7777vie

[7777vie]

yours

spencer reid x reader

when you have to go around interviewing prostitutes with spencer for a case, you can't help but let jealousy overtake you over the way they’re treating him.

cw fem!bau!reader, angst, reader is jealous, fluffy ending

Currently, you and the team are going around the streets at night to interview prostitutes for the current case you’re working on, hoping that they’ll have some kind of information on the unsub. Before you had split away from the others, Hotch paired you with Spencer, which you originally had no complaints about. 

Until now, at least. 

That’s because, without fail, the prostitutes keep attempting to flirt with him. The first time it happens, you think it’s hilarious. In fact, you even tease him, to which he becomes a flustered mess. But now it’s getting kind of tiring. You’re not sure how many ladies you’ve questioned at this point, but this one doesn’t even seem to be listening to a word Spencer is saying. You nearly snap when she leans forward and tugs at his tie, pulling him closer to her with a sultry grin on her face. 

“Okay, I think we’re all set here, actually. Thanks for your time,” you say, giving her a smile that you’re sure looks more like a scowl. You grab Spencer’s hand and nearly storm off, him tripping to catch up with you.

“But she didn’t answer my questions—”

“Yeah, because all she wanted to do was suck your face off,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. 

“Wait a second—are you jealous?” he asks. 

“No, I’m not,” you huff, shooting him a look. 

A breathy laugh escapes his lips. “You totally are! You haven’t said a word since we’ve been out here, I’ve caught you mumbling under your breath more than once, and right now your face is all red—”

“Spencer,” you warn.

When you meet back up with the team, Derek walks over to Spencer and raises his eyebrows, nodding his head toward you, who’s drifted away from the others. “What’s up with her?” 

Spencer shakes his head, shrugging. “I think she’s jealous, and I told her so, but she said she isn’t.” 

“Why would she be?” Derek asks. 

“Um, some—well, most of—the prostitutes may or may not have been flirting with me,” Spencer says, cheeks turning pink. “I told them I wasn’t interested, but that didn’t seem to help my case at all.” 

“You gotta talk to her, man,” Derek nudges his shoulder. 

Spencer nods, biting his lip. “I guess you’re right.” 

He walks over to where you’re leaning against the SUV and stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

“I’m fine,” you say shortly, keeping your gaze on the ground as you kick at some loose pebbles.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, you know.” 

His words draw your eyes back up to him. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m yours.” 

Your heart skips a beat. “What?”

“I don’t care about any of those women. They could have tried flirting with me in whatever means they wanted, but… I’ll always choose you,” he says, giving you his signature close-lipped smile, the one that makes butterflies explode in your tummy. 

“God. God, I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have let myself get jealous,” you say, a lump forming in your throat as you shake your head, letting out a teary laugh. “I’m—I’m so stupid.” 

He takes a step closer so that he’s standing right in front of you, reaching out his hand to take yours and giving your fingers a light squeeze. “You’re not stupid.” 

“I am, though. I’m sorry, Spence,” you mumble, lowering your gaze to the collar of his shirt. 

All he does in response is raise your hand to his lips and press a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. The small action makes your mouth quirk up into a smile as you look back up at him, the same expression mirrored on his face.

[7777vie]

THEY. ARE. EVERYTHING. TO ME

[7777vie]

THEY. ARE. EVERYTHING. TO ME

[7777vie]

♡

[7777vie]

CRIMINAL MINDS 2.21 — "Open Season"

[7777vie]

I LOVE BENEDICT BRIDGERTON!!!!!!!

[7777vie]

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

[7777vie]

as inexperienced as spencer was, he knew what went on behind the door of a relationship. he knew exactly what was released during intimacy that made people love each other.

"dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine play a role in determining your initial attraction to someone, while oxytocin and other chemicals aid in bond formation and in reshaping your brain when you're in love."

