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#spencer reid/yn
lightvixxen · 8 months
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Kinktober day 7- hunter/prey
finally a longer fic! this one is a little over 1k! This couldddd be classified as CNC but i have other plans for that day >:3
WARNINGS: breeding kink, slight degradation, thats it!
Your lungs burned, your breath coming out in short gasps of air. You couldn’t stop, not with him hot on your trail. You ducked behind a tree, desperately trying to catch your breath. Exhaustion pulled at your limbs, your legs hurt from running and your chest hurt from the way your heart and lungs were pounding against it.
You looked around the woods you were in, trying to find Spencer, he was fast, and surprisingly with his tall stature, good at hiding. You leaned against the tree you were behind, a sigh of relief at your short break, closing your eyes you were finally able to catch your breath. 
Then, you hear a twig snap, your eyes shoot open, looking at your surroundings again, you spot him, the dress shirt and slacks he was wearing harsh against the woods colors. You took off, he was too close, and you weren’t done quite yet. 
Of course, it didn’t take long for him to catch you. You couldn’t have gotten more than a few feet before you were being tackled to the ground. There was a distinctive click of handcuffs before he forced your arms behind your back, cuffing you.
“There, maybe that’ll keep you from running, bunny.” Spencer pants, obviously out of breath from the chase you had given him. You both loved it, this is what you did on his weekends off, drive into a desolate part of the woods and let him chase you into it. Great training as well, double win. 
Spencer dragged his hands down your body, before flipping you over so you were on your back, laying on your hands. 
“You're so pretty like this, bunny…completely at my mercy.” This was the scene, he was a hunter, something akin to a wolf and you were his pretty bunny. 
Spencer undid your jeans, he never lets you wear a skirt or dress during these, mainly because he thinks they slow you down. He pulls them off your body, before pulling your panties down with them and stuffing them into his back pocket. He throws your jeans somewhere in the dirt, before flipping you around again. 
He lifts your hips so you are face down ass up. He smacks your ass once, causing you to yelp and jump slightly, Spencer chuckles behind you. He pulls your pussy lips apart, smirking at the slick that had gathered during the chase. 
“I haven’t done anything to you bunny, and yet you're so wet” he says, watching the way it slowly drips down your pussy, coating the inside of your thighs. 
“Can’t help it…” You whimpered, moaning when Spencer leans down to blow on your cunt, before licking a stripe against your hole. 
“I know, baby, just can’t wait to be used, hm?” Spencer asks, sitting up onto his knees, He unbuckles his belt, you shiver at the metallic jingling, knowing what was to come. 
You nodded, wiggling your hips to emphasize how much you needed him. Spencer places one hand on your hip, bracing himself, and with the other he lined himself up with your hole, pushing into you. 
A low moan falls from your lips, Spencer was big, not necessarily in girth but in length, he was tall and skinny, which was a pattern his cock kept. It took everything in you from rocking your hips back and taking him all in, you really didn’t need the punishment that follows it. 
It didn’t take long before Spencer was completely bottomed out, his cock completely sheathed in your cunt. 
“Spence!” you moaned, you were so fucking full and he wasn’t moving, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching where your bodies connected.
“Patience, bunny, we’ve talked about this.”  He scolds you, before he finally starts moving. The pace was slow but deep, enough to pull softs moans that were like music to his ears from your throat. He kept the pace like that for a while, letting your body get used to the pleasure of him being in you. 
Spencer grabbed onto your hips with both hands before he finally became rough. Which of course had your soft moans turning into loud moans and whines, his hands dug into your hips, which you knew were going to leave bruises later. 
His cock was hitting that spot deep in you, you were seeing stars, your brain becoming mush with pleasure. 
“Sir! Oh my god, yes! Yes! Just like that please!” you begged, your eyes rolling back into your head, you were approaching your climax, and fast. 
“Yeah? You gettin close bunny? Gonna cum on my cock?” He asks you, fucking into you at a brual pace. 
“Yes! Can I? Pleasepleaseplease sir! Please!” you begged him, hoping he would let you cum instead of denying you. 
“You can, Bunny, just don’t complain when you get overstimulated.” He tells you, his own moans falling from his mouth, you knew he was close aswell, Spencer mainly got vocal when his own orgasm was close. 
You nodded, a few mintues later white hot pleasure ripped through your body and your vision went black for a few seconds, and your cunt clenched around Spencers cock, sucking him in, your body begging for him to cum inside of you. 
“Good girl, good- Fuck- I’m close, want me to cum in you, bunny? Breed you like the whore you are?” Spencer asks, leaning down so his mouth was next to your ear. 
“Fuck- Yes- yes, Please, cum in me Spencer!” Specer moans loudly, thrusting into you a few more times, before thrusting all the way in you, the base of his cock against your lips, unloading his cum deep in you. You moaned, feeling him coat your inner walls. 
The only thing you could hear was the sound of your labored breathing, a sheen of sweat covering you both. Spencer pulled out of you, causing you to wince slightly from overstimulation. Spencer pulled your lips apart again, watching his cum drip out of you. Collecting it with his fingers he pushes it back into you, causing you to whine. 
“Can’t waste any.” He tells you, before unlocking the handcuffs and pulling you down to lay with him on the dirt floor. 
“Are you okay? I didn’t go too rough did I?” He asks you, worridly, It was weird how Spencer could go from a dominant man, hellbent on getting you to scream, to the sweetest guy on the planet. 
“I’m fine, I’ll just be a little sore for the next day or two.” you tell him, resting your head on his chest. 
“Good” He smiles, kissing your head.
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inkdrinkerworld · 2 months
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post!prison Spencer realizing you’re not always sunshiny and happy when one day he spots you crying in the hall before wiping your eyes and walking into the bullpen with your usual megawatt smile like you hadn’t been balling your eyes out five minutes before
It’s a call with your brother that really gets you started.
Spencer watches you take the phone call that starts off pleasant, you’re all smiles and then you frown, dark and full of an anger Spencer hasn’t ever seen on you.
He knows humans are capable of all emotional spectrums but it’s so foreign on your face and in your body language that he’s shocked a little still.
You walk to a secluded part of the office, hushed, rushed, heated words that Spencer feels horrible for straining his ear to listen to but it’s a strange sight.
He’s never seen you like this.
“How is that my fault? I can’t drop everything and take a plane over there every time shit hits the fan. They’re big kids now.”
What’s worse is your voice cracks and he wants desperately to rush to you, comfort you but he forces himself to stay where he is.
He strains his ear and hears you whisper,
“I’m not doing this again. I can’t be that person anymore. They’re 20, I can’t move back home just to baby them again. I’m not going to be walked all over by them anymore.”
You’re not together, you’re just friends- not super close but closer than anyone else on the team. Spencer feels like he should be comforting you when he moves to the kitchen and watches the first tear tumble down your cheek.
