happy all the time. You frowned 23 times while writing up your last report.”
You raised your eyebrows. “You were watching me? And counting?”
He shrugged. “You’re nice to watch.”
“Very smooth, Dr. Reid,” you said cloyingly. “But flattery won’t get you out of this.”
“I’m not trying to get out of anything!” he defended. You stared at him, and he held up his hands. “Okay— only halfway. But you are nice to watch. That’s why I’m still here.”
“If you’re watching me while we run, that might be why you’re doing so badly,” you said, amused.
“No—I think it’s the only thing keeping me going.”
“You don’t really look like you’re still going,” you said wryly. “You should be good at this. You’ve got long legs.”
Spencer shook his head as he screwed his eyes shut. He let out one last breathy sigh, and you hoped he’d finally recovered. “Also largely a rumor. It’s more about leg strength compared to bodyweight—long legs help with lengthy strides, but you need to generate enough torque to move faster than with shorter legs.”
You smiled. “You’ve still got facts? Even while you’re dying?”
“Mostly because Elle’s said it before too. She says I look like a baby giraffe learning how to walk when I run.” Spencer shook his head again. “I think the only thing my height is good for is getting things off of shelves.”
For once, you tried to reign in your joking. “Is there anything I can do to help? I don’t want this whole thing to be miserable for you. Running should be fun.”
“We can stop doing this?” he suggested. “I can let go of what’s left of my pride, get all my fitness stuff waived again, and go back to figuring out cases in an air conditioned conference room?”
You smiled, and you moved closer. “How about this?”
Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you pulled him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt, effectively cutting him off. He hesitated for less than a split second, but his hands fell to your waist as he brought you in closer.
When you let go and moved away, he still had them there, and he was smiling like an idiot.
“Does that help?” you asked innocently, tilting your head.
“Yeah,” Spencer said, nodding rapidly. “Uh— yeah. I actually think I could go for another mile now.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as you ruffled his hair, messing up your earlier work. “I’d love to test that, pretty boy, but I don’t think you can make it another mile.”
Spencer shook his head. “If you keep kissing me like that, I think I can make it through that marathon you mentioned.”
“Sure I don’t take your breath away too badly?” you teased.
“I have some facts for that, but I don’t think they apply.” His lips curved up, and the redness from exertion mixed with his steadily rising blush. “Because you, uh— you did take my breath away the first time I saw you.”
“I should start calling you loverboy with material like that,” you mused. “Morgan’s annoyed that I took pretty boy from him.”
Spencer grimaced. “Just thinking of Morgan seeing me like this makes me want to get back at it. I can’t deal with any more of his teasing.”
“But my teasing’s okay?”
He frowned. “Of course. It— it’s kind of why I fell for you.”
“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s why you’re still at this. You don’t like things being handed to you.”
His cheeks darkened again, and you laughed as you leaned in to peck him on the lips one more time.
“Alright, loverboy,” you said. “Ready to get back at it?”
“No,” he said affirmatively. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“Not if you want to pass,” you said wryly, and you gestured back at the trail with your head. “But you know what they say—one step at a time.”
Spencer grumbled, and he shook his arms out again. “Fine. As long as those steps are with you.”
You smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
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so i pointed something out and my friend @herfavoritethings made a thing
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Adoration
Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader
Summary: You catch the end of Spencer's lecture before the two of you go grab dinner and are amused by the students who are only there to ogle your cute boyfriend.
Word Count: 0.9k
Warnings: a little bit of fluff, a bit of flustered!spencer, established relationship
AN: I am so happy I actually wrote something! I have had terrible writer's block mixed with lack of motivation lately and have felt terrible about it. I've been watching Criminal Minds again and remembered that I wanted to write something based on that scene in 13x16 where Spencer is teaching and almost everyone is auditing his class because they think he's cute. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!
You quietly snuck into Spencer’s class, taking a seat in the back so as not to bring attention to yourself. You knew you were early, but you figured you and Spencer would be able to get to the restaurant much faster and make your reservation if you could leave as soon as his class was over. It was Thursday, and every Thursday night, if Spencer wasn’t out on a case, was date night for the two of you. You knew he missed being in the field regularly, but you had to admit, you quite enjoyed getting to see your boyfriend more often. It made the times that he did have to leave for a case easier.
Once you were settled, you looked up and gave a small wave and a smile to Spencer. He was trying not smile and continue on with his lecture, but you could see a small hint of a grin in the corner of his mouth and a light blush on his cheeks.
If you were being honest, you had a completely selfish reason for arriving early, you wanted to see Spencer in his element. Teaching was such a great fit for him. It came naturally to him. You always teased him that you should have an honorary doctorate for attending his various impromptu lectures (Garcia may or may not have drafted up a fake diploma from “Boy Wonder University” and given it to you for your birthday).