"when we're stimulated by our sexual partner or experiencing love, our bodies generate oxytocin, earning it the moniker "love hormone" and "cuddle hormone."

he could explain every aspect of love — but the doctor found it hard to recognize these feelings when he's approached by them himself.

he knows why people's cheeks flush when they talk to others they are attracted to. when you're attracted to someone, blood flows to your face, an emotional reaction triggering the release of adrenaline, which causes your veins to widen or dilate. but that can't possibly be why his face flushes when he sees you focused on his rambling. there simply had to be another explanation.

"mhm, what about why people kiss?" a simple question he could answer in a second, but the delirious look on your face, as you asked him, made him stumble through his words. he cursed himself for starting this topic during your debrief of the profile which was left vacant a while ago.

"i-it could be interpreted as a type of 'attachment behaviour,' like— akin to hugging or holding hands. These actions alleviate stress and enhance relationship trust, contentment, and intimacy."

he took your hum as a sign of satisfaction as he cleared his throat. he loved talking about what he knew — he took pride in filling his brain with knowledge yet he felt a twinge of embarrassment talking to you about this topic. he wondered why. this was an unshameful topic and you expressed interest in what he said, why were his cheeks flushed red?

lost in thought with a pen around his fingers, he hadn't noticed the numerous times he was called by his older colleague by the door.

"spencer?" "yes?" "gideons calling you."

you would have thought that if he turned any faster his head would have unscrewed, or that if he had gotten up any faster his legs would have fallen through the floor — but that was just the way the genius was.

gideon was nothing but aware of exactly spencer was feeling at the moment. the profiler in him was aware of every thought going through his head at every glance he took at you and every glance of yours he caught. but he could do nothing but sigh at his unawareness.

"deep in thought?" just by the sound of the younger feet shuffling next to him and the sight of his hands in an awkward position in front of him, he knew he was nervous. something that even a non-profiler could tell.

"the unsub is showing obvious signs of delusions— but we have no concrete links to what could have caus—"

"not those thoughts," gideon chuckled at the lost expression on the genius as he resembled a child who lost his mother in a crowd. "you're thinking of something else. it's distracting you."

it didn't take spencer long to track back to what he was thinking of before gideon called him. his eyes ran through the room and he didn't know how to answer, "i am a bit distracted, but i am still thinking about the case."

"i know."

the older man stifled a grin as he turned to the younger, "we have a few names you need to go by, you two are going to the first victims house. I'm going to the crime scene with hotch. got it? garcia's already sent you the information."

the younger nodded eagerly and slipped his hands into his pockets. "yes, sir," he responded promptly, showing his readiness to share with you. he felt a reassuring pat on his shoulder, and he heard the older agent say, "she likes you too, don't be so nervous." As soon as he regained composure to what he had said, he turned his head to respond, only to find the older person already walking away towards their destination.

what? 'she liked you too.' it took the genius only a second to understand what he had hinted at — but an eternity to realize something else.

he liked you too.

#bau #spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #bau team #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #fluff #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader

[7777vie]

I just saw your sharing clothes with Spence post, and it made me think of spending the first night with him? Like awkward shy Spence early in the relationship wanting you to stay over with him :p

(just sfw cuddles, not smut please!)

i know ive written like 10 sleepy spencer posts but. come on. how can i not?? also im sorry i am physically unable to be concise.

Spencer was so so nervous to have you sleep over for the first time!! But, luckily, his overwhelming desire to be with you outweighs his fear of messing things up. Besides, he warms up as soon as you get there, laughing and talking and watching old movies. He feels silly for thinking he had anything to worry about in the first place.

It gets later and later and you get sleepier and sleepier; he mumbles a shy "you wanna head to bed?" against the top of your head, pressing a kiss or two onto it.

You've never agreed to anything faster.

Getting ready next to you awakens something so sickengly sweetly domestic in him. You’re cramped in his tiny bathroom together, bumping elbows as you try to brush your teeth and giggling every time you catch a glimpse of the other’s silly expression in the mirror. He’d never get tired of seeing you like this, he could stay like this forever.

When you both get into bed, though, his nerves return. He wants to cuddle with you so so badly but he is so awkward. He tenatively reaches out for you in bed, pulling you closer to him.