“Hey have you seen, Y/N?” Emily asks and Spencer turns his body to block you from view.
“She went to the bathroom, do we have a case?” He asks, stirring a pound of sugar into his coffee.
“Yeah, when she comes out tell her meet us at the jet.” She hands off a file to him and Spencer glances through the pages quickly.
Spencer watches you compose yourself, swiping at your face, fixing your hair and rolling your shoulders back.
Then he watches almost sadly, as you plaster a smile back on your face.
“Hey, Spence. Where’s everybody?” You open the fridge like you usually do and reach for the canister of whipped cream you keep tucked away.
“We have a case,” Spencer watches you shake it and spray some into your palm, connecting the dots over the many times he’s seen you do that in the last couple of months.
You’d always said it was just a, ‘pick me up’ and Spencer hadn’t thought twice about. You all have little things you do to keep you going in the job, but he realises now it’s less to do with work and more to do with your upset.
“Oh shit,” you spray another heap of cream in your palm. “I’ll get my go bag, can you fill me in while we walk, Spence?” You’re already turning to your desk, fiddling about the last draw for your go bag.
Your eyes are still a little red, and he watches you switch your contacts for glasses as soon as you get hold of the bag. “They burn a little right now,” you supply when you catch him looking and he nods like he doesn’t know the truth.
“Alright, let’s go,” he opens the case file Emily handed to him and starts, “So the unsub seems to be a woman hater? I’m not sure how no one figured him out before this is his sixth victim.”
You frown as you tuck your go-bag over your shoulder, “And the geography is all the same? No crossing state lines?”
Spencer admires how easily you slip back into work mode, but as soon as the case is over he needs to find a way to have you talk to him.
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kisses4reid · 20 days
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missed it | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,
summary - you celebrate your birthday alone in tears, until someone knocks on your door.
genre - colleague!reid x fem!reader, angst, fluff
warnings - angst, crying, memories of neglect and favouritism
a/n - a little self indulgent. thank you for 450 followers!!!! taglist is open as always, sorry for the cliff hanger.
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Crisscross applesauce on a wooden barstool in front of leftovers from the night before. Exactly how every Wednesday night is. It’s raining, you can smell petichor, and you had just finished a book your colleague had lended you two days prior.
There is nothing special about today.
Your day was full of paper work and coffee breaks. Exactly how every Wednesday is. It was overcast, you could smell petichor, and you had just handed in some classified paperwork to your boss.
There was nothing special about today.
You night will be sleepless, full of tears and terrible memories. Not like every Wednesday night. It will storm, you’ll smell dirt and mud, and you’ll show up the next day to pretend you’re as bubbly and smiley as every one thinks you are.
There is nothing ever special about today.
You gripped your fork and stuffed the last of the leftover rice into your cheeks, chewing as a coping mechanism for the ball gathering at the back of your throat.
Glancing at your phone every two minutes didn’t help the gathering tears either, especially when it was a black screen every time. It happens every year.
Maybe your little cousin will send some emojis and a love heart, but it’s been years since that last happened. Your brothers and sister would get posts on your mothers Facebook, and you got a happy birthday from a distant aunty you met once when you were 3.
Maybe this is why when you dry yourself and start your nighttime routine, you light the candle you bought yourself, and get changed into pyjamas you bought yourself, and you light a skinny colourful candle you bought yourself.
You don’t get the chance to blow it out before a tear extinguishes it.
A sob rakes through you. Even in these warm pyjamas surrounded by your favourite vanilla and citrus scent, you can’t seem to be happy with what you’ve got. That’s what your father would tell you every birthday until you were 11 - when the presents stopped rolling in.
Be grateful for the clothes you’ve already got, for the books you’ve already read, for the food you’ve already eaten.
Be grateful that your little sister can breathe to blow out your candles, that your brothers have hands to open your presents.
Be grateful.
You are grateful you got that part time job to move out so young, that you were accepted in the BAU and welcomed with open arms, that it gave you the financial stability to own your own apartment with windows to get rained on and bookshelves to fill.
The covers on your bed were darkening with every tear that dropped from your cheek. It was ruining your skincare.
A laugh escapes you, barely audible through your closing throat, before you hear a firm knock on your front door.
Slippers on, hair loose and messy, you opened the door with a frown. It was not the day nor time for any soliciting or girl scout cookies. But you stopped for a second and glanced at the time displayed on your oven. It was 11pm.
“Y/n? Are you awake?”
Your eyes widened at Spencer Reid’s voice, eyebrows furrowing and hand quick to twist the door knob.
“Spencer what are you-“
“Happy birthday?” A full teeth smile was plastered on his place, but you didn’t notice as his face was hidden by a vanilla cake and small bag with plastic casing over it.
Any other time Spencer would be welcome in, it would make sense today wouldn’t be any different. For gods sakes, he has a key to your front door - but when his smile fades and you feel the last tear drop catch on your socks, you rethink opening the door all together.
“Y/n… are you okay?”
You felt a pit of coal and ash stir in the bottom of your uneasy stomach. Your eyes flashed between his eyes and the cake, one last single tear dropping down your cheek.
Spencer caught it with his thumb, wiping it with a deep frown.
“I’m fine,” you stepped back to let him in, plastering an awkward smile on your face (something you hoped would say caught me!), “Sad movie, that’s all.”
“A sad movie on your birthday?” He set down the bag and cake on your kitchen countertop, concerned expression not lifting after your lie. You bit your lip as his eyes wandered the apartment.
He had been there a million times, but now he seemed to be profiling it.
There was an orange stained plate in the sink - probably your left overs, no indent on the couch nor movie playing on the TV. He peered into your bedroom to find a wrecked bed and slouched pillows, tissues splayed amongst the duvet.
You swallowed, feeling caught and trapped. There was no escaping this, Spencer was too good of a profiler.
“I’m sorry, Y/n.” His eyes were a deep brown, glossy against his matte chocolate hair. He wore those glasses you liked, even when he insisted he hated how he looked in them. What a beautiful sight in such a sad situation.
You brought your left hand to your right elbow and shook your head, “It’s okay-“
“No it’s not.”
“Spencer, I’ve dealt with this for over 12 years. You get used to it.”
Spencer stood a metre away from you, eyes scanning you like he was trying to scrap the skin off your bones, see what was really going on.
And at that point, in your den of lies and self-pity, you felt no more rotten truths could hurt you more than you had hurt yourself. Spencer wasn’t much taller than you, but looking at him for this long at an angle was beginning to hurt more than your heart.
You grabbed the cake off of your counter top and smiled as if nothing wrong was happening, “Cake! You brought me cake.”
Spencer followed you into your living room awkwardly, “Yeah. It’s vanilla- I brought it because we didn’t eat at work today, nobody…”
Said Happy Birthday.
