#spencer reid angst

[zvdvdlvr]

— Morning Smoke

💜 — Synopsis. You knew you had a thing for the one person who had a clear distaste towards you. But maybe having a wet dream about him- while sleeping in the same room as him- was probably a good thing.

💜 — Warnings. Rushed writing. Unedited. Dry humping. Clothed grinding. Reader and Spencer smoke cigarettes.

One year, eleven months, and six days. Thats how long you’d been working for the BAU catching serial killers, bombers, and rapists by observing every detail if their crime. You’re a valuable asset to the team, your brain working on the same page as the rest of the team with just a different design. 

During your time at the BAU, you recieved many titles. Caffeine fiend(Aaron), best friend(Penny), mama (Derek), and idiot- affectionately- (Emily). The only person that hadn’t called you anything other than your first or last name, or agent was Spencer Reid.

There was a barrier between the two of you- unspoken, of course, but there was just some kind of wall seperating you from him. You didn’t blame Spencer for keeping you at at arm’s length: you were just some new agent who would eventually transfer. Admittedly, it hurt when Spencer politely uninvited himself from the activities you went along with. And it felt like a gut punch when Spencer chose the farthest seat from you on the jet and chose to move away from you while giving profiles to the police. But you figured he had his reasons.

“Y/n,” Emily murmured, nudging your arm. You looked up, bleary eyes focussing on the dark haired woman in front of you. You blinked.

“What’s- hey!” You cried out indignantly as Emily snatched the cold cup if coffee you had started to reach for. “Emily.”

“It’s time to go back to the hotel. Hotch’s orders,” the dark haired woman said, nodding to the team behind you.

You nodded. “Okay.” You stood up and hastily tucked papers into the manilla folder you were working on. “I’m ready.”

“Put those files down, y/n,” Hotch commanded, raising a tired eyebrow in your direction. “If I’m tired, you have to be a dead woman walking.”

You put the file down and pulled your coat on without protest. You’d only actually seen Hotch exhausted a handful of times. And Hotch was right: you did feel like you were about to fall over. Maybe having an iron deficiency and drinking coffee off an empty stomach wasn’t a very pleasant experience…

The ride to the hotel was over in a blink of an eye- a really ling blink apparently. You hadn’t even known you had reached the hotel until the inevitable and only boy genius Spencer Reid shook your shoulder gently to wake you up. Truly, you thought you were dreaming when you opened your eyes and Spencer’s face surrounded by a mat of curly hair greated you. His furrowd eyebrows relaxed when you looked around.

“Let’s go, l/n. You’re rooming with me,” Spencer told you after locking the car.

If you were in the right state of mind, you probably would have bent over giggling from the way Spencer put his arm around you as he led you into the building. But you weren’t so you just rested your head in the juncture if his shoulder and neck. He smelled good for someone who’d been awake for God knows how long. If you concentrated you thought you could feel the heat of his palm around you, moving in teeny tiny circles.

By the time you reached the bedroom you were practically unconscious in Spencer’s arms, yours and his go-bag around Spencer’s other arm. Spencer gently set you down on the bed closest to the door and put your go-bag in the bed beside you. “You should probably get changed, but I know how tired you are. I’ll shower tonight so you can shower tomorrow,” he explained, brushing a baby hair out of your line of sight. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, Spence,” you mumbled, eyes caught in the way Spencer’s lips moved and twitched. He was an expressive man when he was tired, and you caught the rare smile that graced his lips.

You hoped you would remember the blush on his cheekbones that matched the color of his lips when you woke up the next morning.

Birds chirped. The bright sun shone through the blinds of your home, patterning your room with strips of orangey-yellow. You turned over and saw him.

“Hey, you,” Spencer greeted. His hand came to rest gently on your cheek and pull you up to his pink lips. Your leg fluidly moved to straddle Spencer’s right leg.

Breathlessly you muttered a “good morning” before your hand tangled in Spencer’s curly hair, tugging his head down to meet your desperate kisses.

Spencer moved his thigh up to rub harshly on your core. You gasped sharply and ground down to meet Spencer’s thigh. “Oh fuck,” you whispered, watching Spencer’s back arch as you palmed the massive tent in his pants.

A strangled cry left your lips when Spencer’s massive hands fell onto your hips and controlled your movements. “That’s my girl,” Spencer growled, your hands feeling up Spencer’s chest and tracing the curves and lines of his neck. As your orgasm approached, your hands grasped Spencer’s face and harshly pulled him into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you murmured, eyes fluttering closed.

“Y/n,” Spencer murmured, voice low.

“Fuck,” you cursed. “Jus’ like that,” you slurred.

“Y/n,” Spencer repeated, one hand sliding up to your shoulder.

Your jaw clenched and your hips jerked violently.

“Y/n.”

You shot up in bed, sweat soaking your forhead and hair. You looked around wildly, chest heaving. 

In front of you sat Spencer Walter Reid, eyes beady with sleep. “Are you okay? You sounded like you were having a nightmare-?”

“Fuck, fuck,” you whispered, running a hand through your hair. “I’m- yeah I’m alright. I just-“ you exhaled. “Go back to bed, Reid, I’m alright.”

“A-Are you sure?”

You wanted to groan. The ruins of a spoiled orgasm simmered away in your blood. “Yes. I just- Yeah it was a nightmare. I’m gonna- go get ready.”

“L/n, it is 4 o’clock in the morning.”

You thanked the dark lighting for concealing the dark patch of your pants due to your arousal. “It’s- Please go back to bed.”

“Talk to me,” Spencer pleaded, grabbing your hand.

“It’s nothing, Reid. There’s nothing to talk about. Go to bed.”

“It’s a proven fact that people who discuss their nightmares with someone increase their happiness and healing process by more than 50%,” Spencer rushed.

“Reid it’s embarrassing. I can’t-“ you shook your head. “I’ll- please, Reid.”

The moonlight glinted in his eyes as he searched you for answers he knew you wouldn’t give him. “Are you- y/n. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Your jaw tightened and you looked away. Your thighs burned- you must have been humping the blanket between your thighs. “Reid, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

You threw your hands up. “I know you don’t like me, Reid. It’s kind of obvious, so I’m just saying that you don’t need to have a therapy session because we’re rooming together.”

Spencer genuinely looked offended. “I don’t hate you,” he murmured. “I never have.”

You scoffed and stood up, dream completely forgotten. “Could have fooled me, Reid. Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You left Spencer on your bed, bringing your go-bag to the tiny bathroom.

— 💜

After scrubbing you skin raw you finally exited the shower and pulled your hair into a braided updo before pulling on some clean clothes.

The sky was still dark when you exited the hotel, cigarette box in hand.

You sat in the ground, smart enough to know not to willingly wander too far outside of the vicinity of the rest of the team while at an unfamiliar location. “Goddamnit,” you murmured, lighting up a cigarette and watching the sun start to stain the concrete.

Visions of dead bodies filled your mind. Empty coffee cups getting tossed into a trash can, bloodstained hands as you ushered a victim away from the unsub, the ringing in your ears after an SUV blew up near you. When you joined the BAU you hadn’t known that every day you looked into the eyes of those possessed by evil, you would lose a part of your soul trying to save each and every person you saw.

But the team had it’s pros. A group of people you mostly called family, good pay, paid sick leave, mostly free flights, a badass title, and introduction to some very fine specimens (read: Spencer Walter Reid).

Speaking of Spencer, you were thinking of the conversation you both had. ‘I don’t hate you. I never have’. You snorted and lit another cigarette, holding the smoke in your lungs until familiar white spots danced in your vision.

“Y/n.”

You looked up. Spencer stood near you, hands fidgeting. You could see his eyes avoiding yours and suddenly you felt like laughing. After all of this time thinking one of the hottest people you’d ever met hated you, he was standing- nervous- in front of you. “Yeah?”

Spencer sat beside you. “Didn’t know you smoked,” he tried, looking towards the rising sun.

“You refused to make comversation with me for about a month when I started,” you said lowly. When Spencer sighed beside you, you added “I don’t normally. Just when… things happen.”

Spencer nodded. “Oh.”

Silence fell over the two of you as you exhaled. You offered the cigarette to Spencer, raising an eyebrow when he accepted.

“I want to talk to you,” Soencer said finally, snuffing out the cigarette.

You lit another one. “So talk.”

“Well, I… I’m sorry.”

