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t1red-twilight · 6 days

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my birthday sucks ass, also someone’s cutting onions

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.

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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t1red-twilight · 8 days

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hii :3 i’m the one who requested the soft shower fic and i wanted to say it was super super cute omg 😭 i looveee tooth rotting fluff i think u do it so well <3

i’m so glad you liked it! i loooove writing fluff (i’m touch starved rip) and i headcannon peter to be really soft lmao

lmk if you want me to write anything else<3333

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t1red-twilight · 8 days

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hands

summary: mgg hand appreciation post

content/warnings: gn!reader, suggestive, fluff, semi-public makeout, hair pulling, cursing

notes: wrote about this in a headcannons post, and a commenter supported the notion of me writing more of it🙈

word count: 0.5k

masterlist

the way spencer was kissing you could be described with one word: hungry.

he was very passionately kissing you in an empty meeting room in the fbi office building. it was after hours, so there was less of a worry of being walked in on.

he smelled more musky than usual, and you could hear his little whines and moans when you would do something that he liked.

you tried so hard to be more perceptive of what he was doing and how you could make this a pleasurable experience for him as well, but you could not focus.

and while you were very invested in the way that he was kissing you, the way he was grabbing and pulling at you had you breathless.

it had started with him holding your face rather gently. his hands were so large, and they practically encompassed your face. they were covering your cheeks and part of your jaw and his thumbs were resting on your cheekbones.

he had stared at you while holding you like this before he pulled you in. and while he was always gentle and sensitive, he was always heated and intense.

his left hand moved back into your hair and he tightened his grip ever so slightly. this caused you to gasp into his mouth and he smiled into the kiss as a response. his right hand moved to the place where your neck met your collarbone.

his mouth moved to the opposite side of your neck, where he began sucking lightly. although, you could only pay attention to his hands.

you took your left hand and grabbed his right one from off of your neck and laced your fingers together. you marveled at how large they were. the veins on the back were delicious looking.

he noticed that your mind was elsewhere, and he looked up at your face.

not stopping what he was doing with his mouth, he noticed your gaze and traced it back to his hand. he smiled again, and pulled away.

he moved back to your face and gave you one kiss before pulling away.

“distracted?” he kissed you another time.

you hummed before responding with, “uh-”

he cut you off by kissing you again. now that he was apparently aware of your admiration for his hands, he used it to his advantage.

he placed his hand that was in your hair on your waist and pulled you as close as he possibly could. the hand that was still laced with yours he pushed up against the wall.

your free hand scratched against the fabric of his shirt on his back. you gasped into the kiss as he massaged the flesh of your waist with his hand. he squeezed your hand with his other very slightly at the same time.

you let out little noises every time he would prod you with his hands. in a way, you felt like a loaf of bread being kneaded.

the cat was out of the bag, no matter how much you could try to hide it.

–

“so, hands, huh?”

“shut the fuck up.”

#i <3 hands #mgg has great hands😃#i’m so normal about spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #x reader

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t1red-twilight · 8 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/t1red-twilight/750536961595506689/soft-peter-headcannons

may i have a full length version of the shower headcanon? 🤲 pls pls pls 🧎

suds

summary: as requested, the soft shower fic:)

content/warnings: gn!reader. andrew!peter, fluff, non-sexual nudity, you have hair and you’re a little short (sorry if you’re bald and tall, my bad queen)

notes: this was my first request. ily anon<3

word count: 0.9k

masterlist

you were lounging on the couch after you had come home from work. the day hadn’t been too overwhelming, but you still felt tired. just as your eyes had started drooping, you heard peter thunk onto the fire escape. you swung your legs onto the hardwood floor and padded over to the bedroom.

just as you were entering, peter was pulling off his mask. thankfully, he wasn’t injured (visibly, at least).

“how was patrol? anything interesting happen?” you walked over to him and helped him out of his suit.

the both of you had settled into a few routines. you had just moved in together, so these patterns were one way that you both got used to being together more often. they were comforting.

one of these routines was the one that occurred after peter came back from patrol.

he smiled at you and turned to face you. “no, nothing really happened. i got a cat out of a tree around eight, though.”

“really? was it a tabby?” you replied after you brushed some hair out of his face. you took note of the smile in his eyes.

he had stripped down to his undergarments by this point. “yes, actually. mr. pickles is a very sweet cat.” he stepped closer to you. the soft rumble of his voice provided comfort, and made you feel tender.