You nodded to yourself, patting the space beside you for Spencer to sit. “I know, it’s okay. It was a very busy day, I don’t blame them.” You undid the lid of the cake - obviously store bought - and took in your hand a wine glass that had stood empty for around half an hour. “Thank you, my favourite flavour is vanilla.”
“I know.” The tall boy let out a small smile then, but it quickly disappeared. He hated how you shrugged off such a devastating situation, how it meant nothing to you, how you claimed it had been like this for 12 years and not broken down.
“Y/n-“ Your loud sigh cut him off, stabbing the wine glass into the cake and lifting it, taking a bite of cake that slide out of the cup. The couch softened under your sudden slouch, Spencer faced you with his legs spread like a man.
Your eyes felt tight, chest collapsed. Nothing could be worse than this.
“My birthday is a week after my older brothers, so even when we did celebrate my birthday, it was small. And then one of my uncles passed away a few days after, and celebrating my birthday was seen as inappropriate.” You took another bite and talked through the frosting, “Instead at Christmas they let me choose which presents were for my birthday, many months late. I was grateful, that was all that mattered.”
Spencer moved closer and whispered, “Being grateful for neglect isn’t healthy, Y/n.”
“But it helped me, as a kid. As a girl who wanted to be loved so badly. When your siblings blow out your candles, and your cake is your sisters favourite flavour, all you can be is spiteful. And when I was, I was reprimanded. Be grateful, Y/n. At least you have siblings who can breathe and eat.”
You laughed after some time, Spencer’s mind racing at a hundred miles per minute.
“So I never told anyone my birthday. That’s why I showed up at the door looking like this,” you point to yourself and giggle, “I didn’t think anyone knew.”
“You look gorgeous.” He whispered, thigh touching yours on the plush couch. His hand lifted and skimmed your face, thumb moving to wipe a dot of frosting off of your lips. His hand fell.
“What’s in the bag?” You ask.
“Open it and see.” He replies.
What’s inside surprises you more than his initial arrival. It a medium sized glass bottle of perfume, with simple rinestones and gorgeous patterns engraved in it, a baby pink ribbon around its neck. The words were in french, the only words in english reading vanilla & citrus, in cursive writing.
A breath escaped you, your fingers tracing each detail like you were to memorise it. Spencer gulped as your eyes were glued to the writing and the shiny glass, how the liquid inside sloshed only slightly at every move.
“It is… do you like it?” He asks, turning his body towards yours trying to scope out your expression.
“I love it.” You mumble in awe.
“What?”
“I love it, thank you. Spencer, this is…” A wide smile escaped you, an incredulous giggle accompanying it. He let out a held breath and wove his shaking fingers through his hair. He was still at a loss for words at your previous confessions, but at least he made you happy, laugh.
Your eyes held each other for a moment, the room getting so suddenly small and hot.
“I…” you try to finish your sentence before you notice his gaze flickering to your lips, causing a small smile to appear.
“Happy birthday, Y/n. I’m sorry your birthdays were overlooked, I promise they won’t be anymore.” Spencer whispered, leaning in.
taglist (open!!) : @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es
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patrickispinky · 7 months
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Derek: are you the big spoon or the little spoon?
Emily: i'm the knife
Jj: *from across the room* she's the little spoon
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sarcasm-and-stiles · 12 days
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Derek: Those pants look great Y/N
Y/N: Thanks!
Derek: I bet they would look even better on Spencer’s floor
Spencer: Are you hitting on Y/N…for me?
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velvetwilde · 1 month
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Both. At the same time.
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celest1all · 3 months
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dom!spencer telling the reader to “take this dick” while overstimulating😩😩
omfg dom!spencer makes me feel....things.
i apologise in advance @_@
mdni 18+
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it was all too much -- his cock thrusting in and out of you mercilessly and his nimble fingers working over your clit, sending shockwaves down your spine.
beads of sweat coated the valley of your breasts, spencer's eyes watching it drop down onto your stomach and into your navel. he was grunting with every move of his hips, your cunt clenching around him every time he filled you to the hilt.
"f-fuck," your cursed, tits bouncing up and down with every movement and thrust. his cock was making you feel so full, and if you focused hard enough you could feel the every vein on it, sending pleasure throughout your body.
"come on baby," he spoke, his forehead glistening in sweat, causing the front pieces of his hair to stick to it. he looked like a fucking god. "take this dick. i want you to come all over it."
he pronounced every word with an extra hard thrust, hitting your g-spot every time. his fingers continued playing with your clit, and you knew with all the pleasure coursing through you, you were going to come.
your toes clenched and your whole body spasmed as your orgasm wracked through you, grabbing onto the bedsheets either side of you.
"good girl," he praised "good fucking girl."
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killerlookz · 1 month
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Olive Green Couch | Spencer Reid
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description: when your best friend drags you to a party to meet a boy she's been fawning over, you find yourself completely bored and unimpressed- good thing you've stumbled upon a strikingly handsome (yet awkward) young graduate student named Spencer who seems equally as unhappy to be there to share your misery with.
pairing: grad school! spencer reid x f! reader
content: uhh mostly fluff, drinking, reader is described as wearing a mini skirt and wearing high heels.
word count: 4,242
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If I have to hear one more Weezer song I'm going to be sick. You think as the slow drums of Undone pour out over an all too expensive speaker system for a frat house.
The MIT frats were nothing like you experienced before, they were- for lack of a better term- a complete and utter sausage party. You can't remember the last time you'd seen this many men in a single room. If you weren't so bored maybe you would appreciate this as a reprieve from the usual maintaining "ratio" of the state school frat parties you'd been to. But even now you'd prefer that if it meant you wouldn't have to deal with another sloppily drunk man explaining the plot of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy to you. Rich, pretentious, too smart for his own good MIT frat guy or dude-bro, alpha male, business major state school frat guy- it didn't matter; they were the same side of the same misogynistic coin.
You look down at the shot-glass sized solo cup in your hand, staring at the clear liquid inside. Maybe just one more shot and you'd finally start to enjoy the state you were in. You hoped maybe six shots would be the perfect number of drunk to enjoy yourself. You screw your eyes shut and throw back your head as you lift the cup to your mouth. The cheap vodka burns the second it touches your tongue, and you wince as you feel it travel down your throat and to your stomach. Your body shivers involuntarily as the warmth in your belly grows.
You face forward again, looking across the living room for your best friend- the one who dragged you here in the first place. You had suggested bar hopping or trying to get into a club, you didn't buy her a fake ID for no reason. But she insisted on coming here instead. Here- to this sweaty house filled with... well... dorks. She came here looking for some guy- Michael... Matthew... Miles.... shit, you couldn't remember. It didn't matter, you were here now, and she had ditched you to fend for yourself.
