#she looks like shes going to and then it goes to spencer
Note
AHHHHHH AHHHHH TAHT was amazing!!!!?
could we get a spencer where his partner gives him head under his pc while he’s in a discord chat
So I decided to do F!reader for this one and it's probably going to be my default unless asked otherwise because for some reason, this was easier for me to write.
UNDER THE DESK | Spencer Agnew x F!Reader | 18+ MINORS DNI
TW: Oral (m receiving)
Word Count: 1.4k
Description: Life can be very stressful. Especially when your boyfriend is always busy. When Y/N and Spencer finally get a night to themselves, work seems to never be done but Y/N is determined to give Spence some stress relief.
Spencer is a very busy guy. This is something Y/N has known since the two met years ago back when he was just an editor. Now, as the director of Smosh Games, he’s even busier than he used to be.
This has made couple time limited, but mainly it’s because Y/N doesn’t want to disturb Spencer from his work. She knows that if she told him how she’s felt lately he would drop everything and spend time with her. That’s why she doesn’t, he asks for so little and it feels wrong to her to ask for that.
That’s how she’s found herself in this situation. Spencer finally had a night off so the two decided to have a movie night at his place with their favorite take out and movies. The night started innocently, the two cuddled on the couch, shared sweet kisses, silly jokes, and playful touching.
It was innocent until she slipped her tongue in his mouth and it was the sign they both had been waiting for. Weeks of not being able to touch each other much, palpable tension, and little remarks had made this moment something they both needed. Stress of work and life in general had been taking their toll.
Spencer is laying on the couch while Y/N is straddling him. Their hips grinding against each other while his lips are working on her neck. Soft moans and sighs are coming from both of them before its interrupted by the shrill of Spencer’s phone.
“What the fuck? What could someone need now?” He groans, moving away from the girl. She pouts and tries to pull him back, “Babe, I’m sure it’s not important. Just stay here.” She practically begs while wrapping her arms around his neck.
Spencer stops for a second, considering it until he sees who it is calling. “I can’t, Alé is calling. It must be important because she doesn’t call this late unless it is. I’m so sorry.” He apologizes before giving her a peck. She sighs while getting off his lap, “Hey, boss lady, what’s up?” He asks as he heads to his office. He turns and sends a kiss before he disappears down the hall.
Y/N sits on the couch with a pouty expression and arms crossed as she watches the movie in front of her. Her phone buzzes, signaling she got a text. Looking at the phone, she sighs when it shows that Spencer texted ‘Babe, I am so sorry! We have to do something for games tonight and it’s super important. I’m gonna be on discord for a while. I’m so sorry. I love you’
‘It’s okay, pretty boy. I love you too’ she replies before tossing her phone next to her on the couch. Frustrated, she lays on the couch and sighs. It seems like no matter what, she can never have a night of just her and Spencer.
Deciding to just pass time, she gets comfortable on the couch and watches the movie. It was a little over halfway through, so she’s hoping by the time the movie is over her boyfriend will be free and they can continue where they left off.
The movie goes by quickly and still no Spencer. Getting off the couch, she walks down the hallway towards his office to what is going on. The door is slightly open, making it easy for Y/N to see in the room. Her heart swells when she sees her boyfriend working on his computer.
“Alex, come on dude! How can this still be happening?” Spencer practically whines as he slumps in his chair. Y/N can’t hear what Alex says as he has his headset on but whatever it is makes her boyfriend even more upset.
Walking back to the kitchen, she gets some pizza then grabs him a drink. Walking back to his office, she knocks and walks in. He turns when he hears the noise and smiles when he sees Y/N. “Hey, love. I’m sorry this is taking so long.” He apologies, kissing her hand when she gets close enough.
“It’s okay, baby. You seem stressed so I got you some food.” Y/N sets the plate down along with the drink. Leaning down, she kisses the top of his head and wraps her arms around his shoulders. “You’re a lifesaver. I’m sorry our night turned into me doing work, again.” She hums and starts to rub his shoulders.
Spencer enjoys the feeling as he continues with the problem at hand and talking with the games crew to fix it. He gets so focused on it, he almost misses the fact of Y/N climbing under the desk. Taking off his headset, he looks at her confused. “Babe, the fuck are you doing?”
“Shh, just relax, Spence. Let me take care of you.” Y/N says, biting her lip as she rubs his thighs. Her hands slowly move up to the waistband of his sweats as he takes a deep breath, “Act like I’m not even here.” She whispers as she pulls down his sweats.
Spencer clears his throat as he puts his headset back on. He holds back a moan as her tongue licks a long stripe from the base to his tip. She smirks to herself as she continues to tease him. Open mouth kisses along it and kitten licks, the sound of his breath getting quicker keeps her motivated.
Her tongue swirls around the tip before she takes him into her mouth, the warm feeling envelopes Spencer which erupts a groan from him which he quickly covers with a cough. Her mouth goes up and down slowly, taking more and more into her mouth with each bob.
When she gets about half-way, she takes the rest of him in her mouth without warning. “Holy fuck.” He practically yells as a hand reaches out to be placed in her hair. “Sorry dude, I’m just…really frustrated right now.” He says with gritted teeth to Alex as the girl beneath him giggles which sends vibrations through him.
Spencer looks down, his blue eyes locking with Y/N’s eyes as she smirks at him with her mouth full. This is a photo he would love to take a savour but sadly his phone is out of reach.
Y/N taps his hand, signaling for him to guide her, which he is more than happy too. His hand finds a good amount of hair to hold onto before he moves her head up and down. Throwing his back, he basks in the feeling of her mouth on him, enjoying every second of his favorite person making him feel good. Something he has needed for a while with all the stress he’s been under.
Her hand reaches out and gently plays with his ball as he continues to guide her. He soon lets go and she takes her mouth off of him with a small pop. She giggles as she strokes it, covered by her saliva. “Babe, please. I’m almost done.” Spencer whines, his mic away from him.
“But I like being right here.” She says before putting her mouth back on him. “Y/N” He moans before moving his mic back. She sets a good pace moving her head up and down and stroking what she can’t fit in her mouth.
“Alex, can we-” Spencer starts but pauses to let out a shaky breath, “Can we finish this tomorrow? I think we did all we can..all we can at home.” Spencer asks, his voice shaky as he tries to get off the discord call.
Increasing her speed, Y/N locks eyes with Spencer again before taking him fully in her mouth. “Okay, okay, fine, we can try one more thing.” He says begrudgingly as he slides his hand back into Y/N’s hair.
A twitch is felt in Y/N’s mouth as Spencer starts to buck his hip into her mouth. Letting him take the reins, she keeps eye contact as he throws his headset off and cums in her mouth. “Holy fuck, love, fuck!” He groans, his head thrown back as her mouth fills.
“Oh, love, I didn’t even ask-” He starts but she quickly shakes her head before swallowing. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” She says, giggling before leaning up to kiss him. “Now, finish up with whatever you’re doing and we can have some real fun.” Y/N crawls from under the table then kisses Spencer one more time before walking out of his office. Leaving him breathless as he grabs his headset once again.
#smosh#smosh cast#smosh games#smosh mouth#smosh pit#spencer agnew#spencer agnew x reader#spencer agnew smut#smut#smosh smut#smosh imagine#spencer agnew imagine
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Explorative Operation
Spencer Reid x reader
(takes place during season 6 after JJ leaves) oops spoilers, dw she comes back
Garcia's snooping goes too far, and she ends up unearthing some truths about the new hire. Unfortunately, those truths feel are a little more intimate than you were willing to divulge with the team. Especially details you wouldn't want to spread on a first date.
Spencer had no clue how this happened. Of course, curiosity killed the cat but in this case, this was more like a mixture of hubris and inquisivity slaughtering a lion. A week of preliminary interviews had yielded 3 finalists and, finally, you. Young, stunning, sharp as a tack, and most importantly, hired. After Hotchner had announced to the team for you that you were hired, they sent you home until 8 am tomorrow.
"Baby girl, did you hear that?" Penelope swung her head around and gave her classic doe-eyed look.
"We finally got a new media liaison." The team feels the conflicted stir of relief and grief. Their workloads should be lightened but they missed JJ. It had been a couple of months since she was transferred to the Pentagon, and the team was spread too thin without her.
"Oh (L/n) or Raleigh?"
"Wasn't there three finalists?" Emily corrects
"Yeah, but Rossi said that Kuschner reminded him of his second wife, and we didn't want to relive that relationship." Penelope sipped her coffee with a cheeky look in her eye. "So, who'd they go with?"
"(L/n)." Morgan declares as he puts his hands on his hips
"Ah that's good, she had a nice clean background, good college and she crushed it in the academy." Garcia smiled and innocently clicked off to her office. Morgan and emily shared mischievous glances as Spencer sat oblivious. He held his mug by his jaw and readjusted his hand in his pocket.
"What?"
"Why don't we go learn more about our new Liasion." Emily makes a downward smile, and Morgan stalks over to clap Reid on the back
"We should, gotta know who we're hiring."
Any protests of "Well, it's not technically us who's doing the hiring, but Chief Strauss." Were silenced as Morgan marched Spencer to the hidden office of Penelope Garcia.
"C'mon, pretty boy, no need to argue." Just down a hallway and around the corner the trio stumbles across the neon red curls of Penelope. Emily knocks on the jam of the open door.
"Hey Penny, we've got some questions about this miss ((L/n)."
"Oh, smart ones kneeling at the keeper all pearls of wisdoms in search of the A's to their Q's." Garcia spins around in her chair like a cartoon villain.
"We just want to know some things about this new liaison. You know this wound is still so fresh with JJ being gone and all." Emily plays innocently
"Well, they want this information. I want nothing to do with this sleuthing." Reid shows his palms in surrender and tries to spin around the counter but Morgan grabs him by the back of his sweater,
"Oh, know you don't, pretty boy."
"No," She points her finger in his face. "You can't use JJ as a chip in your nasty snooping."
"We just wanna know if there's anything we should be worried about, mama." Morgan juts out his lip
"You know I can't resist that sexy puppy face." Garcia spins around and flicks up her recent searches on you. A hundred files fly up, including credit car history, hospital visits, and even that dreaded 'permanent record' that every school principal threatens. Shockingly, all that's on it is that you got in a fistfight in seventh grade and served three weeks of after-school detention and a subsequent suspension from your varsity tennis team.
"What's this in her medical history?" Emily points at a page hidden behind a few tabs.
"Uhh, it just shows she had a pretty average childhood; she had her tonsils and adenoids removed at age five after some repeated tonsillitis and bronchitis. She broke her right arm when she was 7 and then her left one when she was 10. And oh god, she gave birth at seventeen, but 8 months prior, she had a rape kit administered." the ream halts a moment.
"Did the case go through?" Spencer questioned
"Yes, she filed suit for statutory a week after her kit and won the case, he went to jail for 6 years." Garcia clicks away
"What about the baby?" Emilys voice wavers
"Oh lord, he died 3 hours after she gave birth." Tears gather in Penelope's eyes. When she did a preliminary background search, most of the information was 'history of mental illness' or 'criminal record', of which she found none.
"Alright, I don't want to do this anymore." She took her hands off the keyboard
"That's alright, baby girl, you've done plenty. Why don't we take lunch?"
The next morning, you arrived before anyone else. All ready to start the day fresh. You even went out of the way to go to the fancy bakery up the street of your new apartment to get treats. You unlocked your office to get familiarized with it but were sent into a spin at the state of it. You spent the following forty minutes refining the filing cabinet, even pushing the desk into a different corner. Human metabolism caught up with you, and you went out to the kitchenette, and even as you started a fresh brew of coffee, you were wiping down the counters and organizing the tea by top notes. It didn't dawn on you that you had an audience. When the small alarm on the machine dinged, you filled your mug and put in a splash of creamer.
"Did you bribe the team with donuts?" you shot out of the refrigerator, ready to pulverize whoever scared you.
"Woah!" a brown-skinned man holds his hands up in surrender. "I just want to thank you. They were delicious. My name is SSA Derek Morgan, I'll be working with you." He holds out a hand, and I shake it bashfully.
"Yeah, I figured I'd attempt to start things off on a sweet note." I force out an awkward giggle but clear my throat. "If you need me, I'll be in my office." I take my coffee and skitter off the small flight of stairs to start raking through the freshly organized files of suspected serial killers. All day, I answer calls and prioritize deaths. For a moment, I ponder whether this job could give me a god complex, and I hope it doesn't. A knock on my door rips me from my trance, and an older Italian man with a lazy eye.
"We're going to meet at the round table. I'm SSA David Rossi." I shoot out of my chair and greet him with a firm handshake.
"Yes, sir, nice to see you again." I follow after him as we round a corner. Bloody photos of three crime scenes are displayed on the TV screen. The team finds it difficult to focus on the gory details as the new girl explains the details of the case. Your outfit isn't outrageous.
A gray pencil skirt with a small slit on the back, a white button down, but you'd rolled up your sleeves, and you wore a sweater. You'd clipped your hair up, but wavy little bits fell and framed your face. You paced around with the remote in hand as your boss divulged more of the science. When they make the decision to leave in an hour, you're the last to leave, but you give friendly smiles to everyone as they file out.
Between departure and arrival, you speak with the local PD to alert them of your arrival. Over the three-hour flight, you watch the team rake all scraps of evidence for a story. Garcia and I rake over misdemeanors in Nebraska to try and grasp a victim pool. As liaison, it's my job to chit-chat with police officers, grieving relatives, and generally anybody. Despite that, Hotch takes the lead as we intersperse our teams.
"And this is our liaison, Agent (Y/n) (L/n); she'll be your access to us." They break down every scrap of information in a way that's less scientific but artful. Instantly, I fell in love with my job. After 90 minutes of questioning, this is what I've gathered.
It's a man, he's impotent because he targets hookers. Apologies, prostitute or lady of the night. Shocking job because it's freezing up in Nebraska, even in April. He feels slight remorse because he poses his victims like a traditional corpse, yet he views them as objects because he leaves them in their underwear. Which seems typical if you're going to see a hooker that she might get naked if you pay her.
Now, we just need to figure out why.
I go with Emily and Seaver to speak with grieving families. We learn bits and pieces of each history. That's how each case went. Your training wrapped up only a few cases later. You decide that since you were given free rein and that the team was really starting to show openness to you it was time you hosted a fun get-together. Wrapping up a case in Florida and touching back down at Quantico at two pm, you ask the team,
"Would you guys like to go get some drinks?" everyone looks hesitant. Grief and tensity underline their features. So you try to fabricate a good night, "I could get some wine coolers and Chinese food." you smile hopefully. Hotchner relents
"I'll come so long as I can bring Jack."
"Alright, are there any foods he prefers ooh or any allergies?" Your excitement cuts you off. Your eyes scan the team and land on Spencer. He's slowly cut his hair shorter and some of the sadness has fallen from his eyes. He purses his lips and puts his hands in his pockets,
"I prefer Thai," he sighs
"Not a problem, there's a Thai place down the road." you punch in the passcode on your Blackberry. "I could call it in now?"
"That's alright. Just send me your address. I'll be there whenever you text." His face heats up, and he slinks off to his desk to file his report with record speed and detail.
"Great. I'll email the team my address, and I'll buzz you up at six," I offer, and Emily nods.
"If there will be wine coolers, I should bring something palatable." Rossi makes his famous little smirk, and Aaron regards him with a knowing smile.
"Ooh, this will be nice, I'll bring some beers. Baby girl are you coming over to (Y/n)'s?" Morgan steals Garcia's attention as she clicks out to greet the team after a job well done
"Oh, that sounds like a hoot and a holler!" She cheers pointedly
Sometime around Eight pm that night, the cheap alcohol had flown, and Aaron was bringing his sober son home. Rossi and Emily were giggling over a real bottle of champagne from France. Morgan was laughing as he finished off his fourth beer and watched Reid desperately writhe under your highly obvious flirting. Your heels had long been kicked off, but you still squirmed around in nylons and a white scoop-neck t-shirt.
"So, Reid, how many degrees do you have?" you held your third wine cooler in your hand, and your other arm was on the leather sofa dangerously close to looping around Spencer's neck. His legs are crossed, and he's still on his first beer, nervous about using any addictive substances.
"Currently, I have six, not counting my high school degree, a BA in psychology and sociology, my doctorate in mathematics, chemistry, and engineering, and recently, I got a BA in philosophy." You have the definition of an ear-to-ear smile.
"That is ridiculously impressive." you practically radiate light as you make the most genuine eye contact and take a sip of your bottle.
"Thank you," he replies curtly
"No, I mean it. You're so far above my metric of impressiveness. Your girlfriend must be a lucky woman."
"What makes you think I have a girlfriend?" He smiles at your classically alcohol-flushed face
"You don't? So I wouldn't be encroaching if I asked you on a date?" It's almost like you halted time and the rotation of oxygen.
"I wouldn't say encroaching, but maybe.."
"Are you against it?" You kind of shift closer to him
"Certainly not. I just don't know if you're familiar with the coworkers dating clause."
"I just signed my contract, I am very familiar. So long as it doesn't impede our ability to collaborate."
"So how about," Slowly, you've shifted closer to him so that you're nearly chest to chest, and he leans backward? " Tomorrow at eight p.m., I'll pick you up, and we'll go get Thai."
"That sounds lovely."
"Perfect." you smile in content and give him some personal space.
Nine am rolls around, and you make your way to the office to prepare for a long day of phone calls and gore. A stabbing in Knoxville that seemed like a gang collision. Some suspicious kills in Annapolis that definitely should be presented, and a murder/suicide in Vegas. You called the meeting, and Hotch decided that the team needs some rest and that they should meet at the jet tomorrow at eight. You spend the rest of your day sorting files and answering emails.
At five, you saunter to Reid's desk and smile at his slightly sweaty face. "I'll see you in three hours." You wink. Once you get in your car, you scream in glee and squeeze the wheel. The next three hours are spent in anxiety. You shower and blow dry your hair, opting to take out your contacts for the night. You decide on jeans, a tank top, and a big UCLA hoodie.
You leave your house at exactly 7:47, so the 13-minute drive will leave you at Reid's doorstep at exactly eight. You find him sitting on his porch step, swinging his hand in front and behind his back until his hands collide. You pull off to the side and roll down the window,
"Get in, loser. We're going shopping!"
"What?" he still jogs up to the window, and you unlock your door for him.
"C'mon, you've never heard of mean girls? Regina George?"