“you gonna get in the shower?”

“what, do i stink?” he played up fake disappointment.

you chuckled at his pseudo-pout. “not really, i was just wondering.”

“yeah, i think i will.” he hesitated after this, lingering in front of you. he stayed, looking into your eyes. you had an idea of what he wanted, but you wanted to hear him say it.

after you raised your eyebrows, he cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. “do you want to join me?”

this was another thing that you two had gotten into a habit of doing: taking showers together. it wasn’t a sexual thing, more like a thing that you two had started doing just to feel closer.

“of course, pete. i’d love to.” the playfulness had dissipated from your tone and face. now all that remained was a soft expression of adoration.

you followed peter into the bathroom, where he rid himself of the rest of his garments. he didn’t stare you down as you rid yourself of yours; he merely looked at your face through the bathroom mirror.

he moved to turn the shower on. the apartment that you shared had one of those two-in-one shower baths.

once the water got warm enough, he pulled back the curtain and got in. with one hand he held back the curtain and the other was held out to help you into the shower.

the temperature was perfect: mildly scalding.

the first thing that you did was soak your hair under the water. peter tugged you into him after you had completed the task.

this was peter’s favorite aspect of your shared showers. he would sit and hold you for several prolonged minutes. obviously, you had no problem with this.

the warm water splashed over the both of you as he held you snugly close to him. your arms were around his shoulders, and his around the upper part of your torso under your arms, his head on top of yours.

he traced shapes and words that you couldn’t make out into your back with his thumbs. the feeling the warm water and the steam in the air provided a cozy atmosphere.

and, as per usual, you both stood like this for a couple of minutes. every now and then, he would mumble something into your hair and you would respond.

eventually you pulled apart to do the shower part of showering. he reached behind you and grabbed the shampoo.

as you rehearsed the motions of cleaning yourselves, you made light conversation.

“let me wash your hair, please.” after some lighthearted protestation, you let him. in turn, you washed his hair for him as well.

since you had moved in, you had converted him from 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner for something nicer that would actually help his hair.

when it came to the body wash, he gently lathered the soap onto his hands and ran them across your body. “turn, please.”

one specific benefit of these showers was that he could get the parts of your back that you could never reach. when you turned back around, he gave you a small kiss. “my turn,” he said with a small grin on his face.

my god, was he endearing.

the thing about peter was that he was ticklish, but he would never admit it. as you were ribbed the citrus scented body wash on him, he tried to suppress laughter.

“you are so ticklish, peter.” you said through a smile.

“i am not.” his protestations, always in vain, never stood. he would always laugh, even silently, when you would wash him. and, even occasionally when you would cuddle on the couch or in bed.

“if you say so, loverboy.” you mimicked his actions from earlier and gave him a kiss. you did one final rinse and you stretched to turn off the water from behind him.

he grabbed the towels from just outside the shower before the two of you got out, as to not wet the tile and make it slick.

the towels you had invested in had a high thread count, but had embroidered initials on them that didn’t match either of yours. you both had thought that that was the funniest thing and bought them as soon as you saw them.

he bumped his damp forehead against yours before asking, “you want to watch a movie?”

#2in1 shampoo/conditioner can burn #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #fluff #x reader #andrew garfield!peter #andrew garfield!peter x reader

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t1red-twilight · 9 days

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leaving this here 😃

#spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #matthew gray gubler

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t1red-twilight · 10 days

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are you KIDDING MEEEE

i've seen a tiktok about a man that wakes up five minutes before his alarm just to cuddle with his wife before going to work and i just know spencer would do that

five more minutes

spencer reid x fem!reader; fluff

w/c: 437

thank you for requesting! spencer reid's love language is touch!

You heard the chime in your dream before you recognized that the sound was emanating from the nightstand on your husband’s side of the bed. In a domestic routine, you felt familiar hands on your waist as he dragged you across the sheets of the bed until you could feel his body heat seep into your figure.

Not ready to be awake, you scrunched your eyes shut and buried your face in Spencer’s chest, hoping to block the orange light that had started pouring through the slats of your blinds.

Groaning, you relaxed into him, allowing your still-tired body to meld into his while he held you. “Good morning,” he murmured into your hair, running his hand up and down your back in a soothing motion, gentle enough to put you back to sleep.

“Mmm,” you mumbled into his chest, “morning.” You reached up and pulled yourself higher so that you could tuck your head in the crook of his neck. “You’re warm,” you told him, curling your body into his as if you could physically meld your bodies together.