When Spencer didn’t say anything for another few seconds, you turned to him. “Is that all?”

Spencer dropped his head into his hands. “Look, I knew I was keeping you at arm’s length. I thought… I thought keeping you away would make sure that I didn’t…” Spencer sighed.

“Reid, I need tou to really spell it out for me. I can’t keep dancing around your riddles,” you said, facing the sun.

“I love you, y/n. I thought that if I didn’t talk to you, let these feelings grow… Maybe I could harbor my attraction to you.” 

You felt your heart skip in your chest.  “You didn’t consider telling me this? What if I felt the same?”

Spencer looked at you, a confused look in his eyes. “You didn’t like me like that and I couldn’t force you to love me too. You’re way too good for me anyway.”

“I do,” you reply, nodding. “And I’m not too good for you, Spencer. If anything, you should find better than me.”

Prolonged eye contact and silence fell over the both of you.

“Ask me now, Spencer. Make up for lost time.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Spencer lips at your request. “Do you like me like I like you, y/n?”

You nodded, mirroring Spencer’s smile. “I do like you the way you like me, Spencer.”

“Does that mean I can kiss you?” Spencer asked immediately, eyes dropping to your lips.

You closed the distance between the two of you, hand sliding up the nape of Spencer’s neck to tangle in his curls. Spencer’s lips were skilled, leaving you wanting more as he pulled away.

“So, about that dream I had earlier,” you started.

A sly smirk replaced the smile on Spencer’s face. “I knew what you were dreaming about, I just couldn’t stand listen to you knowing how weird it would be for me to face you at work the next morning.”

You felt your face warm up at Spencer’s words. “Oh. Well. Sorry for waking you up, then.”

Spencer just shrugged. “I’m not- you sound very nice. I guess I will admit the fact that I told you about talking about your dreams was completely false. I just wanted to pry.”

You shook your head with laughter, the sun peeking up even further in the sky.

#spencer reid #jules writes 📓🖊 #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid smut #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #x female reader #fluff #x reader #spencer reid x self insert #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

[reiding-writing]

AHH YAYAYAYAYAY I LOVE THIS SERIES SM IM SO GLAD YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTSSSS!! okay sooooo, i was wondering if you could do a lil continuation of the last part where spencer visits reader in prison and reader’s all confused because they never get visitors and then they see it’s spencer and get all excited (maybe spencer comes to tell reader that he spoke to the court or wherever is considering their appeal, idk how that whole process works lmao, and he’s told them that he believes reader isn’t a threat and that they should be moved to a psychiatric facility instead of staying in prison)

AHH OKAY LUV U BYE 🫶🫶🫶

THE FIRST VISIT

spencer reid&gn!unsub!reader || 2.2k || bloodied roses event!!

WARNINGS: sociopathic!reader, prison guards being dicks, early-seasons!spencer

a/n — thank you mllll 🫶 glad you like the series <333

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ unsub!reader masterlist!!

It’s been almost eight months since you returned to the California Correctional Institution. Back to the familiar concrete walls of your own personal hell and practically sitting stationary as the world span around you.

It was arguably worse than just giving you the death penalty, forced to live in a stupidly awful state of limbo where you did nothing but languish in your own boredom for 23 hours a day without so much as a pen and a piece of paper to satiate you—lest you stab someone with it during your ‘recreational’ hour outside your cell.

The progress of your appeal was slow, basically static, and whilst you weren’t surprised, it was beginning to frustrate you. Why would they drag everything out when you knew they were just going to reject you anyway?

It was stupidly idiotic and a waste of everyone’s time, including yours.

There’s a sharp knock on the door of your cell, then someone slides open the metal hatch, leaving a grating sound in its wake.

“Hands.”

The borderline condescension in his tone makes you want to shove his tongue down his throat, but you know when to pick your battles, so you stick both of your hands through the slot palms up and wait for the familiar cold metal of handcuffs against your wrists.

They’re far too tight as they’re clamped shut, pinching your skin uncomfortably to the point where you’re sure it’ll leave marks, and you bite back the urge to curse out the guard his clear incompetence as he unlocks the door and pulls you out by the metal connecting your hands.

His expression matches his rashness as he forces you down the corridor with another guard to his side, and you swear that if you weren’t acting on your best behaviour for the minuscule chance that they did actually approve your appeal you would’ve given the two a piece of your mind already.

“Where are we going?”

No answer.

“Why am I out of my cell?”

“Shut up before I muzzle you.”

Oh the urge to punch that man in the face.

You settle for a side eye that would probably be the only thing the State Officials needed to reject your appeal knowing how much they despised you for existing, and the rest of the walk is finished in a thick blanket of silence.

The room they lead you into is technically two, lined by a thick pane of glass that splits the room in half, an uncomfortable looking metal chair and floating table with a rotary phone on either side.

“Sit down.”

A small flare of your nose is the only display of your rising anger, your paper-thin composure shrivelling millimetre by millimetre every second you’re forced to look at his stupid face.

You sit down with an air of curiosity. It was very clearly a visitation room you’d been led to, but who in their right mind would choose to visit you? Who had the leeway to get to visit you from inside one of the highest security prisions in the state when getting access to do so was almost impossible?

You just hoped it wasn’t someone from the appeal board. They were always so monotonous and boring.

You sit waiting for almost five minutes, watching the barred clock on the wall tick away until there’s a click from one of the exterior doors and then the door on the other side of the room opens.

And the vexation in your expression shifted into something much more resembling amusement.

The sounds of the chair being dragged out from the table is muffled through the glass, as is the sound of him sitting down, but when he picks up the phone on his table a sharp ringing echoes through the one on yours as a physical show of his presence.

You watch it ring for a few seconds before you turn your attention to the guard standing behind you, and you hold your wrists up towards him expectantly, watching the indignation rise in his face as reluctantly pulls out the keys to remove your handcuffs.

The freedom of your wrists is short-lived though, and almost immediately after you’re uncuffed, your dominant hand is dragged back down to the table to be cuffed against it, a loud thud emanating from it at the edge of your hand catches on its edge.

You’re less perturbed under the presence of your visitor, but you’re sure the seething anger is present enough in your eyes for the guard to see it nonetheless.

Regardless, with one hand free of restraint, you pick up the ringing phone and hold it to your ear, leaning back in your chair with an almost entertained expression.

“Doctor Reid, came all the way to California to visit little old me?”

There’s a small twitch in the corners of his mouth as he restrains himself from smiling at your tone.

He shouldn’t be smiling at a serial killer. Especially not inside a maximum security prison with four guards present.

“I told you I would,”

“That you did,” You give a small nod of acknowledgment against the phone at his statement, eyebrows raised ever so slightly to break the otherwise barren planes of your face. “Didn’t think you’d go through with it,”

“It wasn’t easy,” Spencer lets out a small breath of a laugh, pressing his lips together awkwardly. “There was a lot of paperwork involved,”

He’s mildly embarrassed by his confession, that he’d jumped through so many hoops to be able to visit you like he told you he would. That he’d flown across the country to see you whilst lying to the team that he was going to visit his mother.

“That’s a lot of effort,” There’s a small scrunch of your eyebrows at your response, not a show of sympathy for everything he’d done to be there in person but more of judgement that he’d put himself through it at all.

You hadn’t asked him to visit you. He told you he would, and followed through on it of his own fruition.

“I thought it’d be better to speak to you in person rather than over the phone,”

“You’re still speaking to me over a phone Dr Reid,” You jostle the phone in your hand slightly as a show of your point, and the small quirk of your mouth tells him that you’re joking with him.

“You know what I mean,” Spencer’s expression mirrors yours in the way he almost smiles, and he lets out a short breath of light-hearted exasperation. “I wanted to see you, not just hear you,”

“Well,” You make an outward gesture with your freehand as you lean against the back of your chair again, crossing one leg over the other. “You’re seeing me,”

That he is. You don’t look quite like you did when you joined the BAU on the case, a little paler, thinner, your hair is a little longer and there’s a notable number of bruises covering your arms.

He doesn’t need an eidetic memory to know where those have come from. Although the sound of your wrist hitting the edge of the table at the start of conversation would definitely be stapled into his mind for a while.

“So then, what constitutes a visit from you Dr Reid?”

