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luveline · 2 months

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𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky.

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely.

Total quiet.

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?”

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?”

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?”

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…”

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?”

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.”

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.”

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh.

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated.

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry.

“Spencer?” you ask quietly.

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?”

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?”

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups.

“Where are you?”

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him.

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.”

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?”

“Where was I?”

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed.

“Still where?”

“Did you hit your head?”

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.”

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk.

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.”

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.”

“…What?”

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.”

“I annoy people.”

“You don’t annoy me.”

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here.

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?”

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection.

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?”

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly.

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?”

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.”

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says.

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room.

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark.

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly.

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!”

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer.

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask.

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again.

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.”

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath.

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers.

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year.

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.”

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.”

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.”

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!”

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity.

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek.

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.”

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly.

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says.

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway.

“I don’t want to be alone forever.”

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates?

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess.

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.”

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol.

“She kind of looked like you.”

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.”

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.”

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Is that why you make all your jokes?”

“What jokes, babe?”

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.”

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?”

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.”

“Spencer, you remember everything.”

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.”

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him.

You’re happy to.

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled.

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse.

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully.

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally.

“Can I come home with you?” he asks.

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.”

— —

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.”

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.”

“So you want three?”

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.”

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time.

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?”

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him.

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory.

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that.

The avocado is making him feel sick.

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?”

“I think I'm gonna throw up.”

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes.

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button.

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.”

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.”

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.”

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now.

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said.

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say.

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again.

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.”

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do.

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask.

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

5K notes · View notes

qlossytbh · 12 days

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Ok hear me out, what about a Spencer Reid one shot where the f!reader gets turned on by seeing him with the fbi best and begs him to f*ck her with it on bending her on the desk.

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 reader see’s Spencer in his FBI vest and suddenly begins to grow needy

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 +18 minors dni, established relationship, smut, softdom!spencer (kinda?), sub!reader (kinda?), pinv, praising, praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), mentions of taking birth control tho

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.4k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 JANFKWKKF LOOK AT HIM IM DROOLING this is my first time writing posting smut so whatever, at the end i kind of just gave up cus i wanted to post smt but i hope it’s good enough😭

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You ran your hands through your hair, sighing heavily as your mind fogged up. You flipped through a few files, rubbing your temples and rolling your shoulders back in an attempt to alleviate the unwelcomed stress and tension of the long hours of work. That and the unsettling anxiety of Spencer's case.

You knew today's mission was risky and you couldn't assist the job since you were given strict instructions by your doctor to avoid doing any heavy movement for a bit due to spraining your ankle a few weeks ago on the job. So for now, you were stuck with paperwork and not be able to check if your boyfriend was okay while chasing killers around.

You were not coping well to say the least. It was way past your job hours, and Spencer promised to pick you up by your office, so with only a few people left at headquarters, you were growing nervous with possibilities as to why he wasn't showing up. You stood up from your chair, wincing as your back had been in the same position for over three hours. You bit your nails in contemplation, before deciding on seeking out any information on the status of the team.

However, as you were halfway towards the door, the knob to your office twisted and in walked Morgan with Spencer trailing not far behind him. You let out a deep breath of relief you didn't even know you were holding, panic quickly vanishing, seeing him alive and well and—

—And wearing that goddamn vest again.

You had seen him with it on a few weeks ago and truthfully, it made your head spin. How it snugged his frame perfectly, accentuating his shoulder blades as he stood tall behind Morgan. He was wearing a light blue dressshirt below it and his sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms in a way that left you spinning feverishly. His hair was slightly untamed, brown curls flowing across the bottom of his neck and forehead messily.

Your mouth opened slightly, words vanishing deep within your throat. You looked up, finally bringing yourself to clear your throat.

You walked over to the two of them, patting Morgan on the shoulder and pushing past him towards Spencer. You open your arms and you quickly fell into his, feeling as if a sudden pressure of air was alleviated from your body.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as his found their way around your waist. You breathed in the familiar smell of him, nuzzling your head deep into his neck as his arms tightened forcefully around you.

"Why the hell did you two take so long?" You pushed Spencer away, holding your hand on the firm surface of his chest that was decorated with that stupid FBI vest and scolding the two men with a glare.

The both of them shared a nervous look before Morgan took the fault, admitting lamely. "Flat tire on the way back..”

You groaned, huffing loudly as you pinched the skin between your eyebrows. Of all the reasons, that could've been the stupidest stress factor you've ever had to deal with when it came to these two.

"You could've called me and let me know—" You said, directing your piercing gaze towards Spencer. He realized that not only anger was stretched across your features, but also concern, which is when he felt truly bad for making you worry. But in an attempt to prevent you from getting mad at him, Spencer's hands snaked down swiftly, squeezing at your hips.

"We should've," He pressed a kiss to your temple. "We're sorry."

You rolled your eyes, grumbling lowly "You better be."

Derek clasped his hands together and lowered his shoulder. "Well, that's my cue before hot mama gets all riled up with me too.”

Spencer threw his hair back with a soft groan since he had told Derek not to call you that. You stifled a laugh while Spencer followed Derek's movements towards the door. "I told you not to—"

Morgan had already walked past the two of you, slamming the door to your office and cutting Spencer off. "—call her that."

Spencer glared at the door, hands still on your hips, unconsciously hooking them into the belt loops of your pants. You took a moment to admire him and the way his jaw was clenched, enhancing the sharp shape of it. Your eyes trailed across the bridge of his nose, to the soft narrow of his light eyes, all the way to the barely present purse of his lips. You felt a familiar heat pool in the bottom of your stomach.

It was the stupid vest. Ever since you saw him in it the first time it was impossible to control yourself and to detain yourself from ogling at him.

You reached up, gripping his chin steadily and directing his face towards your own. He followed, allowing you to guide him back to you and did not complain when you pushed your lips onto his own, humming in content.

He sank into your body, pulling you in by the hoops of your pants so that he could feel your body flush against his. As your hands moved down towards his torso, gripping at the sides of his vest firmly, his hands came up to cup your cheeks. He pulled away, hovering over your lips and speaking to you between kisses. "I missed you.."

He pulled away entirely, smiling at you. All you could focus on was how fucking good he looked. Your hands began to tremble with the desperate, almost incontrollable need to pull him in and feel him.

"So did I.." You leaned in, pecking the corner of his lips and then trailing kisses all the way from his cheek, to his jaw, and finally burying your face into his neck, softly nipping at all the familiar places you knew could have him undone in seconds. His hands gave your hips a warning squeeze, which you aimlessly ignored.

"Spence," You mumbled, pulling away and looking up at him.

"Hmm?" He hummed absentmindedly, dazed enough to only focusing on your lips.

"You're wearing that vest," You continued, almost in a warning, hovering over his lips and pecking them softly. He pulled back, furrowing his brows with confusion. When he noticed the familiar darkness in your eyes, realization finally dawned over him.

"Yeah, we needed to wear it for our case today.." He explained as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, voice dropping a sudden octave. He kissed your forehead with a sneaky smile, running his hands slowly and dangerously up and down your sides. You huffed almost inaudibly, feeling yourself grow incredibly frustrated with the man in front of you.

"You're teasing,"

"Am I?" The sound of his voice shot across your spine, causing nothing but heat to pool between your thighs. He placed a firm kiss to your jaw before turning to the door and snapping the lock of it shut. The blinds to your office had been closed beforehand, so now it was just you and Spencer in a dangerously enclosed area with him wearing his aggravatingly stupid vest.

He inched closer to you before swiftly pulling you in by your hips and placing his lips firmly onto yours. Your arms fell over his shoulders as you arched into him, desperately needing absolutely no possible space between your bodies.

With a few staggered steps, your lower back finally hit your desk without breaking your now heated kiss. Spencers lips moved across yours, pushing and inching for more as your hands pulled and grabbed at any part of him, silently begging for more. You could barely think as your pulse was throbbing inside your head and your legs were turning into putty.

Your hand reached behind you, slapping all of the desks contents onto the floor as Spencer lifted you onto the desk. You grabbed his shirts collar and pulled him closer, biting at his lower lip and earning a muffled groan which only caused the list settling at the bottom of your stomach to worsen.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, hooking his lower back with your ankles and pushing his lower half into your own. You could feel how hard he had grown which may or may not have caused you to roughly roll your hips against him, begging for the smallest bit of friction to the relieve the growing pressure. He shuddered, holding your hips still with a firm grip as if the smallest amount of friction would accidentally tip him over edge.

Your lips still fought relentlessly as both of you began to grow restless. Spencer pulled away from you, reaching his hands between you to unbuckle your dark brown dress pants as you planted kisses on his neck that left his breathing uneven and ragged.

He pulled back just enough to reach for the buckle of his vest but you were quick to grip his wrist, lips hovering over his as you breathed. "Don't—"

His body twitched, mind spinning at the sound of the slightest desperation in your voice. The subtle whine in your voice was nearly enough to send him spiraling, already feeling himself going feral.

"Don't take it off.." You reached down, undoing his belt as his mouth attacked your neck, leaving you panting breathlessly and shaking uncontrollably.

“Please,” You swallowed down every moan that itched to leave your body, opting for soft whines, fearing someone might hear, despite the thick walls that surrounded your office. The sweet sounds only drove Spencer to grow more desperate for you.

You and Spencer had been dating for a while, so he knew you were taking birth control and he had been tested a while back.

You hopped off the desk and pulled down at your pants and panties, while Spencer followed suit. There was a mutual hurried pace, both of your movements being hasty and messy, desperately trying to just feel each other. He kissed you feverishly before whispering over your lips.

"Turn around…” He said, delicately guiding your hips around so that the front of your body was facing the desk. You put up no fight, surrendering pathetically as his words worsened the pool that was already gathered between your legs.

His hands remained firmly on your waist, guiding you down so that your chest would lay flat against your desk. Spencer could feel his pulse throbbing and his fingers were beginning to dig too harshly into your hip.

He trailed his fingers across your spine and you squirmed with frustration underneath his grip “Spence, please..”

Your body trembled with anticipation as you ached to feel him inside you. He gave your hips a reassuring squeeze. “So needy..”

He aligned himself, twitching at the feeling of your dripping cunt. As if loosing all control, Spencer pushed himself into you with no warning whatsoever, causing you to clamp your eyes shut as your body shuddered with a wave of pleasure. Your teeth clamped down onto your bicep in order to prevent you from letting out any sounds you’d regret making.

"Fuck—" Spencer groaned, taking a second or two to adjust himself to the newfound tightness. Your body felt ethereal to him, it always had. He pushed your blouse up even more, allowing his hand to travel along your back and grip and squeeze anywhere he could as he began thrusting into you.