As you looked around the room, you noticed that there were more people in the class than you expected. Spencer had told you that the class wasn’t that big, granted you weren’t sure what the average class size was, so maybe it was small compared to other classes. But then you noticed that most of the students were not writing anything down and seemed to be enamored by Spencer, and a knowing smile came to your face.
“Okay, let’s take a moment now to discuss the difference between a trigger and a stressor. A trigger is a sensory event experienced by an offender that precipitates subsequent behavior, whereas a stressor is a longer-term pattern of behavior or circumstances which push a person into behaving differently then they normally would,” Spencer paused briefly, looked around, and noticed a lack of notebooks and pens in use, “you’re probably gonna want to write this down. I shouldn’t be telling you guys this, but I’m definitely putting this on the final.”
“I’m only auditing this class.” A woman towards the front of the classroom shyly stated.
Spencer’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion, “Is anyone else auditing this class?”
Almost half of the class raised their hands, and you just barely stifled your laughter, a few chuckles managing to escape.
Spencer looked over at you, even more confused than he had been, “Okay,” he said quietly, not quite sure what to do. He looked down at his watch and decided to end class earlier for the day, “unfortunately, that is all the time we have for today. Thank you, guys.”
The class began to make their way out, but you overheard a couple of students talking about how dreamy Spencer was, which brought a smile to your face, they were right after all.
Spencer collected his things in a slightly agitated manner as you walked up to him, “That was some lecture, Dr. Reid.”
He looked up and gave you a tight-lipped smile, “Thanks.”
“Hey,” you gently put your hand on his shoulder, “what’s wrong?”
“I just…” he paused, “I’m just confused why so many of them aren’t enrolled in the class.”
You hold back another laugh, “Spencer? Really?”
“What?”
“Come on.”
“What?” He was growing more agitated.
You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, “For someone so brilliant, you really are clueless, aren’t you?”
“I’m not following.” Spencer stared at you, more confusion than ever on his face.
“Spencer,” you leaned in closer to him and whispered, “they think you’re cute.”
Spencer scoffed, “No they don’t.”
“They most certainly do,” you run your hands down his arms and take hold of his hands, “and I can’t blame them. You do you look quite dashing in this suit.”
He avoided your gaze, “They don’t think, I’m cute.”
“I heard, clear as day, one of them say, ‘Dr. Reid is such a hottie,’ and again they aren’t wrong.” You winked at him.
A furious red blush spread all over Spencer’s face and up to the tips of his ears, “Come on, we don’t want to be late for those dinner reservations.” He grabbed his bag and pulled you towards the exit.
“I can see the graffiti in the bathroom stalls, ‘Dr. Spencer Reid is a total babe,’ with a bunch of hearts drawn around it.”
Spencer released a chuckle, “No one’s gonna write that in the bathroom.”
“Well, give me a sharpie and I’ll go and write it. The world needs to know that you’re officially a hunky professor now!”
“Please don’t.”
“Alright,” you intertwined your fingers with his, “since you said please.”
“Thank you.” He kissed the side of your head as you continued to walk down the hall and towards the parking lot.
“Can I write it in the bathroom at the BAU?”
“No.”
“Can I write it in our bathroom?”
“Sure.”
“Yay!” you leaned your head against his shoulder, “Could I write in one of Rossi’s bathrooms too?”
“Absolutely not.” Spencer laughed.
You shrugged, “Worth a shot.”
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i wanna write for criminal minds but my head is void of any ideas 🧍🏻♀️
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I wonder what kind of relationship these two would have had.
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Just a little early season spencer dump 🤗
taglist- @spencers1wifey | @mvndfvelds | @mindfullycriminal | @luce-reid I @ferrjulie | @khxna | @ilovebeingdelulu | @lover-of-books-and-tea I@jaden-reid | @eli-chris | @multifandomsimp69 | @multiversejumper | @shadoesx
taglist/masterlist
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How AOT characters boop:
Eren: rage-boops everyone, especially people that annoy him
Armin: politely boops everyone back, boops Annie first
Mikasa: boops Eren a dozen times
Annie: only boops Armin back
Hange: boops everyone and everything, the first to discover super boops and evil boops
Jean: rage-boops Eren, once he gets to evil boops, the revenge button is on fire
Reiner: only boops Jean because he’s a romantic
Levi: doesn’t have a tumblr account
Erwin: boops Levi’s nose
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WHY DOES ISAYAMA KEEP DOING THIS
I CANT TAKE IT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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Spencer Reid and his bread smile.
he's so cuuuuuuuuuteeeeee (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ
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please PLEASE learn how to tag your fanfics. Don’t tag fluff when it’s angst, don’t tag smut when it’s fluff and please don’t tag characters that ARENT EVEN MENTIONED IN THE FIC!!!!
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