"No, I watch nerdy movies, old classical films."
"That is a classic. Seat belt, please. We'll have to watch it sometime." You put the car in drive and take him into the small 'Chinatown' near your apartment. You two got pad Thai and khao pad and drove to a scenic park to enjoy it. Being all too familiar with Ted Bundy and James Thomas, you lock the doors tight.
"Do you want to keep the radio playing?" Even with the car in park, you keep the car running, so the heat will keep you warm. The radio plays some old Radio Head songs.
"Sure, if you want to." He tears open the brown paper bag. You grab the bar under your seat, push it all the way back, and bring your knees up to your chest. Reid hands you your fried rice, and you get a pair of chopsticks from him. You eat the rice with ease, and Spencer looks at you perplexed. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?" you cover your mouth with your hand as you chew
"Eat with those freaking sticks." His anger is overlain with his flummoxed tone.
"I don't know, there's always been a lot of Asian restaurants near me. It's like kids who just know how to play the piano after watching their parents." This launches Spencer into a five-minute speech about inherited talents' pathology. When he finally runs out of breath, he's relieved that you never told him to can it. In fact, you sat there intently, listening to him ramble on about inherent perceptions.
"I've talked a lot, so why don't you tell me something about you?" he fiddles with his fingers as he focuses on you.
"Uh, what to say that's not too weird," you scan over the ceiling of your car as you think out loud, "Uh, in college, I nearly switched my major to film after watching Breakfast at Tiffanies and then buying copies of hundreds of old films."
"Really? What about those old movies that drew you in?" He struggles to get some noodles and you hold back your giggles
"Romance seemed more simple back then. I mean, I'm aware that it was normal and even expected to domestically abuse, but that doesn't mean that Liz Taylor and Marylin Monroe didn't play in some of my favorite movies. I had some shitty exes that thought it was better to be like reality rather than film."
"Is one of them the one that got you pregnant?"
"What? How do you know about that?" It took Spencer far too long to register what had slipped from his mouth. Before he could even begin his explanation with a double side of apologies, you had launched into a rant about men and privacy and why everyone sucked.
"Explain yourself!" you demanded with the same intonation of a banshee
"The team was working on your background check, and we did some further snooping. We found your medical records, and it said you lost your son at 17 years old?" tears had gathered in your eyebags in a way that resembled sweat.
"Why would you stay to dig? Why did you did at all?"
"I would like you to know that it wasn't my idea, although I know you don't care. I just wanted to know more about you."
"And you couldn't just come up and ask about my favorite color or favorite Beatles song?" you raked your hands through your hair.
" I didn't-I," he sighed through his teeth, "I didn't mean to violate your privacy. It was wrong. I shouldn't have done it. If I could take it back, I wouldn't because knowing you're not the perfect Barbie you appear to be gives me the bravery to talk to you. Knowing you're not perfect, it-it forces me to think about you as a human, not just the goddess I perceive." The tears pouring down your face change from anger and betrayal to shock and elation.
No man had treated you with such adoration, not entirely. Most of them buttered you up with words that were so predictable they could be seen as binary code. These words. These words are original and genuine. It never struck you that someone could love you from so little without touching you.
Touch.
You tugged your sleeve up the heel of your palm, wiped your eyes, and then placed your hand on Spencer's forearm. At first, he jumped back from the contact, but he slid his hand into yours slowly.
"That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me, ever."
"It's just the truth; in your second case, you said you hate liars." you giggle a little as your tears dry up.
"Would it be too soon to kiss you?" your smile is all shy and crooked
"Only if you say so," he chews on his inner lip but the apprehensive lean in makes your chest lift.
#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid#mathew gray gubler#light angst#one shot#angst with a happy ending
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Layla hugged Laura when she walked in ❤️
#she looks like shes going to and then it goes to spencer#cj just rewatched the scene and did confirm#meta: layla keating#muse: layla keating#dyn: layla x laura#aa spoilers#all american spoilers
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A SPECIAL SHOW
Part 3 of kinktober | main masterlist
virgin!spencer x fem!reader; Lingerie, Exhibitionist/voyeur, overstimulation, squirting
No one would’ve guessed you liked to touch yourself in front of billions of people online, except for your roommate, who you thought would be a great addition to your next late-night session.
Words: 6,213
a/n: my kinktober is running late. Oopsss
THERE WAS SOMETHING EXHILARATING ABOUT BEING WATCHED. You reveled in the sensation of being the center of attention. You weren't sure how it started, nor when it started, all you knew was that every Friday night you were always seated—or sometimes laid—in front of your computer. Webcam on, chatroom on, and most importantly, your alter ego was on.
Princess_Pink is online.
It wasn't the most creative name, but it was your initial thought when you made your account. You had always taken a certain liking for the color pink. As for princess... well, there was nothing else to it, you just liked being called that.
Princess.no1.fan: i've been waiting for you!!
Adam_4432: hey princess
Keaton-bigdick: ready to jerk off to you baby
Hardcock69: turn on your cam!
If you told your younger self that you'd be touching yourself in front of horny strangers online, you would've scoffed in disgust. Your past innocent self would definitely look down on your choices, which honestly, something you once had questioned too at one point. But the amount of money increasing in your bank account always stops you from doubting yourself.
It was partly the reason why you were still doing this. Your nine-to-five job wasn't going to cut out the expenses you needed, providing yourself in other ways was the only option. The reason was, yes, you needed the money, that was true. But deep down you were aware of how much you actually enjoyed doing this. If you once thought that these men watching you were disgusting, horny people, then maybe you were just as disgusting as they were.
And somehow you were okay with that.
Horny_BBC: turn your fucking cam on you slut
JadenCums: don't talk to her like that
JadenCums: she's not going to give us anything if we don't behave
Princess.no1.fan: princess pretty please show us your sexy body
You turned your camera on. There it was, your reflection on the screen. Your baby pink lingerie, a silky second skin, clung to every curve, accentuating the elegant contours of your body with its deep neckline plunging gracefully. Your hair cascaded in loose waves, catching the soft lights in your bedroom, and illuminating your smooth skin. A coy, knowing smile played on your lips, revealing a self-assured confidence that was impossible to ignore.
"Hello, boys," you greeted, your voice deep and sultry. "Did you miss me?"
A chorus of replies filled the chatroom and you smiled. You loved the attention they gave you. It was something you never gained in your normal, mundane daily life, and you actually didn't mind it. You liked being the invisible quiet girl sitting at her own desk, minding her own business. But now you were exactly the opposite of that girl and you thrived on the desires that lingered in those who watched you.
But there was still some privacy that you needed to keep because honestly, you didn't want your coworker to know this secret life of yours. You used to wear a fancy mask that looked like it came out from a masquerade ball, but with how technology has developed, you now opted to use a filter that animated your features. It was perfect.
"I had a very rough week," you continued, playing with your hair. "But now that everyone is here..." You leaned forward, showing the soft curves of your cleavage. "...I feel so much better."
Adam_4432: fucking hot
Keaton-bigdick: love the dress
Keaton-bigdick: love it better on the floor
You giggled. "Patience, boys. You know how this goes. We play a little game along the way." You ran a hand through your hair. "So what game do you think we should play?"
Your eyes traveled along the comments. "Twister? How are we supposed to play that? Oh—Strip poker? That does sound good—wait! Yes! We should do a classic." A smile curled on your lips. "Truth or dare."
Fatcock_777: ok truth or dare princess?
You rolled your eyes. "Truth, duh. We're starting this slow."
You scanned through the comments and picked a question that seemed easy for you to answer.
Pussylicker: have you ever masturbated in public
"I have masturbated in public," you responded, biting your bottom lip teasingly as you looked straight into the camera. "I once touched myself at work because... well, I was desperate. Locked myself inside the bathroom and fucked myself with my fingers, it was so hard keeping quiet."
You then laughed at yourself. "Alright, next question. I'm still choosing truth, by the way."
JadenCums: will you ever bring a guest here?
JadenCums: would love to see you getting fucked
This time you wiped your tongue along your lip. The mere thought of having someone else please you who was not yourself, right in front of these strangers online, aroused you in a way you never thought possible. You clenched your thighs together as you imagined yourself in front of the camera while somebody else was here to touch you, to tease you—to fuck you.
"Bringing somebody else here? Sounds amazing, to be honest," you answered. "But you see, I don't think I know anyone willing to do what I do—"
Bang! Clink. Clink.
You stopped yourself and frowned. A sudden sound vibrated through your room, a jarring clash of clanging and clattering emanated from what seemed to be the kitchen. Your eyes darted toward the noise, curiosity, and concern merging on your face as you attempted to discern its source.
Another clatter followed through, louder than before.
"Wait a minute, boys," you mindlessly said to your audience, your eyes still narrowing on your bedroom door. "I'll be right back."
You quickly turned off your camera and muted your microphone, ignoring the protests thrown in the chat, and rose from your bed. With measured steps, you left the sanctity of your room and ventured into the adjacent kitchen. Your steps halted right at the moment you found your roommate stooping down to retrieve a fallen pan. The metallic clang resonated briefly, then subsided, replaced by the soft rustling of clothes and the muted glow of ambient lighting.
"Spencer?" You called out softly, your voice carrying a note of concern.
He straightened up, holding the pan in his hand. His response was apologetic, a musing note in his voice, "Sorry if I woke you. I couldn't sleep, and I thought drinking something warm could help me relax."
Your eyes wandered to the carton of milk that sat on the counter. "So you decided to make warm milk?"
"Apparently we ran out of tea..."
His voice trailed off as he looked up from the fallen pan, and as he met your gaze, time seemed to slow. His apology hung in the air, a mere whisper, as his eyes found your figure in the soft glow of the kitchen lights. The lingerie you wore, delicate and pretty, cast your curves in a subtle, alluring way.
There was one word to describe your roommate. Cute. He was really cute. If he wasn't so oblivious to your little, innocent crush, you'd already be worshiping the ground he walked on. Maybe you should've told him how you found his habit of dumping facts endearing, but then again, you felt as if he had been avoiding you ever since he found out about your late-night rendezvous with your computer.
Keeping it a secret from your friends, family, and colleagues was easy, you didn't see them often. But keeping it a secret from Spencer, your roommate who you see every day, who bluntly asked why you were whining every Friday night at the exact same time, was hard.
Surprisingly, you thought you'd be appalled by telling him the truth, but something about him made you spill out what you had been doing behind your bedroom door. He seemed like the type of person who never judged, and he obviously didn't when you told him you were doing it for the money. But even though he accepted your secret without pressing any further, you realized, he had been avoiding you ever since.
For a heartbeat, silence enveloped the room, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator. Then he finally tore his gaze away, clearing his throat, attempting to regain his composure. "It's Friday, huh?"
You stepped closer, your bare feet making a soft padding sound on the kitchen floor. "Yeah."
"Well, uh, you can go back to what you were doing. Don't mind me."
You couldn't help but study him with a sense of quiet fascination. There was something utterly captivating about the way he appeared in this unguarded moment, and you couldn't resist your curiosity as you observed his relaxed, almost nonchalant demeanor.
Your eyes trailed over him. The lower half of his body was swathed in loose-fitting pajama pants, their fabric patterned with a subdued design. The shirt he wore was equally unpretentious, and its well-worn, soft texture cradled his upper body loosely. His hair seized your attention next. It was disheveled and slightly tousled, its tips barely touching his shoulders.
Yet, it was his hands that captivated you the most. His hands were notably broad, his fingers long and deft. The veins that traced along the back of his hands were what had you staring further, and as you caught the way they flexed whenever he moved between the narrowed space, you wondered what it would feel like to have them on you.
And now the question from earlier kept on repeating in your head. Will you ever bring a guest here? If you had to choose someone else to please you, your answer would definitely be him.
"Hey, Spence?" He looked at you, and under the intense scrutiny of his gaze, your nerves tightened their grip on you. You quickly shook your head. "Never mind."
"No—wait. What is it?"
"It's nothing, just forget it."
He took a step forward, closing the gap between you. "Tell me what you were about to say."
It was now or never, at least, that was what you kept convincing yourself. You then braced for the question that had been lingering on the tip of your tongue. "How do you feel about joining me?"
You noticed the frown forming on his face. "Joining you?"
"Yes, for my stream." The baffled look he gave you made you explain yourself further. "You don't have to be naked! And if you must know, I use this cute filter to hide my face in a way, but if you don't like that, you can be completely anonymous. I'll make sure your face is out of the frame."
You wanted to kick yourself. The silence that came after your proposition was gnawing at you, almost as if it was mocking your brassness. This was Spencer Reid, the hot-shot FBI agent you lived with who had been avoiding you for the exact reason, and you were now inviting him to join you? What on earth were you thinking?
"See? This is stupid. Forget I said anything—"
"What do I have to do? If... if I don't have to be naked."
You blinked, caught by surprise for a moment, and then your lips curved into a coy smile. He was interested.
"You can play with me."
You took a step forward.
"Touch me."
You took satisfaction in the way his eyes lowered down your body.
"Please me." Your eyes bore into him, liking the way they turned a shade darker as he kept staring at your cleavage. "Who knows? Maybe you'll be able to sleep after this."
His eyes swept along the expansion of your neck before they met your gaze. "Just... touch you? That's it?"
"That's it," you confirmed. You wanted to ease the tension, so you joked with a playful grin, "I'll split the money with you from this stream."
Spencer softly chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. "No, keep it. People pay to watch you, not me."
"So is that a yes?"
He exhaled a deep breath. "...yeah?"
It was really happening. Before he could regret his decision, you quickly reached for his hand and guided him to your room. He followed you quietly, and when you pulled him in, his eyes swept across your personal space, taking in the predominant color palette of pink that seemed to envelop the space with a cozy, feminine charm.
The heart of your room was undoubtedly your computer setup, strategically placed directly in front of your bed. There was a small camera perched on top of the screen and a professional mic placed to the side, and to be completely honest, the sight of everything was starting to intimidate him.
"I need to tell you something," he softly began. "This is my first time doing this."
You gently squeezed his hand. "I'd be surprised if you've ever done this before. You're not even on social media."
"No, I mean—" He turned you around to face him. "I've never touched someone... intimately."
"Really?" Your eyes shot up as you noticed the way he emphasized the word. "Wait, Spencer... are you a virgin?"
There was a pause as he searched your eyes hesitantly. "Does it make me weird if I told you I am?"
Somehow that didn't surprise you, since you never actually saw him taking an interest in relationships, so your response was swift. "No. You're always weird regardless," you quipped, dissipating the tension with a teasing grin. "I'm kidding."
He smiled, although his question still lingered in the air, and he shifted the focus back to you again. "Do you still want me here?"
"I should be asking you that question, silly. Are you fine with all this?"
To your surprise, his response was affirmative. "Surprisingly, yes, I am."
"Then there's nothing to worry about."
He still looked nervous though, and without putting much thought into it, you closed the distance and stood on your tiptoes. Your hands softly held his jaw, and the moment you pressed your lips onto his, a sound of satisfaction erupted from his chest.
You sighed in contentment as you felt his hands sliding around your waist, holding you closer as you moved your lips against his. The kiss was slow and lazy, yet the sensation of it traveled along your body, leaving you almost breathless as you felt his tongue teasing your entrance. A moan slipped out of you as you buried your hands in his hair, tugging onto the strands desperately as your tongues collided with one another in a delicate trance.
Your lips on his were hot, soft, settling, and wet, pulling onto each other for more and when you finally stopped, his eyes were closed, heavily exhaling, his hair ruffled, and he looked like the prettiest mess ever.
"W- What was that for?" He whispered, still in his dazed state.
"Setting the mood." You slowly pulled away and walked over to your bed, sitting at the edge of it, positioning yourself back in front of your computer. "For someone who has never had sex, you sure know how to kiss."
He collected himself and looked at you as if you had offended him. "I've kissed other people before."
"I can tell." You then narrowed your eyes at him. "Alright, you ready?"
"I..." He took a tentative step forward. "I think so."
With practiced efficiency, you started up the stream again. The moment you turned on your microphone and camera, almost immediately, comments began flooding in. The chat scrolled rapidly. You let a mischievous smile tug at the corner of your lips as your eyes flicked to the monitor.
"Hey, everyone, sorry for leaving you so suddenly. But I guess this is your lucky day... because I have someone joining me tonight!" A chorus of excited responses flooded the chatroom and you giggled at the enthusiasm they were giving you. "Oh my, didn't know you guys really wanted a guest over here."
Pussylicker: fuck yeah
Princess.no1.fan: don't know if I should be excited or jealous
Adam_4432: gonna fuck my cock watching you
Fatcock_777 sent a $100 gift
Easy money, you thought to yourself, and by the way Spencer's eyes went wide, he also caught the amount of money sent to you when you were barely doing anything. "They give you that much for saying that?"
You couldn't help but laugh at his innocence. "Spe—" You stopped as his name almost slipped out your mouth. You cleared your throat and quickly corrected yourself. "Babe, they can hear you."
The pale complexion of his skin accentuated the subtle blush that tinged his cheeks, a result of either your affectionate tone or his embarrassment over his unfamiliarity with the situation. "Oh." He stared at your computer screen with uncertainty, his gaze filled with hesitation. "Right."
You urged him to come closer with your hand. "Come here, pretty boy."
He cast a fleeting glance in your direction, prompting an eye-roll as you observed his clumsy approach towards you. You eyed the camera and addressed your audience, "He's a little shy, please be nice to him."
As soon as he entered the camera frame, the comments section buzzed with curiosity. Many viewers wondered about the identity of this mysterious man, who happened to appear just as someone questioned a potential guest on the stream. Most of the other comments were positive, stating how excited they were, but a few of them disturbed you when they mentioned Spencer's physical appearance and how 'this fucking twig' didn't deserve to touch you.
You quickly guided your mouse to block them.
"I told you to be nice," you emphasized, your voice carrying a subtle edge. "I don't tolerate any form of harassment."
Spencer, seemingly oblivious, frowned at you. "What did you do?"
"Kicking disrespectful people out," you answered for him. Then, directing your attention towards him, you rose from your bed and gestured to the empty space. "Sit here."
He followed your instructions, settling onto the soft mattress as you adjusted your camera at a lower angle, making sure his face remained hidden from view. When you were satisfied, you instructed him to scoot back, which he happily obliged, because how couldn't he? He was captivated by what was happening.