You squirmed underneath him, feeling your body shudder with pleasure as he drilled in and out of you. Spencer bent over you, pushing your hair slightly to the side while still maintaining his rhythm and whispering sweetly into your ear. "You look so pretty,"

"—And you feel so good," He planted a soft kiss behind your ear and as he pulled back, his hands tangled into your hair, nagging at it delicately. You let out a soft whine, and each noise you began to make was only a reason for Spencer to move deeper and harder into you.

"Oh—fuck," You moaned into your arm, feeling as the knot in your stomach was starting to tighten.

"My sweet girl," Spencer breathlessly muttered as he pulled at your hair. Your jaw slacked as, moaning repeatedly onto the desk. "That's it—"

Spencer worked with your body so delicately yet with such roughness that you found yourself practically melting beneath him. You had to stop yourself from screaming as Spencer suddenly hit your sweet spot and became closer to falling over the edge with you. With every movement and sound your body made, he found himself growing tighter and more relentless. His rhythm never faltered as he began to chase his climax alongside you.

"G-God Spence, do that again—" Your voice came out in a whine as you pushed your ass deeper against him, arching your back into him. "Shit—"

"Like that?" He asked, voice breathy and low. With every word, every breath, and every noise you made, Spencer felt himself grow tighter as he chased his high. "T-tell me how good this feels..."

"I'm gonna fucking—" You stifled a groan as Spencer relentlessly slammed into you a final time.

Your body shuddered in one final release, moaning desperately as Spencer twitched over you. He pulled you up by the hair, allowing himself to kiss and nip at your neck as both of you chased the remaining of your high. Your body shook underneath his as he covered your mouth, muffling any of your final sounds.

Once his pacing slowed down, he steadied himself against your body, needing to catch his breath. You hissed as he pulled out, not used to the sudden emptiness. As your breathings interlaced, he finally turned you around in his arms. He looked at your flushed face sweetly before pushing the hairs that had matted down onto your forehead with sweat backwards and kissing the tip of your nose.

You gave him a dopey smile, feeling drunk with the ecstasy. You leaned into his familiar touch with a smile and whispered. "You should wear that vest more often."

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spencerswh0re · 6 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

A/N - HI!! i love love love spencer reid and i spend most of my time reading fanfics of him, so i thought i would give writing some of my own a shot! this is my first fic (recently, i used to write wattpad fics when i was like 12) so bear with me :))

word count - 1,482

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐚 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐭𝐡��𝐭 𝐢𝐬, 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐀𝐔, 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

spencers life had been hard. there was no point in sugar coating it, he’d been through a lot. being kidnapped, developing a drug addiction, his girlfriend being killed directly in front of him and being to prison were only a handful of the things that had gone wrong in his life. and even after all of this trauma, he still managed to stay the same person. or atleast, mostly the same person.

one big thing had changed after prison and his encounters with cat adams. spencer had always been a hopeless romantic, he dreamed of the day he would meet a nice woman, settle down with her, and live out the life he had always wanted. but after dealing with some confusing feelings for a hitman, he had started to lose hope in ever finding love.

spencer was a 39 year old man, and he had still not found his perfect woman, he was starting to think she didn’t exist.

this was why he gave up. he stopped dating, stopped blushing and stammering whenever he met an attractive woman, and instead, he became charming. it became a common occurrence for spencer reid to spend his evenings in the bar, wooing a woman back to bed with him. he would bid them farewell the next morning, and that would be that. and it worked, it kept him satisfied, for a while.

until it didn’t.

the day you walked into the bullpen of the BAU, things changed for spencer reid.

you were beautiful, easily the prettiest girl he had ever seen, you were young, and had this innocence about you, he knew, from the very beginning, that he wanted you.

it was barely a week after you started on the team when spencer realised why he was so attracted to you.

the team was on the jet home from your first case, it had been a relatively easy one, they had caught the unsub in 2 days, and saved his final victim.

“we shouldn’t even be flying in these conditions” rossi had complained, referring to the heavy rain and strong winds “what if we get struck by lightning?”

just as spencer was about to spit out a random fact about flying during lightning, you beat him to it.

“actually, aircraft’s are designed to deal with lightning strikes, modern planes are designed to spread electric currents through the fuselage and funnel them out through the tail, bypassing the plane interior entirely. the last major accident occurred in 1967, when a stray strike caused a poorly-designed plane’s fuel tank to explode, so even if we were to be struck, which is highly unlikely, we’d be perfectly fine” you had rushed it out quickly, and spencer could tell from your blushing cheeks and shy smile that you were embarrassed over your rambling.

“sorry” you said, quietly, looking down at your hands in your lap.

“hey, reid, it seems y/l/n is a mini version of you, maybe we’ll have to replace you” emily had said, laughing lightheartedly. spencer, however, was stuck in place, eyes locked on you. he couldn’t believe it, he had found out earlier in the week that you were 24, just out of the academy, but you had been put straight into a specialised unit based off of your impressive qualifications. he realised, in that moment, that he didn’t just want you in the way he wants other women, he wanted you for real, he was falling for you.

the plane ride went painfully slowly after that.

a few months later, nothing had changed, except for the fact you had made it more and more difficult for him to keep away from you. ever morning, you would walk straight over to his desk, wishing him a cheery "good morning!" before perching yourself down next to his files and asking him about his night.

he had never been one to talk to his co workers about his sex life, but sometimes he would make an exception, because at least he had stories to be telling, but recently, there hadn't been anything to tell.

the night that they got back from your very first case, the team had gone to the bar to celebrate, after everybody had left, he made his was to the bar for one final drink, and to choose his target for the night, however, his plans had been ruined, when he'd seen you, across the bar, talking to some guy. spencer held back a scoff, he was obviously an asshole, he was tall (yet, not quite as tall as him) and buff. you were clearly feeling uncomfortable, and he knew that you had had one too many, and you weren't in the right state of mind. he walked over, told you it was time to go home, and got you in his car.

you were asleep before he could ask for your address.

after fighting with himself a little, he eventually decided to take you back to his place, you took the bed, he took the couch.

after that night, he hadn't been able to be with anybody else, he hadn't wanted to be with anybody else.

"oh, you know, same old, what about you?" he responded.

"nothing much really, um.. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.." you told him

shit. now he was scared, had he done something to make you upset? had he made his feelings for you too clear and made you uncomfortable? had he-

"I uh- I noticed your spock pop figure on your desk, i've got the entire Star Trek box set at home... I was wondering if you might wanna come over? we can get something to eat, maybe get to know each other better?"

he didn't know what to say, this was y/n y/l/n, the girl he had been pining over for months, and she was asking him out? of course he wanted to say yes, that much was obvious, but he hadn't been in a real relationship since maeve, and even that didn't really count.

you were young, and so innocent, he was tainted, his hands were dirty, his mind haunted by the things he had done in prison, he didn't want to corrupt you.

you obviously took his silence as a no, and quickly jumped back in.

"if not that's totally fine too! I just thought it might be fun"

and just as he was about to politely reject you, he looked into your eyes.

innocent, yes. but there was something else, something that reminded him an awful lot of a feeling he had never truly felt. love. he knew then what he had to do.

"that sounds like fun, y/n, ill come over tonight at 6:00?" he responded with a smile.

"yes! yes! my address is 16 cornelia street, apartment 17."

"excellent, ill be there" he said

and he was.

at 5:57, he was waiting outside of your door, holding a bunch of flowers, and wearing an outfit he had spent far to long picking out. he knew it was a casual thing, and he knew you would just be staying home, so he decided to wear something he had never worn before. sweatpants. he had gone to the store to buy them immediately after work. along with a baggy Star Trek t shirt.

when he finally gathered up the courage to knock, you answered almost immediately, and he was speechless.

you looked beautiful, you were wearing a pair of white sweatpants along with a tight grey vest top, your hair was down, and you were wearing an adorable pair of bunny slippers.

when he finally snapped out of his trance, he stuck the flowers out in your direction with a quiet "these are for you"

your response came quickly, and with a smile "they're beautiful, spencer, thank you. I ordered chinese food, i hope that's alright" you said as you walked into the kitchen to find a vase.

not as beautiful as you. he wanted to say, but he settled for a shy nod and a smile instead.

after dinner, the two of you took a seat of your couch and began watching the first movie.

he wasn't satisfied.

he moved a little bit closer.

still wasnt enough.

he considered pulling out the cringey yawning trick, but decided against it, instead, deciding to touch your pinky with his own.

still, not quite enough.

towards the end of the first movie, you mored close enough so that you could put your had on his chest.

"is this okay?" you whispered, so quiet he could hardly hear you over the TV.

"more than okay" he whispered back, putting his arm around your shoulders to keep to close.

he realised, right there in that moment, that he was done with the girls, and the bars, this, right here, with you in his arms, was exactly where he was supposed to be.

A/N - OKAY!! the ending was slightly rushed, I'm sorry, but I'm very very tired and I have class tomorrow, but I wanted to get this done. if you liked it, let me know, send me requests if you want <3

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #first post #please dont bully me im trying

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alwaysmoncheri · 2 months

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𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐨 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

summary: spencer gets drunks and you offer to take him home. your intentions are clear, you long for him to offer you to stay, but when you do, your relationship becomes more unclear.

cw: fem!reader, mentions of alcohol, drunkenness, drunken confessions, general confessions, kissing, mutual pinning, idiots in love, some angst, fluff, lightly proofread, 3.7k words

the crowd of people in the bar is unexpected, normally there aren’t many people lined across the countertops, snapping their fingers for drinks. it appears that you and the rest of the team have caught the bar at a particularly busy time. you have never been one for bars or alcohol, but whenever the team decides to all go out together, you always find yourself making an exception. after all, who were you kidding? you could use a little distraction from your lingering feelings for a certain pretty boy, genius.

the entire team sits around a table, nose buried in each of their hands of cards as you compete in an intense game of poker. the air is warm and you can feel each piece of clothing uncomfortably sticking to your stick like a humid summer day. you shift in your seat, bringing one hand away from your cards and to the edge of your tight shirt, carefully pealing it away from your perspirating skin. and though, you meant to erase him from your mind, if only for one night, spencer peeks up from behind his hand of cards, noticing your sudden movement. and when he tilts his head to one side, the motion sending you a silent question, asking “are you okay?” you can’t help but adore him for everything that he is. with a gentle nod in his direction, you silence his worries, before returning to your game of cards without the rest of the team’s knowledge of your interaction.

"and I win!" morgan’s sudden and triumphant declaration echoes through the room, the resounding slap of his cards hitting the table punctuating his victory. a cocky grin adorns his face, reveling in the satisfaction of his unexpected triumph. the rest of the team, caught off guard, let out a chorus of exasperated groans, their cards dropping onto the table with defeated thuds, and frowns of disbelief etched on their faces. morgan, seizing the opportunity to revel in his victory, turns his attention to spencer, who had been the reigning champion in the previous few games and, truth be told, usually emerges victorious in most gaming scenarios. "would you look at that? pretty boy must've lost his touch," morgan teases, a mischievous glint in his eye as he playfully nudges spencer.

spencer, caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events, sits there with his mouth agape, his usually quick and analytical mind momentarily stunned by the twist in the game. the unexpected defeat has him grappling with a mix of surprise and amusement, and he blinks in disbelief as if trying to process what just happened.