Under the warmth of your down comforter, the two of you fell into your regular positions. You slung your leg over his, clinging to him in hopes that your five minutes wouldn’t go so quickly.

Four months ago, there had been a particularly gnarly bickering match – a result of sleep deprivation – about not having enough time together, and the realization that spending more time with one another was impracticable came to the forefront of both of your minds. It’s not like Spencer could simply change the demands of his job, nor did you want him to – you just missed him.

This was the solution that Spencer came up with, one alarm at six twenty-five and a second alarm at six thirty. That five-minute window was when you protected your peace, spending five minutes tangled up in the morning had solved the conflict between you.

Slowly, Spencer buried his face in the crook of your neck, tightening his arms around your torso and littering careful kisses on your skin.

You sighed when the second alarm went off, prying yourself off of him and rolling over in the bed before hitting the alarm clock on your side of the bed – a prime location to prevent either of you from falling asleep again. “Are you getting up with me?” Spencer asked, leaning over, and kissing your bare shoulder.

Flopping back against your pillows, you glanced over at him, “I could be convinced,” you proposed.

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer considered his various options, “I’ll make you coffee,” your husband proffered.

“Sold.”

#i need him your honor

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t1red-twilight · 10 days

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smut lowkey (highkey) scares me

#like what on earth is the word cock????#‘stuff me’ i’ll pass thanks cheif #i love soft smut tho😮‍💨

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t1red-twilight · 10 days

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tonguing down peter parker

summary: ushy gushy mushy loser makeout

content/warnings: gn!reader, andrew!peter, fluff, suggestive content, excessive macking (very excessive)

notes: um uh um NEXT QUESTION

word count: 1k

masterlist

peter’s favorite thing at the moment was making out.

so much so that he would come home from fighting crime and whatnot to just swap saliva with you.

he had no idea why this was the only thing that could seem to motivate him, he just couldn’t seem to get enough of you.

currently, he was at your apartment and you were both watching some sitcom rerun from the nineties.

but alas, not much of the show was actually being watched and absorbed.

you weren’t touching besides your lips, and my god, was he good at kissing. he was licking into your mouth with such an intense fervor that you couldn’t help but scoot closer to him ever so slightly. one of your hands was on your leg, which was bent, while the other was making small movements over to peter’s hand.

the small smacking sounds from your lips seemed to be deafening over the sound of the television. every now and then, you could hear him exhale rather strongly whilst you felt it on your face.

he reached over and grabbed your knee, attempting to urge your leg to straddle his waist.

evidently needing to get closer to you, he pulled away after pressing one short kiss into your mouth before asking, “please?” he then leaned back in to continue his ministrations.

his voice was both shrill and hoarse. his kisses then migrated from your lips to your jawline, and he was quickly making his way down to your neck. the breaths that you made caught his attention and he let out a chuckle as you left open-mouthed marks against your warmed skin.

“what?” you replied breathlessly. “do you want me to-” you trailed off, much too embarrassed to finish your question.

“oh god, yes please,” his easy pulling on your leg pursued. when you pulled away, a thin string of spit connected your mouths.

you decided that you too, had not had enough and you put your pressure onto your other knee to hoist yourself up before slowly placing your legs on either side of his torso. the breathless chuckle he breathed out against your neck did not go unnoticed. you did not, however, settle your weight onto him just yet.

he slid his hands underneath the oversized shirt that you were wearing and tried to pull you downwards. because you were so much higher up than him, he had to pull away from the column of your throat.

he continued to try and get you to relax against him. you had become too distracted by the blown out look in his eyes, the ruffled nature of his hair.

he settled for situating his head underneath your t-shirt and mouthing more kisses against you stomach. small traces of saliva were left in his wake.

he was always careful enough to only suck marks that would be covered by your shirt (ever such the gentleman).

he hummed into your skin, laid down another kiss, and whispered another plea.