Spencer never thought he would have his lower half on display—albeit still fully clothed—in front of thousands of people online. Yet here he was, sitting right in front of a camera, watching you as you slipped your knee between his thighs, urging him to part his legs. Nervous energy pulsed through him as he found himself in such close proximity to you, especially when you started to kneel right between him, clutching his shoulders as you steadied yourself.
"Someone dared me to show my cute panties," you mused, and even when you were addressing yourself to the stream, your eyes were locked with his. "Help me show them, babe."
His heart quickened as he looked up at you. "W-what do I do?"
You smiled at him and leaned down, pressing your lips against the shell of his ear, making sure he was the only one to hear you as you whispered, "Play with my ass, Spencer."
His breathing became shallow and erratic. He slowly reached out and put his wide hands on your hips before sliding them along your ass cheeks. He gently kneaded them, squeezing them with the utmost delicacy as if he was holding himself back.
Spencer had always been a gentle person, it was a fundamental aspect of his character, something he had known from the depths of his being. You liked that about him, it differentiated him from all the men you had ever been with. But right now you needed him to touch you with the same urgency you craved. You needed him to let go.
"You can do better than that, pretty boy," you pressed on, brushing your lips along his jawline. "Show the audience what they want."
Something in him switched at that moment. Maybe it was the way you were kissing down his neck. Or maybe it was the way you were pressed against him. Whatever it was, he suddenly felt less inclined to be gentle and, instead, he gripped onto your cheeks with more power. He squeezed them, holding your flesh with so much vigor that you had to hold onto him, burying your face in his neck.
He glanced past your shoulder and caught your reflection. He couldn't believe those were his hands on the screen; touching you, teasing you, pleasing you. You were definitely pleased with the way you kept on squirming against him. It mesmerized him how much you were responding to his simple touch, and now when he knew he could make you sigh in pleasure, he wondered how much more you could react the more he touched you.
Spencer pressed his hands at the back of your thighs before trailing them up your legs. He paused for a moment, hearing the way your breath quickened with anticipation, and smiled to himself when you let out a whimper as he squeezed your flesh again. The hem of your lingerie rode up your hips every time he moved, and your laced panties, with their fabric barely covering your already wet sex, were on display for the audience to see.
Hardcock69 sent you a $100 gift
He cocked an eyebrow, fascinated by how showing a little skin could earn you money. Curiosity took over him, and he let his fingers trail between your flesh before spreading them apart, showing off your wet patch to the camera. You arched your back, pressing your lips into his neck again as your arousal shot through your veins before it pooled right in your center.
Princess.no1.fan sent you a $100 gift
Interesting, Spencer thought, and slipped his fingers between the soft material of your panties before sliding it to the side, exposing your wet skin. His eyes shot up when someone gifted you another hundred dollars, and without much thinking, he brushed the pad of his fingers along your folds, loving the way you whined out a desperate moan right into his ear.
"You're doing great, baby," you told him breathlessly. Hearing your encouragement only made him want to please you even more. He let his middle finger glide along your dripping pussy, mesmerized at how wet you were, and braved himself as he slowly pushed his finger inside you.
He couldn't stop the sound of pleasure erupting from his chest when you squeezed around him. You were so wet, so warm, so incredibly tight. He thrust his finger in and out of you and you mewled, arching your back, grinding your hips toward his touch. And just as you were about to relish the sensation, he abruptly pulled his finger out of you and held you by the hips, gently pushing you off of him.
"Somebody dared you to turn around," he said, licking his lips as his eyes trailed along the front of your body, stopping right at your cleavage.
You smiled, amused that he was actually reading along the comments while touching you. Without saying a word, you got off the bed, your back still facing the camera. Your hands gently slid up your lingerie and you tugged on your panties down your legs, not forgetting to arch your back while doing so, making sure the camera captured the soft curves of your ass.
Spencer watched you intently. He watched the way your body swayed from each movement, appraising the swell of your breasts and the way your nipples pressed against the thin material of your lingerie, slightly teasing him behind the see-through lace. His eyes skimmed along your neck, stopping at your face, taking in the way you were looking at him with half-lidded eyes.
You were so beautiful. His fingers moved almost of their own accord, reaching out as if guided by some unseen force, wanting to touch you further. He rested a hand on your hip while his other hand slipped behind your neck, pulling you closer as he slightly reached out, meeting you halfway in a soft, enchanting kiss.
You melted right into him. His unexpected kiss threw you off as you weren't prepared for how passionate he was exploring your mouth; nipping your bottom lip, softly sucking the flesh as he pushed his tongue into you. He was kissing you as if he couldn't get enough of you, as if the first time he tasted you ignited the passion within him, forcing yourself to surrender to his touch.
As much as you wanted it to last, you pulled away, pressing your forehead against his, completely breathless as if the sheer magnitude of his kiss had stolen the very air from your lungs. "We should... we should keep the show going."
Your words reminded him that you were still being watched. "...Right."
Finally pulling away from him, you turned around and faced your monitor, reading along the comments on the screen. Although the camera didn't capture your kiss, the intimate atmosphere was unmistakable, and many of your followers began speculating about the identity of this mysterious man. They raised questions, even going so far as to wonder if he was your boyfriend.
How you wished that was true.
You shook your head and focused on the other comments, picking up the ones where they were throwing you some dares. One of them insisted for you to spread your legs in front of the camera which was honestly something you plan to do anyway.
So you sat between his legs, pressing your backside against his crotch, and stifled a moan when you felt his cock pressing into you. You could tell how hard he was, how aroused he seemed just by touching you. It was undeniably satisfying to be the one who had evoked such a response from him.
You leaned on his chest, placing your head right in the crook of his neck, and slowly spread your legs apart, finally exposing your flesh. Spencer could feel his slacks tightening, feeling himself going hard at the sight of you. The soft, ambient light in the room played a delicate dance upon your wet skin, accentuating its flawless smoothness. He also realized he wasn't the only one mesmerized by you, the chatroom also seemed to be buzzing with excitement.
Horny_BBC: sweet fucking pussy
Horny_BBC: dripping wet
JadenCums: holy shit I need to fuck you
Pussylicker sent a $100 gift
Prince_Casper: I dare you to finger her tight little pussy pretty boy
"I think they dared you to do something, baby," you mentioned, arching your back and spreading your legs wider. But Spencer's attention was somewhere else, most precisely, on your chest. Your nipples were begging for attention and he couldn't help but reach out his hands over the swell of your breasts. He gave them both a gentle, appreciative squeeze, admiring the way they looked in his hands.
"Babe," you whispered, your voice almost coming out as a whimper. "T- That's not what they want."
"But it's what I want," he said absentmindedly, too focused on watching the way his large hands covered your breasts. "They can wait a little longer."
His hands then moved to tug down the straps of your lingerie, your breasts spilling out from the sheer lace material and he groaned at the sight. "You're beautiful," he praised you, earning a soft blush along your cheeks. He palmed them again, watching the fleshy, supple skin contort around his touch. "No wonder everyone loves seeing your body."
Your breath quickened as you felt the sensations intensify, pleasure coursing through your body. "Are you sure you've never touched anyone before?"
He hummed a reply as he pinched your nipples between the calloused pads of his fingers, tugging them from your body as he cherished the gasp that left your lips. Letting go as he watched your breast bounce at the motion before repeating the action, wanting to pull more of those noises from your pretty lips. His eyes glanced over to the screen and smiled in satisfaction when your subscribers gifted you again.
"See? They like these as much as I do," he mentioned, giving your breasts a final squeeze before down your stomach, across the dip of your navel, up and down the thickness of your thighs until he stopped between your legs. Fingers lathered down your slit, feathering at your folds and experimentally teasing around your entrance. He watched himself as he pressed onto your pussy lips, spreading them apart for your viewers to see.
This position wasn't unfamiliar to you, you had spread your legs for the camera countless times, but to have another person touching you overwhelmed you in a way you didn't know possible. And when you thought you couldn't take more of the pleasure building up in your body, he proved you wrong by pressing a finger right onto your clit, making circular motions right on top of it.
You couldn't help but let out a moan louder than you intended to. "Babe..."
You gave into the sensation, watching as his fingers continued their exploration. You could already feel him harden with each steady, rhythmic beat of his heart while his fingers explored you, collecting the slick of your arousal before spreading it along your folds.
Hardcock69: fuck her with your fingers
Hardcock69: ruin that sweet little pussy
Spencer didn't have to be asked twice, sliding his middle finger into you. You let out a gasp. "Fuck, baby..." Your eyes were transfixed on the screen as you watched the way his hand flexed, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you before adding another one, stretching your inner walls.
You whimpered as he began to thrust into you and your body jerked involuntarily. Your room was quickly filled with the lewd sound of his fingers plunging in and out of you as he kept a steady pace, fingers rutting into your tight hole, your slick inner walls clenching around him with each thrust. He watched your reflection on screen with curious eyes, catching the way your breath hitched and the way your lips fell split.
His fingers were long and thick, dragging along your walls. The moment of gentleness was suddenly gone when he picked up the pace. The speed turned into a ferocious one as if he was trying to reach deep inside of you and force something out. A reaction. He wanted to force another reaction out of you, more than you were giving to him now.
"That's it—fuck." You gasped, feeling that familiar coil in your stomach. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop."
He curled his fingers inside of you, making your body jolt. He pressed the palm of his hand on your clit, and with every thrust, his skin rubbed against it. Your hips jerked against him again as a tiny moan escaped your lips, your head slumping against his shoulder.
"Faster," you managed to squeak. "I-I'm close."
Who was he to disobey your wishes? He obliged to your needs and pumped his fingers in a mind-numbing speed. The intensity made it hard for you to think, your body trembling as you felt the coil inside you tighten desperately.
A guttural whine left your lips as he began to pump his digits in and out of your sloppy pussy, focusing on the same spot inside of you with each flick of his wrist. Your mouth parted in a squeal as your toes curled, the soles of your feet digging into your mattress as he continued to thrust his fingers inside you, helping you to ride out your release.
Maybe it was the inexperience of sex, the way he had never seen a woman come undone right before him, that piqued his curiosity. It was his first time, and he found himself irresistibly drawn to the unknown, his eagerness to explore and understand the human body, especially your body. Every sensation, every moment, was tinged with the exhilaration of discovery, which led him to continue rocking his fingers into you, not slowing down even when you were a whining mess.
"Baby..." you whimpered. "W-What are you doing?"
Adam_4432: fuck her again
Pussylicker: keep going pretty boy
Pussylicker: don't stop even if she begs you to
Pussylicker sent you a $200 gift
A new surge of pleasure engulfed you, a sensation unlike before. It coursed through your veins like a sweet, intoxicating elixir, so utterly consuming. Your hands clutched at the bedsheets, kneading them between your fingers as you felt this unusual sensation creep up on your lower half. It became so overwhelming your body was trying to ignore it, your eyes clenching shut as his fingers continued to pump into you.
"Oh, shit," You gasped. "I-I can't—"
Spencer's eyes flickered between the comments telling him not to stop and the way your body trembled in his arms. His free arm slid around your waist, pulling him into his chest as he gently whispered, "Do you want me to stop?"
Your lack of an answer was enough for him to keep going, digging his fingers deeper inside you, pressing onto that same spot repeatedly. He felt you shaking again, noticing the way your mouth fell apart as you gasped for air.
"I got you," he said softly, his eyes trailing down your body and his fingers between your legs. "Breathe," he instructed, slightly pausing when you clenched around him.
"N-No, don't stop," you begged him. "I can take it."
He curled his fingers again and you arched your back, hips bucking against his hand. "Oh god," you cried out, your voice sounding a little raw. "That's it—fuck, I'm gonna cum again."
He started to speed up, a sound of pleasure leaving his lips when your pussy started to squelch. It didn't take long for you to reach your second high as he doubled his movement, thrusting into you faster. You were shaking uncontrollably, and as you were about to calm your breathing from the overwhelming pleasure, another sensation burned between your legs.
You tipped your head back as it traveled along your body, clamping your thighs together only for him to push them apart again with his other hand. Every touch from him sent shockwaves of ecstasy, making your limbs quiver and your breath hitch. The sensation was so consuming that it turned your thoughts into a mushy, incoherent whirlwind, rendering your mind of rational thoughts.
"F-fuck, fuck, fuck," you cried out. The intensity of it overwhelmed you to the point your tears began to flow. "R-right there—"
JadenCums: HOLY FUCK
Prince_Casper: SHE'S GONNA SQUIRT
Prince_Casper: FUCK HER FASTER!!!!!
Pussylicker sent you a $100 gift
Adam_4432 sent you a $200 gift
Your body trembled uncontrollably, each shiver echoing the overpowering sensations that consumed you, and you couldn't hold it anymore. A harsh whine was torn from your lips as your release rippled through you. You gasped as your cunt began to convulse, a clear stream of liquid gushing from between your thighs as you cried out, "Spe—"
Spencer grunted as he clamped your mouth with his free hand, stopping you from calling out his name. He quickly pulled his hand and rubbed your clit furiously as he tried to coax more of the liquid from your convulsing body. Your body quivered as his meticulous touch kept you teetering on your high, the pleasure flowing through you as you continued to come undone.
He watched as your chest rose up and down, your perky breasts moving every time you tried to calm your breathing. Your body was still shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you didn't want your viewers to see you in your most vulnerable state, at least not now when you were still trying to comprehend what just happened. So you sat up and quickly turned off your stream before you glanced at your drenched sheets and the mess you splattered across your desk.
“I- I’ve never—” You were shocked, the sensation completely new to you. "That... that never happened to me before."
You could hear the triumph in his voice as he replied, "Really?"
You were torn between amusement at his gloating and embarrassment at your own overwhelming experience. You turned your head to see him sitting there, grinning sheepishly at you. Your eyes flickered between his legs, noticing the outline of his cock pressing against his pants, and even by the shadow of it, you could tell his size was bigger than you anticipated.
It didn't take long for you to make a move, really, because he was staring at you with doe eyes filled with lust and you couldn't stop yourself from climbing onto his lap, earning a moan from his lips as you settled right on top of his cock. Your wetness covered him and it took a lot of self-control for him not to pounce at you right at this moment.
"Hey, Spence?" Your voice was sweet, the tone of it reminded him of the way you had asked him to join you when you both stood in the kitchen. His ears perked up as he held you by your waist.
"Yeah?"
You smiled down at him.
"What do you think about losing your virginity?"
He had never agreed to anything so fast in his life.
#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid x reader smut#criminal minds smut
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request: a blurb where he actually gets mad at JJ when she confesses to love him but doesn't really say anything at the moment. But then when he introduces reader to the team as his girlfriend, JJ is being kinda rude to her. She tries to tell him she doesn't like her, that she's not good for him. And spencer gets mad and protective👀 maybe he even throws a "i'm going to marry her, whether you like it or not".
a/n: my return piece !!
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluff)
Word Count: 2.2k
Spencer sees red when he walks out of the jewelry store after shooting the unsub.
JJ is the first girl he has ever asked out, someone he pined over for years after her subtle rejection at the Redskins game. He understood her reasoning. It would have been impractical for them to add relationship highs and lows to everything the BAU has been through over fourteen years, and that's if they stayed together. If they hadn't, things would have been even more complicated.
Also she just generally didn't like him that way. Or so he thought.
It didn't mean she wasn't his ideal for many years. His first love, who had so many traits he didn't have that he desperately wanted.
His confirmation he would be unlucky in love came after that with Maeve, who he once again thought could be the one for him. And then he realized that maybe the person for him had been taken away from him.
Then he met Y/n, and it all seemed worth it. All those terrible nights of crying and feeling like he would forever be alone, all the times he was the only single one on the team, knowing everyone was going home to someone they loved unconditionally and relied on for support.
She's the sun and the moon, and he fell in love so fast he couldn't stop it. Luckily, she did too.
Until JJ fucked it up.
The truth she had to tell to get them out alive dropped an atomic bomb on his newly formed life plans.
Spencer doesn't speak to her that night as they finish their recounts and reports. She leaves it out, though, he discovers, opting to write the secret about her miscarriage instead of confessing her love for her best friend and the godfather of her kids.
It messes with his head the whole way home. He can't sleep on the jet, even if he wanted to as he tried to work out what he was feeling.
All JJ does is send him pleading looks, and all he does is get angry because how dare she do this now? After she had fifteen years of them working together, all those chances to tell him how she felt.
He would have married and had a family with her, the family he always wanted. It's always stayed in the back of his head for so long, and just as he sees someone else in that role in his dreams, she drudges all of it back up.
It's such a long flight, and he taps his foot the whole way while staring out the window, not even able to read.
He goes to Y/n's. He's not sure what he's going to say, how much of it he's going to tell her, but he needs to see her to cool off the fury boiling out of him.
"Hey, handsome." She calls out when he walks in the door as cheerful as ever.
He feels a pit of guilt sink into his stomach because he can't tell her without ruining everything they delicately have put together. Maybe it's wrong to lie by omission, but his brain keeps coming back to fault. And it's JJ's fault. She's the one who's jeopardizing everything.
"Hi, gorgeous." He replies, walking into the living room to find her laying on the couch, book in her hands and her head on the armrest. He's reminded how accurate the petname he calls her by is when he's taken off guard by her breathless beauty. "How are you liking it?" He asks.
"It's good." She answers, putting the book down. "But that's because it's very you."
She gets up, meeting him behind the couch to cup his jaw, stroking over his skin and staring into his eyes for a moment before kissing him properly.
He relaxes into it, the tension in his shoulders easing and his brain slowing down for a moment. It's heavenly, as always, and it's what being loved is meant to feel like.
"How was your case?" She asks when she pulls back, still not daring to move too far away from him.
He tenses instantly at that, totally readable behavior, but he's got to perfect excuse to play it off. "It was rough." He holds out his bandaged hand that he's been avoiding showing her. "I got hurt."
"Shit." She straightens up, noticing how big it looked. "What happened?"
"Cut it on glass." He answers, not going as far as to say where he was when it occurred. "I'm fine, though. Promise."
She nods, reassured. "We've got to be up in, like, six hours, you know?" She reminds him of the time.
With the amount of coffee and adrenaline in his system, he barely registered it was already past 2 in the morning. Usually, they would have stayed in LA for the night, but being home in time for Rossi's wedding trumped a good night of sleep for everyone.
"Can I sleep here?" He wonders, awkwardly looking down at his feet.
"Duh. I'm not going to kick you out and make you come pick me up so we can go tomorrow morning." She jokes. "Picked up your suit, too. You're going to look very handsome."