"cat got your tongue, reid?" morgan continues to taunt, while you and the rest of the team watch, amused, fond smiles cast upon your faces as the friendly banter unfolds.

"must be all those drinks," hotch quips, his tone playfully accusing as he crosses his arms in the seat next to spencer, "starting to cloud that genius brain of yours."

you playfully roll your eyes before spencer calmly counters, "i've only consumed a total of five drinks, which technically wouldn't be enough for the neurotransmitters in my brain to stop fully functioning. they could be slowed down, but I'm still fully capable of winning a game of cards at this stage in the evening." a ripple of laughter and teasing remarks follows spencer's scientific explanation, the team thoroughly enjoying the conversation. you, hotch, rossi, and prentiss exchange amused glances.

morgan, chuckling at spencer’s very sober response, quips, "okay, it's time for you to have another drink."

spencer raises an eyebrow, contemplating the proposal. "but first, I demand a rematch."

the room erupts in a mix of cheers and groans as the team anticipates another round. penelope, observing from the sidelines, can't help but interject with enthusiasm, "oh, this is getting good! i’ve got my money on reid for the rematch!"

morgan sends penelope a look of faux offence, before returning his attention to spencer with a challenge, "whoever loses, drinks the same number of shots as the highest card in their hand."

spencer considers the terms before nodding in agreement, "deal."

"alright, I think it's time for me to grab another drink," emily declares, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she stands from her seat. she turns her attention to you, a playful glint in her eyes, "care to join me?"

you can't help but laugh in response, the invitation exactly what you need. glancing over at spencer, you notice his keen observation, as if he's scrutinizing your every move. you playfully divert your attention, standing up with a grin. "sure, why not?" you reply, the corners of your mouth turning up.

as you follow emily toward the bar, you observe the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversations surround you, and the lively energy of the bar becomes more apparent. the dim lighting casts a warm glow on the faces of the maybe people all around, creating an inviting feeling that contrasts with the intense focus of the card game.

“so, what’s going on between you and reid?” emily asks nonchalantly, as if the question wouldn’t have the effect on you. she slides you a drink across the countertop before grabbing her own and taking a small sip. you body tenses in response to the question and you don’t want to know what color your cheeks must be.

“what do you mean?” you ask, trying to ignore that fact that you can’t seem to compose yourself. emily raises her eyebrows, shooting you a look of disbelief.

“I mean, pretty boy over there, hasn’t stopped glancing over here since we left,” emily explains, her words prompting you to turn your gaze towards spencer and the rest of the team. true to emily’s observation, spencer’s eyes are fixated on you, the intensity of his gaze evident even from across the room, “and I’m pretty sure he’s losing.” emily adds, a small smirk resting on her face and the two of you watch as morgan, once again, slams his cards onto the table with a victorious smile.

“oh, I don’t think that’s because of me.” you reply quietly, trying to downplay the situation. your gaze shifts back to your drink as you swirl the glass around in your hand and watch the liquid flow.

“are you sure?” emily questions, her eyes twinkling with mischief and her posture relaxed yet keenly attuned to the movements of the conversation.

“I mean, yeah, we like each other,” you admit, looking up at emily’s smirk, which is accentuated by a slight tilt of her head, before quickly dismissing it away, “but not like that.”

“but you want it to be, like that.” emily suggests and you don’t respond, confirming her suspicions. the weight of emily's words lingers in the air as the two of you watch the team hand spencer drinks, the effects of the shots he's taking becoming increasingly evident. the atmosphere is charged with unspoken tension, and you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions.

“I don’t know what I want.” you finally confess, answering emily’s last question with your eye lingering on spencer’s drunken self.

“I think you do.” emily responds, her voice gentle but probing, “but I don’t think he does.”

“emily, I–” you start to respond, urgency to end the conversation evident in your tone, but before you can, emily interrupts.

“oh, it looks like he’s coming over.” she says, her eyes widening with anticipation and her smirk evergrowing on her face.

“what?” the sudden realization sparks a flurry of movement within you, a mix of nerves and excitement intertwining as you prepare for the impending interaction.

“i’ll leave you to it.” emily grins, giving you a supportive pat on the shoulder before slipping away into the crowd.

“hi,” spencer greets and you can practically hear the amount alcohol he has consumed within the tone of his voice. it isn’t the same shy tone that you know and love, there’s a little more sweetness and a slight edge of confidence embracing his voice.

“hi, spence.” you respond, your eyes meeting his in a moment that seems suspended in time.

“you’re so pretty,” spencer suddenly slurs, expressing his admiration with sincerity as he hops on the stool next to you and slumps over the edge of the bar, “you’re always so, so beautiful.” he sighs with a soft smile. you hum in agreement, sipping on your drink as you watch spencer with loving amusement.

“you know, you’re my favorite person ever.” he adds, before his eyes widen suddenly and he leans forward, gesturing for you to lean with him, “but don’t tell morgan, he thinks it’s him.” spencer whispers, earning a loud cackle from you. that seems to make spencer happy, earning that kind of reaction, even if he’s too drunk to truly understand what he’s saying.

“I love your laugh.” spencer’s words spill out with a warmth that feels like a comforting embrace in the dimly lit bar. his eyes, glazed but loving, reflect a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings.

“spencer, honey, how much have you had to drink?” you ask, concern evident in your voice. in response, spencer clumsily grasps your hand, his fingers fumbling to intertwine with yours. the touch is a blend of affection and intoxication, and you can't help but smile at the endearing sight.

“shh, shhh, you can’t tell anyone,” spencer replies with a giggle escaping his lips, it makes your heart race and sends a delightful shiver down your spine, “I lost another round of cards.”

“oh, spence, I think it’s time for you to go home,” you suggest gently, running your thumb across his hand, “do you want me to take you?”

“would you?” spencer’s eyes widen with a hopeful glimmer, lifting his head before a soft curl falls onto his sweaty forehead, “I hate taking the bus alone.” spencer admits, his eyes glistening, almost as if he’s about to cry.

“let me give you a ride, spencer.” you offer, your voice carrying a soothing reassurance, “you shouldn’t ever have to take the bus alone.”

“I know, I know.” spencer replies quietly, feeling ashamed, before you reach out with the hand not holding his to brush a loose curl away from his face.

“alright, let’s go.” you say, gently standing and guiding him towards the exit of the bar, “do you have all your things?” you ask, stopping to face spencer to see his response. he nods, squeezing you hand, before you smile and walk towards the table where the rest of the team sits in order to grab your purse from your chair.

“hey guys, we’re heading out. I have to get him home safely.” you announce to your teammates, sending them a gracious smile, thankful for the night out, “we’ll see you in the office on monday.”

a series of goodbyes and drive safes echo from your teammates as you allow spencer to hold your hand and lean on your shoulder for stability. together, you make your way out of the bar and towards your car. unlocking the door, you assist spencer into the passenger seat before settling into the drivers seat and taking a moment to reach over to buckle spencer in.

“I can do that myself.” spencer protests, attempting to push your hands away with sluggish movements.

“sure you can.” you retort, a gentle smile playing at your lips as an annoyed, “hmph,” leaves spencer’s mouth.

the drive to his apartment is marked by a comforting quietness, the soft hum of the engine interweaving with the occasional murmurs from spencer. when you arrive, you jog over to the passage door, eager to assist him as you navigate the stairs together. reaching his apartment door, spencer retrieves his keys from his pocket, his attempts to unlock the door met with visible frustration. recognizing the need to intervene, you gently step in, placing your hand over his, “hey, hey, let me help you.” you whisper giving spencer a sympathetic smile before he allows you to take his keys and unlock the apartment door.

“thank you, y/n.” spencer says, letting go of your hand to take a step into his apartment, while you stand just outside.

“you’re welcome, spence.” you respond gently.

the two of you stand there for a moment, locked in each other’s gaze. but, the silence is too much, you can’t handle the truth of what you and spencer are and are not.

“I guess I should—” you start, but the hesitation in those few words lights a match of hope in spencer’s heart and he can’t help but interrupt.

“don’t go.”

“what?”

“stay.” spencer says with such emotion that your heart feels like it’s about to stop. and when he reaches out for you to take his hand once more, you don’t hesitate.

“yeah.” you nod, stepping through the doorway and into spencer’s apartment, “yeah, I can do that.” you repeat, taking in the space before you. it looks all too familiar to times that you’ve been before, warmth, inviting, just like him.

before you can engage in any conversation, spencer's sluggish movements guide the two of you towards his bedroom. he briefly releases your hand to sift through his drawers, searching for a set of less damp clothes to wear for the remainder of the night.

"feel free to use the bathroom," spencer mumbles, his words slightly slurred as he gestures in the direction of the adjacent room. the soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm hue, revealing the disheveled state of his bedroom.

in the bathroom, you peel the sweaty material from your skin, feeling the immediate relief of shedding the remnants of a night spent in a crowded bar. the mirror reflects your image, and you assess yourself. the makeup, meticulously applied before the evening's festivities, shows signs of wear. small smudges underneath your eyes and imperceptible flaws on your face catch your attention. you find a washcloth and gently wipe away the remnants of the night, revealing the natural contours of your features.

returning to spencer's room, you find him seated on his bed, his gaze fixed on his lap as his fiddles with his hand. the room is dimly lit, shadows playing on the walls like silent spectators to the unfolding scene. spencer glances up as you enter, his eyes carrying a mix of longing and fatigue.

“stay, with me, please," spencer practically begs, his words carrying a weight of vulnerability that echoes through the room.

"okay," you find yourself saying, the decision flowing from your lips with zero hesitation.

silently, the two of you climb into his bed, laying side by side. your gazes linger on each other for a moment too long, the air thickens and you find yourself momentarily breathless. as you notice spencer lean toward you, searching of your lips, you feel as though your heart beating out of your chest, the rapid movement making my breath catch. but when he kisses you, you know you’re an absolute goner.

his lips are soft and his kiss is gentle, so gentle, like he’s afraid if he kisses too hard, you’ll break. but when you pull away, the realization of spencer's drunken state washes over you.

"I love you," he confesses, the abruptness of his words catching you off guard. your eyes soften with sympathy, understanding that his declaration was led by intoxication.

"oh, spencer," you hum, reaching forward to gently cup his face, which he tenderly leans into. "tell me when you're sober."

"okay," he murmurs, a whisper of agreement that lingers in the air, before the both of you wrap in each other’s arms and spencer falls into a comforting sleep. yet, you lie awake for moment, questions about your relationship clouding your mind, until finally you give in and fall asleep too.