“I wanted to talk to you about your appeal,”

Any and all whisper of minuscule enjoyment at Spencer’s presence evaporates from your face the minute the word ‘appeal’ comes out of his mouth. It’s honestly fascinating just how fast your demeanour changes, although he’s not sure why it would, surely your appeal would be something of interest to you, not something you actively don’t want to talk about.

“Seriously? You fly all the way over here and you want to talk about my appeal? You do realise this—” You gesture back and forth between the two of you, “—is the one hour I get out of my cell today right? I’m not going to spend it talking about the stupid appeal.”

Seemed like he’d hit a sore spot.

“I just wanted to say that it’s looking pretty good for you,” He cuts straight to the point, not wanting to ruffle you more than he unintentionally had but also wanting to make sure that the main reason for his visit in the first place— apart from the fact that you’d inhabited a corner of his brain for the last eight months and wouldn’t leave no matter how hard he tried—was actually aired out.

You let out a small scoff into the phone’s receiver, and it’s almost grating as it meets Spencer’s ears. “You don’t have to lie to me Dr Reid, I know they’re just dragging everything out until they can find a reason to reject it.”

“They have three weeks before the deadline for their decision, they won’t find anything,” There’s an air of confidence in Spencer’s assessment, but it doesn’t do anything in chipping away your preconceived notion of failure.

“I submitted a report on the BAU’s behalf,” He is decidedly less confident in admitting that second part, left hand subconsciously reaching towards the rolled up sleeve on his right arm to ease the nervous tension in his hands. “To try and support it through the final stages,”

“Leave your arm alone.” You seem to almost completely disregard what Spencer says, and he practically does the same himself as his eyes flicker down towards where his left hand is absentmindedly scratching at the inside of his right elbow, leaving red streaks on his skin.

He pulls his hand away with his lips pressed taut into a line, stuffing it into his pocket so he can’t be tempted to do it again. “Sorry,”

“What did you write in your report?” You’re over it before he can even get his apology out, and he clears his throat to regain his sense of composure, tightening his grip on the phone so it doesn’t slip out of his hand under the small film of sweat coating his palm.

“You uh— displayed a lot of your humanity on the case, especially towards your family, and I thought it’d be beneficial for the officials considering your transfer to know that fact,”

You let out a small exhale through your nose, lips quirked upwards ever so slightly. He could almost believe that you were grateful for his contribution, but then you started speaking and the condescension in your tone was enough to tell him that you were definitely not displaying ‘gratefulness’.

“That’s not gonna do jack shit,”

Spencer sighs softly, eyes flickering downwards for a second in ever so slight disappointment in your reaction to his attempt at helping you.

He doesn’t really know what he was expecting from you, but having you disregard it so easily definitely blew the wind out of his sails a little bit.

“You’d be surprised I think,” His attempt at redeeming himself isn’t the most thought through thing he’s ever done, but then again he’s sat in a maximum security prison talking to a serial killer, so arguably he’s done worse. “In cases like yours for ASPD, having someone as a witness of your humanity could really help out your chances,”

“Yeah we’ll see about that,” You don’t seem as frustrated with him as you do disbelieving. Like no matter what evidence he tried to provide you of your decently likely chance of actually getting a transfer you’d made it up in your mind that it was never going to happen.

“Do you… want the appeal to go through?”

You scoff. “What kind of question is that?”

”It’s just, you’ve decided that it’s not going to go through, don’t you— I don’t know, want it to?”

”Of course I do.”

“Then—” Spencer presses his lips together with a short sigh. “…have some faith, If not in me being able to help you then at least in yourself,”

There’s silence over the line for a few seconds, and Spencer can see the cogs turning in your brain as you decide how you want to respond.

You don’t get the chance to.

“That’s it. Ten minutes is over.”

The phone is practically snatched from your hands to be placed back on the receiver, and there’s a sharp end-dial on Spencer’s before he puts his own phone down and readies himself to stand.

The roughness in the guards as the pull you from your seat and re-cuff you is almost aggressive, and the self-restraint you put on yourself to not respond to it is so decadently on display that it’s proof enough for him to believe your appeal will go through.

He hopes that your appeal goes through.

If for nothing else at least so you don’t get dragged around like a ragdoll by the people who are supposed to be reforming you.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #unsub!reader #bloodied roses 🥀

[ourautumn86]

Filthy Rich

Spencer Reid x Fem! reader PT.1

pt2! pt3!

✧ Synopsis;; Spencer Reid was filthy rich, for he was royalty. Handsome, charming and a gentleman, a dream dressed in pure silk for any kind of woman. But not you.

✧ y/n is a mere slave of a nobel family who just turned 22. On the night of the prince’s royal ball she is dragged against her will to this dance just to be used as a coat rack for the purses and coats of the family ladies, who, of course, treat her like absolute sh’t, to the point where they could agreed to hand her over for a generous amount of gold.

“Just name your price, sweetheart.”

“Screw you, my prince.”

Just how lucky you were for had caught the

prince’ s attention!

< enemies to lovers 3

17th century royalty! inspired by bridgerton!

CW;; this series might include 18+ content (details will be given at the start of each new part uploaded) MINORS DNI AND SKIP!!!

WARNINGS PART ONE: mention of blood, abuse, cursing and slave trafficking.

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

WORD COUNT;; 2k!

Her faced seemed to tell everything: she hated it.

She hated everything. From the music, to the little stupid shoes that clacked against the floor. The floral scent, the wine, the giggles… She hated the ton*. Every single one of them,

Everything. It was a goddamn nightmare.

“y/n! You are letting my coat slip! Do i have to tell you how much it costs?! If you dare let it touch the floor I’ll take the money out of your poor allowance to pay for a new one!” one of the misses glared at you, hitting you in the face with her closed paper fan, its gemstones leaving marks on you cheek.

“We might as well do it anyways, since her filthy hands have touched them already!” her sister laughed, grabbing your face in between her gloved fingers and digging her nails in your skin. “Don’t you think so, y/n? What? Cat got you tongue?” they giggled.

“Children, children!” the woman of the house hushed them with a sweet smile. “You shall never touch her!” she said, taking of the gloves out of her daughters hands to give her a new pair, with a sweet smile telling one of the servants of the castle to burn them. “God knows what she might infect us with!” she laughed, her offsprings following her.

God, you hated her. Her and her stupid daughters. With their stupid dresses and stupid painted faces.

You glared at them, your grip tightening around their belongings, holding your stare and your head up even when the woman stared back at you, her face scrunching in disgust and anger.

“Who do you think you are staring at?!?!” she suddenly yelled, catching the attention of those who enjoyed drinks and company around her, not waiting a mere second to rise her hand and slap you to ‘show you your place’. You took the hits, the metallic flavor of blood filling your mouth due to the continues smacks and hits with the back of her fan. “You filthy ungrateful bitch, you dare stare at us, who give you food and a bed?! I should’ve let you died out in the cold, in the dirt, where you belong to!” you gritted your teeth, your eyes down to the floor as your free hand made its way to your bottom lip, where you felt the skin split, the crimson of fresh blood tinting your frail skin.

“Fucking fussock*.” you cursed her under your breath, loud enough for her to perfectly hear you.

“What did you say?!” her free hand gripped your long and matted locks, making you look into her enraged eyes, her other hand rising up to hit you once again.

Your eyes closed as you expected a new slap, which surprisingly enough never came. The sound of multiple gasps filled your ears and when you opened up your eyes once again, your stomach sank at the sight of…

“Your highness!” everyone suddenly diverted their eyes to the floor, including you, your mistress and her daughters bowed in his presence, the wrist of the first of them all gracefully and softly held by the prince’s, who let her go with a kind smile.

“Is everything alright?” his voice tested the waters, his tone low and soft as the silk he dressed in, his hands jeweled in golden rings joining and intertwining in an elegance you never had witnessed.

“Yes, your highness.” the woman stuttered, showing a nervous smile. “Our slave just seemed to…, misbehave, your highness.” your eyes travelled trough his tall and magnificent demeanor. His fern green suit matched perfectly with the caramel of his skin and his brown and perfectly combed curls.

Your eyes quickly darted always as he had caught you staring once he had turned to you. He fought the lopsided smirk that urged to grow in his lips, stepping closer to where you stood.

He took a glance at the ragged clothes that hid your bruised and malnourished body, probably due to the family’s treatment under your care, your matted hair, cut up hands…

His warm touch spread on your skin as he took your chin in between his thumb and index finger, softly trying to rise your head up, but you denied him, in a harsh turn of head freeing yourself from his touch before giving him a glare.