Spencer grins because she seriously can't get more perfect. She still feels so unattainable, but he'd do anything to make sure he doesn't lose her.
He really should tell her, but he can't. Not right now.
Y/n snaps him out of it. "Bedtime now?"
"Please." He agrees gratefully, keeping his arms wrapped around her while they walk to her bedroom.
He keeps her close while they go through the motions of getting ready for bed. Spencer quickly sheds his suit and both of them brush their teeth.
His head is on the pillow for only a few seconds before he's asleep, and she follows soon after.
The alarm going off isn't as much of a problem when Spencer is lying in bed next to her, arm wrapped around her waist. It's one of the things she misses a lot when he's away.
"Hi, beautiful," Spencer whispers, a husky voice as always. He's glad he fell asleep quickly, not having wanted to sit up thinking about the stupid things JJ has said. He just couldn't understand why it was coming up now. Sleep provided absolutely no clarity.
She grins at him. "Hi."
"Are you ready for today?" He asks softly.
"A little nervous," Y/n admits. The BAU is his family after all. His mom is there but the BAU has been where he's spent most of his life for the last 15 years.
"They'll love you." Because I love you. Spencer assures her.
She smiles softly, feeling a little better. "Let's get up then."
Spencer agrees, not before planting a few kisses on her lips and hugging her tightly.
They get ready side by side, feeling a great sense of domesticity. She's never gotten close to someone as quickly as she has with Spencer. Somehow, it's not scary that it's happened this way.
"Wow, you're very gorgeous," Spencer tells her as she touches up the final strand of her hair, adding enough hairspray that it won't fall out. He stands in the doorway of the bathroom, admiring her. "Wow."
"Thank you." Y/n spins around to look at him in his deep maroon suit. It matches her dress color which she agrees looks very nice on her. "And you're very handsome."
"Ready? The car is coming soon." He says.
She nods, fixing her bracelet. "Let's do it."
There are still some nerves as the car takes them to the venue. Spencer does a good job of assuring her it'll be okay, his hand like a magnet to her thigh. He seems slightly off like there's something out of place, but she shrugs it off. She hopes he's being cute and afraid his friends still say something embarrassing.
The venue and interior are exquisite as they make their way in. She takes a deep breath before they come across the man of the day, welcoming everyone at the entrance. She has no doubt that the value of the artwork in this room totals her apartment and everything in it.
"Spencer." Rossi, supposably, greets him in a tight hug.
"This is my girlfriend, Y/n." Spencer introduces them.
As she expects, and as she was warned about by Spencer, Rossi pulls her in for a hug, immediately calming her nerves with his warm greeting. "It's so nice to meet you. This one won't stop talking about you." Rossi jokes, nodding at an increasingly reddening Spencer.
"It's nice to meet you too." She smiles. "Thank you for inviting me."
Rossi nods. "Of course, it's a pleasure."
And then the rest of the introductions begin. Everyone's so kind, like she expected. She's seen photos and heard stories but everyone seems to have more personality than he conveyed. She's quickly fast friends with Penelope and Tara who do their absolute best to make sure Y/n's feeling comfortable.
It's how she ends up being dragged onto the dance floor after the ceremony. Once the alcohol starts flowing, there's no more anxiousness left and some extroverted spirit has been brought out.
Spencer's not one to dance, but he's one to admire. Only Y/n, though. She looks angelic, despite the old-style dance moves.
He's so wrapped up in watching her that he doesn't register JJ's heels on the ground as she approaches him. It's only when she sits next to him that his head turns around to face her.
He waits for her to speak first. Hopefully, provide some explanation.
"Spencer." She says his name softly, almost like how he used to imagine she'd say it if they were together. Much to his surprise, she doesn't go into any detail about the bomb she'd dropped less than 24 hours ago. "I'm worried about you."
He doesn't hide his scoff. "Worried about me?" He repeats.
She goes for another tactic, trying not to get him mad. "You don't think you're rushing into this?"
"Rushing into what, Jennifer?" He spits back, snapping to anger. Using her first name drives the point home, almost unnecessarily when he sounds so angered.
"You know what I mean." She continues. "You've only been talking about her for a few weeks and now she's here."
He can't fathom that she'd suggest he's rushing into a relationship. He's been careful and deliberate, but Y/n's safe, and she's proved it time and time again.
"She's been part of my life for 6 months." Spencer fact-checks her. "And you said I seemed happier since I met her."
JJ stalls, regrouping before trying another angle. "She's just not what I expected. Is she really the type you should be with?"
"What does that mean?" Spencer states, more furious than ever. There's a chance he will fully snap at her and he wouldn't be sorry.
"I feel like you should be with someone extroverted." She suggests. "You know, someone to get you out of your shell."
Spencer needs a deep breath. "You're not being a good friend right now." He tells her much more calmly. There's not one thing he doesn't love about Y/n, whether she's more on the extroverted or introverted side."I'm going to marry her, whether you like it or not." It's not even what he expected to come out of his mouth.
"Spence-" JJ tries again to reason with him.
"No, don't you dare," Spencer says firmly. "You flew back and forth from New Orleans so many times to see Will, without telling us once and we were all accepting of your relationship. If you don't like my relationship, I don't care. But it's not too soon for me to know. We can talk about what you told me later, but for now, I'm going to dance with my girlfriend." Without another word, he gets up and walks off, leaving her a little gobsmacked.
Y/n frowns at him as he approaches the dance floor. "Are you okay?" She checks.
"More than okay," Spencer tells her with a soft smile.
"Dance with me then." She says, mirroring her smile and holding out her hand.
"I'd love to." He takes her hand just as a slow song comes on for them to sway together.
JJ gets ignored by him for the rest of the night, something unnoticed by Y/n but purposeful by Spencer. But it's fun. So much fun. And he's sure he wouldn't be having as much fun had Y/n not been there. She truly makes his day.
They're in the car later that night, parked near her apartment, ice cream eaten on the trip home. "I'm in love with you," Spencer admits when her laughter falls off after he tells a joke.
It's not a word they've said before.
Her expression is of pure shock, but joy quickly creeps in. "I'm in love with you too." She tells him, grinning.
And it's an entirely better confession than the one he heard 24 hours ago.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfic
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Something for hotch? Maybe where reader gets hurt/a concussion on a case and goes to the hospital but refuses to tell him she went until someone else mentions it?? <3 you dont have to do it if you have something similar but i love your writing!
ty for requesting!! <3 —Hotch will look after you, even when you don’t tell him you need him. fem, 1.7k
cw reader has a concussion
Hotch rubs his face when he knows nobody’s watching. Hand over his eyes, thumb and forefinger working against a brewing migraine. It eases a little of the tension there, but he can’t do it like you can. There’s something in your hands that makes him want to call them lovely hands, such a quaint word. You rub the space between his brows with your thumb until his aching is gone or replaced. Fondness with its own heartbeat wakes whenever you’re near.
You’re not near. His head hurts. He wants a cup of coffee and a shower and to call Jack. The cases are never over when they’re over, is the thing, and he can’t keep track of everything. He has to answer questions and patch holes now, before the work follows him home to take up space on his desk.
He talks to police officers, chiefs, victims families and firemen and Penelope, too, anybody who needs to ask him a question. He tells Emily to go back to the hotel because she’s exhausted, and warns Spencer that staying too long will give him another headache. He’s surprised half an hour later when Morgan grabs him by the arm. Hotch assumed he went with Spencer.
“Hotch, what are you still doing here?”
Hotch gives him a strange look. It’s not as though Morgan hasn’t seen Hotch clean up a mess before. “Sorry?”
“I thought you’d be with Y/N.”
He tries very hard to look casual. The team are often better at pretending they haven’t noticed you and Hotch slowly moving together. “She went home.”
“No she didn’t, they took her in an ambulance. She’s at the hospital, nobody told you that?”
Hotch knows Morgan can finish up for him. He doesn’t even say where he’s going or what there is left to do, Morgan is more than capable of handling the unit, and he’s a phone call away. Hotch rushes for an agent with a car and tells them where he needs to go as he punches your speed dial into his phone. Number three, after Penelope and Jess.
You don’t answer, it makes him feel sick. He calls again and JJ picks up. Blessed, amazing JJ.
“Hi Hotch.”
“Is she there? Can I speak to her?”
“She went in for an MRI a half hour ago.”
“JJ, what happened? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“She said she told you.” A dry laugh from down the phone. “You’d think I’d learn not to trust her. I love her, but she’s a liar.”
Hotch could say the same thing. “JJ, what happened? What’s wrong with her?”
“I think she’s embarrassed. When everybody was coming back out, someone stepped on the back of her leg and she slipped down the stairs.”
“Who stepped on her?” Hotch asks.
JJ laughs. Hotch wonders if they’re too far into working together to scold her for unprofessionalism, but then he remembers the Unit would fall apart without her and holds his tongue. He’d fall apart without you, maybe, and he could stand to be a little more defensive.
He’s out of the car and into the hospital in record time. He follows the signs to the Emergency Room, gives your name at the desk, and doesn’t have to flash his badge to get told what room they’ve put you in. He would’ve, and he would’ve threatened legal action. He’s no saint. He’ll abuse the system (in innocuous ways only, of course) if it means he gets to see you.
You’re in a bed but sitting on the side of it rather than laying down. JJ sits in the chair beside you, two contrasting expressions on your faces. You’re smiling. JJ bites her lip.
She turns to Hotch with relief. “Hey, look,” she says gently.
“You took a long time to get here. Was it the moon?”
Hotch understands quite quickly. “Sorry. Nobody told me you got hurt. What happened to the moon, honey?”
You give him a vacant look. Turning back to JJ, your hands vying for her arm, you hold her to your stomach gently and squeeze your eyes closed. “The light.”
Hotch turns to the wall, looking for the light switch. It’s hidden behind other concerning tech, so he’s careful about what he presses. You sigh and draw his attention, wiggling back on the bed to almost fall off the other side.
“Maybe she thought she told me,” he suggests, not scolding JJ, but unhappy nonetheless. You clearly aren’t in a state to make decisions for yourself.
JJ rubs your arm. “She got worse after we got here. That’s why they sent for her MRI so quickly. She’s on and off with it, incoherent and normal again.”
Hotch knows she’s concerned for you, but he can read her restless leg; she hasn’t talked to Will or heard about Henry in hours. “Go back to the hotel, JJ. I have her.”
JJ gives you a hug, to your confusion, and bypasses him fast. He can hear her phone ringing before the doors shut from her departure.
He admires her loyalty, he just wishes she’d called him two hours ago.
You rub your eyes, the loose sleeves of your hospital gown shifting against the loose knot behind your neck, and he genuinely despises the idea that you’d been here, hurt, without him. “Can I tie your gown again?” he asks.
You nod into your rubbing.
“I turned the lights off. It shouldn’t be so bright in here anymore.” He rounds the bed to your back, where a great deal of skin is showing. He smiles though he shouldn’t. You poor girl. “You’re a little… stark.”
“I’m trying to think of some fruit and milk,” you tell him.
“Do you need help?”
“Not for the fruit.”
“But for the milk,” he surmises, bringing the ties of your gown as close as he can without strangling you and tying them in a neat bow.
“I don’t think that’s what I meant to say.”
He puts his hand on your shoulder, his thumb to bare skin. “That’s okay, honey, you’re having a little trouble now, but it’ll go away soon. If there were something wrong, the doctor would be here.”
“You could be a doctor.”
“I couldn’t. I don’t know anything about medicine.”
“A very nice doctor. Big hands.” You breathe out loudly, more animated than he’s ever heard you. “Whoo, I’m cold. I think they made me naked.”
“How about I tuck you in, would you like that?” he asks, leaning over you in hopes of you turning your head.
You stare up at him. “You want to?”
“I’d love to. I want you to be comfortable.”
“My boyfriend might not like it.”
Hotch tries not to sulk at another horrible symptom. You aren’t only incoherent, but amnesiac. And you’ve forgotten who he is, in a way. At least you’ve remembered you have a boyfriend. He hopes it’s him.
“No? Why wouldn’t he like it, honey? I’m just trying to take care of you.”
You visibly fluster. “You’re calling me honey like he does, and he won’t like it ‘cos he takes care of me. He loves to go to places but he doesn’t know where he’s going.”
That second half is gibberish, he’s sure. Hotch puts his hands carefully under your armpits and manoeuvres you back toward the top of the elevated hospital bed.
You put your hand to your tummy as you lean back, and hiss as your head touches the pillows. “Ow.”
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
“Don’t tell Aaron I got hurt.”
“Why not?”
“I fell down the stairs. He’s never fallen down the stairs.”
“I have, actually. Twice. And it doesn’t matter how you get hurt, I want to know you’re alright, so I need you to tell me.”
He pulls the sheets up to your legs and over your lap. Tucks them tightly behind your back, hands lingering on your hips. He watches you look at him, your cloudy gaze tracking over his eyes, his nose, and his lips. “Aaron?” you ask eventually, lifting your chin.
“Yes?”
You breathe out an unmissable sigh of relief. “You didn’t come with me.”
“I didn’t know you were hurt.” He squeezes your hip softly. “You didn’t tell me. But it’s not your fault, is it? You got hurt.” His voice falls into silk. “Is that warm enough?”
“I’m glad you’re here. I need you to get my shoes.”
“No shoes. Can I have a hug?”
“Why?”
“Just to hug you,” he says softly. “It might make you feel better.”
You raise your hands clumsily like your fingers are full of sand, forcing him to see his arms under them and behind your back. Your cheeks align, his rough with stubble, yours warm with the heat of a flush, perhaps from the injury. Your hands flop down onto his back as he rubs two separate, loving paths on the gown and your skin.
Thank god she’s okay, he thinks.
“Am I stuck like this?” you ask.
“Are you worried?” He taps your back. “I doubt it. We might have to stay here for a while, but it’s okay. Feeling better is the priority.”
“I’d like to go back.”
“Home?”
“For breakfast.”
“Are you hungry? I can find you something to eat.”
“What?” you ask.
You sound so genuinely confused that Hotch laughs into your shoulder, before giving the fabric a soft kiss. “It doesn’t matter. I’m gonna bring that chair over and sit with you, okay? We’ll wait for the doctor together.”
He sits with you for hours, talks to doctors and nurses alike as they come to check your vitals and explain your scans. Your confusion doesn’t lessen until the night time, and even then you act oddly, bringing his hand to your mouth to kiss strange parts of his fingers. The skin shy of his nail. The underside of a knuckle, the curve under the meat of his thumb.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds
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hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:
reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.
Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)
I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3
can you come get me? | S.R.
who? spencer reid x fem!reader
category: angst
content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any)
word count: 4.56k
a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!
Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.
It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.
The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.
JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”
Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.
“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.
It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.
Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.
Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.
JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.
Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.
Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.
Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.
Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.
Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”
There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.
“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.
Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.
You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.
His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.
“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.
Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.
After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”
“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.
A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.
She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”
Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.
Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.
A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”
“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”
The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.
“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.
Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”
He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.
“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.
Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.
Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.
He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”
Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.
For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.
The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.
Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.
Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.
You were silent.
As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.
In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.
Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.
While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.
Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.
The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.
A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.
“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.
Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”
He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”
Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.
The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.
“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.
While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.
Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”
“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.
Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”
Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”
Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”
The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.
Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.
He left that last part out of his message to your father.
As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.
A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”
Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.
“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.
Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”
Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.
Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.
You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?
He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.
Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.
The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.
“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.
Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”
Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.
“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”
Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.
Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”
“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.
Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.
He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.
Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.
In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.
Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.
Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.
You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.
Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.
In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.
His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.
“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.
With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.
Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.
Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.
He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.
“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.
You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”
The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.
Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”
Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”
You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”
It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.
“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.
Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid angst#criminal minds angst#margot's requests#spencer reid hurt/comfort#criminal minds hurt/comfort
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Dad!Spencer forgetting to take a hair clip out of his hair that his daughter put in earlier that morning 🤭 and nobody telling him until he goes home LMAO
Georgia has a cutesie little routine with her dad, he does her hair and she does his.
This morning Spencer has spent the better half of twenty minutes braiding her hair back and out of her face.
“Daddy, can you put the ribbons in today? The orange ones, please?” It would clash with her outfit but who is Spencer to deny her that?
“Course Georgia, on both braids or one tying them both together?”
He likes giving her choices like this, letting her decide little things so she feels she has a say. Spencer likes her to be knowledgeable and a little independent- but not too much, he still wants her to need you both.
“Invididually,” he smiles at how she says it and nods.
“Individually, you got it.” He ties the ribbons in cute little bows and then pats her back. “All done, go get breakfast with your mom.”
She starts to hop off the stool she’s stood on and then stops. “Wait. Daddy?” Her eyebrows pulled tight together as she reaches in her hair bag.
“Yes, sweetheart?” Spencer looks equally perturbed.
“Can I put this one in your hair? So we match?” He nods and kneels down, letting her little hands push back his hair and set the orange clip in his hair.
Breakfast is busy, as it usually is with a five year old. She wants waffles and you and Spencer spend a little time coaxing yogurt and fruit on her plate.
You pack her lunch kit, pack yours and then Spencer’s and you’re all rushing out of the door- you need to beat traffic.
You kiss Spencer goodbye and you both rush off- you to drop Georgia and Spencer to the bau.
His day doesn’t get less busy, an all paperwork day, so he’s stuck at his desk and while he gets weird looks from Derek, he doesn’t take it on much.
It’s not unusual at all.
“Okay guys, get home. We’re not getting much else and we’re all updated on the paperwork.” Hotch makes the announcement around four thirty and Spencer sighs, cracking his knuckles as he stretches in his chair.
“Alright, I’m headed home guys. Georgia started fractions today and that math is never good for six year olds.”
He’s packing his back and catches a look of himself in his laptop’s reflection before he closes it.
“Oh shit,” he mumbles, turning round Emily and JJ. “Did I have it in all day?”
They both nod, JJ smiles gently. “It’s a good look Spence, a nice touch from Georgia.”
“She’s getting better at gripping your hair back. Fine motor fully developed.” Emily compliments.
He blushes but doesn’t even bother to take it out, knowing she’s going to love it that he’s kept it in all day.
#spencerreid#spencer reid#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x yn#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x black reader#dad!spencer reid#dad!spencer
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strawberry lipgloss🍓
spencer reid x reader (this one’s for my strawberry lovers)
spencer can’t keep his senses off reader when she wears a lipgloss that drives him insane (wrote this since i got a new strawberry lipgloss today)
-🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—
It’s 8:04 am when she walks into the BAU.