—

the morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. as you slowly regain consciousness, a dull ache pulses through your head, the sign of a mild hangover. the warmth of the body beside you serves as a gentle reminder of the events that unfolded the previous night, and a rush of memories floods your mind. you glance at spencer, and you can’t help but notice the furrowed brows on his forehead, confirming your suspicions of a major hangover of his own. the desire to kiss away his discomfort lingers, an unspoken gesture to alleviate the tension etched on his face. however, uncertainty about the nature of your relationship holds you back, even after the intimate connection you shared last night.

silently, you slip out of the bed, careful not to disturb spencer's peaceful slumber. the soft creak of the door announces your departure as you head to the bathroom, intent on changing back into your own clothes. spencer's clothes, a reminder of the night's events, lay neatly on his dresser. the room retained the echo of shared laughter and whispered conversations, leaving you in a contemplative state.

once dressed, you tiptoe through the hushed space and navigate through the familiar halls of spencer's apartment. in the kitchen, you leave a glass of water, a tylenol, and a quick note on the counter, a small offering to soothe the aftermath of the night. with each passing moment, your thoughts swirl like leaves caught in a gentle breeze. questions about the nature of your relationship with spencer remain, and the quiet house seems to hold the weight of those unanswered queries. you hesitate before leaving, casting a final glance at the still-sleeping spencer, his vulnerability exposed in the morning light.

summoning a cab, you venture back to your own apartment, the familiar surroundings offering a respite from the whirlwind of emotions. the click of your keys on the kitchen counter echoes through the space, and you collapse onto the couch with a sigh. running a hand down your face, you lean back against the cushions as you repeatedly replay the events of the previous night in your mind.

—

monday morning unfolds with a swiftness that catches you off guard, a reminder that the enjoyment of the weekend has drawn to a close. seeking solace, you head to the bau office early, hoping to avoid spencer, at least for the time being. the comforting hum of the coffee machine beckons, and you find yourself mechanically preparing a cup to ready yourself for the day ahead. a yawn escapes, betraying the exhaustion that lingers from the weekend. as the rich aroma of coffee envelops you, a familiar chuckle interrupts your thoughts.

"how was the rest of your weekend, gorgeous?" morgan inquires, his tone light-hearted, though you can sense a mischievous undertone.

you roll your eyes in response, leaning back against the counter with the warm cup cradled in your hands. "it was good."

morgan, undeterred, pours himself a cup of coffee and continues his interrogation, a sly grin on his face. "and your night with reid? how is pretty boy treating you?"

your eyes widen before narrowing in suspicion. "what do you know?" you question, the accusatory edge in your tone not lost on morgan. he raises his free hand in defense, a playful shrug accompanying his innocent expression.

"hey, I was just wondering," morgan replies before taking a sip of his coffee. "it's obvious that you two like each other," he adds slyly, leaving you momentarily stunned, echoing the shock from your recent conversation with emily.

"no, it's not," you retort, your gaze still narrow as you fight to defend your emotions.

"whatever you say, sweetheart," morgan comments, walking away, leaving you standing by the coffee machine, your mind swirling with the weight of recent revelations.

as you ponder emily's words, spencer's drunken confession, and morgan's casual observations, the scent of books and wool approaches beside you. your heart skips a beat in anticipation of the impending conversation.

“hey, can we talk?” spencer asks, his voice regaining its sweet, shy tone, replacing the confident echoes of his intoxicated self. the smell of books, wool, leather, and a hint of coffee instead of the burning scent of alcohol. his gentle smile and shy gaze. his curls tucked perfectly behind his ears, and his form tall instead of slouched toward the ground. you prefer him this way—sober, gentle, sincere.

“um, yeah. yeah, we can talk.” you nod, each word a conscious effort to maintain composure.

“look, we can pretend I never said what I said if that means—”

your eyes widen with shock before you interrupt, “what? no! you can’t take it back!” you almost yell, catching the attention of a few of your teammates, who are walking around the office, files in hand.

“then I don’t really know what to do,” spencer admits, his vulnerability laid bare, “because I meant it, y/n. I love you and I’ll say it a thousand times even if it means that we aren’t friends anymore. and I want you to know I haven’t stopped thinking about you all weekend but I thought you needed space. and—”

“I love you, too, spence.” you confess, stopping spencer’s rant from going any further, and ending any confusion between the two of you.

spencer's face lights up, delight evident in his expression. "really?" he asks, and a giggle escapes your lips as you revel in his excitement, mirroring your own bubbling joy.

"yes, really," you respond, placing your cup of coffee on the counter. spencer takes a couple of quick strides towards you, a beaming smile seemingly etched permanently on his face.

"can I kiss you?" spencer boldly asks, his excitement momentarily overriding his usual composure. you nod, and spencer gently grasps your face, his palms pressing against your cheeks as he kisses you in such way that tells you he’s been wanting to for a very long time. when you pull away, wide smiles adorn both of your faces, the giddy excitement, like a child’s, taking over your senses and it’s not long before your lips are on his once more.

“wheels up in ten,” hotch’s voice suddenly interrupts, jolting you back to reality. both you and spencer pull away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment of being caught by your boss, “and I better not see any more of that in my office.” hotch adds sternly, shooting you each a pointed look.

“yes, sir.” spencer nods nervously, casting you a quick glance, while hotch’s gaze also turns towards you.

you offer a shrug, glancing at spencer with a soft smile, “i’m not making any promises.”

masterlist . spencer reid masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @ihrtmasong, @averyhotchner, @jordie-gvf, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites

#my works ──★ ˙ ̟🎀 !!#masterlist #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid scenario

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 12 days

Note

You asked for Spencer Reid and Reader requests, particularly plus size, and I am so down bad for that man! Especially later seasons him.

Could I have one where he and the reader are intellectual peers but also enemies? Like she's on the team and just as wicked smart as him and into old literature and languages but they constantly butt heads? And the team knows they really just have feelings for each other, but they'll never admit it. Maybe the reader admits it to Penelope or someone one night drinking that he's hot but she never thought he'd actually sleep with her bc she's fat, but she'll take his attention any way she can get it. Maybe Spencer overhears and proceeds to show her just how hot he finds her arguing with him? 👀 Thank you in advance, girlie!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: you and spencer hate each other, that much is obvious... right?

— warnings: very surprisingly crude language in this, self-doubt, implied insecurities, misunderstandings, e2l, they're in love and everyone else knows besides them, i made them dorks i don't apologize, mentions of wet dreams, mentions of male masturbation, dirty thoughts, kissing, stripping, vaginal fingering, spencer's dirty mouth, lots of reassurance 'cause i'm a sap, spencer reid #1 consent king, missionary, unprotected sex, sex god spencer?!?! (he does his research), pleasure dom!spencer, switch r & spencer, heavy praise, and a fluffy ending to tie this all up in a nice little bow!

— wc: 3136

⋆ a/n: okay i do admit that this is RIDICULOUSLY long, but i knew exactly what i was getting into writing this and honestly i had so much fun! i don't think i've ever created such characters that have so much chemistry with each other, so cheers to that! (unedited unfortunately :[)

masterlist | AO3

As soon as you hear Spencer’s voice, you make a point to groan obnoxiously loud.

“And just to think I would be able to go home without a headache today.”

You could feel the glare from said man burning a hole in the back of your head, so you swivel your chair around in order to face the music – in a pleasurable masochist kind of way. His annoyingly handsome face was twisted up in irritation – much to your glee – his eyebrows turned down, and his perfect, plush lips pulled into a deep frown.

You could tell you had interrupted him saying something that he deemed important, most likely a fact that you and him would go back and forth on, and you couldn’t be more pleased with yourself.

“Funny you mention that seeing as though your voice is the cause of mine.” He bit back, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Aw, you think of my voice?” You tease. “Only in my nightmares.” You wink at him. “You still think about me.”.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Luke piped up from his own desk, drawing the attention from your other intrigued co-workers in the bullpen. “Oh here we go.” Tara said in amusement at Luke’s rambling.

“Back when I was a kid there was this girl that I went to school with, and I would always tug on her hair or try to trip her,” His voice was almost reminiscent. “Everyone thought I hated her, when in reality I was just trying to get her attention.”

“Ah,” Matt said with a smile, “The classic ‘boy bullying the girl he likes,’ or in this case, it’s the girl this time.” Your cheeks began to heat and your eyes went wide, Spencer’s own face and the tips of his ears turning an admirable pink hue.

“Absolutely not -”

“What? No -”

Both Spencer and you stumbled over each other to try and defend yourself, but you didn’t have a chance because Emily’s voice cut through whatever was about to be said next, the woman making haste from her office and into the room with the round table.

“Alright you guys, enough. We’ve got a case.”

“To a job well done!” Penelope cheered as she held up her citrusy alcoholic beverage in the air, signaling she wanted to toast.

You smiled indulgently at the woman sitting next to you, clinking your glass with hers noisily and flickering your eyes over to where a disheveled Spencer Reid sat. You didn’t say anything to him though, because you’re a big ol’ softie and like to let the boy wonder rest before you have him back on his toes.

His eyes met yours the same time your glasses collided. You wish you could say that the vibrations from the clinking was the cause of the shiver that forced its way down your spine, but you knew better.

It was like the rest of the bar disappeared, the sound of the others joining in on your rejoicing fell on deaf ears. You could have sworn his dark brown puppy-dog eyes drank you in before he looked away and cleared his throat, taking a rather comically large gulp of his water.

Your eyelashes fluttered like a thousand butterflies wings as you rushed to drink your own beverage.

“Okay, what was that!?” You felt Penelope’s finger poke at your ribs before you actually heard her.

“Ow - fuck! What was what?” You yelped quietly, your hand reaching down to bat away her stabbing digits. “The - the -” She fought to portray her words before her face lit up when she found the correct ones, “The eyefucking!”

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, “Eyefucking? What eyefucking?” You asked with a scoff, hiding your blush behind the rim of your mug.

“Oh, please, don’t give me that.” It was Penelope’s turn to scoff at you. “Everybody knows that you and Spencer like each other.” She said it almost like it was a fact, leaning forward to take a smug sip of her drink through the miniature black straw.

Spencer knew listening in on Penelope and your conversation was inappropriate; but in his defense, you guys weren’t really quiet about what you were talking about.

“I -” He heard you begin, “It’s one-sided.” Was all you said before draining your beer. “So you admit it!” Penelope exclaimed with a gasp.

Spencer felt his eyes go wide at her words, but there was this desperate feeling that spread throughout his body; one that caused his fingers to twitch and the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“When you put it like that it sounds childish!” You complained slightly, biting at the meat of your lip. “I… I’m just not his type you know? Like - you know better than anyone that guys don’t pay attention to girls like us, so you have to learn to improvise.” You were cringing at your own words, but the liquid in your cup was enough to loosen your tongue and lower your inhibitions.

“Was me choosing to constantly argue with him the smartest way to try and peak his interest? No, but I knew he liked a challenge and well… it definitely wasn’t the proudest conclusion I ever came to, but what was I supposed to do? It isn’t like Spencer would date me let alone actually want to sleep with me.”