You take a step forward and all the alcohol you had drank prior seems to hit you a once, "Woah" You can't help but say out-loud as you catch your balance and wait for the room to stop spinning.
You take a few more wobbly steps forward before acclimating to your new, tipsy state. You make your way through the dimly lit house, trying to find your friend amongst the crowd and rowdy conversations. Observing the bodies that populated the house you suddenly felt insecure, and insanely overdressed- why was everyone wearing jeans and a t-shirt? Maybe a mini skirt was the wrong choice for tonight.
You make your way to a back room of the house, occupied by maybe only 10 people by your inebriated brain's estimate. There's an ugly looking olive green couch in the middle of the room- it' had obviously been through a lot but and you hated to imagine what had happened on that couch over the years, but right now it looked like the most comfortable thing in the world. You walk over and plop yourself over onto the couch, the cushions having a lot less give than you expected.
The beginning riff of Someday by The Strokes plays just outside of the room, and you groan- turning to the guy who you had just realized was sitting next to you.
"Do you know who's Dj-ing this fucking thing- can you tell them to play some Britney or something?" The words fall off your tongue, sloppily.
The boy sitting next to you turns to look at you, a confused look drawn upon his face, "Huh- me?"
Shit. He's kind of cute- In a dorky sort of way. His brown hair is perfectly unkempt, and small curls form at the back of his neck. His jawline is sharp, and his hollow cheeks accentuate his prominent cheek bones. His eyes are dark, and he looks a like he hasn't slept in years- you figured with the workload MIT students probably have- it would make sense if he actually hadn't slept since getting there. Truth be told, all things combined he looked a little sickly- he was obviously lanky maybe scrawny was a better word- his button up shirt seemed a little ill-fitted for his body, and his tie poorly tied. Still- you couldn't help but notice he was hot. The first hot guy you'd seen all night.
"Yes, you, pretty boy." You smirk.
His face reads as even more confused upon your clarification.
"Oh um," He looks down at the half-drunken beer that sits between his legs, shakes his head before looking back up at you, "I-uh I don't know the DJ, and I- um, also don't know who Britney is." He responds, a small nervous tremble in his voice.
"Spears?" You let out a small laugh, "You know like- Hit Me Baby One More Time." You half sing.
"Oh-" He looks off to the side, "No" he faces you again.
"Go figure," You scoff, still, keeping a smile on your face. "Say- are you in this frat?"
He shakes his head, "Oh- no, I'm a grad student."
"A grad student?" You respond, your eyes widen in shock no shot the man you were looking at right now was any older than you. "How old are you?"
"21" He responds, almost nonchalantly- like it wasn't some insane feat. "Well," He clarifies, "I'm actually in my third graduate program, I already have a PhD in mathematics and chemistry, from Cal Tech. I'm working on my engineering one now."
"Jesus," You smile, "So what, you're like some sort of genius, huh?"
"Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified- but I do have an IQ of 187, and an eidetic memory, and can read twenty thousand words per-minute."
You stare at him in awe for a moment, "So, a you are a genius?"
He gives you a small smile in response, "Yeah- I guess." He nods.
You're suddenly intrigued, only twenty-one years old and already a doctor twice over.
"So what brings you here Doctor...uh..."
"Reid," He nods and presses his lips into a line. "Oh! But, don't call me doctor you can call me Spencer."
"Well then, what brings you here, Spencer?" You correct yourself with a smile.
"My friend- uh he wanted me to come with him, he's meeting some girl here and he didn't want to go alone. I kind of got dragged along."
"Well," You grin, "It must be fate that we're here together on this ugly green couch, because if you could believe it- I'm here for the exact same reason except my friend- she's uh, meeting a guy here."
Spencer takes a small sip of the beer he had been holding, wincing as the liquid touched his lips. You figured he probably wasn't much of a drinker, he probably had things much more important on his plate than getting drunk and partying.
"Not much of a partier?" You ask to confirm your suspicions.
"Mhh," Spencer hums, mouth still full of beer, he shuts his eyes tight as he swallows thickly. "No." He shakes his head violently. "What gave it away?"
"Oh!" You bite your lip... "Nothing!" You say, innocently, voice steeped in sarcasm.
"It's okay," He laughs, "I know I look like a dork."
His laugh is infectious, and you can't help but smile in response. And Damn- he's really cute.
"Oh! Don't say that," You swat your hand at him, "I'm sure you get tons of ladies."
Spencer tilts his head to one side, in obvious disbelief of what you just said,
"I don't really appreciate the sarcasm," He says, his eyes narrowing at you.
"Sarcasm?" You pout, "No- I mean it Spencer, what you're like a genius. And I mean- you're not bad to look at," You bite your lip, "Not at all."
Spencer shook his head, "I was a child prodigy in a Las Vegas public school, and until now, I've always been way younger than everyone in college- my experience with girls is practically in the negatives."
"Oooh!" You smirk, "Vegas," You raise an eyebrow.
"Mhm," He takes another sip of his beer, his face more relaxed this time.
"You think I'd make a good showgirl?" You wink
"Oh- um," Spencer is suddenly blinking rapidly as his head scans you up and down. You can't help but feel a little bad at the way you have him flustered,
"I'm kidding! You don't have to answer that." You reassure. "Negative experience with girls, hm?"
"Yeah- I-uh, I haven't even had my first kiss yet." He says, looking down at his lap, refusing to make eye contact with you.
"No?" You say, still shocked, even given his prior explanations of his experiences with women, "Well..." You start, pausing for a moment, "If you ever want that to change let me know." Maybe that last part was meant to be a joke, but truth is you kind of really hoped he said yes, right there, right now.
"What?" He looks back up at you, eyebrows furrowed, "No- I don't need a pity kiss. I don't even know who you are."
"It is not a pity kiss, and I'm y/n, I go to UMASS, the Boston campus- like 15 minutes away. I'm 20, and uhhh... Well, the rest you can find out later." You wink, "Now you know me!" You smile, perking up from your spot on the couch.
"Well- uh. Nice to meet you y/n" He gives you an awkward tight lipped smile. "Are you- um- enjoying your night."
"God no," You scoff. "Does that make two of us?"
Spencer nods, side moving his eyes to look around the room. It had gotten significantly more crowded since you'd came in here, you hadn't noticed, you'd been too focused on getting to know Spencer that you kind of forgot you were at a party to begin with. It didn't seem to matter now anyway, you were intrigued beyond belief and wanted to know more about Dr. Reid.
"So, why'd you leave Caltech? The weather is certainly a lot nicer than it is here," Your body physically recoils at the thought of having to go back outside to the brisk New England fall after the party was over.
Spencer shrugged, "You can only get so many degrees at one place before you need a change of scenery. I've been at CalTech since I was like- fourteen."