Spencer’s working on some files when he notices you are 4 minutes later than your usual time of arrival. He furrows his brow at this strange abnormality but shrugs it off quickly. Maybe you just had woken up late. Your alarm didn’t go off perhaps. Or maybe there was traffic. No, that couldn’t be it. Not from the route you go or at that time. That area doesn’t get congested at all, if ever.
In any case it wasn’t Spencer’s business. Hotch’s yes. Not Spencer’s. You had no need to explain yourself to him. He wasn’t your boyfriend no matter how much he wished and hoped he could be.
He hadn’t been one to believe in wishes but his last birthday it was what he’d wished on the candles while you’d smiled at him sweetly. You were doing that now. You smiled when you saw him every morning. He adored it.
As you approach his desk you chime, “Good morning Spencer!” in a sing-songy voice per usual.
You get closer and drop a small bag on his desk. That’s when he notices. You smell like a fresh baked strawberry pie. He knew you normally wore a sweet vanilla perfume. You were wearing it today, he could smell it. Something was different though, there was a hint of strawberry.
Unfortunately for him, you walk away and sit down at your own desk. You scent disappears with you. Spencer frowns and opens the bag you’d given him. The smell of the contents immediately hits his nostrils.
A chocolate strawberry donut!
You notice him pick up the donut. A smile forms on his face.
“Thanks!” He takes a bite.
“Delicious!”
“I knew you’d like it. It’s both of our favorite flavors!”
Spencer smiles at you. You were always doing kind gestures like this for him. You did kind favors for a lot of people, but for Spencer it felt so special when you did things for him. It’s why he was so in love with you. He goes back to his files happily eating.
Minutes later, you’re staring at him debating whether or not you should ask him a question. You decide to ask. You stand up and walk over to him. He smells the sweet strawberry scent radiating off of you and looks up.
“Yes?” He’s happily staring at you with those big brown eyes. Getting lost in the sight of you.
“Could you please do something for me, Spencer?”
“You can do whatever you want to me…” He says without thinking. He quickly corrects himself with, “I mean what do you need me to do? For you.” He clears his throat. “Anything.”
You reach into your purse and pull out a small red tube. “Could you put this on for me please?” You open the tube. “I lost my mirror.”
“Of course.” He takes the tube and his hand shakes a little. He squeezes the tube a little so the product comes up and presses the applicator onto your lips. He spreads the product over your mouth being careful to not get it anywhere but your lips.
The scent was just like strawberry jam.
When he’s done, he can’t stop staring at your shiny lips. He can see his reflection in them.
Oh, how he’d like to press his own to yours and never let go. The strong scent of strawberries, now dominating his nostrils, wasn’t helping.
Unconsciously, he leans in ever so slightly. You notice and start to lean in too. Following his movements. You’re just centimeters away from touching each other.
You would have too, if JJ hadn’t walked in and announced a new case.
When you meet in the conference room, Spencer sits next to you. He keeps inhaling your scent.
When you’re on the jet you’re reapplying your perfume, you spritz it behind your ears, on your wrists, and your ankles.
Spencer watches in awe. You put the perfume bottle back in the bag and pick up the strawberry lip balm again. He’s awaiting you to ask him to reapply it for you since you’d told him you’d lost your mirror. You reach for something else inside your purse. You pull something out.
A small pink mirror.
You hadn’t lost it. Spencer smiles to himself.
“Just me or does she smell extra good today?” Morgan observes and motions his head towards you. Spencer nods in agreement.
“Yeah…”
You’re curled up reading a book when Spencer sits next to you. You look up at him and give him a warm smile.
“Nice mirror you got there.” He smirks. Confidence was spewing off him all of a sudden.
“So why did you tell me you lost it?” He asked, he knew the answer but wanted to hear you admit it. He suddenly had the urge to make you squirm.
“Um, you’re a profiler shouldn’t you know?” You retort.
Spencer stares at you for a second, unsure how to respond. The corners of his mouth curl into a smile when he thinks of something.
“Well then, I’ll tell you why, you wanted me to notice that wonderful scent of strawberries. You wanted me to look at your lips and want you so badly my bones hurt. Anyone who knows you, knows, you never leave home without your mirror.” Spencer innocently smiles.
“Why did you play along if you knew?”
He leans in closer and whispers in your ear, “I can’t resist you. Or your lipgloss.” He smiles and goes back to where he was sitting before. You stare at him in shock.
Morgan pats his arm and says, “My man!”
Then Spencer does the unthinkable and pulls out his cell phone, a very rare occasion. You feel a twinge of jealously at the thought he might be texting someone else, when your phone dings with a text.
Spencer: Would you like to have dinner at Tony’s with me this weekend? Like as a date?
You: I’d love to, but why didn’t you just ask when you were over here?
Spencer: Look up.
You look up and see Morgan teasing Spencer about whispering in your ear. He’s pretending to hump a pillow while Hotch is holding his face in his hands in disbelief.
“Ask her out kid! Strike while the iron is hot!” Morgan then motions spanking. Hotch looks like he is on the verge of tears.
You laugh and go back to your text thread.
You: I am so sorry.
You look over again and see Spencer smiling at his phone.
Spencer: Can’t wait for our date! Make sure to wear that strawberry lip gloss.
You: Of course, xoxo💋
the end, for now
-
i might do a part two about the date not sure yet
update part two is here
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tags 🍓-
if you’d like to be tagged u can comment a 🍓
@whoisspence
@starshinegarcia
@fictionalobssed
@exoticisles
@in-another-april
@gallifreyan-idiocracy
#criminal minds#spencer reid#mgg#matthewgraygubler#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x reader#dr spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#dr spencer reid#spencer x reader#strawberry girl#strawberries#strawberry#strawberry lipgloss
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Regrets Sting
Spencer Reid x bau!reader | part 1
part 2
Summary: You have always been there for Spencer. Turns out, he's never going to be there for you.
Warning: Angst.
A/N: one of my many drafts... enjoy 👀?
— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿
You love Dr. Spencer Reid.
As a colleague, a friend, and, well, a respected man.
Granted, you spent most of your days with a small herd of profilers, but you were great at hiding your feelings for him, if you do say so yourself.
You watched him smile awkwardly with love from one woman to the other. Then, there was Maeve. He was in love with her. You didn't need your profiling skills to lead to that conclusion.
It broke your heart when you heard Spencer's plea. It broke your heart when he couldn't even function properly. And your heart broke for him as you watched him fall on his knees, crying over Maeve.
So you chose friendship. You always have, after all.
You became his anchor. His support. His best friend.
You were there for him. You were there when he was ready to open up. You lent him your shoulder. You became his personal napkin, soaking up all his tears in the hopes that it would lessen the pain, even just a little bit. You kept him company, dragging him out of his apartment to bring him anywhere besides the gloom in his empty home.
And without him, or you, knowing, you gave him your heart. You were in love with Dr. Spencer Reid.
It made you feel guilty, but it was inevitable. Who would've known you could fall deeper than you already were? Not even you, apparently.
And yet, you remained the person he could cry on for two years. You pawned him a shoulder for a long, drawn-out two years. Shoving your feelings in the back of your mind as if it wasn't anything important to you.
The deeper you fell for him, the faster the team caught up with your feelings.
JJ figured it out first when she saw the ends of your hair as you walked in Spencer's apartment the first year of Maeve's death. Spencer had been unresponsive to everyone, but not to you. You managed to get him to open his door just by the sound of your footsteps. She knew, then, that he was in good hands.
Emily and Derek noticed how you felt at the same time. You were all on a case, and an officer who awfully looked a lot like Maeve emerged. You were protective of Spencer and knew exactly what his reaction would be. So you had everything he needed and offered to work with him before Hotch could even mention it. Of course, along with that was Penelope getting a confirmation about your feelings for Spencer.
Rossi always knew. He always saw the way you would giggle silently to yourself whenever Spencer sassed his statistics into them. One time, he saw you clean Spencer's desk before everyone arrived. And he suspected that you did so a while back before he caught you.
Hotch? He noticed, but he said nothing unless you verbally told him. He thought you weren't ready to openly admit your feelings to the team yet, so who was he to mention it?
And so it goes...
Emily would grin whenever Spencer gave you coffee every morning. Derek would wiggle his eyebrows whenever he caught your gaze on Spencer, then gossip about it with Penelope, which led to her teasing you 'til sundown. Rossi, at times, tried to ease your feelings when they surfaced. Your solid companion whenever you felt down. And Hotch was ever a menace, stern face or not. He would partner you and Spencer up, specifically on the days when your feelings for the genius were oddly stronger.
So, you could only imagine the heartbreak when Spencer arrived one morning with the wrong order of your coffee and a wide smile as he told you that he was going out on a date.
You immediately showed your protest. Of course, Spencer wasn't happy about it. What was worse was he didn't know why. And worse than that was you couldn't tell him why.
Or so you thought.
"I don't understand why you're making a big deal out of this," Spencer followed you as you walked around the bullpen.
"You just met this woman, Spence. I think it's safe to say, I'm worried. You don't even know whether this person is safe." You lied. You had to. He didn't need to know you didn't want him to go on a date because it would break you.
Spencer crossed his arms, knitting his eyebrows as he felt offended by your words. "I'm a profiler and have 187 IQ. I can take care of myself." He stated, earning a couple of stares from the other agents.
You mirrored his actions, "Really?" You challenged, nodding in his direction, specifically to his tie. "You can't even tie the same tie you've been wearing for years properly. Looks like you haven't done laundry too, because, as far as I can remember, you've been wearing that same vest for the past three days. Are you going to wear that on your date?" You raised a brow.
Emily's eyes blew wide, pursing her lips to eat her laughter in. She looked away in hopes that the urge to burst into fits of laughter would subside. Unfortunately, Derek was doing the same thing, and they both snorted at the same time.
"Obviously, I'm not going to wear this on the date. This is clearly not about how homeless I look like. Just be honest with me and tell me why you're so against me being happy." Spencer's voice climbed an octave higher. He was frustrated and confused, and you both knew how much he hated both.
You closed your eyes and sighed deeply. You really had no other choice, do you? You turned around to face Spencer, "I'm in love with you." You confessed, hoarding the entire bullpen's attention.
Spencer chuckled, shaking his head, "Right, nice joke."
"I'm not joking." It offended you a bit. How much he compared your confession to a silly joke.
Spencer's face darkened. He uncrossed his arms and dipped his hands inside his pockets. His next words broke your heart, "I'm very disappointed in you."
Your eyes widened. Your mouth fell open as you heard your heart break into pieces, so loud you couldn't get a sense of what more he was saying.
"I came to you for two years to mend. You became my best friend because I thought I could trust you. And now, you're in love with me? Did you help me just so you could gain my affection?"
It stung. The silence that fogged the bullpen was deafening. Emily wanted to claw Spencer's eyes, but JJ was fast to hold her back.
Derek began to move beside you, "Reid, don't—"
Your manic laugh cut him off.
Spencer's eyebrows narrowed, "What?" His voice was far from the gentle one you were used to.
"You know what, Reid?" You scoffed, running your tongue on your lower lip to control your anger. "You're right. I was there for you. I was there to lend you a shoulder to cry on. I was there to keep you company. I made you smile. I even made you laugh! And sure, you're very disappointed in me because, god forbid, I fell for the genius prodigy. With the 187 IQ you're boasting, imagine my disappointment when you can't even figure out that I have feelings for you."
The bullpen fell silently dead as you stared at Spencer with such hatred it made his stomach climb on his throat. He has never seen you so... disgusted.
You couldn't take it. You couldn't look at him in the eyes anymore. You felt like you were going to throw up the longer you stood in the center of it all.
His words insulted you. And it hurt like a bitch.
There were many possibilities on how Spencer could've responded to your feelings, but this was beyond your limit.
You bit your lower lip, hesitant yet eager to spill the next words that came out of your mouth. "For the record, I regret falling in love with you." And with that, you left.
An offer from another unit had been sitting in your inbox. And despite having no plan to leave such a beautiful family of colleagues, you filled out the transfer form. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that you needed an out sooner or later. And Spencer's insensitive reaction was just the right motivation you needed.
The Monday after your outburst became the BAU team's worst nightmare.
Spencer immediately noticed your absence. He knew. Of course, he did. You were always the first person to greet him as you spun around in your seat. It was rare for you to be late.
You haven't contacted him for days, either. And he didn't have the guts to do it first. He has been drowning in guilt and couldn't figure out how he'd make it up to you. He realized how unfair he was to you, albeit too late.
Everyone arrived one by one, and there was still no sign of you until Hotch cleared his throat, "Let's start."
Penelope stumbled, hesitating at the sight of your empty seat. "What about..." She softly muttered and yet loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Agent..." Hotch sighed as he spoke your name. He still remembered how you went back to his office while everyone was out for their lunch break and submitted your transfer request. "She officially transferred to unit 4, violent criminal apprehension program... today," Hotch announced, much to his dismay.
Derek's eyebrows knitted, glancing outside the window of the conference room to your desk. "Are you kidding? Her stuff is still here."
Hotch took a deep breath, glancing at Spencer for a moment. "She said they were unnecessary items." He cleared his throat and gestured for Penelope to continue what she was doing.
Regrets stung Spencer like a thousand bees.
Most of the things that clattered on your desk were things that you both shared. His pens that you never gave back. Post-it notes he left for you that had no importance, but you kept them up on the wall of your cubicle. A photo booth picture of the two of you from one of Rossi's Christmas parties. The small bookshelf on top of your desk overflowing with Spencer's annotated books.
"But she didn't even tell us. She didn't say goodbye." Penelope exclaimed. Her eyes matched the frown on her lips. She couldn't help but talk about you. After all, they were your family for many years.
"Could you blame her though?" Emily scoffed, giving Spencer a glare.
Spencer messed up. Big time. And he has no idea how he would make it up to you.
#spencer x reader#spencer reid imagine#ssa spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminalminds#spencer reid angst
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Appetizer
Summary: A night out with the team takes a delicious turn.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x F. Reader
Warnings: Smut. 18+ only. Minors DNI.
See my Masterlist Here
“Give me your panties.” Your boyfriend Spencer, commanded. He was different since he got out of prison. There was something dark about him now. You weren’t complaining. Sure, you missed the old Spencer, but now he was rougher with you.
The sex was good before, but now he didn’t treat you like a porcelain doll, afraid you would break even from the lightest touch. He was still sweet to you, but you would have to say the sex is better.
You look at him with wide eyes, reaching your hand under your dress to remove them. You place one hand on his forearm to steady yourself, pulling your feet out one at a time. You fold them, placing them in his outstretched hand. He puts them in his pocket, grabbing your hand before you leave to meet the rest of the team.
When you arrive, you take a seat next to Penelope. She beams as you settle in, telling you how beautiful you look. You order your drinks when the server stops by. Kristy, Matt’s wife is talking about their kids, but you stop listening when Spencer’s large hand caresses your thigh.
Your eyes meet his, he lifts an eyebrow at you. You turn back to the conversation, Spencer leans in, his hot breath tickling your ear, sending goosebumps down your arms. “I don’t want to hear a sound fall from those pretty lips. Do you understand?” You nod your head, breath caught in your throat.
“Alright love birds, get a room!” Penelope teases you. You smile and laugh, pretending you weren’t affected by Spencer’s words. You are suddenly thankful you chose a black dress, so nobody else would see your arousal flooding the fabric.
Spencer’s hand inches higher, so close to where you need him. You continue talking with the girls while Spencer talks about the case the team just solved with Luke and Rossi. You squirm, the anticipation making it hard to sit still. Spencer removes his hand, taking a sip from his drink.
You stifle a whine, pretending you have to cough. Spencer’s hand returns, higher than before. You wonder if he can feel your desire for him dripping down your thigh. Your silent question is answered when he rubs it into your soft skin. The heat from his hand makes you throb. If he would only move his hand a little to the left and put you out of your misery.
The server starts taking everyone’s orders starting with Penelope. She hands her menu to the smiling man, who acknowledges you. “For you, miss?” Spencer plunges two fingers inside you, and you can’t remember what you were going to order. You were lucky you didn’t cry out at the sudden intrusion.
The server smiles, but you can tell he is growing impatient. “I, umm.” You begin, but Spencer cuts you off. “She’ll have the steak medium rare.” He answers for you. You smile at him in appreciation as his slender fingers curl, hitting your g-spot.
You quickly grab your glass and bring it to your lips, trying to stay silent. His thumb slowly swirls your clit, and your vision goes blurry. You grab his arm, needing something to steady yourself. The server comes by with the appetizers for the table, giving you a sideways glance. For a brief second, you think he knows.
Any worries about that fade as quickly as they came while Spencer’s long fingers slide in and out of you. You’re silently praying that Penelope can’t hear the obscene squelching every time his fingers glide into you. She’s none the wiser, gushing to Tara about her latest date.
Spencer continues working you with slow strokes of his fingers, his thumb dragging across your clit in small movements. Your fingers dig into his leg under the table. You watch as he acts unaffected, eating the greasy appetizer with his free hand. You shouldn’t be this turned on in public, in front of your coworkers sitting right beside you.
The server returns with everyone’s meals as Spencer picks up his pace. He adds another finger, strumming your clit with his thumb. It’s an effort not to rock your hips into his hand when you are so close. His thumb works faster as he curls his long fingers once more, tipping you over the edge.
Your steak is placed in front of you, as your orgasm rips through you. You grip the table, needing to hold on. You’ve never came this hard in your life. “Are you alright, miss? Your face is flushed. Would you like some more water?”
“Y-yes please.” You manage to mumble as your pleasure fades. Everyone looks at you, Emily asks if you want her to go to the bathroom with you because you do look quite flushed. You refuse, blaming it on the restaurant being too hot.
After your refill of water, everyone starts to dig in. Spencer removes his hand from between your thighs, bringing his sticky fingers to his mouth. His tongue swirls around the tip of one of his fingers. “Mmm” he moans as your taste reaches his tongue. “If the main course is as delicious as the appetizer, I’ve found my new favorite restaurant.” He winks at you, wiping his hand on his napkin.