Spencer wanted to argue with you about how wrong you were, to tell you about every thought he’d ever had about you.

He wanted to tell you about how much you frustrate him, how at first, he thought he hated you and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he hated how badly he wanted you; hated how many dirty dreams he had included you and that plush body of yours. He’d wondered how soft you were, how you smelled and tasted.

Did your moans and whines sound as enchanting as your laugh? Did your eyes twinkle the same way when you were about to cum?

Those thoughts kept him up at night and his hands in his pants, stroking himself to his unlimited imagination all revolved around you. Those were the days that he was more prone to pick fights with you, mostly because he was embarrassed, ashamed, and quite frankly plain ol’ horny.

Spencer thought you were just so sexy, especially when he had managed to light that fire under your ass that really got you going. He wasn’t a sadist or a masochist by any means, but he loved when you yelled at him. So, for you to think so lowly of yourself it almost drove him mad because you didn’t know.

But you were going to.

You were going to kill whoever was bothering you on your day off.

The knocking was unexpected, but so was who was responsible for the noise.

“Spencer?” You asked in surprise.

Usually you were prepared for your exchanges with the man, but if your pajamas were anything to go by, you were anything but. Spencer felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your tits sitting braless in a thin undershirt, your soft tummy slightly straining against the cotton material and a pair of shorts that look like they were practically strangling your thighs.

The only thing he could really say was… “Do you know how infuriating you are?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms over your chest, and little did you know the action pressed the tops of your breasts over the hemline. “Excuse me?” You almost scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to argue with me.”

“No I - fuck just let me finish.” This was not how he wanted this to go. You looked like you wanted to say something but your curiosity made you choose to stay silent.

“Do you know why you’re so infuriating?” He asked, taking a tentative but careful step towards you. “Because you haunt my every living thought. I see you when I’m awake, I see you when I’m asleep. I can’t… I can’t escape you! I can’t escape how I feel about you.”

Your eyes were wide and your brows were furrowed; it looked like you almost couldn’t breathe.

“But you want to know the worst part?” His hand lands on your cheek and his thumb gently caresses the skin there. “You have the audacity to think that I wouldn’t want you.”

“You want me?” You asked in disbelief. “But I… but I thought you hated me? I mean - I haven’t been all that nice to you.” You attempt to joke weakly, but your body is on fire; your stomach is tangled up in knots. You were trembling in excitement at his words but in disbelief too.

“Do you have any idea how much I love arguing with you?”

You laughed at his words, your lips slipping into a small smirk as you threw your arms around his neck in an act of boldness. “Oh yeah?” You hummed seductively. “You wanna show me how much?”

“Yeah,” He replied breathlessly. “I do.”

And just like that his mouth was on yours and a long leg shot out behind him to shut your front door. The slam made you yelp, but it quickly melted into a giggle against his lips when he reconnected them.

Spencer tugged you closer to him, and God the feeling of your body was so much better than anything his subconscious could have conjured up. You felt so soft and the front part of your torso pressed against his chest in a way that if he didn’t have you naked under him soon he was going to go crazy.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He didn’t want to pull away from you, but he wanted to do this right.

“I didn’t know you were a gentleman, Reid.” You teased with a dazed smile on your face. “There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me.” You quirked a brow. “Oh really? How about you tell me?”

“Later,” He said with a lazy shake of his head, “Later.”

His hand reached down to cup your ass, your crotch rubbing on the large boner restrained by his pants. You moaned quietly at the feeling, and found yourself saying, “Down the hall and to the left.”

When you arrived, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; they grabbed at your back, ass, waist, hips. There was so much of you that he had no idea where to start. All he knew is that he wanted all of you right now.

“Can I take your shirt off, please?” His words almost came out as a whine and it welcomed a fresh wave of arousal in your panties. “Take off whatever you want, I’m yours.” A reassuring confession that Spencer had no idea he needed to hear.

His lithe, veiny hands tugged at your top first, dragging it over your head and throwing it somewhere random. Your pants and panties were next to go and you couldn’t help but shiver at Spencer's intense stare.

“I’m uh- feeling a little vulnerable here, could you lose a layer or two?”

The man blinked rapidly, his fingers shooting to undo the buttons on his cardigan. “Yes, yeah of course, sorry I -'' You grabbed the shaky digits. “Calm down, take it slow. I’m not going anywhere.” It was a light jab meant to ease his nerves. For a moment he looked unsure but you gave an encouraging smile.

After his clothes disappeared he held you by your waist, walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed. You quickly hurried to scale the mattress until your head hit the pillows.

“God,” Spencer gulped. “This is so much better than what I imagined.” You giggled slightly. “As much as I appreciate your flattery, I want you to fuck me. Now.” You said it with such simplicity that his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at your crudeness.

He swallowed his shock. “Whatever the lady wants.”

He hurried to crawl over your leaning body; you cup his cheek in an act of haste, dragging him down to lay on top of you. His own hands didn’t stop their determined trail, tracing the soft planes of your plush body until he reached your wet cunt.

You whine loudly at the feeling of Spencer’s fingers stroking your damp slit.

“So responsive.” He murmured with delighted smirk. You go to say something snarky but you’re quickly cut off when he begins to rub tight circles on your clit. “‘M sensitive.” You gasp against his lips, your back arching and pressing further into him.

His body falls to the side, laying next to your naked one with a cheek balanced on his fist. “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” Spencer whispers into your ear. His ring finger entered your warmth slowly and he felt himself choke on his words. You mewled, a hand shooting up to tangle in his long, curly hair, the other grabbed at his wrist.

“Then, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock.” After a few experimental twists of his wrist, his middle finger joins the first. Your breathing speeds up with every movement of his digits.

“Afterwards, ‘m gonna clean you up and take you out to eat.” Your brain could barely process what he was saying, but every word that left his mouth added to the swarming butterflies in your gut – which felt so juvenile seeing as though he was already knuckle deep inside you.

“And when we get home, I’m gonna eat this sweet pussy for dessert.”

Your eyelashes were fluttering rapidly, your hips moving frantically on his fingers in an attempt to try and get him deeper. Spencer must have sensed what you needed, because with a few firm swipes on your sensitive clit sent you spiraling over the edge.

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer… I - I -” Your gummy walls squeezed his digits, and the only thing keeping you grounded was the heat coming from his body.

“Wow.” You laughed breathlessly. “Wow indeed.” He mimics with the same amount of amusement.

“Are you okay to keep going?” He asks.

“Are you kidding?” The look on his face was almost laughable, and you gave his naked chest an encouraging pat. “Hell yeah I’m good, how about you?”

“If I told you I could cum just from watching you, would you believe me?” You roll your eyes and snort. “We’ll find out later, loverboy. Get up here.”

He scrambles to get on top of you, but then stops. “Wait, wait,” He reaches behind your head and grabs a pillow. “Lift your hips up for me.” Your eyes go wide, because who in the fuck taught him that? Though you move a bit slowly through your surprise, he manages to get the soft thing under you, your lower back now elevated.

But all excitement dies out when he realizes there might be no protection, he looks like he could almost cry.

“It’s cool, Spence. I’m on the pill and I… I haven’t had sex with anyone in an embarrassingly long time.” You admit shyly, your eyes casting to the side nervously. “I’m clean too. I don’t really remember the last time I’ve had sex either.”

You guys make eye contact and erupt into a fit of giggles, “To relearning the art of sexual intercourse then.” Spencer scrunches his nose up at your wording, but you don’t give him any time to retort because you’ve already placed two hands on his face, tugging his head down to kiss your smile-split lips.

He takes the time to kiss you for a moment before reaching down to line his dick up to your entrance. You both shiver at the sensation. You guys disconnect your lips to watch him enter you, your foreheads pressed together and breaths mingled in anticipation.

You moaned in unison when he slowly but surely seethed himself in you fully, and your body tensed at the long awaited intrusion. “Gimme a sec.” You gulped. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He panted.

You allowed yourself a moment to relax, brushing your fingers through his curls as a way to comfort Spencer as well. After taking a few more seconds to enjoy the raw, intimate moment between the two of you, you said, “Okay. Okay, I’m good.”

Spencer licked his lips and rolled his hips tentatively, and your breath hitched. A string of whimpers were soon to follow with every drag of his cock against your sensitive inner walls, the leftovers of your previous orgasm leaving your body feeling electric.

Your mouth drops open into an ‘o’ shape when his tip brushes your g-spot.

“Right - right there Spence…good boy - fuck - good fucking boy.”

The term of endearment was an accidental slip of the tongue, but it had frayed some nerve in his body, because the groan that left him was guttural and hungry.

“Say -” He huffs. “Say it again, please.” The pace of his thrusts speed up as he begs, and your nails drag down his back. “You’re my good boy, Spencie.” His eyes flutter shut at the praise and he doesn’t bother to be gentle anymore.

“Mphm! More - I need more.”

“Okay, okay.” He rushed to balance on his elbow so that his other arm could slip between the two of your bodies to rub at your clit. Your back arched, and Spencer all but throbbed inside of you, his balls tightening and threatening to cum right then and there; but ever the gentleman, he waited, his stomach sucked in tightly and his body jolting quivering.

“I - I’m gonna cum.”

It didn’t take much to pull you into a kiss. It was sloppy, and messy, and lewd and all of those other wonderful synonyms. Spit dribbled down your chins and with one last hard thrust that almost sent you up the bed, you gripped onto the older man for dear life.

Everything went white as you came; your hearing, your vision, every single cognitive thought you had pretty much flew out the window.

It was Spencer gently wiping the sweat off of your brow that brought you back down to reality, your lungs finally opening up and expanding for that much needed air.

“Hey,” He cooed. “There you are.”

“Hi,” You sighed with a ditzy smile on your face.

There was a moment of silence before you said, “How about we save the oral for breakfast?” Spencer laughed, but nonetheless nodded in agreement. “That sounds perfect.”

“So, what’s for dessert then?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Hm…” You pondered for a moment.

“How about ice cream?”

“I like ice cream.” But then he added, “But I like you more.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.” You groaned, covering your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “I like you too, I guess.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

834 notes · View notes

444rockstargf · 8 days

Note

My mom passed away yesterday and I am in desperate need of a comfort fic with Spencer Reid </3

my most heartfelt condolences, anon. :(( i pray that everything turns around for the better for you.

₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ "𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬." | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: reader x spencer

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 430

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: fluffy drabble, spencer comforts reader

silence draped over you and spencer like a warm blanket.

tears rolled down your cheeks as you choked out pained yet quiet sobs, your body rocking slightly. his arms were locked around you, pulling you into a long hug and letting your tears saturate his t-shirt. he didn’t mind it at all.

you curled up into a ball, the pillow underneath your head completely soaked. spencer rubbed slow, gentle circles onto your back and pressed a kiss to your forehead before making you lift up your head so that he could exchange your wet pillow with his dry one.

you felt a pang of pain in your chest as he did this, the simple action representing how he always put your burdens upon himself. you felt as if you didn’t deserve his kindness, and another wave of heavy sobs hit you. a pounding sensation flooded your head, making the room spin.

spencer sighed deeply, sitting up from the bed and leaning back against the headboard. he pulled your head onto his lap, looking down at you as he stroked your tear-strained cheek gently. “hey, look at me…” you swallow hard, managing to wipe away a few of the tears that clouded your vision.

he held your chin with the same tenderness that would be used for an infant. “i’ve never seen you this sad before…” your heart broke at the shakiness of his voice. seeing you in this state was killing him on the inside. he took a deep shaky breath before pulling you up, setting your body onto his lap and giving you a soft kiss on the nose.

“i know this hurts, my love. but you will never be alone as long as i live.” he took your hands into his to still their shaking. “i promise that i will be with you until you get through this.” his voice broke as tears began to swell in his eyes. “it gets better, baby. i promise…“ he held you close to his, the tenderness of his massages helping your heartrate to still.

he looked up at you, his eyes glistening ever so slightly. “remember, it’ll always be you and i. and nothing will ever change that.” he smiled a little, making you do the same as you sniffled. he laid back down with your body on top of his, rubbing the same patterns onto your back as you closed your eyes. silence falls over you once again as he does the same. as you two drift off to sleep, he manages to mutter one last thing:

“i love you…”

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 4 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡˚ 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝

brain is rotting and I couldn’t help myself

#moodboards #I wanna crochet this man a scarf #kicking myself about the matching socks #spencer reid #spencer reid moodboard #criminal minds #criminal minds spencer reid #criminal minds moodboard #matthew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid

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cherryflavoredbunny · 1 year

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐏♡𝐫𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬🍒🐇

𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

teasing stepdad!hotch in a bikini

grinding on stepdad!hotch’s thigh

stepdad!hotch coming home from a case and using you in your sleep

𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐬

welcoming emily home from a case

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐣𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐮

𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬🍒🐇

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

weekly movie night with older!neighbor!eddie

𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐢 "𝐞𝐧𝐳𝐨" 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐯

stepdad!dmitri letting hopper use you

stepdad!dmitri making you wait

𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫

stepdad!dmitri letting hopper use you

𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫

#🍒🐇#18+ MDNI💌#twitter p♡rn link #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #alex blake #eddie munson #dmitri antonov #jim hopper #karen wheeler

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reidsweetener · 1 year

Text

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢.

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

spencer x bimbo!reader

the only exception

moving in with spencer

protective spencer pt.1 pt.2

spencer's pretty!

fluffy scenarios with spencer

the tale of easy access

spencer reid and his sweet pumpkin

spencer and his safe place

scams and cuddles

spencer reid x bau!secret wife

through fights

through misunderstandings

through marriage

through interruptions

𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

hotch and his husband duties

requests are open✨✨

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veryberryjelly · 3 months

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coping mechanisms

spencer reid x fem!reader ( platonic or romantic x )

prompt : one leaning their head onto the other's shoulder suddenly and they just freeze

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

i made a playlist specifically for this concept which you should definitely check out -> here <-

the jet was quiet aside from the peaceful rumbling of the plane's engine lulling everyone to sleep.

emily and derek were both fast asleep propped up in the chairs in the centre of the plane.

jj was sat next to the brunette skimming over case files while hotch and rossi were having a quiet discussion at the other end of the plane.

which left you and spencer sat next to eachother, with an earphone in each of your ears while some music played through them.

after cases the plane tended to get quiet and you could never stand it, so very early on in your bau career, you had made a playlist specifically for the plane ride back to virginia.

nothing too loud or happy as you weren't always in the best mood, everything soft and calming and just comforting.

after a particularly rough case a few years ago, everyone on the jet had been on edge and just quite melancholy since you left the police station.

and sat across from you, spencer looked the most out of it.

he's features looked sunken from the days without sleep poured over this case, yet his eyes were wide open. unable to fall asleep.

while he usually read on the plane, his book was discarded next to him on the couch.

you couldnt look at it anymore.

so you pushed yourself up from your place on the opposite couch and sat yourself next to him.

you offered him an earbud silently, not wanting to disturb anyone else on the plane.

when he hesitated, you explained.

" sitting here reliving it isn't going to help anything. it helps stop my mind wandering if i'm listening to something. " you said quietly, your other earbud still in your hand for him to take.

" thanks " was the soft response from him as he took it and settled it in his ear.

I can't forget that night, You said I looked like Suzi Quatro

In the morning light, faded to oblivion.

And I said, "That's alright, at least we feel alive"

At least we feel alive

There's nothing you can do

I know that I want this

No one likes to lose

Know that I got this.

the sultry tones of suki waterhouse banished almost all the thoughts of the last few days from his mind and instead he was focused on the sounds flowing through your earbud.

since then, it had become almost a tradition on the jet home.

one earbud each and a couch shared between you.

sometimes the two of you would talk while it played, other times you'd both be reading or even filling out paperwork.

but always on the plane home, you would listen to music together.

to the point where you would always just gravitate towards eachother on the jet as everyone made their way in. and everyone knew, not to block any way for the two of you to sit together.

everyone had their coping mechanisms for after cases, and they couldnt deny either of you yours.

especially considering it was such a healthy one.

this case had been a rough one though. you hadn't been able to save the unsub or his last victim and being right infront of him when he died just made it a lot more real.

his blood stained your shirt, and your skin.

it was spencer who helped you wash it off when you were a bit too dazed to move.

you sat closer than usual on the jet, the outside of your legs pressed against each others as the jet flew over a state you couldn't pinpoint.

after not sleeping for three days, you couldn't physically keep your eyes open. your eyes fell shut as the sound of the cranberries flooded your ear.

your head dropped onto the nearest surface, which happened to be spencer's shoulder to your left.

while you could feel your mind slipping off into unconsciousness, you felt the surface you had rested your head on almost flinch.

you lifted your head up, prying your eyes open as you realised what you had done.

" sorry, i haven't slept the last couple days. didn't mean to use you as a pillow " you apologised, lifting your hand to wipe under your eyes, attempting to wake yourself up a bit so it didn't happen again.

" no no, it's okay. just startled me " he replied. while his tone was still quiet, his voice was quiet.

" you're not usually so jumpy " you observed.

" didnt sleep too well either. " he admitted

" why don't you get some sleep ? it's gonna be a while until we get back to quantico "

he pondered it for a few minutes before ultimately shaking his head and muttering a quiet ' i'm good '

you knew why he didnt want to sleep. it was the same reason you didnt sleep after a particularly tough case for spencer.

to make sure he was okay. protect him.

" you can sleep, spence. i'm fine " you punctuated your point by dropping your hand down onto his thigh in a light pat.

" i will if you will "

with that promise, you settled your head down against his shoulder again, his head taking moments to rest ontop of yours.

the comforting words of delores o'riordan comforting the two of you as you drifted off into a comfortable and safe slumber.

You know I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger

Do you have to let it linger?

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luveline · 9 months

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𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

spencer comforts you with facts and affection alike when you worry you aren't as pretty as the girls on his team. requested here. fem!reader, 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Photographs can't accurately capture how beautiful Emily Prentiss is. JJ and Penelope are both gorgeous too, but it's Emily who startles you. Her hair a cool black colour and curled around her demure face, the line of her nose and her deep, dark eyes. Her lips, picture perfect and painted a soft pink.

The prettier you find her, the more your heart sinks.

Spencer squeezes your shoulder. It's bold for him to do so in front of his friends (his family, really), he can barely show you affection in the grocery store without turning rosy. You preen at the touch, but the feeling of insecurity remains like an irksome gnat zipping around your head.

"We didn't think we'd ever get to meet you!" Derek is saying, a casual arm thrown around Penelope's shoulders, a drink in hand.

Rossi couldn't attend and JJ felt too pregnant, bringing your party to a solid six. It still feels like a lot of people to meet at once.

You hold the flute of your glass in a nervous hand, fingers stickied by condensation. You have a feeling that you're in trouble, all these profilers assessing your behaviour, nowhere to hide. "No, I'm," —you raise your voice to hide the funny tremor that's taken hold— "so happy to meet you all, I promise I've been trying!"

"Whenever she gets time off, we're on a case," Spencer says.

Emily smiles widely at your statement. It's such an open, friendly look, it floors you. You look down at your drink and blink.

You don't know it, but the team exchanges glances at your behaviour.

"So, do you enjoy your work?" Emily asks. "Or hate it, like us?"

Hotch laughs and moves his pint glass onto a coaster. "I think it's safe to say that none of us hate our jobs."

"I wouldn't blame you if you did. I can't imagine how hard it is, how hard you all work," you say. Spencer's hand drifts down your back. "But you have each other."

Emily does this thing with her eyes and if you weren't in a happy relationship, you'd probably be a puddle at her feet. "Too much of each other," she says jokingly.

She's gorgeous, and Spencer sees her every single day? You're nothing compared to her. Not smart, not strong, and nowhere near as pretty. You could never measure up.

"Would you, um, excuse me?" you ask, moving your purse from your lap and onto the table.

"You okay?" Spencer asks, looking up as you stand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just gonna use the bathroom," you say quietly. You aren't, but if you were, you wouldn't really want to broadcast that anyhow.

You try not to wobble on the way to the bathroom. The weight of five pairs of eyes follows you as you leave, four of which are trained in the art of spotting lies. Everything isn't okay, and they know that, and by extension —all the effort you made tonight? Getting your hair done, your nicest clothes, your makeup and your perfume? It might as well be a huge blinking neon sign that says you're trying really hard, and it doesn't make a lick of difference.

You sidle into a stall, pulling the lid of the toilet down with a tissue and sitting on it heavily. Elbows on your knees, you hunch your back and hide your face in your hands, breathing in the smell of bleach through quick breaths. Water drips somewhere near the sinks, the cacophony of the restaurant hushed.

You've never felt naturally pretty. With Spencer, it hasn't ever mattered. He's never given any indication that he cares. But…

"Loser," you mutter to yourself.

"Hey, Y/N?" Spencer asks, his voice bouncing off of the tile.

You freeze. "Two seconds!"

"You're not really using the bathroom," he says incredulously.

"Says who?"

Spencer laughs, his tone wry, "I know you really well, you realise? Like, better than I know anyone else on the planet."

"Then you know I'm having an authentic pee and need my privacy."

"Come on out."

The ringing of the lock slotting free is like an announcement of your embarrassment. Spencer's standing a half a foot from the doorway, keeping his distance from the no man's land that is the ladies room. You're going to use it to your advantage, only he holds out his hand expectantly. When you take it, he pulls you out of the bathroom and firmly into the restaurant hallway.

You can't escape his concern, nor his hands as they cup your face unexpectedly.

They feel as nice as they look, deft fingers pressed to your skin like you're one of his puzzles to decipher.