"Fourteen?" Your eyes widen, thinking about what you were like at fourteen. You certainly weren't CalTech material, that's for sure. "When did you graduate high school?"
"1993," He smiles and nods, "Twelve years old"
Spencer had a charming humility about him, he was the smartest person you'd ever met but he spoke in a way that made it feel like it was every day that someone could graduate high school at 12 and have two PhDs by 21.
"What do you plan on doing after college with that pretty head of yours?" You ask, your slightly intoxicated brain unable to stop you from instinctively reaching out and fluffing his hair. Spencer's eyes flick up towards your hand and he gives you an awkward smile paired with a small laugh.
"Well- I uhh... I've been in contact with this guy- well from the FBI, the BAU... Behavioral Analysis Unit. We came into contact after my second dissertation, he was shocked at how young I was, having done so much- he suggested I come to the academy when I was done with this one." Spencer explained, he talked in a way that made him seem unsure of himself, like he, himself didn't fully understand how it happened.
"God," You muse, "The fucking FBI? Could you get any cooler?"
"You know," Spencer remarks, "I think that's the first time anyone has ever used to word "cool" to describe me." The tone in his voice is light, it's clear he's happy about that fact, but you can't help but feel your heart break at the statement.
"Cool even sounds like a little bit of an understatement to me. But you know... I think I'm a little too intoxicated right now to think of a synonym, so cool it is!"
"Do you have any plans for after college?" Spencer asks, nervously running a finger around the rim of the glass in his lap.
"Nothing as cool as the FBI," You shrug, "Actually, nothing concrete, really. Has me feeling a little inadequate in a room full of geniuses."
"Oh trust me," Spencer scans his head around the room, "Not all of these guys are geniuses."
"Well- they're complete nerds at the very least." You giggle.
"I think I qualify as a nerd too." Spencer smiles back.
"Oh you definitely do," You say, scooting closer to him, taking the beer glass out of his hand, "But you haven't tried to talk down to me about some movie everyone's seen, or some album everyone's heard like I'm some dumb idiot bimbo yet." You huff, finishing what was left of the liquid in the glass with a single gulp. You slam the cup down on the coffee table in front of you, "And even if I was a dumb idiot bimbo- what makes them think I'd care about whatever they'd have to say about OK Computer. We've all listened to Karma Police, big deal!" You realize you're getting a little heated over this and cut yourself off, "Anyways," You smile, "What I mean is you don't seem like some self important loser."
"Oh," Spencer furrows his eyebrows, "Thank...you?"
"Do you want to get out of here?"
"Y-Yeah, Yeah we can go." Spencer nods.
You stand up from the couch, wobbling a little bit as your legs lift you up. The room, is blurry, for a moment all you can see are vague blobs of color instead of people. You shut your eyes tight, blinking them open to fix your blurry vision. You glance over toward Spencer, who's grabbing a tan suit jacket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He slinks the jacket on over his thin frame.
"You alright?" He asks, concern in his eyes. He must have been able to read the drunk all over your face.
"Y-Yeah I'm fine, lets go," You nod, reassuringly. You could handle your liquor, besides you hadn't drank that much tonight.
The two of you head for the door, wherever it is. Spencer was leading the way, and you hoped he had a better sense of direction than you did. The music is suddenly a lot louder as you exit the room you were in, and you suddenly feel a lot drunker. The sudden change in feeling causes you to stumble a little, bumping Spencer in the back. High heels and alcohol were never a good mix.
"Oh- hey," Spencer stops suddenly, turning around to smile at you, "Are you sure you're alright?"
You look around the room, at the hoard of people, the room thick with a combination of weed and cigarette smoke. You've never felt so lost in your life when did it get so crowded in here? The obnoxious yelling of frat guys mixed with the music turned to a volume you were sure would get the cops to show up is absolutely ear-splitting.
"Can you hold my hand?" You ask Spencer, needing his guidance more than you realized.
"Uh, yeah, yeah." He nods. You reach your hand out for Spencer to grab, and it takes him a few times to correctly slot his fingers between yours. You smile a little, watching him try to figure out the perfect hand-holding position. He couldn't be more pathetic if he tried- it was kind of adorable.
Spencer's hand is warm, a little sweaty against your palm. But his grip is tight and reassuring as the two of you walk the rest of the way out of the house.
As soon as the front door opens a brisk wind hits you, nipping at your exposed flesh. Goosebumps already dot up and down your skin, the only warmth you feel is Spencer's hand wrapped around yours, and you knew that warm sensation would end as soon as his hand got cold too.
With a little hesitance, you step outside to brave the cold. Your heels click as you carefully make your way down the concrete steps in front of the house. You stare down at your feat as you make each movement, fearing accidentally rolling your ankle or falling. You'd probably take end up Spencer down with you.
"Hmm," Spencer hums, noticing your trepidation, "Here," Spencer untwines his hand from yours and places an arm around your back, reaching to your other side, but barely touches your other arm, just holds firm enough for you not to fall.
You reach the bottom of the stairs, thankful for Spencer's help,
"You don't have to hold me so far away you know, you can pull me a little closer." You turn your head to look at him, "I mean it is kind of chilly out."
"Oh-uh," Spencer's arm pulls to hold you just a little bit closer, "Better?" His grip is still pretty weak around you, and you sigh.
"You know, Spence, I'm still pretty cold." You frown, staring down the suit jacket he was wearing.
"Do you want to go back inside? I didn't even have a full beer the entire time I was there- I can go get my car real quick and drive you home if you want. It's only a block or so away." Spencer responds, his voice quick, and nervous- it was obvious he was eager to solve the problem of you being so cold.
"No," You laugh, shaking your head, "I'm cold is kind of girl-code for, you should give me your jacket."
"Oh!" Spencer laughs, "Oh- I'm sorry, yeah- here, here have it." Spencer speaks earnestly as he slips the jacket off of his shoulders. He shivers as the loss of the fabric leaves him in only a thin button up and you can't help but feel a little bad for asking him to give it to you. But he hands you the jacket with a smile on his face, which lingers even after you put it on. It provides a marginal amount more of warmth than what you felt prior.
"Better?" Spencer asks.
"Mhm," You nod, "Thank you."
Spencer only gives you a tight lipped smile and a nod in response.
"So," Spencer starts as the two of you begin walking, his hand slipping into yours almost instinctually, it catches you a little off guard, and you feel your cheeks run hot at the gesture. "Where are you headed?"
"Oh- uh, back to Boston I guess," You squint your eyes, thinking, "I usually take the bus, the stop is up that way." You point up ahead in front of you.
"Let me go with you," Spencer says quickly, "I mean- not to your place, but let me ride the bus with you, I don't want you going by yourself."