A new wave of gasps filed the air as you stared right into his eyes, him holding your glare.

You didn’t care if he was a noble or pure royalty. Those ‘pure blood’ were all the goddamn same. With their leather shoes and gold jewelry, fancy words and silk dresses and suits. Their appearance was only a pretty facade that hid the ugliness of their insides.

You hated all of them. Might as well just get your head off as soon as possible.

“You slave! How is it ye dare to stare at the prince, soon king?!” a brunette and tall man talked, you recognized him as the pince’s right hand, but only with a wave of this hand, he stood silent beside the prince.

“Huh…” the smile he had been trying to fight off finally took place on his gracefully sculpted face and full rosy lips. “Interesting.” once again he took a soft grasp to your face, this time not letting you go even if you fought him off. His eyes took everything your face offered him, from your perfect nose to you long eyelashes and your beautiful fierce eyes, which stared at him with pure hatred and anger. “How much?” he suddenly asked, still not drifting his eyes away from you.

The woman stood frozen in place, just like her daughters.

“What does your highness mean with…-”

“How much would you want for her?” he cut her off, the deadly silent that fell on the salon almost giving you chills.

What was he saying?

“Your highness, I can’t…” she was short of breath and words. “I surely doubt thee would want her under your care, she…”

“I don’t care about any of it. Name a price.” everyone was shocked by the situation. Buying and selling slaves was something quite common, that’s how your current ‘family’ have got you, but this…

The prince? Has he gone nuts?

“Your highness, I don’t think…” the prince’s counselor stepped in, shutting up once again as soon as he gave him a glance.

“50 gold coins.” the woman suddenly blurted out, everyone’s jaws dropping at the audacity of the woman and such large figure.

“Mother!” her offsprings whispered-yelled. Not believing her words.

50 gold coins?!

You scoffed, smirking at such nonsense, not noticing the staring of the prince due to your reaction.

She wished you were worth that much. He would never…

“Make it 150.” he closed the deal.

“Your highness!” the counselor exclaimed, completely alarmed.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Gideon.” he hushed the man with his soft hazel eyes.

You watched as the woman who once abused you and starved you for days fainted due to the prince’s words and his daughters kneeling down to help her followed by some of the nearby guests, fanning her pale sleeping face.

You too felt like fainting.

“Hey, eyes on me, sweetheart.” the prince caught your attention once again, when your eyes met a smile growing on his lips. “All you need to do from now on keep your eyes on me.”

“Get off of me!” you screamed at the servants that tried and strip you out of your clothes, pushing their hands away. “I said stop!”

“Miss, they’re orders from your highness.” one of them spoke, her blue eyes soft on you. “He wanted us to help you bathe and and get rid of your dirty clothes.” she explained.

“I don’t care about what he said.” you scoffed. “If he wanted me undressed so fast why isn’t he the one taking my clothes off?” they all gasped at your words and no respect to the prince.

You didn’t care though, they were all the same anyways. Always reaks* that just wanted to have women swoon at their feet. Maybe that’s why he had bought you, just to use you when his cock got cold.

Suddenly, the door on your back opened, the heads of the servants quickly lowering as your eyes met the prince’s.

“Oh, fantastic…” you muttered. Just what you needed at the moment.

“You heard her, ladies. You are all dismissed.” he smiled at every and each one of them, bowing and moving aside with a swing of his arm on the door to let them out, all of them bowing and giggling.

And weren’t you just right?

“Great. And what do I have the honor of your highness’ presence for?” you sarcastically inquired him once he had closed the door behind his back, noticing…, ‘Gideon’ outside. “Got too excited due your new acquisition to just wait?” you mocked him.

“I heard you were putting up a fight.” he smiled, ignoring your words whilst looking at you up and down. “Is there something not to your liking, perhaps?”

“‘Not to my liking’?” you scoffed. “I can’t believe you.” you shook your head, grasping at your locks as you stared at him in disbelief. “How about this whole goddamn situation? I mean, look at this!” you pointed out everything that surrounded you, the whole bathroom with a gigantic bathtub of quartz, marble floors and pillars… “A few hours ago I was being used as a coat hanger in your ball and now I’m in a bathroom with the prince, who, surprisingly enough, bought me for 150 golden coins god knows why?!” you exclaimed.

He stared at you with a funny look in his eyes. His back against the door as his eyebrows raised at you.

“What.” you spit out, a glare in your eyes.

“Nothing, is just that…” he stepped closer to you, his arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t seem to…, respect me.” he frowned, his voice low. “Not like all of them.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, your highness, for not being another dog licking your leather boots.” you bowed, more of his steps growing closer to you until his thumb took your chin, rising your head up so you could meet his eyes, his face stood serious for a couple of seconds, before a downside smirk grew on his factions. “Why haven’t you cut my head off yet?” you inquired him, not really understanding his behavior. By the way you treated him, any other prince would have already gotten you to the guillotine.

“Why shall I?” he answered with another question, his thumb caressing the wound on your bottom lip, the still fresh blood that stood on it staining his thumb as you hissed in pain, getting away.

You stared at him in confusion.

Yeah. He was absolutely nuts.

“The water will go cold if you don’t get in soon.” he said, drifting off the matter while whipping off your blood from his thumb with his handkerchief. “Are you sure you don’t want to get off those ragged clothes?”

“This is the only dress I’ve had, sir.” you said, his eyes meeting yours.

“What’s your favorite color?” you frowned at his sudden question, which made absolutely no sense. He made no sense. “Crimson, like the purest blood? The forest’s green? The ocean’s blue, perhaps?”

“I’ve never seen the forest nor the ocean, sir. I’ve never left the capital. Though I find the sky’s blue on spring pretty wonderful, not sure it does justice to the ocean’s.”

“It doesn’t.” he said, sitting in the edge of the bathtub, his fingers taunting the warm water. “The ocean is cold, and fierce…, untamable. But it can also be warm, and calm, and soft.” he tried to explain, and from your point of view it didn’t make sense.

It didn’t make sense but you found it…

“It must be beautiful.” you said, him flashing you a soft smile before nodding.

“It is.” he got up clapping his hands together before looking back at you. “Well then, you should really hurry up, the water is perfect.”

“I already told thee, this dress is the only-“

“You won’t need it anymore.” he cut you off.

“And why is that?” you inquired, his steps growing closer to you.

“Because from now on…” he said, catching one of your locks in between his fingers. “You belong in this castle.”

To be continued…

*fussock; a lazy fat woman…, a frowzy old woman.

*the ton; the ton actually refers to English high society during the Regency era, and encompasses every aristocrat from the royals to the gentry.

*rake; ‘rake’ is used to describe an immoral, hedonistic young man circulating in high society.

#spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!readr #criminal minds #spencer reid cm

[rynwritesreid]

Pls can you write a SUPER angsty Spencer x reader where your phone dies whilst you’re out one night and he gets annoyed at you and starts becoming all protective and condescending and you’re like ‘you do realise, everyday when you walk out of that door you’re not guaranteed to return home so do you really want to spend our time like this?’

ILY

A/N: I absolutely loved this request, and I hope my writing does it justice. and ILY two. Even though I write smut the most, I absolutely love angst, reading and writing it, honestly break my heart please! Also, two posts in two days? Is it because I have a week of work? Yes. Expect more fics from me this week. Love you all 💕

Summary: what anon had asked for, but I added just a lil more to the argument, hehe.

Content: Fem!reader. Mentions of Haley and Will. Reader claims Spencer would put her in more danger than she could ever put herself in. Mention of drink spiking (reader knows all the signs). Over protecting Spencer.

Masterlist|requests are open| Navigation

You knew that Spencer was protective over you because of job, you couldn’t really begin to imagine all the things he had witnessed, but sometimes it was just overbearing. You knew how to protect yourself; you knew what to do if you believed someone was following you and you knew all the signs that a drink had been spiked. 

But Spencer had set a firm rule for you, when you went out you always messaged him every half an hour to let him know you were safe and you always had your location on. But because you had already had a hectic day, and forgotten to charge your phone, it had sadly died while you were on a girl’s night.

“Why did you stop answering my texts and calls?” Spencer’s heart raced as he tried to reach you. He knew the dangers that lurked in the shadows, the monsters that preyed on the unsuspecting. As each passing minute felt like an eternity, his mind raced with a thousand fearful scenarios.