“c’mon.”

it was soft, gentle, but nonetheless convinced you.

you settled down onto his lap, and he pulled out from underneath your t-shirt. he began leaving languid kisses along your neck again. the feeling of his hands splayed across your back would’ve been overwhelming in another scenario, but they felt just perfect for the time being.

peter was encompassing you entirely, and you had no problem with the line blurring between you two. there was no telling where he began and you ended, and vice versa.

you huffed out a jagged sigh. this had motivated peter to make his way back to your lips, and this he did.

he left tentative kisses wherever he went. he was always like this, subdued and sensitive. though, he was by no means shy.

when you were alone, something unleashed from him. something that never seemed to never stopped craving you. his thirst for you never satiated.

he moved his hands from your back to your waist, and pulled you closer. you abided and scooted as close as was humanly possible to him.

your hands were on either side of his face, your thumbs on the part of his cheek closest to his ear. you could almost hear his heartbeat; you were sure that he could hear yours (he had told you the benefits of his spider senses once, but you had been, um, preoccupied).

he pulled away and smiled at you, turning to leave a kiss on your palm before leaning back in.

“you taste good,” he said after saying your name.

you responded after kissing him one short time, “yeah?”

he didn’t respond vocally this time, opting to only answer with “mhm,” which you could feel the vibrations of.

the lewd wet noises emitting from your mouths should have been embarrassing, neither of you paid any mind.

every so often you would exhale out of your nose, which you’re sure he could feel against his cheek. “quit holding your breath,” he would sometimes say.

your knees were digging into the couch, so you adjusted yourself to avoid any further pain. this resulted in something that was a mix of a groan and a whine from peter.

his lips were very soft, and the feeling of his tongue inside your mouth felt foreign, but commonplace. he was always so gentle, and this was demonstrated by the way that he was licking in short motions in your mouth.

this time, you were the one to part from him. you began leaving kisses from his cheek to a spot behind his ear. your efforts demonstrated to be successful, as the noises leaving peter’s mouth were nothing short of blissful.

eventually, he pulled your face away from his neck and guided it back to his own.

his hands had migrated to your back again, and yours to his. you thought that you might have felt him scratching into your skin, but you weren’t too sure. you’d be able to tell later in the mirror.

in the background, the tv had begun to play a commercial for some erectile dysfuntion drug. the irony of this was not lost on either of you. you disconnected and laughed hoarsely.

later you realized that you had hickeys that expanded across your belly.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #andrew garfield!peter #andrew garfield!peter x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman #x reader #fluff

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t1red-twilight · 10 days

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soft peter headcannons

summary: might cause cavities

content/warnings: gn!reader, andrew!peter, fluffffff

word count: 0.4k

masterlist

- peter is not that much of an outspoken guy (outside of spidersona, lmao)

- this is mirrored in how he loves you

- he’s super gentle. he kisses you very gently, holds you gently, isn’t super rough at all

- ushy gushy mushy loser make outs

- he loves going on little outings with you

- whether that’s a dinner reservation, or coffee while you sit in silence doing copious amounts of homework.

- he always pays, but he does so very quietly. you don’t notice most of the time

- “you already paid? good god peter. i have money, you know” (jokingly, of course)

- you might as well be an rn with the amount of times you’ve patched him up and disinfected his wounds

- your first aid kit has expanded to be like a cabinet full of anything that you may need at a moment’s notice

- he got you matching necklaces for christmas one year

- he wears his every day.

- when someone asks him about it, he gets all giddy and tells them all about you

- “its a matching necklace with my partner! y’know they actually-”

- he's not super big on pda

- you asked him once about this, and he had told you that he didn’t want to ‘commodify’ your relationship. he wanted to keep that part private and just to yourselves

- showers together </3

- before you move in together, showers together had become so commonplace that he took pictures of your shampoo and body wash and stuff and just kinda bought them for his place

- will just hold you in the shower for an unprecedented amount of time

- i WILL write a full length version of this if even just one person asks.

- CANDID PHOTOS AND VIDEOS

- petey boy loves his camera and will take pictures of you whenever he feels prompted

- in the beginning you would point out when he would take pictures, but now you’re just used to it.

- think ‘dead wife montage’ from the beginning of a movie (minus the deceased part, i suppose)

- lowkey gives the best hugs

- he’ll hold the back of your head and tuck his face into your neck and just squeeze

- he teases you semi-regularly

- he’s super playful with you and likes to show his affection that way

- your morning routine is memorized at this point

- sometimes you don’t even to talk to each other, you just naturally know your way around each other super well

- he’s super domestic, actually

- loves making dinner together, reading the same books and talking about them, movie marathons (followed by over analyzing them, of course)