"Why not? I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." You retort, trying to hide the fact that secretly, butterflies are growing in your stomach at his eagerness to take care of you.
"I just want to make sure you get home okay." His hand grips yours tighter.
"Okay," A small smile draws at your lips, you don't want to fight him on it anymore, truth was you'd love nothing more than to spend a little bit more time with him, even if it was a short bus ride.
The streets of the city are utterly dead, not a sound to be heard except the whistling of the wind and collision of your high heels and the pavement. You wonder what time it even is, how long had you even spent at that stupid party?
The bus is just as empty as the rest of the city. When it arrives, nobody but you and Spencer are on, the two of you sitting patiently under the bright fluorescent lights for the bus to move. The lights are straining on your eyes, and the horrendously carpet-patterned seats might hurt your eyes even worse.
"What stop do you get off at?" Spencer asks, being the one sitting the closest to the button to let the driver know when it's your stop.
"University Drive."
The lights dim as the bus driver pulls away from the stop you'd been picked up at, and you're able to relax your eyes once more. You let your eyes relax until all of a sudden they're closed and then-
"Hey," You feel your head being jerked, "We're here."
"Hmm?" You grumble, slowly opening your eyes.
Your stomach drops, and you're absolutely mortified to see your head is rested on Spencer's shoulder. You whip your head off from where it laid and quickly stand up from the seat.
The bus ride was fifteen minutes, you couldn't believe you fell asleep. Much less fell asleep on some guy you barely knew. You're a mess of worry as you exit the bus, thinking about how awkward you probably made Spencer feel. You're so caught up in your thoughts you barely notice how cold it is as you step outside.
"Hey, look, I'm right over there." You say, pointing to the large dorm building behind you.
"I'll walk you to the door." He smiles, and your panic immediately slides away.
You walk with your head down, looking intently at the sidewalk under you as you head forward to your building, trying your best to keep in a straight line. You had to admit, you were pretty upset your time with Spencer would be ending in just a few short minutes from now. You tried to scheme up a plan to get Spencer to stay longer, but no ideas would stick to your brain. You sigh, crossing your arms across your chest as you approach the front door.
You whip around to look at Spencer who's trailing just a few inches behind you.
"Well," You sigh, "I guess this is it." You pull your mouth to one side in a small pout.
"Yeah- I-uh, I guess so," He shrugs, "I had a nice time tonight, thanks for, making my first party experience a lot better than i was expecting." Spencer's hands are shoved into his pocket, and he rocks back and forth while he talks, unsure of himself as his eyes dart all around you.
"Of course," You grin, letting your hands drop down at your sides, "Say," You cut yourself off, and shove your hands into the pocket of Spencer's coat, fishing, until you find what you were hoping for. You pull out a pen from one of the coat pockets, and grab Spencer's hand. "I want to see you again before you become some big tough FBI agent." You smile, scrawling the digits of your phone number on the back of his hand. "Call me sometime?" You hold his hand up for an extra moment, before letting it drop back down.
"Mmmhm, yeah," Spencer bobs his head up and down vigorously.
"Okay, good. Goodnight Spencer," You smile, giving him a small wave.
"Goodnight y/n" He smiles back, as the two of you turn around to go your separate ways.
You notice as you turn back around that you're still wearing Spencer's jacket, part of you has the urge to call out to him to give it back, the other part of you wants to keep it- if he wants to get it back, he'll have to come see you again.
"Wait! Y/n!" You hear Spencer from just behind you. You frown a little, thinking your plan to keep Spencer's jacket had been foiled and he was calling to get it back from you.
"Yeah?" You whip your head back around.
"Did you mean it when you said to let you know if I wanted to have my first kiss- and that you'd change that I've never um-"
"Uhh..huh," You responded, a little to eager as an uncontrollable smile began to tug at the ends of your lips, "Are you asking me to kiss you Spencer?"
"Maybe," His voice breaks, unable to look you directly in the eyes.
You raise one eyebrow, "Maybe?"
"Ahem. Uh- I mean- yes."
Before you know it, you're tugging at his tie, pulling him close to you. Your lips are on his, just a peck at first, Spencer is hesitant. He is unsure of what to do with any part of his body, his lips move carefully, his hands unsure of just where they should be, they rest on your hips- before they move right under your shoulders. You make the decision to tilt your head and deepen the kiss. Spencer's lips are soft with inexperience, he has absolutely no clue what he's doing, yet you can't get enough.
The two of you pull away slowly, neither one of you wanting to give up the kiss- but you eventually have to surrender to the night and to the cold. You place one final peck on Spencer's lips.
"Now you have to call me." You giggle, unable to hide your excitement.
"Yeah-yeah," Spencer nods, eyes wide, his lips are shiny and his cheeks a pretty shade of pink. "Absolutely."
"Goodnight Spencer." You say once more, before turning around to head inside.
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A/N: whew! when I tell you I spent all day writing this i mean all day! that's okay though... im obsessed with grad school! reid. anyways..... thinking about making a (potentially smutty) part two to this ;-)
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panqueen · 13 days
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Miscommunication
Spencer Reid x FEM Reader
Season 5 Spencer, Angst, talks of sexual themes.
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Spencer and Y/n have been together for just over a year and in that year a lot has happened that’s changed their lives.
Spencer got shot in the leg which led him to need to use a cane which has changed his old routine. Since using the cane his usual routine with his girlfriend has changed and it’s making him worry.
Spencer walks into his apartment putting his satchel on the couch looking at his phone scratching his neck nervously.
Y/n is supposed to be coming over like she does almost everyday but lately more specifically when Spencer got his cane she’s been acting differently towards him.
His usual long hugs and cuddling in his bed for hours wrapped in one another’s arms has now gone down to a simple kiss and a few quick hugs.
The knock on the door brings him out of his thoughts as he answers the door smiling down at Y/n who stands at the door with a smile.
“Hello beautiful” he smiles leaning down placing a kiss on her forehead.
“Hey Spence” she smiles kissing him quickly before walking into the apartment.
Spencer nods with a sigh closing the door before turning to look at his girlfriend who’s taking her shoes off.
“Are you spending the night?” he asks hopeful.
“Not tonight, another night though” she smiles finishing taking her shoes off.
The two spend the rest of the night watching a documentary about writers in the 1800’s when Spencer puts his arm around her bringing her closer to his chest.
She pulls away slightly and continues watching the tv not noticing him watching her closely until the documentary is paused.
She to her side seeing him put the remote on the couch turning to look at her.
“We need to talk” his voice quiets with emotion.
“What’s going on?” she looks at him concerned.
“Are you not attracted to me anymore?” he asks just above a whisper.
“What?” she asks surprised at his question.
“If you want to breakup just tell me, please” he looks away sadly.
“Spence I don’t want to breakup, and I’m definitely attracted to you” she assures him about to reach for his hand but pulls away before touching him.