Tags
@cindylynn @potter-puff007 @multifandom-worlds @mochie85 @wheredafandomat @cynbx @lover-of-books-and-tea @lamentis-10 @zzumkii @megharat-barnes-reid @anonymously-ominous @kats72 @vivian-555 @itzdarling @emarich7 @nomajdetective @aelinismyqueen @wildernessflora @academiareid @loz-3
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid hot#spencer reid au#spencer reid cm#spencer reid fic#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#criminal minds fic#criminal minds#matthew gray gubler#appetizer
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baby fever
in which reader and spencer discuss having a baby while at work
fluff
warnings/tags: fem/AFAB!reader, bau!reader, BOYFRIEND!SPENCER or husband if u so desire, discussions of pregnancy/having a baby (obviously), reader wants a baby, so does spencer
a/n: god i need him so badly. should i write follow up smut?? mwahaha evil emoji......
The coffee finished brewing minutes ago, but you’re still standing by the pot, watching Anderson’s daughter toddling around the bullpen on chubby legs. She’s not very adept at walking, but her spirit is indomitable—every time she tips a little too far forward, she catches herself and gets right back up. It’s not like she’s doing anything particularly impressive or even interesting, but you can’t take your eyes off her. Every movement makes your heart twinge, every giggle or curious quirk of her head is so adorable it physically hurts in your chest.
From your peripheral vision you see Spencer approaching, bearing his own empty mug, but not even he can draw your attention away from the adorable little pixie and her tutu and her pigtails.
“That is the cutest kid I have ever seen in my life,” you whisper to Spencer, hoping the quiet tone of your voice will help hide how much you feel like cooing and squealing.
He smiles to himself as he pours his coffee.
“That’s Rosie. Have you said hi yet?”
“I’m afraid if I talk to her I’ll try to keep her.”
“She is pretty adorable.”
You turn to him as he leans next to you on the counter, sipping his coffee casually.
“Adorable? Spencer. Puppies are adorable. You’re not understanding the magnitude of what I mean right now. I can’t explain to you how much adorable doesn’t cut it. I’m not kidding about the child abduction thing.”
HIs eyes slide around the room as he chuckles into his mug.
“Let’s maybe not joke about kidnapping a child in FBI headquarters.”
“I’m not joking,” you hiss. “I feel like I’m going insane. I just—”
At the last second you stop yourself, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.
“You just what?” Spencer asks, adjusting the hem of your shirt with his free hand. You glance down, watching the care he takes in the tiniest detail that you wouldn’t have given a second thought to.
“Is something wrong with my shirt?”
His eyes flick up to yours, hazel tinted with mild surprise.
“No. It just was sliding up your waist a little bit.” As he says it, his knuckles brush the bare skin of your torso. You suppress a shiver, studying his profile once he pulls his hand away and goes for another sip.
“Can we have one?”
Your inopportune timing results in coffee dribbling down Spencer’s chin as he quickly attempts to wipe it away, wide eyes torn between you and trying to assess the mess he’s made.
“You--you mean like a baby?”
“Yeah, like a baby,” you say, grabbing his shoulders and squaring them to you before dabbing the coffee from his face and jacket. He watches on as you clean him up, completely still except for his wandering eyes.
“I thought we were waiting on that.”
“Waiting for what? A better time? There’s never going to be a good time with this job. And it’s not like we’d have to quit. Look at JJ. She has two and still does it.”
“First of all,” Spencer begins, quickly recovering from your surprise proposition, “I don’t love the idea of either of us being in the field with you pregnant. And secondly, JJ also has Will and her mother to take care of the boys. We don’t have that. We’re both here all the time.”
“I don’t care,” you groan, trashing the paper towels once you’ve done the best you can with his clothing. “We’d figure it out somehow!”
“Mhm. It sounds like you’ve really devoted some careful consideration to this.”
You drop your head to your shoulder, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pulling lightly on his shirtsleeve.
“Oh, come on. You haven’t thought about it at all? My perfect brain and your pretty face fusing to create a future Nobel-prize winner? Imagine how cute she would be, Spencer, we could put her hair in little braids and pigtails and we could dress her up and she could be in soccer and ballet and—”
“She?” he smiles, studying your face intently. You roll your eyes.
“Yes, she. Obviously we would have a girl. You—”
The idea of Spencer as the father of your daughter hits you like a tidal wave, stopping you dead in your tracks. The images materialize in your mind’s eye so clearly, it’s like they’re already memories, so real and tangible you have no doubt it must come to fruition someday. But if before, your ranting was mostly a silly fantasy—now it’s become a bit more intense.
He seems to sense your shift in mood. The big smile thaws slightly as he subtly grabs your hand on the counter.
“What? What’s wrong?”
There he goes again. Being kind. Being perfect.
Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t let them fall.
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just... didn’t realize how badly I actually wanted that until I said it out loud.”
The concern in his eyes softens to pure affection as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand.
“I want it too. And whenever you decide you’re ready I’ll drop everything for you.”
His words are like compounding pressure to the deep heat within you—forming something so solid and perfect you don’t have to wonder if it’s real. A ten on the Mohs scale, a concept that gets closer to actualizing by the minute.
Your voice is quiet, revelatory as you admire the amber facets in his eyes.
“You’re ready?”
“I’ve been ready for quite some time,” he admits. And at once you feel the certainty of him paint your past and your future with one broad brushstroke. One day you will look back on your life and remember the time before Spencer, and that will be it. There is before Spencer, and with Spencer, but never an after Spencer. He wants to create something utterly permanent with you. “Come here.”
He sets his mug down, carefully pulling you forward so you’re toe to toe with your back to the rest of the BAU; so that only he can see you. Despite how good the two of you are at avoiding PDA, occasionally an exception is made. He tenderly wipes away the few tears that have sprung from your waterline and accepts your arms around his waist, mirroring your embrace and completely enveloping you.
“I love you,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, quiet enough that nobody in the office has a chance of hearing it. You sniffle.
“I love you too. Also you smell really good.”
He chuckles, hand roaming up and down your back for a moment.
“And that is why we are holding off on this at least for a while.”
“What do you mean?” you whisper indignantly as he gently peels you off him. His hands remain a steadying force on your waist as he smiles down at you beatifically.
“I mean let’s give it two weeks and see if you still want a baby when you’re not ovulating.”
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you
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Okay but, flirty reader majority pointed at Reid, and the scene where he has to get hosed down and says "I'mma bout to get naked, I don't think you wanna see that" and reader's just like raising her hand and says "don't worry I'll stay". And after she walks out to go to the hospital and sees everyone and with an open mouth and wide eyes just goes " woah" cause big dick energy
A/N: Hi, thank you so much for your request! I've been a bit sick lately, so I haven't had a chance to write much, but this was fun and quick to write! I might do a part 2 with the actual smut in the future, so if that's something people would want let me know in the comments!!
Warnings: suggestive content, public dirty talk?
“I really want to see that.”
You heard the words but weren't sure where they'd come from for the longest time. It had been a confusing morning, with a high alert for anthrax and your coworker trapping himself inside a contaminated lab to save you from dying a presumably very painful death, you couldn't be blamed for not realizing that you'd said the words in question.
He'd meant the words sarcastically, of course, and they'd warned Morgan off immediately with a chuckle and a “You better survive this, kid,” but you'd stood rooted to the earth until he'd repeated them again.
“Y/N, they're going to strip me down. You don't want to see that.”
“I really do, though.” Your eyes unabashedly trailed down the contours of his body, soaked from the hoses currently decontaminating him. You could've sworn that he was moving in slow motion as his hand pushed back his hair and cleared his face of water.
If there weren't this many CDC agents around, you'd have likely joined him in his impromptu shower to feel your way along the lines of his clothing, checking to see what was outline and what was the thick layers of shirt and pants that unfortunately still obstructed your view.
Another minute of you ogling him went by before your eyes finally returned to anywhere near his, and you realized that your desire for the man could no longer pass for camaraderie.
“You better not die, Spencer. Not before I can enjoy the meal I'm about to sample.”
His doctors were either ignoring the conversation completely or were busy focusing on other things, and luckily, they didn't react to your words. Other than to take Spencer's temperature one more time when he flushed bright red, and stared at you slack-jawed.
“We're going to have to speed this along, Doctor Reid. Please start unbuttoning your shirt,” one of the hazmatted men said to him, but his eyes were fixed on you.
“Yes, please do, Spencer. It's for your own good. And mine.”
You expected him to blush and fawn again, but his day had been as long and confusing as your own, so you were unsurprised when he looked you directly in the eye and began unbuttoning his shirt. You watched his descent, and your breath faltered, seeing the water drip down his bare skin now.
“I'm not sure which of us is wetter right now,” you tried to joke in earnest, but you felt a sharp jolt of lust in your gut as soon as his hands reached his belt.
“Y/N, you need to leave now. Before you make this any harder for everyone here.” The innuendo in his words were clear, but you were thankful again for the considerate and/or oblivious doctors either side of him bagging up his discarded shirt and jacket.
“Only if you promise I can make your life as hard as I want to when you're in the clear.” You smiled again, hoping the full force of your lust would reach him. Spencer was always oblivious to genuine flirtation, you'd observed enough women throwing themselves on him (had discouraged a few too many with a hand on his arm and a finger playing with the abandoned curls at the back of his neck, too) to know that for sure.
You needed to make your need for him explicit.
“I mean it, Spencer. I really mean it.”
His eyes locked with yours for the last time ad you made to turn around, doing your best to convince him without becoming distractedly horny.
“I know. I'll see you at the hospital.”
“At the hospital? Risky, I like it.” You winked and turned away, leaving him calling back after you as you walked over to the car Derek had pulled around the front of the property.
“Wait, not the hospital! Those beds aren’t comfortable. Y/N! Y/N, really!”
You giggled as you sat down in the car, but you bubbled with anticipation still.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#mgg#spencer reid smut#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x y/n
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I'd Wait For You | Spencer Reid x F! Reader
Summary: In which you find that a broken engagement leads you to the love of your life. (Friends to lovers)
Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted
wc: 6.9k
"You have no idea how long I've waited for you."
-----
There is something weird in the air this morning, Spencer feels it the second he wakes up, but is unable to put his finger on what it is. As he goes about his morning routine he continues to ponder what this feeling could be from. He hadn't forgotten to turn in any papers, there is no rush to get to work, there is simply nothing going on that would cause this unsettling feeling that takes residence in his chest. But it persists nonetheless.
His commute to work is no better either, the sense of dread looms over him for no particular reason, and the anxiety causes him to pick at the skin around his nails, a bad habit he had stopped long ago. Spencer doesn't consider himself to be superstitious, but this is all beginning to feel a little foreboding to him. But he tries his best to mask the feeling as he walks through the familiar BAU doors, ready to distract himself with whatever tasks get assigned to him today.
The rest of the team shows up a few minutes later than he did, everyone taking their time to get settled at their desks. They had just returned from a case yesterday, so a day in the office is much appreciated.
The minutes slowly tick by and everyone but Spencer begins working on something, he just can't seem to focus today. Instead of trying to force himself to do work, he decides a cup of coffee might bring some sense of normalcy to the morning.
He picks his favorite mug and makes his coffee just as he usually does, but he takes his time stirring in the sugar, becoming entranced in the swirl within the cup as he stirs and stirs. Emily and JJ's voice outside the break room break his trance and he tosses the stir stick away as they walk in, happily talking about something.
"Did you hear?" Emily asks Spencer with a smile on her face. Spencer's eyebrows crease and he recalls the past few days, trying to remember if she is expecting good news. But he comes up short. With a shake of his head, he glances between the two.
"Hear what?" With his question, JJ turns her phone around to show Spencer a picture. As he realizes what is on her screen, he swears he feels his heart stop beating.
"She got engaged!" JJ exclaims, as if it's the best news she will hear all year. And while it might be the best news for her, it couldn't be worse for Spencer.
"About time too." Emily says, looking at Spencer expectantly. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he nods shortly.
"Yeah." He tears his eyes away from JJ's screen and brushes by the two of them to get out of the room as quickly as possible, forgetting his coffee on the counter.
Spencer swiftly walks through some of the quieter halls in the office until he finds a secluded conference room. With unsteady hands, he closes the door behind him and lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His mind races with a hundred different thoughts at once, all of them revolving around the photo of you with a shiny ring on your finger.
Spencer should be happy for you, he should be over the moon that you had found happiness. But instead all he feels is sick to his stomach and like he had been kicked in the chest. He closes his eyes tightly, trying to keep tears at bay as he vividly remembers the moment he knew he was head over heels for you. It's a bittersweet memory for him, and one he thinks of quite often.
You had been on the team for a few months when Hotch assigned you and Spencer to put together the geographic profile together. You jumped at the opportunity, eager to learn something new, and he was excited to get to know you better. While the two of you worked together, Spencer couldn't help but notice the sweet smell of your perfume and how you nibbled on your lips as you concentrated. He found himself getting sidetracked by you more and more often, and couldn't help the pink flush of his cheeks whenever you glanced his way. It was on the third morning of working together when he realized that he had started to fall for you; the shiver that ran down his spine confirmed it as your hands brushed when you handed him a cup of coffee.
But that was four years ago, and nothing is the same.
As the memory fades, Spencer tries to pull himself together by straightening his tie and taking a few deep breaths. He's sure that Emily and JJ will have questions, but he's hoping they won't pry into the matter. Although he's sure that they've told everyone else how he ran off.
Once he feels like he's not going to cry at the mention of your name, he leaves the empty conference room and goes back to his desk where he has reports waiting for him. It's wishful thinking, but he hopes they offer some distraction from you. His foot taps with each pen stroke across the page, and he does his best to ignore Morgan's eyes staring at him a few feet away.
"You okay?" Morgan doesn't let Spencer ignore him any longer. With a sigh, Spencer puts the pen down and looks to Morgan, who appears to be studying every microexpression on Spencer's face.
"I'm fine." Spencer tries his best to keep his tone even and nonchalant.
"You don't seem fine." Spencer knows that Derek is just trying to be a good friend, and he appreciates that, but he knows he can't talk about what's bothering him here. Not in front of the team, and not in front of curious eavesdroppers. So to deflect the conversation away from what's really bothering him, Spencer gives a halfhearted answer just to be done with it.
"I guess I'm just ready for the weekend." Spencer quickly averts his gaze away from Derek's, his eyes catching the only photograph that resides on his desk.
It was a picture taken four years ago with the whole team, you had asked for a group photo before you left, and Spencer had printed one for himself as well. You were in the middle of the group, one arm wrapped around Spencer while the other wrapped around Emily. A wide, bright smile was on your face, but he knew if he looked hard enough he could see the tears you fought away, the same ones that broke loose immediately after the camera's flash.
Before you left you had admitted to Spencer that you didn't really want to leave, but your boyfriend had received a job offer he couldn't refuse, one that was across the country. Every bit of Spencer wanted to beg you to stay, but he knew how happy your boyfriend made you, and he couldn't bear to see you unhappy. So he swallowed his pride and encouraged you to go, to embrace new opportunities; but he made a point to let you know that you would always be welcomed back with open arms.
The night you left Spencer remembers how he cried for hours, looking at the photo and knowing that he would likely never see you again. He knew he would never be able to forget your smile, your kindness, and all of your quirks that he had fallen in love with over the years. His heart constricted with the thought of another man's hands on you, but he could only blame himself, for he had never found the courage to tell you how he really felt.
-----
Rain splatters on the windshield as you speed down the highway, the wipers trying their hardest to keep your view clear. Your mind had become numb to the inclement weather at this point, having already traveled eighteen hours of the twenty five hour journey; a journey you never thought you'd make. But here you are, driving on an empty highway in the middle of the night, alone.
Mile after mile flies by, your thoughts replaying yesterday's events over and over again like an unhealthy obsession. It had come as a shock, walking into your home to see your fiancé with another woman on his lap. You weren't expected back home for a few more hours, but your boss had let you go early.
You remember vividly how excited you were to come home early for once, to spend time with your fiancé because work had been keeping you busy. But that excitement turned to nausea within a second. She had her arms around his neck, he had his hands on her waist, both of their faces flushed. Of course he tried to tell you it was a misunderstanding.
"It's not what it looked like." He begged you as you zipped up your last suitcase. Without sparing him a glance, you wheeled the luggage to the front door, unusually calm despite the circumstances. Your hand rested on the cold handle and you cleared your throat.
"Don't call me, don't text me. If I left something here I will have my attorney contact you." Is all you said before you left your home of four years. Maintaining composure, you placed the bag in the back of your car and got inside.
As soon as your home disappeared from view in your rearview mirrors, the dam broke. Tears fell quickly down your cheeks, harsh breaths wracked your chest, your hands tightly gripped the steering wheel. You must've cried for hours before the tears dried, your breathing had leveled, and your aching hands eased up on the wheel. Within the blink of an eye, your life had been turned upside down and you had no idea how to pick up the pieces.
You decided to go back to Washington D.C., the one place you really ever considered home, after a few hours of driving East. Truthfully, you have no idea what you're going to do or where you're going to go once you get there, and you only have a few hours to figure it out. But you have blind faith that you'll figure something out, even if it does take a few days.
-----
The next day, you wake in a hotel room, enveloped in pristine white covers. The sun peeks through the heavy curtains, and you rub the sleep from your eyes. Checking your phone, you see dozens of missed calls and unanswered text messages from your now ex-fiancé. It seems he can't follow instructions very well. You ignore his messages and delete his voicemails without listening to them, you have no desire to waste your time listening to his lies.
You scroll through your contact list and block his number, eager to be rid of the man as fast as possible. While scrolling, your thumb lands on a distantly familiar name, and an idea blooms in your mind. Your eyes read over his contact card for a second, Aaron Hotchner, your old boss. You could always call and see if there's any chance the team would take you back. Though it would be humiliating to explain why you had come back, you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss the team who became your family.
The thought of being reunited with them is enough to send Aaron a text before you can talk yourself out of it. It's a simple message, and right to the point. If there's one thing you remember about Hotch, it's how he appreciated conciseness.
Your phone finds its way to the side table as you get out of bed and get ready for the day. You had no plans in particular, and you had the hotel room booked for another week, so there was no immediate rush to get out. Today you would allow yourself to meander aimlessly and tomorrow you would get serious about finding a place to rent.
Halfway through your unplanned day, your phone buzzes in your pocket and your heart drops. There's only one person it could be. Not having the patience or restraint to wait, you pull your phone out immediately and read the text from Aaron.
"Come by the office tomorrow." The message is simple, in true Aaron fashion and a smile breaks out on your face, happy that something is finally starting to look up.
-----
Familiar glass doors are feet away from you, the FBI logo engraved into the glass, they look exactly like you remembered. Your heart thumps in your chest with each footstep towards the door. You hadn't told anyone but Hotch about wanting to come back, but you know when you walk through these doors that all hell is going to break loose. With a deep, calming breath, you open the doors and start towards Hotch's office casually.