- if you’re in college, he’ll help you with your homework

- he’s very good at explaining things

- rewards you with little smooches

- puts his glasses on you

- your closets have molded into one massive super closet

- he wear each other’s t-shirts and hoodies all the time

- buys you little trinkets

- concluding thoughts: soft is peter’s middle name. he’s so loves to be around you and he loves even more that you love being around him.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #the amazing spider man #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #peter parker fluff #andrew garfield!peter x reader #fluff #x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader

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t1red-twilight · 11 days

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when people leave little comments when they repost my fics i get so giddy

#fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #fluff #spencer reid #art donaldson #peter parker

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t1red-twilight · 11 days

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thinking about how spencer knows you like his hands

he’ll do the obvious things, like hold your hands and hold your face, but he’ll also draw attention to them when it’s not really needed.

like he’ll point to something, pop his knuckles, just draw attention to them in general. he KNOWS what he’s doing, bro.

he likes to do it around the team and see you turn red (oops)

#i might write a full length version of this #lmk if you’re interested in that #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #x reader

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t1red-twilight · 11 days

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oblivious pining headcannons

summary: you and spencer are so unbelievably unaware.

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, idiots in love, cursing

notes: i’m so lonely (rip)

word count: 0.4k

masterlist

- spencer is blissfully unaware and in denial that anyone could ever like him romantically

- this is driving the team INSANE.

- because you are interested. very much so, in fact.

- you have his coffee order memorized, and you even bought the creamer he likes for the office

- “i made you coffee:)”

- “this is perfect! thank you? how’d you know what i like?”

- “i bought that creamer you like!”

- and derek just kinda stares in bewilderment. “these idiots are so fucking dumb. oh my god.”

- hotch has taken to being cupid (middle school teacher style)

- you are assigned to share rooms with each other, and you accept no questions asked. (like when teachers put kids who have crushes on each other next to eachother on the seating chart)

- “it’s just because we are close friends!” no. it is not.

- spencer always saves you a seat on the jet.

- gets pissed when anyone tries to take ‘your spot’

- loverboy™

- staring at each other when you think nobody is looking

- lingering touches

- this becomes magnified when one considers that spencer is a germaphobe

- emily was watching in disbelief as spencer was showing you something about the geographic profile. you were practically nestled into his side; very much in his personal bubble. “morgan, come here.”

- “oh my god. so much for ‘bacteria transfers instantaneously.’”

- going out of his way to be near you

- he approaches you whenever you enter a room

- he doesn’t say anything most times. just kinda stands next to you

- you’re the only one to listen to his tangents

- “you didn't finish talking about narcissistic tendencies earlier, spence.”

- “oh! so narcissistic breakdown can be identified through-”

- he points out your little quirks to other people

- “they do that when they’re nervous. i hope they're okay”

- now that i mention it

- CONSTANTLY checking in on you.

- “are you okay?”

- “i’m still good to come over right?”

- “text me when you get home, okay?”

- he’s hyper aware of your little tics and can read you like a book:(

- like he is so perceptive and will then proceed to check in on you (as stated previously, he does quite a lot)

- researches your interests so he can talk to you about them lol

- eye contact 24/7 (i’m a sucker for puppydog eyes</3)

- team is lowkey disgusted by your sickly-sweet interactions

- minus rossi. who will just say something about his third wife and be like “ah. young love.”

- he holds your hand all the time. will wiggle his fingers to get your attention

- anyway it's just really sweet

- you're really sweet with each other.

- and even though it's excruciating to watch, the team encourages you two that you should just ask the other on a date

- and when you do, it's a quiet win for everyone.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid headcannons #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fluff #fluff #headcannons #hcs #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #fanfic #x reader #mgg

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t1red-twilight · 11 days

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scars

summary: spencer reassures you about your scars.

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, cause of scars not mentioned, allusion to spencer’s addiction, spencer is a jeopardy fan (confirmed)

word count: 0.9k

masterlist

you and spencer had been seeing each other for some time now, only barely making things official. previously, you had only had interactions at work or in work attire. now that you were spending more time together, spencer began to notice a habit of yours.

you were both profilers, and you had not considered that your tendency to only wear long sleeves and long pants would raise any questions whatsoever.

you only wore long sleeves. dress shirts and blazers were one thing, but you only ever wore sweaters, long sleeve lounge shirts, or had jackets on. even in times when the weather was unbelievably hot and humid.

“it’s really hot out here,” spencer noted. you nodded back.