Spencer's relief at seeing you walk through the door was quickly overshadowed by the anger that simmered beneath the surface. As you met his gaze, you could see the storm brewing in his eyes, a mix of fear and frustration that threatened to spill over.

"I'm sorry, Spencer," you began, knowing that your apology might not be enough to quell his rising temper. "My phone died, and I lost track of time. I should have been more careful."

His jaw tightened as he took in your words, the worry lines on his forehead deepening. "Do you have any idea what could have happened? The risks you were taking by not checking in. I can't lose you; do you understand that?”

“Spencer, you won’t lose me, it was just an honest mistake. Okay?” you tried to stay calm, you knew he had every right to be like this. 

“It doesn’t matter if it was an honest mistake,” Spencer interrupted, his voice laced with emotion. “I can't bear the thought of something happening to you. I need to know that you’re safe, always.” His eyes searched yours, pleading for understanding.

“Omg Spencer. Do you realise that every time you walk out of that door you’re not guaranteed to return home.” You paused for a brief moment, he was honestly acting like you didn’t know how to take care of yourself “and if I am being honest your job puts me in more danger than I ever could put myself in. Look what happened to Will, all because of JJ’s job, or Haley. If Hotch didn’t work for the FBI, Haley would still be alive.”

“Don’t you dare bring Haley or Will up.” Spencer's voice was sharp, he couldn’t believe you were bringing up something that happened to his closest friends’ husband, and his boss’s ex-wife. His hands clenched into tight fists, the mention of his friends' tragedies cutting through him like a knife.

“Why not? Don’t you like hearing how your job could end up with me being murdered, tortured, or kidnapped? I have learnt how to defend myself Spencer, so do you really want to spend our time arguing over things like this?” you couldn't help the frustration creeping into your voice, the tension between you and Spencer palpable in the air. You both stood there, chests rising and falling with emotions too strong to contain.

Spencer's expression softened slightly as he realized the fear and anger in your eyes mirrored his own. He knew he couldn't control every situation, but the urge to protect you was ingrained in his very being.

"I know you're capable, I do," Spencer started, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. "But it's hard for me to accept that I can't always keep you safe. My job... it's a constant reminder of what could go wrong."

You reached out and touched his arm gently, feeling the tension slowly ebb away. "I understand, Spencer. And I appreciate everything you do to keep me safe. But we can't let this fear control us. We have to trust each other."

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#spencer reid angst #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #bau team #bau

[totheblood]

white horse

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer notices a change in you and helps you in his own spencer way

warnings: mostly fluff, grief mentions.

a/n: wrote this short thing to fix my spencer reid obsession! AI AUDIOS in the fic also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

wc: 1k

"my heart always wants to run."

Spencer was unfocused.

The hum of the air conditioner in the precinct wasn’t enough to drown out the thousands of thoughts in his head. What he should have been doing was analyzing the geographical profile of the current unsub, maybe even collecting witness statements or completing paperwork, but no. Spencer Reid was unfocused on the case and completely focused on you.

Ever since Hotch presented the case your entire body language had changed. It was like you had folded in on yourself, deflated in a way that made Spencer’s heart crunch. On the flight to LA, you nervously bit at your nails as the team spoke, bouncing ideas off each other, not contributing to the conversation like you usually did. You took a backseat in this case and for the life of him, Spencer couldn’t figure out why.

The minute you joined the BAU you were as elusive as they came. You barely spoke about yourself, never attended group gatherings, and kept conversations strictly professional. Spencer used to brainstorm reasons as to why you were so reserved, but he stopped once he started thinking of ways to get you to like him.

He would bring you the mini muffins from the cafeteria that were always sold out by noon, but you would always politely decline and claim you had just eaten. He would sit next to you on the jet and make small talk to which you replied with one-word answers. He always made an effort to include you in conversations not pertaining to work but you just would not budge. The only time he got a glimpse into the real you was when he made a stupid off-hand joke about Aristotle and you chuckled from your desk. He did his best to ignore the feeling that swelled in his chest. 

Now he was getting a glimpse into your life in a way that he didn’t expect. You were on edge. Something about this case was personal to you. He noticed it in the way you took small gasps every time a new body was found, or how you opted to do paperwork instead of being in the field. As someone who has seen you do a million takedowns with a smile on your face, Spencer knew something was wrong when you opted to stay back. The unsub was kidnapping pairs of sisters, murdering one, and letting the other live. It was gruesome and cruel, and he was accelerating. Spencer should have been doing literally anything to help, but his attention was on you.

“I can feel you staring,” you breathed from your place at the large conference table, not looking up from the paperwork. 

“Oh, uh-” Spencer fumbled as he sat up, “I’m not- I wasn’t really staring, I would say I was observing.”

You put your pen down and looked up at him, eyes squinted as you looked at his face, “Why?”

There was an edge to your voice, like you were already pissed and he was just making it worse. 

“Well, you usually write faster, you have a notch in between your eyebrows like you’re thinking really hard about something, or trying not to. And you, uh, scratch the back of your ear when you’re nervous,” he blurted out, sitting up straighter, “and uh, I wanted to make sure you were… okay,”

His last sentence made you sit up straighter as your whole face softened. You looked down at the papers in front of you then back up at him, “I didn’t realize anyone noticed,” you whispered voice low.

“Well,” he started, getting up and moving to sit down next to you, “you’re one of us… aaand we’re profilers, we kind of notice these things.”

You let out a small laugh as you shook your head and looked up at him. His hazel eyes were practically sparkling as he stared at you. If you were being completely honest, it was intimidating. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been,” you squint your eyes, thinking of the word to think of, “distant. I’m just not used to all of this, it’s overwhelming.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said almost instantly, voice soft, “This job is a lot, I don’t blame you. But today… this case,” his voice trailed off.

You took a deep sigh, resting your hands in your hands as you shut your eyes for a minute before you spoke, “My sister… she died. I don’t want to talk about it but, this case reminds me of it. Reminds me of her.”

“I understand,” Spencer hummed, in such a soft voice that it almost instantly soothed you.

“God, it happened so long ago I just don’t understand why I can’t get over it,” you shook your head, rubbing at your face before speaking again, “it’s like every time I remember it, I shut down. It’s like I’m broken or something.”

Spencer paused for a moment, looking you over before speaking, “Did you know that grief can actually alter your brain chemistry? Research has shown that the intense emotions associated with grief can increase levels of cortisol which can impact memory and cognitive function. In fact, there's evidence suggesting that the brain of a grieving person might resemble that of someone with a traumatic brain injury.”

You looked over at him, eyes a little wide as if you were taking in everything he just said. 

“I don’t know if that helps but-” Spencer started but was cut off by the sound of your voice. 

“It helps,” you breathed a laugh, “it really helps, so uh, thanks.” 

“You know, I’m always here if you need someone to talk to-” He spoke before tumbling over his words, “I mean we’re all here if you need someone, not just me but all of us.” 

You gave him a tight-lipped smile which he returned, “Thank you, Spencer,” you looked back at your paper before glancing back at him, “I might take you up on that offer.”

With his cheeks tinged pink, he nodded, picked up his messenger bag and exited the precinct conference room where Derek was stood in the doorway, clapping a hand on his back as he exited, “You’re in deep, pretty boy,” he commented with a laugh. 

“Shut up,” Spencer said under his breath, his cheeks now growing a shade or two darker. 

You had said maybe the most you ever had to him in your entire four months of working there and Spencer left the room blushing. He was for sure in deep.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

stalker!reader/unsub!reader for spencer reid

tw: mentions of blood, graphic descriptions of murder, usual CM gore, suicide.

-noticing him one day when he was at your job for a case asking questions about a victim/killer. i’m gonna say season 4 reid (before he gets shot in the leg). you were stuck to the shadows just observing him and his colleague when boom! his eyes meet yours and you feel a spark, your body tingles. he noticed you.

-he walks away from his colleague who was talking with your boss, towards you, hands in his pockets and this long wavy hair swaying with his motions. he stopped three steps away from you and said, “hello, i’m doctor reid, with the fbi. i was wondering if i could ask some questions about…” his voice was deep and smooth, he pulled you into a hypnotic trance. you just nodded and answered his questions honestly.