But of course, as fate would have it, you don't make it there without being noticed. To your right, you hear a gasp, then another, and then suddenly your name is being called out by your old friends. Turning to face them, it's like everything is starting to click and fall into place. Emily and JJ rush over to you, smiles on their faces, and you can't help but smile as well. You've missed your team dearly.
"I didn't know you were coming!" Emily says as she wraps you in a warm hug, to which you return.
"Yeah, it was kind of unplanned actually." You say, stepping back from her arms. JJ and Emily look at you expectantly, but instead of giving them the answer they're wanting to hear, you take another step back and look to Hotch's office.
"We'll catch up later." JJ smiles, noticing your eagerness to get to Hotch. You nod before turning away. With a light knock, you knuckles make contact with the wooden office door.
"Come in." Hotch's deep voice calls out.
When you enter, he stands with a ghost of a smirk on his face and extends his hand. You return his handshake and take a seat in front of his desk.
"It's good to see you again." He says as he sits back down and you sigh, looking around at the office. Hotch really hasn't changed anything since you've been gone.
"Yeah, it feels good to be here again." You answer truthfully, meeting his eyes.
"I assume this isn't just a visit?" He questions, interlocking his fingers together in front of him.
"Perceptive as always. But you're right. Listen, I haven't told anyone but I am no longer with my fiancé and I was wondering if the team had a vacancy you're looking to fill." You get right to the point and your stomach turns with anxiety. Hotch's eyebrows lift at your words and you can tell he hadn't been expecting those words to come out of your mouth. But after a few moments of contemplation, he finally answers.
"We would be glad to have you back. When can you start?" You blink a few times, trying to process that he had actually welcomed you back and hadn't let you down gently, like you had half been expecting.
"I um, I can start whenever." You say, stumbling over your words with excitement. This time, a noticeable smile adorns Hotch's face.
"How about you get settled back here first, then we can talk about coming back." He says and you agree, knowing that having a stable place to live first is probably the right thing to take care of before diving headfirst into work again.
After catching up with Hotch, he allows you to mingle around the bullpen, where your old friends have been anxiously waiting. You can tell from the look on their faces that they're expecting some sort of explanation, and you can't help yourself but share the news.
"I'm back!" You say with a wide smile. JJ and Emily cheer, Morgan comes and claps you on the back, and even Penelope comes out and talks a million miles a minute about how you need to tell them everything. And while you love being back with your team, you can't help but notice how Spencer lingers in the background.
Spencer and you had grown very close over your years together, and once you had moved away you hadn't really heard from him. It hurt, but you understood and didn't want to pressure him to keep contact. But you really had missed him. You catch his eye from across the room and you smile, knowing that once you're back full time that you will have a lot of time to catch up with him, and you hope that you're able to pick up right where you left off.
-----
"Well it looks like you're getting quite the welcome back. Four women went missing in Athens, Tennessee. All four of them were found on the same day in the same manner. They had their arms tied behind their backs and their heads were submerged under water. But the medical examiner does not believe they died by drowning." Penelope briefs the team on the newest case and as she speaks you study the images in front of you.
It's been years since you've worked a case, or really in any law enforcement capacity at all. Once you had moved out west with your ex-fiancé you had decided to take a job as a daycare teacher. It was a nice change of pace for a while, but it makes getting back into the BAU lifestyle that much more difficult. After being surrounded by innocent children for years, you're now being re-immersed in a world full of psychopaths and it feels overwhelming.
You sit back as the team discusses early theories. Once upon a time you would have jumped in with your own thoughts, but you suddenly feel under qualified to be here. It has you second guessing whether this was the right decision or not. But before you can dwell on that for very long, the team is loading the jet and speeding off to Tennessee.
While on the jet, Hotch assigns everyone their duties, and you find yourself being paired with Spencer, just like you usually were. Being paired with him ignites a feeling of excitement within you. You still hadn't been able to catch up with him properly, but you're hoping this could change that.
Everyone keeps to themselves for the majority of the ride, busying themselves with reviewing the case and resting up. Once upon a time, you usually tried to sneak in a nap on the way to a new case, but the nerves creeping around in your veins keep you unable to do so, instead you worry about performing well for the sake of your reputation.
When the plane lands, the team hits the ground running. Some members go to the medical examiner's office, others go to interview the families, while you and Spencer are left to piece together the geographical profile. He's spread a map out on a table and marked where the bodies were found.
You pitch in when you feel comfortable with your findings, such as where the victims were last seen. The beginning of the process is fairly straight forward, it isn't until the deduction part until you start feeling dread and nervousness. Spencer hadn't said a single word directly to you, he's only spoken into the open air and you've responded.
"Well, what if they were all going to the doctor for the same condition?" You pitched in and Spencer hummed in response. And for the first time, he finally acknowledges you directly.
"You might actually be onto something. Let me call Garcia." His words are rushed and he leaves the room as the phone dials. Your heart sinks as he leaves. This isn't like how it used to be at all. No, you and Spencer were always a dynamic duo, but this feels very static and compartmentalized.
Perhaps it's because he's unsure if your abilities are still up to par. Or maybe he's still upset that you left in the first place. You couldn't be sure, but you hoped that this phase would pass soon so that you could have your dear friend back.
-----
You look at the clock with burning eyes, seeing that it's already one in the morning. The rest of the team had left for the motel hours ago, but you and Spencer had stayed at the station, having struck gold with Garcia. Apparently, all of the victims had contracted a very unique disease and so you and Spencer had researched that disease extensively to locate where they could've contracted it from.
So far, there was a very limited list of possibilities. With your mind becoming more fuzzy with exhaustion you know you're not being a very good teammate. Yawning, you break the long-standing silence and stand from your seat.
"I think I'm going to go to the motel, I'm exhausted and I can't comprehend anything I'm reading anymore." You announce, throwing away your empty coffee cup from hours earlier. Spencer caps the marker he's using and straightens his posture.
"Yeah, I'll go with you." He rubs his eyes as he stands, and the two of you walk out of the station together.
The night is warm and you appreciate the night sky as the two of you walk back to the motel. Your brain feels like it's been put through a meat grinder, and the unrelenting nerves double down on your exhaustion. It feels like your feet weigh twenty pounds each and so when you finally reach the motel, it's like seeing an oasis in the desert. Spencer goes in for the keys to your room and to his room and you notice the teams' cars parked in the lot.
"Bad news." Spencer says as he walks back from the lobby.
"What?" Dread fills you and you're not sure how much more you can take before you mentally break and physically collapse.
"They had to rent out one of our rooms, I guess they made a deal with Hotch for a partial refund. So, the two of us are going to be in room B12." He says, swinging the keys from his finger.
"You're kidding." Your voice is monotone. All you had wanted was some space alone, but you can't even be afforded that luxury. Instead of arguing or complaining further though, you just sigh and head towards room B12, where you trust the others have relocated your items.
You hear Spencer follow closely behind you and he unlocks the door once you reach it. Inside, there's one bed and one small armchair. The two of you just stand in the doorway, staring at the inadequate accommodations.
"I can go see if I can get the keys to one of the cars." Exhaustion is thick in your voice and you feel beat down and defeated from the day.
"No, you don't have to do that. I can take one of the cars." Spencer speaks up as you turn to leave and you meet his eyes, tiredness obvious.
"Spencer you're too tall. No, just let me it's okay." You take a step forward, but he catches your upper arm.
"Listen, Hotch needs the sleep, he hasn't been resting well lately. So why don't we just try to figure something out here." He lets go of your arm and closes the door behind him. At this point, you just want to sleep and so you agree.
"Yeah, sure. I'm going to get changed." You say and rub your eyes as you go to rummage around your bag for something comfortable. As you go to the bathroom, you hear Spencer messing with the blankets.
Once the door is closed behind you, you grip the edge of the counter and look in the mirror. Your bloodshot eyes stare back and the anxiety of the day catches up to you with full force. Feelings of inadequacy and disappointment fill you and you worry that you're letting the team down by not being able to solve things faster. Once again you find yourself wondering if coming back was the right decision.
You let go of the counter and change, ready to pass out for a few hours and be dead to the world, hoping that your anxieties don't also infiltrate your dreams. When you exit you see that Spencer has changed as well, and has also constructed a sort of pillow wall in the middle of the bed. You can't help but smile at his efforts.
"Are you sure you're okay with this?" You ask, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. After all your years of knowing Spencer, you knew he valued his personal space. He nervously nods and clears his throat as you approach the bed.
"Yeah, it's fine. Are you sure your fiancé isn't going to care?" His words are calculated and from the look on his face you can tell he had been stressing over this for a little while.
Looking down at your finger, you see the glistening ring and you spin it around a few times, remembering what it used to symbolize. You hadn't wanted to tell anyone about the break up just yet, but you know you have to tell Spencer now, or he'll be up all night worrying about the fiancé he thinks you have.
"I um, I don't have a fiancé anymore." Your voice is soft and you hear the vulnerability in it. Unable to meet Spencer's eyes, you just keep staring at the ring.
"But I thought, you're wearing the ring, and JJ said that-" He stumbles over his words and you finally look up to him, seeing him in an almost panicked state.
"We broke up. I left him, actually. I came home and saw another woman on top of him." You admit, fingers leaving the ring as you mention the infidelity. His eyes glance down to the ring before he meets your eyes again.
"I'm sorry I didn't know." He says with exasperation and you shrug but beneath your calm demeanor you feel the repressed sadness and anger within you.
"I wasn't going to tell anyone yet but I didn't want you to worry. But yeah, I left that same night and haven't looked back." You sit on the edge of the bed and Spencer follows suit, the two of you almost shoulder to shoulder and it feels like your friend is coming back to you.
"You didn't deserve that." His voice is kind and soft.
"I know. I just wish I hadn't wasted all that time on him. I wish I hadn't moved away from everyone. I missed you all every single day and for all of it to have been for nothing is just, it's a hard pill to swallow." You tell him, unable to keep your thoughts to yourself for any longer. You feel tears burning the rims of your eyes and for the first time since that day, you allow yourself to feel the emotions you've worked hard to ignore.
"Come here. I've missed you too. We all have. But we're so happy to have you back." Spencer wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into him. He rubs small circles on your back as you sniffle, and you're thankful for him. This feels like the Spencer you know and a familiar comfort overcomes you.
You remember all the cases where he would help you deal with the trauma. After particularly hard cases, he would always remind you that you were welcome to call or drop by anytime, that he would be there any hour. In the mornings he would bring you coffee and he'd ask about your night or weekend. Everything with Spencer was always effortless.
And after a few minutes had passed, you and Spencer get into bed, pillow wall be damned as you link your pinky with his, just to know that he's here with you. That night your fears and anxieties did not follow you into your dreams.
-----
Spencer knows he shouldn't be happy to hear that you left you fiancé. As your friend, he should be upset with you and sympathetic. But instead all he feels is a deep sense of relief.
Since working side by side with you, the shiny ring on your finger had become quite the annoying distraction. Every time it caught the light it served as a reminder that he could never have you. But now, it no longer holds any power over him.
And when you link your pinky with his, an unfamiliar feeling blooms within him. One of hope, one that had long died inside of him when you moved away.
He's happy that you came back and before he falls asleep with you by his side, he promises himself that he will not lose this opportunity. This is his second chance and he will take it when he finds the right time.
-----
Three days later and the case is coming to a close, you can feel it in your bones. You and Spencer had begun working as a duo once again and successfully put together a full geographic profile.
Now, all that's left is to locate the suspect and bring him in for questioning. You and Spencer sit around a table waiting for the others to come back from their field investigations, and you can't help but notice how his hair is curlier than you remember.
Not only is his hair curlier, but you notice how the sun brings out the honey tones in his eyes. His long fingers lock together as he looks over a map, which is what you should be doing as well, but instead find yourself admiring Spencer.
He had grown in the last five years, blossomed into the bright man you knew him to be and he seems more comfortable in his own skin. You're happy he's finding his stride. And you can't deny the newfound confidence looks good on him.
With the realization that your thoughts had taken a turn, you snap yourself back to focus on the task at hand. There's no way you were just checking out Spencer of all people. No way. As quick as they manifested themselves, you repressed them deep within your mind.
Thankfully the others arrive back with good news, they've found the suspect; he was almost exactly in the center of the projected safe zone you and Spencer had established. They don't stay long as they gather the sheriff and some deputies before they go and arrest the man. You're sure that the team has found the right man, and you believe he's going to crack as soon as they put some pressure on him. You and Spencer stay behind to lend technical support if they need it.
Turns out, you were right again. It took all of ten minutes before the suspect confessed. The man who wanted to be seen as confident crumbled into a sobbing mess under Hotch's questions. He was taken to the county jail in cuffs and the team was left to pack up and head back to Quantico. You had forgotten what it felt like, what it really felt like, to solve a case. The feeling sinks in and you remember just how much you've missed this job.
The jet ride back to Quantico is fairly silent. Everyone has found their own thing to do and while they decompressed you looked out the window. The view from the jet never really got old, you always found some beauty staring out into the clouds. But eventually, your eyes drift from the wispy clouds to Spencer, who has opted to take a nap on the journey home. And once again, you come to appreciate him more so than you ever have for his continued friendship.
You're happy that you came back, and you look forward to what the future may hold.
-----
The night is chilly but the sky is clear. You and Spencer walk side by side down a path alongside a river, the two of you stressed about work and thankful to finally have a Friday night to yourselves. Of course, the others all had plans, except for you and Spencer, so you both decided to take a late night walk.
You look up to the sky and admire the stars, seeing some shining brighter than others. You're sure Spencer has a fun fact as to why that is, but you're perfectly happy to just walk beside him in quiet content. It's been a month now since you've been back and you feel like you and Spencer had grown closer than ever before in that short amount of time.
Your gaze shifts from the stars to him, admiring his side profile and how defined his features are. There's no denying that he's grown into his features nicely, and you can't help but to appreciate his beauty, inside and out.
Eventually the path leads you to a small stone bridge that arches over the river. Crickets chirp in the distance and the moonlight reflects beautifully off the calm water. Leaning forward on the stones, you take a deep breath of crisp air and close your eyes to appreciate the moment of peace.
"You're still wearing your ring." Spencer's voice breaks the silence between you. Looking down, you see how the diamond is reflecting the moonlight. It's a beautiful ring, yet you had never been so disgusted with a piece of jewelry.
"Yeah." You twist the ring around and around on your finger before you take it off.
"Are you going to tell the others? I know they've been asking." He says and you nod slowly.
"Yeah, I'm going to tell them, I just don't know how to I guess. They're all so happy that I've 'found the one' but, he was the furthest thing from my soulmate. I just don't want them to pity me." You say, meeting his eyes. Spencer leans on the bridge's railing as well, his eyes trained on the ring in front of you.
"You know you don't owe them anything, right? They'll understand." He encourages, and you know he's right but you can't help but feel anxious about it.
"I know they will." You say, looking back down to the ring.
What once used to symbolize loyalty and undying love is now nothing more than a reminder of the time you had wasted and the time you'll never be able to get back. It reminds you of how you bent over backwards to please that man, one who used and took advantage of you. Anger rises within you and in a split second decision, you toss the ring into the river below.
It sinks to the bottom, out of your sight forevermore. And as it sinks it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. You feel free, untethered.
"I didn't mean for you to throw it away you probably could've sold it for a good amount of money." Spencer rattles off, obviously flustered that you just threw a thousand dollar ring into the river. But you just shrug, at peace with your decision.
"It was worthless." You say with conviction. Spencer's lips fall apart and your heart beats faster when you meet his eyes.
"Come on, it's getting cold out here." You break yourself out of your own thoughts and Spencer nods, offering you his arm.
You link your arm with his as the two of you walk back to the parking lot and it feels right. Being around Spencer feels effortless and you feel like you can be your true, most authentic self around him without worrying about judgment. His presence makes you feel safe and secure, and as you walk you rest your head on his arm lightly, grateful to have him.
-----
"No I think you put it on backwards." Spencer says, reading the instruction manual again. You take a step back and look at the chair you're trying to assemble and see that he's most definitely correct.
"I think you're right. Why is building a chair this complicated?" You ask as you sit back down and begin disassembling the part you had just put on.
It's now been four months since you've been back. In that time you've found an apartment and have decided to finally furnish it. And thanks to Spencer, you don't have to assemble the furniture alone. The two of you had put together a credenza, a bookshelf, a side table, and now are tackling the chairs, which are proving to be more of a challenge than anticipated.
After another hour, the chairs are finally assembled. Spencer collapses on your couch dramatically as you push the last one in to complete the dining set. Feeling like he deserves some thanks for helping you today, you go to the kitchen and pour him a glass of wine.
You return to your couch and sit next to him, putting the glass in his hand. He hums in appreciation and takes a sip. Before you partake in your own glass, you go and turn on the fireplace, feeling like it would complete the atmosphere. The amber glow from the flames envelope the two of you in warmth, and you take a long sip of your wine.
It's not unusual for Spencer to be over at your apartment anymore, he had been coming over pretty consistently since the night you two had taken a walk over the river. It's like something changed that night between the two of you; like throwing the ring was symbolic of more than just unloading past baggage. It's like it allowed you to move on and start anew.
Lately, you found yourself thinking about Spencer more and more often. When he wasn't around you find yourself missing him. You miss his humor, his comfort, just everything about him. Every time he knocks on your door butterflies erupt in your tummy and you're unable to keep the smile off your face.
You had denied the feelings for a while, explaining them away as just sentiments of friendship. But eventually, you had come to realize that you had slowly fell in love with your best friend. He makes your days brighter and brings peace to your soul.
As you sip on your wine, you move closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder. There's just something about Spencer that draws you in, almost as if he has his own gravitational pull. Like he's the sun and you're just a planet in his orbit. But you wouldn't have it any other way. Spencer puts an arm around your shoulders and hugs you closer, sending a warm feeling down your spine. If only you could stay like this forever.
The two of you finish off the wine in a comfortable silence, and it's not too long after that you find your eyelids growing heavy. You burrow yourself closer to Spencer, who adjusts so that you two can comfortably lay on the couch together. The crackling of the fire and Spencer's warmth lulls you close to sleep, and you might have fallen asleep, had it not been for feeling Spencer pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.