"What upset you?" he asks.

"Nothing your friends did, I promise."

"But something." He smooths a hand down to your shoulders. He's not quite frenetic but certainly close to it, searching for a problem he won't find on the surface. "You're insecure about something," he deduces.

You cringe bodily. "I'm not."

"What is it? Is it your necklace? It really is nice, the colour goes with your skin. It's understated."

"It's not my necklace, Spence."

"Then what is it?"

"I just…" You pull his hands from your neck and collar to hold them, looking up into his melty brown eyes wishing he weren't so hard to say no to. "Feel like you could do better."

He frowns. It's a pout, and endearing, but not what you want to see.

"I love being with you, I just think, you know, you're so handsome, and you have all these pretty friends," you say.

"You think you're not pretty?" he asks. He sounds gutted, if a little confused.

"Not like her." Your voice quivers.

The first time you got upset in front of Spencer, he wasn't sure what to do. He ended up putting an arm around your shoulder, your brand new boyfriend out of his depth. You've both had some practice at comforting one another now, and any hesitance Spencer held is gone. He wraps his arms around you like he's afraid you'll fall over, the crease of his stressed brow smushing against the side of your face.

"Don't think that. Why would you think that?" he asks quietly.

"I know I'm not pretty like some girls," you say, surprised by the ferocity of his reaction.

"You don't know that, because it's not true. You're beautiful." He squeezes your side between his fingers, something contemplative about the way his thumb curls upward. "Do you know how many books I've read?"

"Thousands."

He hums. A hand grasps at the back of your neck. "Thousands of books. I know so much, especially about the human body. I know that falling in love can make some people feel the same effects as cocaine. Staring into their eyes can synchronise your heartbeats." He encourages your head back. "Butterflies are adrenaline and when I look at you I can't get them to stop, even if I know it's chemical." Spencer's eyes are lit with something you don't often see directed at you, a furious conviction. "What we think we know isn't always fact, so if you think you're not pretty…" He nods his head gently to the left. "There's only really one thing left to do."

Your heart feels like it's being juiced. "What's that?" you ask.

He grabs your hand and puts it on his chest. Fingertips to his breastbone, he holds it flat. Sure enough, even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, you can feel the rapid capering of his pulse.

"It's like that pretty much any time I look at you."

"Spence…"

"I know it's bad," he says.

"Are you messing with me?"

"Yeah, I did a lap before I came to find you– No!" He laughs, giving you an admonishing look. "Why would I mess with you? How could I?"

"I don't know."

He dips in to kiss your frown. "You're so pretty," he whispers. "So, so pretty. You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen, no matter what you think."

You don't believe that you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, but you believe that he believes it. He has no reason to lie to you, nothing to gain. He could've said, Hey, you're pretty, and left it at that. He could've been angry with you for leaving the table for something some people would say was superficial. But Spencer's your sweetheart.

"Do you want to go home, angel?" he asks, looking at you worriedly.

"No." You don't even have to think about it —you've done enough thinking. "I don't want to go home. Sorry, Spencer. I feel better." And you'll stay out all night if he's going to call you angel again.

"Well, let me know if you need me to tell you again."

The chances of you surviving such an ardent speech a second time are low. "I won't be doing that."

Spencer shrugs. "You'll let me know, even if you don't think so. You have a tell when you're upset."

You spend the rest of the night making up for your disruption (which Spencer's friends immediately dismiss without questioning), shepherding the crisper curly fries on to Spencer's plate because he likes them that way, and begging him to tell you what your tell is with subtle pleading glances and a hand on his knee. Nothing inappropriate, but affectionate nonetheless.

He doesn't tell you no matter how much you ask, and maybe it's the drinks or the way the scone light kisses his cheeks in a warm buttery light, you can't find it in you to be mad.

"Keep your secrets," you say, chin tilted upward. You're failing to glare at him, too much love in your eyes for it to be believable.

"You're beautiful," he says back, mirroring your expression playfully, before leaning down for a chaste kiss.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!! if you did, please consider reblogging, it makes a big difference to me<3 have a good day!

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qlossytbh · 8 days

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𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you and spencer had been the closest of friends ever since you joined the BAU. but when a murderer starts terrorizing the city of Virginia, you and Reid are forced to go undercover as a recently married couple, and with that, the lines of your friendship begin to go blurry. what happens when your past begins to claw its way to your present and it becomes incredibly hard to keep those you don’t want getting involved out.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 usual criminal minds contents, descriptions of murder, descriptions of dead bodies, death, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of anxiety, mentions of depression, mentions of traumatic pasts, mentions of abuse, mention of abusive relationships, eventual smut, fluff, angst, all the good stuff, best friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers (i will be adding extra content warning with each chapter) im imagining season 4 spence but i don’t mention too much of the plot timeline so go crazy with your imagination :)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 - 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 - 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

(coming april 28th..)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

(coming may 1st..)

more to be announced

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xspeter · 1 year

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐒

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ఌ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐭.𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭 ꨄ

november 14, 9:36 a.m.

you weren’t sure when the last time you got a full nights rest was.

it’s hard, when every time you close your eyes you see her face. everytime you close your eyes you see the bullet go through her skull, see the way her body fell to the ground like she weighed absolutely nothing.

everytime you remember it, you recall a scream. it might’ve been hers, it might’ve been emily’s, it might’ve been yours.

you aren’t sure.

“y/n,” someone whispers against your skin, you aren’t sure who.

everyone’s voices seem to jumble together at this point.

“you have to get ready.” they say.

you pull the blankets closer to your chest.

“for what?” you mumble.

“for the funeral.”

oh yeah.

november 14, 2:43 p.m.

she always said she wanted her funeral to be like a big party.

“well, i just don’t want everyone to sit and cry and be sad. i want- i want them to celebrate me.” she swallows, and you nod.

“that’s understandable, but i can’t promise you i won’t cry at your funeral.” you say.

she shoves you, “don’t say that.”

you shrug, “i mean, it’s only logical that one of us will die first- not to sound like, morbid or something.” you shudder.

she laughs, “no. we live together, we die together. promise.”

you bite your lip as you weave your way through the crowd. there’s people dancing, most of them are teary eyed.

there’s a large memorial right in the center of everything. there’s flowers piled up in the worst way, gifts that she’ll never be able to open- you think you might throw up.

spencer grabs your arm when you waver, his brown eyes filled to the brim with sympathy. “are you okay?” he asks.

you don’t respond.

you don’t know if you’ll ever be okay again.

you take a breath as you lay down the flowers right next to her the canvas that holds her photo.

“i’m sorry.” you mumble.

“i’m so, so, sorry.” you cry.

the tears come before you can even stop them.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” you repeat like a mantra, your breath coming in gasps. spencer is quick to fall to his knees next to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and holding you close to his chest.

you barely even notice him.

all you can focus on is her.

how you failed to save her. you failed her family, failed your job, you failed yourself. how were you supposed to come back from this,

“it’s okay, you’re okay, i’m here.” spencer whispers in your ear.

but it’s not him that you want.

december 3, 7:34 p.m.

you aren’t sure if this is your third glass of wine, or your seventh. you don’t really care.

this is the only way to numb the pain. the only way that you can forget.

sometimes you catch yourself going to call or text her, and then you remember.

the front door opens and closes with a slam, you don’t notice.

“y/n?” a female voice calls out.

“what?” you sing-song.

a brightly colored woman steps into view, and you immediately recognize her as penelope garcia.

you gasp, “pen!” you giggle, clambering to your feet to give her a hug. she returns it effortlessly.

spencer stands behind her, his bag slung over his shoulder.

penelope pulls away with a sigh, her eyebrows are nut together and her eyes are glassy. “what’s wrong?” you ask.

“y/n, are you drinking?” she asks.

you furrow your eyebrows, taking a step away from her.

“what does it matter?” you spit.

she shares a look with spencer.

he clears his throat, “we’re worried about you, sweetheart. everyone is- the whole team.” he mutters, reaching out to place a hand on your arm.

you swat him away, tone dripping venom as you scoff out, “i’m fine! there- there is nothing wrong with me.”

penolope wipes away a tear, “y/n, how many glasses of wine have you had?” she asks.

you scowl, “i don’t- i’m not keeping count! why does this even matter anyway?”

spencer picks up your glass and drops in the sink. you flinch at the clang it makes.

“because y/n, this is not how you deal with grief. we are all here for you- everyone of us. and we want to help you, but you aren’t letting us! everytime i try to talk to you you shut down, and all your doing is making yourself worse with all this drinking.” he cries.

he bites his lip and sighs, “sweetheart, the alcohol is not going to make it go away. it’s just going to make it worse.”

your bottom lip begins to quiver at that, and your shoulders shake as you stumble to the couch.

you hold you head in your hands as you sob. spencer and Penelope sit on either side of you, whispering about how loved you are.

and for the first time, you think you might get through this.

december 18, 8:42 a.m.

today is your first day back at work since she died, and your feeling more excited than nervous.

you’ve missed everyone, and you’ve missed working with them.

as soon as you walk through the door with spencer by your side you’re surrounded by the team you’ve grown to love.

“oh, i’ve missed you so much!” emily says, gathering you into her arms in a bone crushing hug.

you laugh and agree with her.

when everyone finishes the mini reunion, hotch calls you all into the meeting room to discuss your next case.

penolope explains that teenage girls in a small town right outside of phoenix, arizona have been going missing and found dead three days later with a singular bullet shot through the skull.

one shot through the skull.

december 19, 12:21 p.m.

should anyone honestly be surprised that the mission turns out like this? that as soon as you see the body of the newest victim, you’re brought back to there.

to that place where the most important person in your life was taken from you?

“y/n, baby, just look at me, okay? look at me.” spencer instructs as you gasp for air.

“follow my breathing,” you do as he says.

“good, just like that.” he praises, continuing to slowly breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth.

when the crowd surrounding you disperses and your tears have long dried, you and spencer sit in the hotel room together.

you on the bed, and spencer on the desk chair.

you both sit in silence for a few moments, before you finally say it.

“i cant keep doing this anymore.” you mutter.

spencer swallows.

“what do you mean?” he asks.

you swallow, blinking away the tears that begin to form in your eyes.

“everything- i just, i need to get away.” you cry.

spencer furrows his eyebrows and bites his lip, “y/n, please don’t do this.” he pleads with a sob.

you let the tears fall freely now, “spencer, i have too.”

he falls to the floor in front of you, clasping your knees. you avoid eye contact.

“please, i can- i can help you! we just have to get through this-“

you shake your head, “no, spencer. i have to go. i need to get away from- from all of this!”

he frowns, “i’ll go with you! just- please, please don’t leave me.” he sobs.

you shake your head, softly pushing him away from you and standing. you grab your bags, and quietly make your way to the hotel door.