-he came back a second time, just saying that the case was over. that was it, you weren’t even personally involved, but he came back for you. he must’ve felt that same spark, that pull to someone magnetic. he even gave you his card and said, “if you even are in area or in need of help, just ask for me.” now how could you not be obsessed with that man after that.

-so you started to follow all the cases the fbi or bau was mentioned, hoping for a glimpse of the names spencer or dr. reid. you kept a folder of photos captured of him from news footage or newspaper articles, red inked hearts circled his head while anyone else was harshly scrubbed away in black ink. his gentle smiles or lovely eyes pierced at your heart each time, it was slowly bleeding into your lungs filling you up to suffocation. you need spencer reid.

-when cases went quiet you started to search relentlessly for him online. you forced yourself to ingest every thesis paper he’s ever written and watch any lecture that was posted. he drew you in with the wave of his hands or how he would ramble then bring himself back to the topic at hand. how you wanted to pick his brain, just sit and listen to him for hours taking about anything he’s stored away.

-it’s been a year since that case. you miss him, you want him in your grasp. maybe you should put that business card to use and just call it, that’d be a lot easier. so you mustered up the courage, pulling the card from your wallet and dialing his number you breathed slowly and pressed call. the line rang three times before it picked up and you heard his voice, “dr. reid, how can i help?”

“uh, this is y/n…” he said he’d remember you so you just gave your name for recognition. the line was quiet for three seconds and you could hear some faint chatter on his end before he responded, “i’m sorry, i- i don’t seem to-“ and you hung up the call before he could break your heart further. he lied.

-it was like you just went through a breakup for a relationship that wasn’t even real. your bleeding heart completely cracked and spilled like fire through your veins. spencer reid is going to regret ever forgetting you and his promise. so you started to do some studying, researching past cases with the bau involved, looking for inspiration from convicted killers

-you find some that were unique but still easy to accomplish with your own physic in play. most of these killers were men, stronger and taller than you. you start to craft your calling cards, poems and roses, anything symbolic to a relationship and heartbreak. you’re nervous your first night on the hunt. you decide to go a bar and wait for someone to make their way into your web.

-you’d dance on them and kiss them, closing your eyes shut and imagining this it what spencer would taste like, how his hands trailing over your curves would release butterflies in your belly. his breath ghosting along your pulse before sucking a bruise into your skin. “wanna get out of here?” seductive eyes watching your toy nod and drag you behind him out the club, heading to his place.

-the make out session was hot and getting steamy, pushing him in the direction of his bedroom. you played the kinky card, “gonna tie you up and gag you, be a good boy.” left in nothing but his boxers he was bond and gagged. playing a teasing game you left him alone while looking for some type of weapon. pulling a pair of black gloves from your clutch and the pointiest knife from a drawer you dragged yourself back to his bed, straddling him at the waist, keeping your hands behind your back. “you’ve made this night very special. wanna know why?” playing coy while pulling the gag down from a second.

the toy cocked a brow with a shit eating smirk, “of course, doll face.” his eyes dropping to your chest and it caused you to grimace. “you’re the first victim of many.” whispered as you slid the fabric back into his mouth

“wait wh-“ muffled when you stabbed him with an angered forced into his heart. his screams were still loud but with music playing in the background and his mouth full, no one would be the wiser.

-you called in sick for the next few days, needing to be consistent for the bau to be called in. you’d go to clubs or even strip clubs, any place that’d have willing men bring you home preying on you while you were the pretender. you kept the killings pretty simple, just stabs to the heart and letting them bleed out, you started to draw heart on their walls from their blood, the red turning black when drying. and finally before leaving a folded note with a poem or a piece of your soul written out was safety pinned to their skin.

-the news started to call you ‘the heartbreak killer’ stupid, but they always wanted to give killers case names. adding a new flare to your lastest kill, you’ve scattered red and white rose petals over their body and a ruby red kiss to their cheek. your fifth victim in a week period. you had a hunger for it now, killing gave you an adrenaline rush that was better than any rollercoaster or scary movie, you vibrate with excitement each night. you started dressing more bolder, wearing wigs even, making sure you stood out for anyone that was connected to your toy of the night.

- “we’ve called in the fbi behavior analysis unit to help us find this serial killer. with them here we plan to catch them before there is another victim.” goosebumps scattered over your forearms hearing the sheriff’s announcement. finally, he’s here. your spencer reid came for you. “in do time, my love. we’ll be reunited properly.”

-you took a sixth life the night they arrived, wanting them to know your usual stalking grounds. it would be easier to ‘accidentally’ bump into spencer, rather than actively search him out. so the next day you dressed down, wanting to look more normal, become a wallflower. you were nursing a drink in a shaded corner with watching eyes surveying the crowed hoping to see the tall dr. reid. “uh, excuse me, miss.” your heart skipped a beat, it recognized his voice even over the thumping music rattling your skull.

you turned his way casually and said, “you’re very pretty,” sipping on the black straw of your soda. spencer smiled hesitantly and floundered for a response, “uh tha- thank you. i’m dr. spencer reid i work with the fbi-“ he flashed his badge and you caught a glimpse of a younger photo, “there’s been a series of murders in the area and we suspect the killer visits here. have you seen anything suspicious lately?”

your nostrils flared, he still didn’t remember you not even face to face. “well all men are suspicious in clubs,” dulled chuckles at your retort. you saw spencer’s eyebrows quirked, “are- are you by yourself?” he sounded concerned for a stranger, but you weren’t a stranger. “yeah, my friends left me a few hours ago but i just didn’t want to go home yet.” shrugging him off.

he licked his lips, “well i’d suggest not visiting his establishment for the time being.” “but all her victims are men, so i’m safe. but thanks for the concern, nice to meet you doctor.” and you left the crowded bar with a smirk knowing you gave him a hint.

-you went to work the following day, just telling your coworkers you came down with food poisoning and needed and extra day to recover. they cooed over you but you knew most of them didn’t care, its fine you weren’t planning to stay here forever like most. you were cleaning tables and fixing displays when there was a tap to your shoulder. brittany, a coworker, pointed over her shoulder and said, “there’s a spencer reid here to see you. says he’s with the fbi.” you had to repress your smile.

“dr. reid, pleasure to see you again.” a welcoming smile and open posture. he cocked his head, “i- i remember you. from last year…” it’s like you could see his gears turning and clicking things into place. you didn’t bother denying anything just saying, “wow, what a great memory you have.”

his round eyes stared into your soul, “eidetic memory. you called me a month ago…” now you showed confusion, “no i didn’t. sadly lost your card, but i’m safe. we should have dinner while you’re here.” being bold.

spencer nodded his head, “that sounds nice. tomorrow night works for me, i could meet you here.” he seemed excited to have a romantic date with you. your heart raced, “it’s a date.” and you headed back to your work.

-you changed into date appropriate clothing once you clocked out and waited five minutes outside before you saw the tall spencer reid walking up to your side. he had a sweater vest over a button up with a tie around his neck, his gun wasn’t holstered to his hip for the night and his hair was a bit wind swept. you could eat him up.

“bet you have a bunch of girls after you while away on cases.” walking beside him when he suggested an chinese restaurant just down the block. he chuckled, oh your heart stuttered at the melody, “not really. most people don’t like my… personality.” sneaking a glance at you.

“well they’re missing out, but happy since i’m the lucky girl at your side.” looping an arm through his and pulling his close so you could lean your head onto his bicep. “i’ve dreamed of this since you left.” sighing into the air then pressing a kiss to his fabric covered skin, later you’ll get to taste him.

- “i have a question for you.” it’s been an hour into your date, stomach filled with delicious food and effortless conversation. you nodded at spencer to go forward. “at the bar you said the unsub was a women, what made you think that? no sex has been mentioned in the news yet.”

you pursed your lips in thought, “well, stabs to the heart seems emotionally personal. and the hearts in blood and rose petals, along with her leaving love poems. only a hopeless romantic that was horribly heartbroken would do this art.” slurping noodles into your mouth for punctuation. you weren’t trying to hide your truth, “it was the only way to get your attention.”

- “my attention?” spencer questioned. “well, i’ve missed you and when i tried calling-“ “so that was you.” “and you lied about remembering me!” slamming a fist onto the tabletop forcing it to shake. you leaned in close, “i thought we had something special. you didn’t bother trying to reach me in anyway and i’ve stayed updated with your career.”