“What’s that?” he asks looking at her pulled back hand.
“What?” she looks at him confused.
“You don’t touch me anymore unless you have to, we don’t have sex anymore and you’ve stopped staying over” he shakes his head growing more frustrated.
“Spence-”
“It’s the cane right? You’re not attracted to me because of the cane” he looks at her sadly.
“No Spence-” she stumbles over her words picking her nails nervously.
He gets up off the couch with a wobble and adjusts his footing before walking away with his cane.
“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you” she speaks up.
He looks towards the couch at her with an unconvinced look.
“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you, I hear when you hiss in pain when sitting down or walking and I just don’t wanna hurt you- I want to touch you believe me I do- I just don’t wanna hurt you” she wipes away loose tears looking up at him with a rosy tear stained face.
Spencer’s sad expression turns to a relieved smile as he walks back over grabbing her hands pulling her to stand with him and pulls her into his arms.
“You’re not going to hurt me I promise, and if I’m uncomfortable I’ll tell you” he assures placing a kiss on her head.
She nods holding onto him tightly relief filling her body knowing she wouldn’t hurt him.
That night Y/n spent the night wrapped in Spencer’s arms and everything went back to normal, well as normal as it can get with a cane.
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nobitchs-world · 2 months
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What people think I mean when I say I like white boys:
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What I actually mean:
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sweetismyaddiction · 1 month
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Fic masterlist | Masterlist
SUCROSE
Paring: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Summary: They live in the same building, in the same corridor, just in front of one another… which helps the friendship but couldn't stop Dr. Reid from falling in love
Word account: 1199
Warnings: Swearing, fluff, friends to lovers
A/N: English is not my first language. Reblog, like, and comment. I am accepting suggestions for the next parts (should I already tell about the nicknames?). Please be nice. The Gif is not mine. Credits to the oner
Chapter 1: Derek Morgan, next door
Y/N’s Point of View
The water ran warm against my skin, a relaxing shower was all I needed after one very busy day serving and cleaning, which was not the worst part of the job, the worst part certainly was the clients themselves.
I had a playlist on to help me relax, thank god I had the day off and would go just to the night shift today, so it is a study and cleaning house day. But a noise interfire my peace day. Noises that come from outside.
In the corridor someone knocked on a door calling a name, Spencer’s name… I finished my bath, put on my robe and with my towel dried a little of my hair just taking the exes of the water then brushing it. I came out just in time to see someone kicking down my door and entering my apartment holding a gun.
“What are you doing?”
The man is a black big man, he looks around and then to me still holding his gun pointing it to me.
“Where is Spencer Reid?”
“Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment? Why did you break my door?”
The last sentence was a scream, I can’t believe that a random dude broke my door for no reason. Can’t he see numbers?
“I am SSA Derek Morgan. Now, where is Reid?”
Morgan, the name rings in my ears. Spencer talked about him so many times. Apparently they are friends and coworkers, he can break Spencer’s door, not my door!
“Spencer’s door is the other one.” I point to the one just across the hall. “But relax big man, you do not need to break another door, I have the key, just wait in here and let me put some clothes on. Do not let anyone into my apartment. And put that gun down. Jesus”
Is this a thing? You have to be handsome to join the FBI? After putting a light dress and getting the key I get back to my living room, where that delight for tired eyes wait, he remains stoic, rigid, so tense. Should I be worried?
Knocking soft on the door and calling his name I warne Spencer that me and Morgan are coming in. No response, and the place is immaculate, everything in the right place.
“He must be asleep, he has been very tired those couple weeks. I am going to check his room.”
“By yourself?”
“Yeah. What? There is something I should know? He is contagious? A zombie? No? Ok, so I am totally fine going by myself.”
I walk slowly into his room, it is dark and quiet.
“Sugarpout? Spence?”
A peaceful breathing is heard when closer to the bed, he is involved in his blankets, is the sights of heaven, my heart gets warm seeing Spencer resting peacefully.
I sit at the bed and run my hand delicately in his soft hair before resetting it in his forehead checking his temperature, he moves a little moaning in protest.
“Shh… it's me Sugarpout, it is ok, you can keep sleeping”
Is a very quiet whisper as I place a tender kiss to his forehead leaving my boy there, his hand landing on top of mine making me smile, as quiet as I entered his bedroom is as I live.
Just at the room door, Derek looks at us, I just make a signal to him to keep quiet and we are back to Spencer’s living room.
“So… you seemed troubled. There is something I should know? Is something wrong with Spencer?”
“Why do you have his keys?”
“Cause I live just across the hall?”
Who does he think he is to interrogate me?
“Serious? That 's why? Common, hot stuff, Reid didn't make a move on that gorgeous woman? Man, he really doesn't have material… or does he?”
Flirtatious Morgan, Reid said he was just like that, all charming. Just bark, don’t bite. Well… I don’t think girls would mind if he bites them, I recognize good stuff when I see it.
“Changing subject that quickly? What are you avoiding agent?”
He just looked at me, no verbal answer, heavy shoulders unmatched with the flirt smile on his face… for a profiler he isn't that good in hiding emotions.
“Seriously” a puff of air came out of me. “Is everything okay with him?”
“Yes, Reid is fine. I… was just worried, we had a hard case and he wasn’t answering the phone…”
“I believe you”
“So… why the keys?”
“I live very close, we are friends and I am his food stealer”
 I blinked at the man with a dirty smile in my face mixed with my sweet traces.
“Food stealer?”
“He is out, I need something, I enter his apartment, I grab what I need, and then I come back to my place. Simple”
“Are you confessing a crime to an FBI agent?”
“A crime against another agent. And the other agent is very aware of what I do in his hose”
“Sorry about the door”
“It’s okay, it is nice to know Sugarpout have friend that really care about him”
It is impossible not to smile, I care so much about the genius boy. Knowing other people also care about him warmes my insides, it is really good to know he is well protected in the field.
“Sugarpout?”
My eyes almost fall out of my face. Shit! It is a private nickname.
“Don’t. Do not, ever, ever, talk about it to anyone, It is private, and especial, so please…”
“Okay, a secret. Someday you will tell me?”
“Maybe”
Derek Morgan lives his card with me. He waited about 30 minutes talking to me, but it seemed Spencer wouldn't wake up so soon, so Derek decided to go home, but promised to pay for my door. In my opinion it was the very minimum he could do, but them we have a talk, and his caring by Spencer was more than enough for me to forget about my broken door.
“Sugar?”
“Hey, Sugarpout, did you sleep well?”
I smile going to start to prepare something for him to eat.
“How long have I sleeped?”
“Something around two hours, you needed it. Morgan passed by, and broke my door”
“He what?”