“yeah, i mean i guess so.” you said, shrugging it off. you hadn’t really registered anything. the heat that your extra layers provided had been something that you had gotten used to.

his eyebrows furrowed, but he brushed it off.

there had been no shortage of these one-off comments. mainly just, “are you sure you’re not overheating?” or “do you want me to change the temperature?” the comments never raised any suspicion to you. spencer, however, had only gotten more mystified.

this wasn’t a reason for contention by any means, but it did culminate and have a ‘tipping point.’

you and spencer had just gotten back from a case, and had been lounging on the couch after changing into some more comfortable clothing.

you were laying between his legs and on top of him. his arms were wrapped around your torso. there was a blanket draped across your tangled bodies, and an episode of jeopardy softly played in the background.

spencer had been softly answering every question (correctly, and much faster than the contestants). the darkness of the living room had begun to lull you into a meditative state, bordering on slumber.

“why do you always wear long sleeves?”

blinking at his bluntness, you looked up at him. he was looking down with a look of perplexity on his face. “i just like to, why?”

craning his neck, he met your gaze. “i don’t know. you just always wear them. i wanted to know if there was a reason.”

“well, uh-” you cut yourself off. “actually, it's not a big deal.” you looked away from him; you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks in embarrassment. suddenly, you felt stuffy and flustered. you were acutely aware of the feeling of your clothes.

“if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. i was just wondering.” his face and voice were flooded with casualty. he continued rubbing circles into your sides with his thumbs.

“um, it’s just that…” you trailed off and he looked down at you again. you melted into him even further, if possible. he placed his chin on top of your head, and you pulled the blanket further over yourself. the soft fleece did little to provide comfort.

“if you don’t want to tell me, it’s perfectly okay,” he kissed the top of your head.

you inhaled sharply. “i just scar easily,” you gulped, “that’s all.” your exhale came out slightly stifled.

“what do you mean?” he craned his neck to look down at you, but you avoided his gaze.

quieter this time, “i have some scars on my arms. i scar pretty easily.” staring at your feet had become much more interesting than looking at spencer’s face.

“oh, okay. i can see why you’d wear long sleeves then,” he responded. “i prefer wearing long sleeves as well. it's a comfort thing for me.”

you nodded, understanding what he meant. “i don’t like the way they look. they're not too appealing.” your statement was followed with a sardonic chuckle.

“what? why would they be unappealing?” he reached over for the tv remote and lowered the volume. soon, his arms returned to their spot around you. the quieter the volume was, the more you could feel your heartbeat in your ears.

“my scars aren’t pretty,” you mumbled this time.

“angel, why wouldn’t they be pretty? they’re a part of you.” his brows furrowed even more, but you couldn’t see it. you were still avoiding his gaze.

“i don’t- i don’t know.” the grip that you had on the blanket tightened almost imperceptibly. “they draw too much attention and i don’t particularly like them, is all. they’re ugly.”

“honey,” he moved his hand to your jaw and gently urged you to look up at him. “i’m sure they're not ugly.”

“you haven’t seen them though.” the look in his eyes was a mix of confusion and maybe even a little worry.

“honey, scars don’t make a person ugly.” he paused, “do you think my scars are ugly?”

“well, no, but-” he cut you off.

“there you go, if they’re not ugly on me, then they’re for sure not ugly on you.” his lips flattened into a little smile and his eyebrows raised from their tensed position. the nerves that you had felt dissipated from your body. “if you don’t want to show them, then by no means do you have to.”

you didn’t respond, minorly flabbergasted. “no part of you could ever be ugly i think, actually,” he said after a moment of silence.

the eye contact remained. you finally smiled back at him. “i don’t think that you could ever be ugly, either.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. you're very pretty, spence.” he snorted in response. you both looked back at the tv.

he whispered, “so are you. very, actually.” he kissed your head again.

you hummed in acknowledgment.