You happily curl into his arms, humming a little happy sleepy noise as you nuzzle into him. And Oh god, you're actually going to be the death of him. (and he would die a very happy man)

In the morning, he spends a good 10 minutes admiring you and your face before attempting to make you breakfast in bed. It’s a little burnt, and he woke you up with all of the commotion coming from the kitchen, but you still share it with him and cuddle as you eat. And it’s still so lovely and perfect (he’s so lovely and perfect.) And yeah. Forever sounds nice.

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[7777vie]

spencelle // talking to myself

[7777vie]

read this a few days ago and haven't stopped thinking about this 🙏🙏

i saw your requests are open 😺 can i pretty please request something fluffy with spencer and reader just doing one of those thousand piece puzzles together 🧩 ? like maximum level fluff THANK YEW

PUZZLES • S. REID X READER

gn reader; teasing; kisses; spencer is so sweet; reader sulks at how smart he is playfully; established relationship; ~600 words

“Spencer, do you have an edge piece?” You ask, brow furrowed. You chew on your lip as you sort through the stack of blue pieces you have. They’re all similar enough you can’t find their home just yet, even though you’d commandeered the box from his side of the table to try to find what quadrant of the image you were working on.

“Here, honey,” he hands you a blue one with a quick glance to see what you were working with. “Does it finish your corner?”

“Yes,” you murmur, slotting a collection of five pieces to it. Your ego deflates slightly when you see how much he has done. “How come you’re so much further ahead than I am?”

Spencer gives you a small chuckle. “I have an eidetic memory, sweetheart,” he kisses your hand when you reach for more pieces. “And I’ve always been good at puzzles.”

You huff.

Spencer moves over from his side to kiss your frown away. “Baby,” he coos, and you turn to give him a playful cold shoulder. “Light of my life,”

You still don’t answer.

“My love,” it always melts you, and it’s no different this time.

“Spence.”

“I adore you,” he kisses both of your cheeks, and then your nose, and then brushes a kiss over one of your temples — so light it tickles. “Would you rather I let you finish my side?”

You pout at him. “I don’t want pity,”

Spencer hums, fondness and humor written all over his face. “It’s not pity, angel.” He brushes his nose over your cheek before dropping his voice to a whisper in your ear. “I want to see you happy.”

You sigh. “I am happy. But I want to be the smart one for once.”

His brows raise. “You are smart.”

“Smarter than you,” you whine childishly, and he chuckles, warmly and full of humor, tracing shapes over your collarbones and down your shoulders.

“I can’t make that happen for you,” he ducks his head and kisses a small mark on your skin, one he’s always loved. “But I promise I think you are smart and wonderful.”

“And you’ll let me finish more of the puzzle.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that,” Spencer laughs. “Race me.”

You shriek when he takes your pieces and slides them to his side of the coffee table, and you clamber over to him and push his torso to the ground. He exhales quickly, letting out a huff as you pin his torso (with no force behind it) to the rug. Pieces fall with him, and it’ll be awful to pick them up later.

“Cheater!”

“All is fair in love and war.”

You hum and dip down to kiss him, and his thumbs rubs the sliver of skin where your tank top has ridden up above the waistband of your shorts. “Really?”

“Really.”

You hum, a smile overtaking your face. “Well…” and then you tug apart his side of the puzzle and ruin his sorting. “Good luck, babe.”

Spencer whines at the loss of your weight above him and what you’ve done, brow furrowing in concentration as he sits up and attempts to re-sort his pieces.

Normally, puzzles only took the two of you an hour or so, regardless of size, but you’re not playing fair, kissing his face all over until he's red and dazed every time he catches up to you, and hiding pieces behind his coffee mug each time you pull back.

i love puzzles soo much i would do them with him all day we could even do a 5000 piece .. it is meditative for me i once did 3 1000 piece puzzles in a day with minimal help from my mom and brother i hope u enjoy!! hopefully fluffy enough hehe.. of course they finish this one and . of course. spencer will at some point purchase a custom puzzle related to reader and glue it together for display.