“i’m sorry, spencer.”

september 21, 4:43 p.m.

two years later

you really never thought you’d be back here.

when you left that fateful day in december, you had been so positive that that was it.

and now you’re back.

you try to ignore the anxiety in your chest when you walk through the threshold of hotch’s office, a smile on your face.

hotch looks up at you, and his eyes soften.

“y/n. you look healthy.” he says.

you shrug, “well, time heals all i suppose.”

hotch smiles.

he actually smiles.

“they’re all in the meeting room. i didn’t… i didn’t tell them you were coming back. i just said we have a new member.” he explains.

you nod and go to leave his office, but he stops you.

“y/n?” he says.

“yeah?” you hum.

“spencer, he, um, he’s engaged.” he says.

you hate the way your heart drops at that.

“oh,” you clear your throat, “okay.”

what right would you even have to feel hurt by this? you left him.

“she was your replacement when you left,” he explains, “her names callie.”

when you walked into the meeting room, you could’ve cried from joy.

everyone immediately pounced on you when you entered, their excited rambling is hard to keep up with, but you barely notice.

because all you can see is spencer.

and the woman next to him.

and their hands clasped together.

when hotch settles everyone down, you take the safe route and sit next derek as garcia gives a briefing on your case.

you do your best to pay attention, you really do, but it’s hard when you know he’s staring at you.

he doesn’t even try to hide it either. everytime you glance at him he doesn’t look away, he just stares.

the plane ride is even worse.

“hi, i don’t think we’ve met! my names callie.” the woman who was holding spencer’s hand says.

you smile and take a seat across from emily, “i’m y/n.”

she laughs, “believe me, i know! when i first joined the team, all anyone ever talked about was you! especially spencer.” she laughs.

you feel your shoulders tense, but you just laugh it off.

september 25, 8:36 p.m.

you sit at a bar, and order a glass of water.

the bartender looks at you funny, but you just shrug, “i’m not in the mood for alcohol.”

when he serves it to you, you sip on it moderately, watching the football game on the television that hangs a few feet in front of you.

you almost don’t notice when someone sits next to you.

almost.

“hi,” he says.

“hi.” you say back.

you ignore the way your shoulders tense and your heart flutters when he scoots just a little bit closer.

“why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” he asks, you shrug.

“what was i supposed to say?”

he shrugs.

silence.

“i’m sorry,” you swallow.

he nods, “so am i.”

“you have nothing to be sorry for, Spence. i… i did what was best for me at the time. and you got something good from it anyway! you met your fiancé, and believe me, when i saw that ring i just knew you loved her.” you gush, ignoring the ache in your chest.

he frowns, toying with his fingers.

“it was supposed to be yours.”

you swear your heart stops at that.

you eyes begin to feel glassy, and you bite your bottom lip.

spencer looks as heartbroken as you feel.

“it was my moms, and she gave it to me two weeks before… she died. i wanted to take you somewhere really romantic and propose, but… then you left.”

“spence…” you mumble.

he smiles, “i don’t blame you for leaving.”

you wipe at the tear that rolls down your cheek, clearing your throat, you mumble, “i’m sorry, spence.”

“i know you are.”

and then he leaves.

why are all my spencer posts always super angsty ???

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #angst #champagne problems #criminal minds #spencer reid #matthew gray gubler

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alwaysmoncheri · 2 months

Text

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

return to — masterlist

drabbles ❧ moodboards

i’m a feminist obviously, but I wouldn’t really mind him saving me [6k] coming soon!

you’re a strong independent woman who everyone knows can take care of herself. but when you’re kidnapped and tortured, all you want is the be in the safety of spencer’s arms.

say don’t go [3.7k]

spencer gets drunk and you offer to take him home. your intentions are clear, you long for him to offer you to stay, but when you do, your relationship becomes more unclear.

more fics tba!

#masterlist #spencer reid #navigation #spencer reid x reader

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 7 months

Note

I have request for Spencer Reid x Plus size fem!reader. Maybe her and Spencer are good friends and she gets stood up on a date or her date leaves after seeing her and Spencer swoops in and love confession.

p.s I love you work. <3

༉‧₊˚. 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

― pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

― summary: admitting that you got stood up on a date would be like admitting defeat, too bad spencer's too good of a best friend to let you go through this alone, even if he was the last person you wanted to see.

― warnings: best friends to lovers, getting stood up on dates, a red flag named chris (sorry to all the chris' out there), mutual pining, requited love, love confessions, and implied dates!

― wc: 1457

⋆ a/n: OH, MY GOODNESS IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE WRITTEN AN ACTUAL ONESHOT. i got hit with a random bout of inspiration out of nowhere and i have a bunch of fanfics that already have banners made but they're unwritten and rotting in my drafts so i'm trying to clean them out first. thank you for this and i hope you enjoy some best friend!spencer reid!!

masterlist | AO3

Leave it up to you to be stood up on a date you didn’t even want to go on.

You were even looking for anything with anything else, you just needed a distraction, you needed anything that would help you move on from him. It wasn’t Spencer’s fault that you were in love with him – well, it actually kind of is – but that’s beside the point.

There was no way you could continue to sit there and allow yourself to wallow in self-pity over the fact that your feelings for your longtime best friend weren’t reciprocated. You were a grown woman for God’s sakes! And as a grown woman, it was up to you to make grown up decisions. One phone call to Derek was all it took for you to get hooked up with some dude that he knew.

“He’s a good guy,” He said.

Yeah, right. Good guy your ass.

Not only did you look stupid, but you were left stranded in a sports bar surrounded by a bunch of strangers – no, scratch that! Almost all of the patrons in this bar tonight were men, it was football season. You were practically asking to get murdered! What kind of FBI agent would you be if you allowed yourself to be murdered over the fact that some guy’s team lost.

With a sigh, you gazed at your chat between Chris and you. You had sent him a text thirty minutes ago asking where he was when he was ten minutes late, but even that message had been left unread.

The only reason why you were still here was because you were oh so painfully embarrassed, and you hoped that others around you couldn’t tell that there was supposed to be a second person joining you at your very barren booth that you had somehow managed to score.

Now that you think about it, how in the hell had you allowed this man to talk you into going to a sports bar instead of oh, I don’t know, a restraunt with a calm, and comfortable atmosphere?

Maybe it was the fact that the only person’s face you could see in your mind as you discussed where you were going to go together was Spencer’s. As ashamed as you were to admit, you mostly imagined a disappointed look on his face when he realized you were going out with someone else, but even you knew that was damn near impossible.

It wasn’t your failed date that was the shit show – even though it is a close second – it was you that was the main attraction. How could you have allowed yourself to be this childish? You weren’t in high school anymore, and you hadn’t been in some years, but old habits die hard, you guess?

It didn’t have to be common knowledge to tell that your romantic life when you were in school was very, very sad. You often found yourself alone on most weekends, ample amount of time to study right under your fingertips. You figured that when you had gotten older things would have gotten better but… nope.

You didn’t know who to call.

Would you call Derek and blame him? No, he couldn’t have known, but you could totally get him to beat Chris’ ass. The thought of your favorite and very muscular chocolate thunder roughing the piece of shit up helped to easy your nerves, badly enough. There was just one person you couldn’t bring yourself to call, and that was Spencer.

Calling Spencer meant that you were giving up, that you were waving the white flag, that you were still in love with him and no number of blind dates, good or bad, could change that.

You bit the inside of your cheek in thought, at least you had dressed up in something comfortable.

“Can I sit here?” You heard someone ask over the bustling noise of the bar.

“Honestly, you can just have the thi–” You spoke without looking up, but when you did, your words died in your throat.

There Spencer stood in his full glory; tall, lanky, nerdy, and extremely uncomfortable, but nonetheless, he slid into the sticky seat across from you with an awkward smile.

“Spence? What are you doing here?” You asked in shock, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I uh- Morgan called me. He said that Chris told him to tell you something came up, but I uh- I figured that wasn’t true.” He explained sympathetically. You scoffed, your body slouching along with the noise. “Yeah, no shit.” Your words were bitter and harsh, which caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Fuck, Spence. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to talk to you like that, I’m just… frustrated.”

He reached out his hand, albeit reluctantly seeing as though the table was in the same state as the seat, maybe even a bit worse. You looked down at it then at him before relenting, your full hand slipping into his lithe one perfectly, as if it belonged there.

The fact that this felt so right made your stomach twist sickeningly, fingerings twitching in desperation to pull away. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to stay. You did not have the mental compacity to dig yourself out of another hole.

“No, it’s okay. I understand.” He reassured, his thumb caressing the back of your knuckles gently. “I came as soon as he called,” He then looked around, “Especially after he told me where you were.” You laughed a bit at his concern, your body feeling lighter as it finally straightened.

A soft grin graced your features.

“Thank you, Spence. Really. I know how uncomfortable these kinds of places make you. I just- I really thought tonight was going to go differently.” I thought that things between us were going to go differently, is what you really meant.

“I’m sorry, I know you liked him.”

You grimaced at the word ‘liked.’

“I think ‘liked’ would be the last word I would use to describe how I feel for Chris.”

It was his turn for his eyebrows to furrow. “What do you mean.”

You huffed. “What I meant was that I didn’t even want to go on this stupid fucking date anyways, but I had too… I had too…” You allowed your words to trail off when you had caught yourself about to admit something you had fought years to keep under wraps.

“You had to what?”

Goddamn him and his never-ending curiosity.

“Just leave it alone, please?” You pleaded. You looked up at him from beneath your eyelashes, your gaze soft and vulnerable. “Okay.”

A silence – what was an equivalent to silence – settled over the both of you. The air was thick with unspoken words and feelings, an invisible line was drawn that the two of you were too scared to cross.

“I would’ve never stood you up, you know.” Spencer piped up quietly, his grip that had gone limp in yours tightening. “What?” Your breath hitched. “And I would’ve taken you to someplace nicer than this.” His voice was shaky and forceful, as if he was forcing himself speak in fear that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t say anything at all.

“What are you saying?” You were breathless, the butterflies that fluttered around in your gut making you nauseous. Hope bloomed at a dangerous rate in your chest.

“What I’m saying is that if I were to take you out on a date, it would be a lot better than this.” He had finally gotten the courage to raise his gaze instead of focusing on where your hands were interlaced. “I would take you anywhere you wanted to go, then I would try my best to make it memorable for you because I…” He gulped. “Because I love you.”

Your ears were ringing. There was sweat beginning to form on your hairline.

“You’re being serious?” The question sounded more like a plea. “Because if you’re saying this because you feel bad, I-” He cut you off. “I don’t feel bad.” He lowered his head to where yours was in an attempt to connect your gazes deeper.

“I really do love you. I- I have for a long time.” Spencer confessed.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” You said through a wobbly smile. His smile matched yours. You could feel the fact that both of your hands were extremely clammy with nerves, but none of you could find it within yourself to care.

“Can I cash in that date now?”

“Now?” He asked incredulously, lifting his free arm to check the time on his wrist. “It’s pretty late.”

You gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m pretty sure we can figure that out.”

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