“i- im sorry, y/n. my job is just very demanding. i would’ve reached out. i- i didn’t think you felt the way i did.” spencer stretched a hand over the table and rested it atop yours, his long fingers curling along your wrist.

“oh baby, the spark when we first met was instant. i was devoted to you the moment our eyes met, i’d do anything for you.” allowing your other hand to creep up spencer’s arm. “i’d kill myself for you if you asked, i’ve killed for you. would you do the same for me?” doeing your eyes and pouting your lips.

spencer leaned forward, his eyes dropping to your lips then back to your eyes, “anything for you, my love.” whispered just between the two of you. you smiled wickedly, “wanna head to my place?”

-once your door was unlocked and open you pounced onto spencer, hands holding his cheeks so you could press your lips onto his. his palms gripped at your hips and pulled your flush to his chest as his mouth devoured yours, moans ripped from your throat.

“fbi! hands in the air!” heavy footsteps and loud shouts broke the air. you didn’t bother acknowledging them, just submerging yourself into spencer until his arms twisted you around and held you in a tight hug. “don’t fight them. stay alive for me.” spencer whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple.

-six months. you’ve been institutionalized for six months since your lawyer pleaded insanity to the court. said you did everything because you started to stalk and become obsessive with doctor spencer reid. you didn’t bother mentioning that the killings made you feel stable. you’ve been sentenced for twenty five years to life, chances of parole after fifteen years. your family rarely visited you, you didn’t care. you only enjoyed visitation when he was there.

“the doctor is here.” an officer pulled you from the library to bring you into the visitation center. nervously you fiddled with your hair, straightening your beige uniform, wanting to appear put together for your boyfriend. he wasn’t your actual boyfriend, but he allowed you to call him that.

“hi baby.” sidling into your seat across from him, a gigantic smile hurting your cheeks. he wore his standard outfit, sweater vest over a long sleeve button up, no tie today and his collarbones were on display for you along with his forearms. “you look very sexy today.”

“and you look quite pretty today.” spencer visits you once a week at most, sometimes twice if he’s already in the state for a case. you heard it was cause your psychiatrist told him that your symptoms were worse if he was gone for long periods at a time causing you to act out and harm yourself or others. but you know it’s cause he loves you.

“what book are you reading today?” jerking his head to the worn spine. you peered down at the titles with a twisted smile then looked him dead in the eyes, “romeo and juliet. quiet the love story don’t you think?”

#erin writes #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #stalker!reader #unsub!reader

[golden1u5t]

jj’s confession | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: angst

ꨄ summary: the aftermath of jj’s fuck up 

the second the team got back to the office, you ran to spencer and pulled him into a hug. spencer hadn't been expecting you to be at the office when they got back from the case. you pulled back and cupped his face, your eyes scanned his face to make sure he wasn't bruised up or anything.

"i was worried about you." you mumbled, you continued to check him out until you noticed how unfocused he was. you tried to shove it off as him responding to the effects of the case but when you followed his gaze and looked over your shoulder, you knew that wasn't the case. even though jj was with will, she had her eyes focused on spencer.

you had known about spencer's old crush on jj and you'd accepted it and moved on, he'd told you that you had nothing to worry about when it came to their friendship and since you trusted him, you believed him. you took a step back and let your hand fall down to your sides, you looked back at spencer and cleared your throat.

spencer finally looked at you for the first time since he'd walked through the door, you figured it was because ji's attention was directed somewhere else. when spencer's eyes met yours, you could tell something had happened between them while they were gone. his eyes were filled with guilt as he stared at you, he knew he was going to have to tell you about it but he wasn't prepared for your reaction. so he reached for your hand, you let him take it.

"i'm tired, we should get going." he attempted at giving you a genuine smile but it never reached his eyes, you stayed silent as you watched his eyes dart over to her for a brief moment before turning back to you. "we can get takeout for dinner, your favorite place."

you pulled your hand from his and let it fall back to your side. you weren't that much of a crier but god, you sure felt like you could cry a river as you watched your relationship start to crumble right in front of you. "no, i think- i think you should tell me now what happened between you two.” 

"can we just- can we not? not right now, im tired."

"no, i need to know now if im going to be leaving here by myself tonight." spencer sighed before pulling you away from everyone else and into a more secluded area.

"when we're being held hostage, the unsub made us- he made ji tell a secret she'd never told anyone before." he ran his hand through his hair before stuffing his hands in his pockets. "she told me that she loved me but i'm not-"

"do you love her back?" you bit the inside of your cheek, spencer's silence was like a stab to the heart. tears welled in your eyes and a sudden wave of anger washed over you, he didn't even have the decency to look you in the eye. "god, spencer, fucking answer me!"

he couldn't, his words were lodged in his throat. spencer hated seeing you break down in front of him, he hated knowing that he'd put you in such a vulnerable position when he knows how much you hate being vulnerable.

"i don't know! i don't- i don't know what i feel for her. i don't even know if she was being honest or just making it up, plus, she's married and-and she has kids." you scoffed and shook your head, you took a step back and put your hand out when he tried to reach out for you. "y/n, please."

"me or her?" spencer just stared at you, once again not being able to answer you. "; think i should go, call me if and when you figure this out."

you turned around and headed for the door, you didn't miss the way jj looked at you as you passed. you thought spencer would at least come after you, explain that he didn't need to think about it and that he loved you, but he didn't.

#golden1u5t #myrarants #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #sub spencer reid #soft dom spencer reid #dom spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader angst

[unseededtoast]

Shadow of Obsession | Spencer Reid x Reader

Part Four Preview

Full part coming 5/18. (Link to part one. Link to my master list)

————

"Give me your unbiased professional opinion." Hotch leans forward on his desk, fingers interlaced and elbows resting on the wood. Spencer blinks a few times, trying to formulate an opinion void of personal feelings.

What he realizes is that he's been handling this entire case almost entirely with his personal feelings. But he recovers quickly and soon finds the words he's looking for.

"I think that she is being stalked by someone who works here. But not a regular agent, I believe it's someone pretty high up." Spencer says. Hotch nods, stoic expression not revealing anything.

"And why do you believe that?" He tilts his head just slightly to the right, something that tells Spencer that Hotch is genuinely interested in what he has to say. It's one of his small giveaways.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid series

[reidsluvva]

oblivion.

sypnosis. - spencer is saddened by y/n’s recent date. pairing. - spencer reid x fem!bau!reader content/warnings. - angst, bit of drinking, unrequited love but not rly, tons of miscommunication, elle’s story is very different, spencer has headaches even before s6 but timeline is just overall wonky, spencer is stupid

y/n’s phone lit up on the table, signaling a notification.

“hey y/n! who’s “alex”?” emily asked in a teasing tone. y/n buried her face in her hands as she let out a chuckle.

“emily it isn’t polite to look at other people’s phones! besides, it’s just a guy whom i went out with last week.” y/n said, her tone gradually becoming softer and quieter. the bau on the other hand, already kind of tipsy, started cheering.

their loud yells quickly filled the room. y/n has been in the bau for 4 years, but in the time they’ve known her she had always turned down every guy who ever asked her out, so this was quite exciting and unusual. derek was teasing her about being secretive, emily was talking about how she’s offended y/n didn’t tell her, jj and penelope were very impatiently asking for details, and hotch and rossi were just laughing. the only one who didn’t even say a word was spencer. he was sitting across from y.n. he just looked unfocused and disoriented, which was quite unusual. when emily glanced at him concerningly he just gave her a short smile.

after y/n told them some details (it really wasn’t much, they met at a park and he had a very pretty dog whom y/n complimented, thus they started chatting and eventually went out to a restaurant together) the room got a bit quieter, and gradually they shifted onto other topics. though spencer still wasn’t saying a word. he made eye contact w y/n, and as she was about to ask if everything is okay, spencer just got up and started going towards the door.

“hey hey what’s wrong?” penelope chimed towards him.

“nothing, i’m just dizzy so i’m going to get some fresh air.” he nodded, and shortly afterward left the room.

“i’m gonna check up on him, i have meds.” y/n said as she walked towards the door. the others just nodded, y/n has helped spencer with headaches before so this wasn’t out of the usual. but y/n felt incredibly anxious. she noticed the shift in spencer’s body language once the topic became her date. and she was confused.

she found spencer sitting on a bench in front of the house.