“Broke my door. He was knocking, no one opened, then he kicked in. But surprise, surprise. It was the wrong door.”
“Sorry”
“It is not your fault, and he is going to pay for the repair, he was just worried because you didn’t answer the phone, and the last case was hard. I assume you basically blacked out from exhaustion so I decided to let you sleep.”
The toast is ready as is the coffee, the black coffee with tons of sugar.
“Here you go Sugarpout, you need to eat, and then you should call your people. I am not asking about the case. Just a reminder that you can talk about anything with me anytime, I am just one door away.”
I kiss his head, before going back to my place. I could tell he needed a moment alone to call his friends, especially Derek after what I vaguely told him.
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Fic masterlist | Masterlist
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inkdrinkerworld · 2 months
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complimenting spencer on his new haircut cerca season 7 and him blushing and stuff!! He’s so cute with that haircut!
He really is!!! Pre-relationship reader x spencer reid
“Spencer, your hair!” You rush out of your office chair and over to him as he walks into the bullpen.
“I cut it,” he says, fighting the flush in his neck and cheeks. “Does it look bad?”
“Bad?” You’re incredulous, Spencer Reid has never looked bad a day in his life. Not even when his hair was long and he thought he was too lanky.
“Yeah.” He cares what you think about him, that much is obvious; he always has.
“You look even more handsome than before.” Honesty, you can’t help but be honest to Spencer and he really does look good.
“Did you have your tea yet?” You’d switched over from coffee a few months ago because Spencer had noticed how badly your hands had started shaking and passed you a mug of tea over coffee one morning.
“No I did not, will you have yours with me?” Spencer looks at you like you’ve lost your mind- when has he ever let you have your drinks alone? Never.
By the time he’s handing you your mug, you’re still a little transfixed by his hair, watching it fall off to the side and a little more than desperate to thread your fingers through the sides just to see how long it is.
“Why’re you staring at me like that?” Spencer takes a sip of his coffee, reaching into his bag for a bowl of fruit, he passes it easily to you already opened.
You narrow your eyes at him, popping a grape between your teeth. “You’re pretty, what am I supposed to do about that?”
He only shakes his head, “Eat your fruit,” nose and cheeks flushing a little harder when Morgan gets in and comments on him, ‘cutting his hair for his morning date.’
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kisses4reid · 3 months
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convenient | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,
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summary - studying while working at a convenience store is easier that thought when a regular happens to be a genius.
genre - fluff, fem!college!reader x earlyseasons!spencer
warnings - school work, that always scares me. they’re the same age!!! early 20s. mention of condoms.
edit - bc this is getting so much love, i’m opening a taglist for part 2!!! just comment or put in a req to join the ‘convenient’ taglist 🫶
the chime of the door didn’t phase you, the creaks and squeaks of the store slowly becoming one with you. flipping onto the next page of your biology textbook, something that was unnecessarily expensive, you shake your hand to get rid of the cramp you slowly became aware of.
it was only when a wave of man’s cologne and a plastic bag stood in front of you that you ripped your eyes off of your books.
he was tall, skinny, had long(ish) hair and looked amazing. there wasn’t really anything else to say, other than that the thin smile he displayed toward you made you smile back.
“just these for today?” you ask, fixing your posture and pushing some loose strands back to their place behind your ears.
“yes, thank you.” he says, voice as timid as his appearance. it was a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him as his long fingers slip through his wallet to find a debit card. “have a good night.”
your eyes return to your textbook as you go to erase an answer you had previous written, obviously wrong.
“the heads of the phospholipid bilayer are hydrophilic, not phobic.” he says. it surprised you, making you return to his gaze slowly before realising you should probably reply instead of staring at the man.
“oh- yeah, thanks. i caught that it’s just, i guess i’ve been staring at the same words for so long i can’t differentiate them.” you give a small fake laugh as he nods, giving you a long look before coughing and leaving promptly. he leaves with his bag, and his hands fiddling with each other.
you can barely focus after that. customers come and go, and although you’ve only been doing the late shift for a week, this encounter with the unknown man couldn’t leave your mind. the way he dressed, his smell, his voice and how he corrected you (which would totally annoy you usually). you hoped he would return.
and he did. three days later, this time even later than the last.
you were stuck in a dark purple sweater, the aircon in the store blasting cold air that you were too lazy to fix. and although the air flipped pages of notes and questions, you were still stuck in a trance.
the blasting aircon blew a wind of mens cologne this time, it smelt like wood. your eyes glanced up from your books and trailed the familiar man, noticing how he was reusing the plastic bag from days before.
he returned to the checkout with apples, a 3 minute cannelloni, and a bag of coffee. he was now the one trailing you, “where did Latrice go?” you look up, chuckling a bit,
“Latrice is getting paid by her daughter-in-law to babysit the twins,” you reply, surprised you were willing to tell him so much information. he could be a stalker for all you know. or just a regular, obviously that’s way more likely. “trust me, i miss her as much as you do. $14.98.”
he nodded with a small smile and sliced his card down the side of the card reader.
you searched for him now, only after two encounters you were already craving some sort of human interaction at work. usually you avoided it since the only other ‘regulars’ were old men and mean teenagers. you had switched to writing a biology report on your computer, the sound of the keyboard almost covering the sound of the door bell.
a bag of apples, a 2 minute lasagne, a bag of coffee, and a banana muffin.
“big night?”
“uh- what?”
“you got a banana muffin. i thought you were starting to become predictable.” you bagged his things as he chuckled, looking over you and your laptop. you noticed only because you were also looking at him, “biology report. wanna read it?” you joked, but he didn’t catch that part.
now he was behind the register, sat on your wheelie stool reading and editing your report while walking you through everything he was changing. you didn’t understand most, but you were just happy to stay around him. you weren’t even scared of Old Alan, the guy who only buys cucumbers and condoms. nobodies ever asked him, don’t think anyone wants to know.
“what’s your word limit?”
“3500.”
“only 3500?” he gave you a raised eyebrow, voice getting slightly higher. he coughed, “sorry, that’s nearly impossible.”
you sigh, “i know… i’m y/n by the way. thought you should know who your helping cheat.”
“i’m not helping you cheat, i’m just… editing,” he hit backspace a few times with a lowered bottom lip, “my names spencer.”
you smiled and crossed your arms as you leaned against the counter. spencer. yeah, that sounded nerdy enough.
pt. 2
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patrickispinky · 7 months
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Spencer: You're the love of my life, my best friend. I would do anything for you.
Y/n: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a descent sleeping schedule.
Spencer: Absolutely not.
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sarcasm-and-stiles · 3 months
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Spencer: I can never tell if someone is flirting with me or just being friendly
Y/N: maybe we should kiss until you figure it out 😏
Spencer: like platonically or
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velvetwilde · 1 month
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He will always be my akward little baby <3
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