“we’re on the same page then,” he said as he held you tighter, and you leaned further into his body. the aura that the room had held had returned to one of blissful comfort.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #fluff #x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg

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t1red-twilight · 16 days

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go ahead and cry

summary: reader and spencer bond over daddy issues.

content/warnings: gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, slight fluff, cursing, trauma, daddy issues on both ends (spence and reader), no use of y/n, mention of self harm, ptsd, dissociation, lmk if i missed anything

notes: i have daddy issues (rip), and i wrote this as a way to cope with that (rip). so, this could be seen as being trauma dumping (do not read if you’re not comfortable with that). i wanted to acknowledge this in a separate section other than just the warnings. otherwise, this fic is very personal to me. i hope you enjoy it! ily!<3

word count: 2k

masterlist

you were driving spencer home from work. the air between the two of you felt tense; it had been this way since the second half of the work day at the office.

he couldn’t remember when you had started acting differently, just that at some point after lunch you started acting more melancholic. you had gotten so good at hiding this aspect of yourself that nobody noticed, or at least nobody that knew you as well as spencer noticed.

the soft hum of the music from the radio filled the silence, but the sadness emanating from you wafted throughout the car. he didn’t know how to address the situation at first, so he just sat and puzzled his mind for any sort of way to talk to you.

you, however, noticed that spencer was stuck in his head. “hey, are you alright?” you glanced over to him quickly then back to the road. you clicked the signal down and changed lanes. the clicking could be heard over the radio.

“uh, yeah? are you okay?” he fiddled with his hands in his lap and looked over at you. the sounds of his rigid breaths thrummed in your ears. you squinted at the lines on the road.

you paused before responding to his question, “yeah! why wouldn’t i be?” your voice was filled with false happiness, and was followed by an even more awkward laugh. this did not go unnoticed by spencer.

you don’t know why you thought you could hide anything from him, but knowing this didn’t stop you from trying to.

“you just seem…off.” he hesitated before continuing. “you’ve felt off for a little while today, actually.”

you hesitated again. “it's not a huge deal, you don’t need to worry about it.” looking over at him, you moved your hand from the wheel to place it in his lap on top of his. you smiled over at him again. he knew it was fake.

the remainder of the car ride went without any speaking. the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but the silence felt unwanted on your end at least. spencer’s voice was the only thing keeping you from floating away from the moment.

you were mindlessly driving for the rest of the way home. the world was fuzzy and hazy. muscle memory kicked in and you got home safely despite not being aware of your surroundings or that anything had even occurred.

you were supposed to be going to spencer’s for the night, but you had ended up at your own apartment. “oh shit. sorry, i can drive us back to your place. force of habit, i guess.” you tried to blink off the haze that was cocooning you.

spencer watched you rub your eyes with the tips of your fingers and his brow furrowed. “no, it’s fine, we can stay here tonight. i love your apartment.” he moved his head so that he was looking into your downtrodden stare. he grabbed your hand and squeezed it. the scent emanating off of him was the same clean, linen scent that you had grown to love and gain comfort from.

your hand squeezed his back before you opened your door and grabbed both of your things. you lightly jogged over to his side of the car to open his door, holding out your hand to guide him out of it. once out, you locked the car and you both walked up to the entrance to the lobby.

when you were both in front of the elevator, he turned to you and sighed. “are you sure you’re okay? i don’t want to push you or anything, but you don’t have to feel bad about talking to me. that’s what i’m here for, you know?” the door opened, you copied his sigh.

pushing the button for your floor, you adjusted your hold on your’s and spencer’s things. he kept his head turned looking at you. his big doe eyes were pleading. he just wanted to help you. you had done so much for him, he just wanted an opportunity to return the favor.

he inched his pinky on his right hand over to your left hand. he laced your two pinkies together. your breathing halted before you unlaced your fingers to wipe a solitary tear from your cheek. you took your hand and reunited it with spencer’s, this time you interlocking your hands completely. his pleading seemed to get even more desperate, if possible.

“i just-” you cut yourself off and inhaled deeply. you felt the thin lines of scar tissue underneath your clothes burn. you desperately wanted to itch at them. “my dad called me on my lunch break today.” you stared off into the distance and clicked your fingernails against each other.

it seemed as if both of you stopped breathing for a moment. spencer was about to say something, then the elevator dinged. the walk to your apartment door made room for the silence to temporarily return. the floor creaked as you both approached your apartment.

the click of the your front door shutting prompted spencer to pull you in to a emphatically tight hug. it was the type of hug that filled your soul with warmth and quenched your thirst for closeness. you attempted to choke back your sobs, but when he held you tighter you broke.

you didn’t hug him back from the start, but quickly you dropped the jacket and bags that you had been holding and held him back with an equally powerful squeeze. your emotions took hold and coursed through you wholly.

“go ahead. you can cry, i don’t mind.” you pressed your cheek against his chest and sobbed. the wetness of your tears dampened his shirt. he placed one hand on the back of your head and held it close to the side of his neck. it was a precise movement, but it was not forceful in any way.