The kiss was quick, gentle, but you know he had meant it. As you lay on him, head on his chest, his arms wrap you up and hug you tight, like he's afraid you'd float away if he let you go. You feel warmness creep up into your cheeks as his hands start rubbing slow circles on your back. It's almost like he wants you to fall asleep on him.
Before you're pulled into sleep, you look up at him through your lashes, only to be met with his warm, tender gaze already on you. Your lips fall apart as you feel the butterflies take flight in your tummy. Up close and under the soft glow of the fire, you're sure Spencer was actually an angel in human form. You had never seen such delicate beauty before.
Unable to stop yourself, your hand travels up his torso before it rests on his cheek. Your thumb gently strokes over his cheekbone as the two of you explore each other's eyes. It's unspoken, but you feel as if there's an agreement between the two of you, an acknowledgement of sorts.
Feeling a surge of confidence, you lean up and press your lips to his. He's warm and soft, and his hands cradle your face as if you were made of glass. Your lips move in perfect tandem, as if you had done this a million times before.
When your lungs begin to burn, it's only then that you pull away with a heated face and swollen lips. You blink a few times as you gaze into his eyes, seeing his pupils dilated and his lips pinker than they were just a moment earlier. His hands hold your face delicately and he looks at you as if you had personally put all the stars in the sky.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for you." He whispers before leaning in for another kiss. His words are deliberate and genuine, and you know he's not lying.
As you break away again, a smile finds its way to your face. Spencer smiles back and it feels like things are falling perfectly into place. You wish you had the ability to bottle this moment up and preserve it. Your heart and soul had never felt such peace than when you're in Spencer's loving arms.
You lean your forehead against his and close your eyes, knowing with every fiber of your being that Spencer Reid is the man you're going to spend the rest of your days with.
#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x you#dr spencer reid#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid fanfiction#mgg#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#Spotify
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convenient pt.3 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,
pt. 1 | pt.2 (you cannot read this without prior reading)
summary - spencer likes the girl from the convenience store
warnings - awkward conversations and long silences, both of them being hopeless romantics, allergies/sickness
genre - fluff!!! college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!spencer
a/n - thank you for the love and support on this series. it goes without saying i appreciate all of you all 🫶 thank u @raevyng for the cameo. sorry this is short, it’s either i upload this part or i make y’all wait for another week - i like you guys too much to do that.
“good job on you’re stem cell report, y/n. it was very informed and unique. i liked the, now who was it… william blake quote you included!” the teacher spoke before a class of 60. it was back to teaching new information before the next assessment, you were just about finished typing the professor’s notes before she spoke up. the mention of your name nearly made you jump.
a few of the students looked back up at you, some looking around because they had no clue who you were. you liked it better that way.
you also had no idea who william blake was.
“oh- um. thanks.” you say barely above a whisper. professor raena simply smiled and pushed back her shoulder length bob from her face. she started talking again, so did your friend.
“thanks? the professor who’s known to call out people for their incompetence more than smile in the classroom just praised you. that’s all you had to say?”
maybe logan wasn’t your friend per say. maybe she was just someone who sat next to you the first class and also happened to be your neighbour. she was stubborn and straight-forward, insanely intelligent and also smelt great. but she was caring, and gave you tough love when you needed it.
you glanced at her and smiled awkwardly, “i didn’t have much time to think about an answer.”
“i spend most of my time thinking about what i’d say to professor raena if she ever complimented me.”
“that’s because your-“ you suddenly muffle a cough into your hand, “obsessed with her.” you bring out a small packet of tissues from your bag and wipe your nose, nose reddening. logan leans slightly away from you and you roll your eyes.
“you’re not going to catch anything, it’s just allergies.” you lean back and try to continue typing notes but logan continues,
“you should go home, have some medicine, get some sleep.”
“i can’t, i’ve got work.” you whispered, a man in front of you turning around to shoot you with a side eye.
“you’ve told me multiple times that your manager wouldn’t care if you stole from the store. i’ve also told you many times i also don’t care.”
“yeah well… i like working there, that’s all.”
she rolls her eyes again, and waves you off, her long brown hair blocking her disappointed expression from you.
you stayed loyal to your job for two nights, for nothing. sure you got paid, and sure you got to steal some strawberry milk to ease your throat for a couple of minutes, but it felt boring. you actually started to file through the month old magazines you sold for double the price of a new one. you almost made it a third day without dying of allergies (and another secret feeling of sickness you constantly ignored), before you decided you were over it.
you stood up, flipped the door sign so the word ‘open’ faced you, and turned off half of the fluorescent lights before someone was suddenly in the corner of your eyes. spencer was opening the door so quickly you thought you were being robbed, you wouldn’t have seen him if not for the bell ringing on his entry.
“y/n.” he panted, watching your fingers hover over the last light switch. there was two lights left flickering softly above the front door and the check out desk. he looked stoic in the light, dressed in a grey sweater a little too big for him (like his mother had bought it for him telling him he’d grow into it) and black slacks. he seemed to have gotten a trim, his hair just under his ears now. “you don’t close until 1.”
he was confused, eyes wandering with a light hint of relief. like he was happy he didn’t miss you.
“yeah.” is all you said before you turned away from the light switch and returned to the register, assuming he would get his usual. but he didn’t keep walking, he just turned his body to face you. his eyes were expectant, delirious in a way like he needed something from you.
it was silent before the tension literally forced you to speak, “um. i need to close the store before i pass out. so i can uh… get home alive.” you look down and realise the pile of tissues before you was making a mountain, quickly grabbing them and stuffing them in an over filled bin.
“um.” a cat caught his tongue, he looked down to his feet.
spencer was sitting in his desk chair, scrolling on his government provided computer through forums and websites on ‘how to ask out a girl.’ not realising a majority of his team was reading them as well. he heard a small, familiar giggle behind him, quickly closing the tab and turning his head to be met with many other faces. jj slapped garcia on the shoulder with a smile, who’s hand was over her mouth, morgan and emily also smiling. spencer sighed and was about to cover for himself before morgan stepped in,
“look, pretty boy. no websites or article is ever going to teach you how to ask out a girl. they know nothing.”
emily joined, “yeah, none of those things are going to work. i mean, one of those said ‘don’t take no for an answer’. that’s straight up harassment.” she chuckled. morgan walked forward and placed a hand on spencer’s shoulder.
“all you have to do is talk. learn to what she likes, and be confident.”
“that’s easy for you to say.” spencer mumbled.
“who is this girl anyways? who’s taking our genius away from us?” garcia asked, today her hair was adorned with green themed pieces and a small pink flower clip.
spencer couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth perk up when he thought about the girl who worked at the convenience store. the girl who’s report honestly impressed him. the girl who knew his total without looking at the register. the girl who called him good looking without noticing, like it slipped off of her tongue with no second thought. “just someone.”
you were not just someone.
“yeah you should get home. you look terrible.” spencer’s eyes widened as you raised an eyebrow, “no i mean- not terrible- you never look or have ever looked terrible- i just meant today- no you- like you’re sick and obviously- i mean you don’t obviously look terrible- it’s just uh…” he nodded at himself after he noticed a smile creeping onto your face. “you know what i mean.”
“i know i look terrible, thank you.” he was slowly walking up to the register.
“you really should go home, i shouldn’t keep you here because of some coffee.”
you eyes stung and were puffed in redness, you nose dried yet running, eyebrow lines permanent from warding off a migraine. any other customer you would stay for, but you felt less guilty with him. not because you didn’t care, because you knew he did.
“yeah, thank you.” you grabbed your bag, put your empty water bottle into it and walked over to the lights, turning off the last ones, leaving you both in darkness. spencer was waiting for you, quite creepily as he was basically just a block of void. “you sure you don’t need your 3 minute lasagne?” you joked, and he smiled.
“no, this is fine.”
this? them? you thought this man was articulate.
you opened the door with a key-accessed button that automatically locked it after it closed, and walked into the warm streetlight with spencer.
“bye spencer.” you looked up to him only to find his eyes already on you. his face was plain of emotion, except maybe it was just the lighting that made you think he looked disappointed. not at you, at himself. he was silent, hands making their way into his pockets. it was a habit, you had learned. “what’s wrong spencer?” you asked softly, sniffling immediately after.
it was cold, the wind let a stray piece of hair cross your stuffy features.
“do you like old bookstores, y/n?”
you blinked, taken aback. “yeah. i like old bookstores.” you huddled into your sweater, a darker grey compared to his with a large font displaying your university.
“okay, goodbye y/n. see you tomorrow.” he hurried off into his car and you followed him with you eyes in curiosity.
you were already walking away before he could turn around and ask you something, he felt like he had missed his chance. but there would be more. spencer closed his eyes in frustration and took a breath, starting his car before texting the team’s group chat.
“Attempt One failed. 😐👎”
there was a string of messages after but he didn’t read them. all he could think about was the percentage of people who die alone, and then the percentage of people who are like you.
the next night he appeared at the normal time, around nearly 11pm. but he wasn’t the only one, logan was there with you, studying behind you on the floor.
she was bored, and needed to get out of her room, and the only person she knew well enough was you. there in her mens pyjama pants and an over-sized shirt that read ‘RIP Princess Diana’ with a photo of owen wilson on it, her computer warmed her lap and made a soft whirling sound the in the background.
“hi y/n.” spencer waved, he felt bad about last night. you were barely walking straight when you left and he could tell you wouldn’t get out of your ‘work clothes’ (whatever you wanted to wear with a vest over it) before falling onto your mattress, and he drove away. he didn’t even offer to take and walk you home, let alone give you a ride. but his hands were sweating and his heart thumping in his ears, and he couldn’t think straight.
“oh, hi spencer.” you turned from your own textbook splayed on the counter beside you to see spencer and his tall self. a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him.
he wasn’t meeting you eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows for a second before telling him his total with a sniffle.
“i���m sorry for not driving you home,” he lifted his head, a piece of chocolate brown hair crossing his left eye, “or walking you home. or making sure you made it home safe.”
you widened your eyes slightly and sat still before spencer cleared his throat and continued, “i was nervous, about being around you. and my friends- my colleagues- told me i need to be more confident around you so.”
logan had stopped writing, glancing through her bangs up at you both. your mouth was slightly agape before you realised how stupid you looked and how awkward you were making it.
“oh- no it’s okay spencer, you don’t have to say sorry. i was- i’m fine. um,” you tilt your head with the corner of your lips quirking up with little resistance, “you talk about me to your friends?”
spencer nodded, put his hands in his pockets and thought for a second. he wished there was a better place to do this, a better person to take over for him.
all you have to do is talk.
spencer is great at talking.
“did you know that you could be scrolling for seven weeks before you can reach the end of ‘how to ask a girl out’ results on google? i was scrolling for a long time but then my friends told me to just talk and be confident, but i’m only good at one of those thing. so i was trying to ask you out last night but then i- well i failed basically, it isn’t my strong suit,” he took a breath, “so basically i’m saying sorry for not asking you out and not driving you home.”
it was silent, even a customer stopped humming.
“and also your allergy medication isn’t strong enough for your symptoms.” he glanced down to a white and blue box by your hand. you looked down, seeing logan in the corner of your eyes, hand covering her face.
“spencer-“
“dude just ask her out.”
spencer’s face dropped, and he looked over the counter to find another woman sat down, a cringed out expression on her face. his nervousness increased after he realised this wasn’t as private a conversation as he thought. wiping his hand on his vest, he continue with a gulp,
“no i can’t. not here, um. i’ll see you on monday. and i promise i’ll uh- be better? i’ll try again, so. okay see you on monday.” he quickly took his groceries and walked off quite speedily. you watched him walk away and then once he was out of sight, you simply stared at the box of allergy medication on the counter.
logan groaned in the background and said something about growing balls, but it was tv silence for you.
you didn’t know how to go out with someone, your last relationship was in your first year of high school with a guy who thought baby’s came out of a woman’s bum. not that spencer meant he wanted a relationship, no it could just be a friend ‘going out’. totally not romantic.
you slump and stuff your face in your hands. you didn’t care if you hadn’t dated for however long, he didn’t seem to be a man-whore at all. you just cared about how you were actually going to say yes to a man you’ve only talked to inside of an off-brand convenience store on the night shift.
you muffle a scream before the same silent customer placed a carton of milk on the counter.
“$2.50.” you grumble.
you carried logan’s computer bag as she took out a box of strawberry pocky on the sidewalk. the store was locked, the air was crisp, the light was flickering. you didn’t say much until logan couldn’t stand it anymore.
“you know when you’re this silent it’s actually pretty nice, i like peaceful walks home.” you nodded, and continued your racing thoughts with your line of vision stuck on the concrete as you both walked the block to your apartments. she sighed, “but it’s odd. you love talking. a guy likes you and you go mute?”
“his name is spencer, he does something dangerous for a living, he likes old books and drinks a lot of coffee. he gets home late at night, looks skinny but can lift a box of flour above his head with ease. he’s insanely smart and reads poetry, and helped me with my stem cell report.”
you look over at logan who looks a little disgusted but mainly confused.
“he helped me lift that box of flour without me asking. i have no idea who william blake is. i have no idea how he managed to put poetry in a biology report, and i have no idea how he can admit he’s going to ask me out and then not ask me out. his favourite colour is purple, his favourite fruit is grapes but he buys apples because they’re cheaper. and his name is… spencer.”
logan stopped in her tracks, making you copy. you flung out of whatever trance you were stuck in and raised an eyebrow at logan, “what?”
“what? oh no i don’t know, maybe you’ve just never told me about a man you happen to know a lot about, and yet don’t know anything about. you sound insane- not in the ‘loony-bin way’, in the romcom way. it’s disgusting.”
you both continued to walk, climbing the stairs to the foyer of your building before she took back her bag and gave you the pocky, mumbling, “you need these more than me.”
the elevator ride was mostly silent, and that continued before you both unlocked your apartment doors right beside each other.
“you need to ask him out, if he doesn’t do it first.” she entered her apartment before you could speak, let alone think.
suddenly your apartment felt lonely.
so did spencer’s.
he was cross legged on his plush couch on a call with penelope garcia, she was squealing every second minute trying to create a plan for spencer to ask someone out.
“spence, you’re making this very hard. how am i supposed to be your coach if i only have half a team?”
“you can find someone’s address with half a fingerprint, i think you’ll be fine.” he takes a bite of his 2 minute bolognese.
“that takes the fun out of it. i can only give you tips if i know her personality.”
spencer sighed, and thought for a second, he could practically hear penelope’s growing smile knowing she had won.
“her names y/n.” garcia squealed. “she’s smart and pretty. and her favourite colour’s purple and she studies biology. she knows my groceries off my heart and she’s allergic to pollen. she works late at night at the convenience store two blocks away from my apartment building, and she likes old book stores. she’ll be introverted around an extroverted person, but extroverted around an introverted person. she can read my expressions faster than anyone else, she tries out different hairstyles when nobody’s in the store, and she’s funny.” spencer smiles to himself, “she’s pretty.”
“you mentioned that, lover boy.”
pt.4
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#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#cm#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid series
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oooooo can i request reader getting jealous about spencer having to seduce the cinderella killer in 10x6 but being in complete denial and rossi, derek, etc are all like mmmmhmmmm sure ok 👀😏
At long last!! Thanks for requesting and for weathering the wait baby <3
cw: mention of weapons/guns (also I know she drops her shears in the actual episode but shhh)
Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 704 words
“Keep sucking your teeth like that, you’re gonna need braces,” Morgan teases.
You roll your eyes but stop. “That’s not how that happens,” you say.
(You don’t actually know how it happens, but neither does Morgan. You know from photo evidence Penelope had somehow gotten her hands on that he’s been genetically perfect since he tucked-and-rolled out of the womb.)
Reid’s hair has grown long enough to tuck behind his ears again, and he does it now, looking every inch the nervous admirer as he advances slowly, almost dazedly, toward the girl.
“May I?” he asks, voice breathy and expression wide open.
The girl—your unsub—looks just as smitten. She walks towards him as if in a dream, and you really wish Spencer had his gun out. You know JJ is covering him with her finger on the trigger, and Spencer has a knack for getting out of scrapes, but now he’s kneeling before a girl who’s killed several men, bending his head down as he slips a shoe onto her foot, and she has a pair of shears in her hand that she was just about to use to slit another man’s throat.
You’re scared for him. That’s what this is. This is fear, just like you’d have for anyone else on your team.
“What’re you so sour about?” Rossi asks, his tone lilting with intrigue. He looks away from the scene, the three of you leaned against the SUV while you wait for Spencer to bring her in, and studies your face. “Is there something about Spencer’s performance you don’t like?”
Trust him to chip in. You swear, he and Morgan have to be the worst busybodies in the department. You start to kiss your teeth again, but stop when you catch Morgan smirking.
“I just didn’t realize he was such a good actor,” you reply.
And it’s true. Spencer’s performance is kind of astounding. There’s an indomitable sincerity about him that shines through even now, in the gentle way he looks up at the girl when the shoe fits. It makes your chest tighten slightly, and then something foul and warmish curdles in your gut when he takes her hand and presses his lips to it.
Spencer’s a kind soul. He’s got a sweet voice to go with his sweet face, and the unsub trusts it just like you would, dropping the shears and following him towards where the rest of your team waits. He’s not afraid to touch her, brushing a guiding hand along her back to help her into the SUV. To maintain the ruse, you know. Still, knowing doesn’t help the irritated prickle that goes over your skin.
Wordlessly (though not without communication, if you count Morgan’s smug look and your answering glare), the three of you peel off from the van, getting into your vehicles to drive back to the police station.
Spencer shuts the door behind the unsub, and you expect him to get in the front seat to help keep her calm on the way to the station, but to your surprise he walks in your direction, getting into the passenger seat of the SUV you’re driving.
“Hey,” he says casually, like this is something he does every day. And this is a regular part of your job, but it’s not every day one of you pretends to be blindly in love with a violent serial killer while she holds garden shears over your head.
“Hey.” You give him a little smile, putting the van in drive. “Nice job. She looked really enchanted with you.”
“Thanks, I’m glad Hotch thought to bring the shoe to complete the fantasy.” Spencer brushes off the compliment easily, more than used to excelling. “It’ll be good for her to finally get the help she needs.”
“Well, you were awesome.” You glance at him in the passenger seat, and he’s got his head propped on his elbow, looking out at the rolling hills and vast greenery of Montana. You look back to the road. “You make a great prince charming.”
Spencer turns his face towards you. “Thanks,” he says again, this time with more feeling, and that sweetness is in his voice again. You like it best when it’s for you.
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