[7777vie]

rewatching cm, and elle greenaway is such a tragic character. being brought into the bau just to be told time and time again that she’s not good enough, not ready, too impatient, too much of a woman. “show some leg” she’s told in the first episode, during the first time she gets to prove herself in a job she’s coveted for god knows how long, words that she, you, and i all know would never dare be raised against a male agent. and then, just as quickly as she got the job, it’s stolen from her. the price of trusting her gut and saving countless women from a lifetime’s worth of painful, violating memories is her ability to help anyone else under the law. and her parting gift? ptsd, after being stalked and shot in her own home, the one place that’s supposed to shut out the horrors that created her livelihood. objectified, brutalized, abandoned. i love you, elle greenaway <3

[7777vie]

spencer giving reader a kiss before going into work or the field, for good luck 😓

anon. you cant just do this to me. anon pls.

You're the most wonderful, important person in the world to Spencer. He swears on you as his good luck charm, he genuinely believes he can do anything with you by his side.

Every time he gets called away for a case, he spends a good minute (or 2 or 3 or-) holding you before he has to go. Just breathing you in, savoring your warmth and trying to prolong the hug as long as possible because ugh, he’s going to miss you so much.

Even If it’s just a regular paperwork day, he still has to have his goodbye kiss. If you try to leave without saying goodbye; he gets all smirky, like “Forgetting something?”

And you, because he is soo easy to mess with, are like “?? Not that I can think of?” Which puts the silliest, most over-exaggerated pout you’ve ever seen on his face, and you just can’t resist kissing it right off. (teehee)

He lets you sleep in if he has to get up before you, but he’s still kneeling down next to the bed to kiss your forehead and whisper a “love you” before leaving. He feels so off and gets all pouty if, for whatever reason, he doesn’t get to say his goodbye to you.

And! He insists on kissing you for good luck before every guest lecture or presentation of his. Or, back when he was in school, before all of his tests or exams. (He’s not really superstitious.. and it’s not like he really gets nervous before presenting but… oh, well, it’s an excuse to kiss you.)

And when, like always, he does amazingly, he claims it was because of you. “Spence, you’re literally a genius??” “That seems… irrelevant.” He’s soo proud to call you his, it’s adorable :/

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[7777vie]

this felt so childish.

you thought you had somehow invented a time machine and went back into your high school days when spencer posed his question. sure, the man was too young when he attended it to have experienced any crazy 'high school' experience but you would have thought that he knew how to kiss.

"can you teach me how?" were the words that stunned you mid-drying your hair with your towel. no words or expression was exchanged in what felt like the next 2 minutes before he started to panic. rushed and stuttered words and apologies were spat in a matter of moments but once you began to speak, all his attention was on you.

"have you never kissed someone?" "..no."

you sighed and sat yourself in front of him on his bed. curse this hotel bed that creaked at your every movement and curse whatever thought in your head had agreed to this. you guided your hands on his neck, along the back of his head and in his hair as you explained what he would do — despite him not listening to a word you said. Instead, all his attention was on your eyes and how they looked at everything but his own.

"okay, so now... just do what's natural."

spencer was anything but natural with you, but for once he listened to you. he leaned in— and fireworks happened. he had never felt anything more intense in his stomach or felt a deeper warmth in his cheeks. his hands guided themselves on your wrists—along your forearms—cupping your shoulders before they found themselves twisted into your wet locks.

he refused to back away until you did, simply refusing to believe this was happening and now and not wanting it to end. slowly his head tilted into the kiss and the soft touches along your back were all so natural to him, in fact— kissing you felt like the most instinctive thing he had ever done.

you back away to take a deep breath, and look at his handsome face, his puffed lips parted, and his puppy-like eyes looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. spencer was a natural. his kiss was nothing short of heavenly and his soft lips just seemed to fit on yours like they belonged to his.

much like the last time, no evident emotion was on your face but now— he smiled warmly and almost nervously, stuttering through his thoughts to ask, "was I okay?"

oh, he was more than okay.

a/n, i never proofread my fics but i tried to for this one LOL opinions and criticism are really needed and appreciated — thanks! and for the first post on this acc, I hope people like this!

#bau #criminal minds #spencer reid #reid #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fluff #fluff #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you

[7777vie]

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