“do you want to talk about it?”

“what he said isn’t important. it just made me feel shitty. I can’t think about him without remembering everything- without feeling everything that he did.” you picked at the folds of fabric on the back of spencer’s shirt. the way that he was rubbing circles into your back provided grounding so that you didn’ float away again like you did in the car.

he made his breathing more pronounced and you understood what he was communicating. it wasn’t overly dramatic or mocking at all. your breathing began to match his. he pulled away and looked at you. “do you want me to distract you?”

“if it’s okay, i think i want to talk it out a little bit.” he offered a soft smile, one that you did not have the energy to return. he removed one arm from you back to reach behind him and take off his shoes. you pulled away from him completely and took off your shoes and your sweater you were wearing over your button down.

he motioned towards the couch. you sat next to him on it, and he grabbed your legs and swung them over his lap. you scooted closer to him so that you could lean on him but still look at his face. to an onlooker, this position might have looked awkward and maybe even a little strained and strange. you and spencer often found yourselves sitting like this. it provided everything necessary: a closeness that wasn’t smothering but gave the comfort that you two loved.

he took his left arm rested it around your waist while his right hand sat on your knee. “i know that he’s just trying to be a dad, but he isn’t my dad. he never was; he lost that privilege. he always finds a way to make me feel bad about something, or say something fucked up.” you paused.

“i know you don’t want me to say that i’m sorry, but i am. i’m sorry that you aren’t able to have that relationship with him that i know you once craved.” he took a breath, thinking about what to say. “ i do think, however, that it is fantastic that you’re dating me. one, because i love knowing you and knowing that you feel the same way; seeing as you’re beautiful, smart, and incredibly well spoken. two, because i have felt similar things in the past. i don’t know many people that come from broken families and have inoperable paternal relationships.” he tapped his nose on yours. when you looked at him, he gave you a small, wistful smile.

“how do you do it?” you asked him. he hummed in response. “how do you not let him control your life? i mean, how does he not affect you?” he rubbed your knee. you could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“he does,” he said matter-of-factly. “well, i mean, the things that he did and said are instilled into who i am and have permanently impacted how i react and perceive things.” he took a deep breath, he was staring at the footrest at his feet. he looked back up at you. “i’m not perfect. some days are better than others. but, in the end we’re just children longing for the affection we were never given.”

the silence that surrounded you both as you thought of a way to respond was different than the one that held you both in the car. it was a silence that you were familiar with, it was saturated with the trust that you felt for him.

you laid your head down on his shoulder. the fabric of his button-down was stiff, but it was soft (once you had complained that spencer needed to invest in a better clothing softener. he abided).

spencer and his aura imbued your senses. he smelled and felt of comfort. you were acutely aware of how he gently and faintly rubbed his cheek against the top of your head.

“even though i can’t get back the childhood he took from me, i don’t ever stop wanting it.” your voice shook minutely. “i don’t have any faith that my father is a good person, or that he will ever change to become one. i don’t think i’ve ever looked at him and not seen the horrible ways he changed me. but i don’t ever stop wanting him to be better. he won’t be, and i know that to be a fact. but i know that he once had the potential to be something great, and i guess that gives me the faint underlying of hope that maybe, just maybe, he’ll do something to make up for what he did to me.”

spencer kissed the top of your head. you swore that you felt him crying but did nothing to question him on it. there was no need for him to respond that time; you just listened to his heartbeat. you payed attention to your breathing and tried to steady it.

after a few minutes, he said something. “i love you, and i’m sorry.” the simplicity filled the void in you, even though you knew that it was nonpermanent. you would eventually long for his comfort and repeat this dance again and again.

your voice was almost reduced to a whisper. “i’m sorry that sometimes i’m a mess-” he tried to cut you off but you spoke over him. “i’m sorry that i can’t ask for help when i need it- but i won’t stop needing you. i love you. please don’t leave me. i have no clue what i would do or who i would be if you weren’t with me.”

“i was trying to say that you aren’t a mess,” you could hear the watery smile in his tone, “you aren’t a mess. and i’m not going to leave. i could never do that to you. i am going to stay as long as you’ll have me stay. okay? as long as you’ll have me, i’ll be here. with you.”

and so, you sat like that. and for a moment, while spencer held you, you existed as one. the line blurred between you. you were two broken children finding solace in each other.

#spencer reid has daddy issues and so do i #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #hurt/comfort #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #fanfic #x reader

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