“hey, i got u algopyrin in case your head hurts? maybe it also helps with the dizziness.” she said as she sat down next to him, leaving about 6 inches between them. much to her shock, spencer didn’t react, instead he just shuffled away from her. she opened her eyes wide and stood up, facing him, full of concern.

“okay what’s wrong spencer?” she crossed her arms, signaling her shift in attitude. he just turned his head to the side. “oh come on, please talk to me!” she said, now sounding more desperate.

“why did you go out with him?” he mumbled.

“what?” she furrowed her brows. she wanted confirmation that she heard him correctly.

“why did you go out with him?” he said, now louder and facing y/n. he was looking at her like she’d just stabbed him in the back.

“why shouldn’t i have gone out with him? i’m confused.” she said, now lowering her arms to the side, a million thoughts racing in her head. does he know something about alex? or does spencer not want her to go out with others because he likes her? no, no, logically that couldn’t be the case.

“be-because y/n, you just shouldn’t. you should know better.” he huffed.

“what the hell are you talking about spencer?” she said, her tone now a bit louder.

“what did he do better? was he better looking? i know i have flaws, i know i’m weird, but-”

“what?” she practically yelled. “reid are you saying you wanted to go out with me?”

“yes, y/n, obviously! for a very very long time, and i think i’ve been very clear.”

“oh cut the crap spencer. i have been waiting on you for four years. you can’t suddenly decide u want me as soon as i get with someone else. four years spen-”

“no you haven’t, what?” his voice was like a whisper. he was genuinely confused but to her he just seemed cocky.

“you can’t be serious. i waited on u for FOUR years, and you know what you did? after two years of me hopelessly admiring you, which i am sure as a profiler you did not fucking miss, not that i was so subtle about it, you decide to have a little makeout sesh with some random actress you literally met like a few days prior. you know how invaluable i felt? and how just utterly stupid i felt? and then you go and ignore me for a month, refusing to even stand next to me. was that you being ‘very clear’? i felt so, so dumb, because for a while i really did think you liked me, spencer. and then for another two years all i listened to was elle talking my ear off about how much she liked you. i listened to her gush about every special interaction of yours, your plane rides where she would sleep on your shoulder. and me being the idiot i am, i still couldn’t let go of you. like a stupid little girl wanting to live in a fantasy.”

at this point she noticed her words were somewhat nonsensical, but by now solely her emotions fueled her. her voice was wobbly and her eyes became red. she felt way too sober for someone who’s just had three glasses of red wine.

“and then, she tells you how she feels, which i, as stupid as i am encouraged her to do, because why on earth wouldn’t you wanna go out with elle goddamn greenaway? she’s practically perfect! then you pull up with your little speech about how dating in the bau isn’t allowed, and then i realized- i am stupid. why would spencer reid want anything to do with me? we are colleagues, that’s it. we aren’t even allowed to date, even if you wanted to. you contacted me maybe twice outside of work since lila- so i can help with your headaches. that’s it. how exactly was that you signaling your feelings? this had always been purely a work relationship and i’ve grown to accept that. especially when elle left. i did not want us to end up like that so i finally, after four years, moved on with my life and now you decide to get all butthurt on me because i went out with a guy? after ruining myself over you for four years? you never even remotely said anything! am i supposed to pause my life waiting for you forever? oh you are such a piece of shit!”

her sadness turned to anger during the end of her speech. spencer was shocked.

“no, no, no, i didn’t know. i’ve always liked u y/n. i’m sorry. we could make it work. i could transfer if the bau doesn’t allow us to. please. it wasn’t like that with lila. it’s always been you about you.” her heart ached at his words.

“don’t do this to me spencer, please. and please for the sake of our jobs forget this ever happened.” she said as she made eye contact with emily standing in the doorway. “i’m gonna go home, go back to the others.” she said as she tossed the algopyrin to him and walked away.

spencer was left dumbfounded. he just sat there, staring at her walking away, before flinching at a sound next to him.

“what did you expect?” the woman next to him sighed. he stayed silent.

-------

HI :') my first piece. idk if i'll ever post again but yuh this was personal fr

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x you

[mcntsee]

me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst

#kaz brekker x reader #six of crows x reader #fanfiction #angst #jesper fahey x reader #simon riley x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #kaz brekker angst #hobie brown x reader #miles morales x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #alastor x reader #harry potter x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barns x reader #tony stark x reader #avengers x reader #konig x reader #five hargreaves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #mcntseesrandoms #matthias helvar x reader

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Unexpected Visitor

Pairing: Spencer Reid x G!n Reader

WC: 788

A/N: A lil Spencer Xmas Blurb while I figure my shit out. Also! I'm imagining older seasons Spencer for this one.

"Hi! I'm, uh, so sorry to bug you but, um, do you know where Spe--Doctor Reid's desk is? Or, really, where D-Doctor Reid is?" .

Derek Morgan had to get his shit together because his jaw almost dropped when you walked in. What was some hot piece of ass doing, dressed like that, looking for Boy Genius.

He jumped up from his chair and strolled over to where you had stopped Garcia, who was just as flabbergasted as he was. "Reid is currently in a meeting sweetheart--may I ask what you, uh, want with him?"

You raised your eyebrows at the 'sweetheart', but smiled anyways. "He was supposed to be home about an hour ago and he wasn't answering his phone, so instead of panicking, because I know what you do for work, I wanted to come in and check before I lost my shit."

"Home?" Garcia squeaked out, still baffafled by how gorgeous you looked. It was like you were sent straight from heaven, a literal vision.

You nodded and tilted your head, slightly confused. "Y-Yeah...I'm sorry why is that---"

"We just didn't know Reid was living with anyone, let alone seeing someone."

"Ah." You nodded. "He's private like that, isn't he." Your smile warmed the two of them, and you shifted the coat from one arm to the other.

"y/n?"

You turned your head towards the back of the bullpen, and Spencer was walking out of Hatch's office. "What are you doing here?"

"Being introduced to your friends and coworkers since you haven't."

Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks and walked over to you both, placing his hand on the small of your back. You felt how tense he was.

"I'm here because our reservation is in twenty minutes and you said you'd be home over an hour ago." You looked at Spencer, whose eyes went a little wide.

"Shit. I-I didn't realize what time it was---"

"I have your suit in the car, and this is why I made the reservation for eight pm, instead of Seven."

"And this is why I love you." Spencer kissed your head and rushed over to his desk, scrambling to grab all of his papers and his bag and his coat and his scarf and his--

"Hi Y/n." Spencer looked up at the mention of your name, pausing in his frantic nature.

"Hi Aaron." You gave him a quick hug, but a bright smile. "How are you?"

"Well." He laughed a little. "I'd be better if we didn't have to work the day before Christmas Eve since I still need to wrap all of Jack's presents still."

"Oh how is Jack!"

"He's doing well. finally starting to enjoy reading, no thanks to you."

You laughed at his joke, all the while Derek and Garcia just shared an incredulous look. How the hell did you know Hotch? Jack?!? Why does Jack's reading habits connect to you--

"Ready sweetheart?" Spencer appeared at your side and you nodded. "It was lovely to see you Aaron. I'll stop by some time tomorrow to drop off Jack's gifts as well as yours. I got it when Spence I and went to Paris last month. I think you'll enjoy it!"

"That's why you weren't here for two weeks?" Penelope's jaw was on the floor. "I didn't take you to be a Parisian man Doctor Reid."

"W-Well, um--"

"It was for my birthday. My choice. I love art and museums so it made sense. Well, it was lovely to meet you all but we have a reservation to get to." You gave them all a quick smile before taking Spencer's hand and walking towards the elevator, your shoes clicking on the floor with every step you took.

"How long have the two of them been together?" Morgan turned to Hotch after you both had gotten in the elevator.

"I think today is their two year anniversary."

"TWO YEARS." Garcia clutched her hypothetical pearls. "How have I not known? How have WE not known?"

"He's private, and...well. You know Y/n."

"No we clearly do not know Hotch."

Hotch gave them a little smirk and a shrug. "Merry Christmas guys. I'll see you on the twenty-seventh."

As Hotch walked away, Garcia and Morgan just stared at one another. "So we're..."

"Going to spend then next ten minutes in my office finding everything out about this mystery person Spencer has been apparently dating for two years?"

"You read my mind mama. A little Christmas snooping never hurt anyone..."

#x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #Spencer reid x y/n angst #Dr Spencer reid x dr!reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction

[reiding-writing]

do people want a taglist for the upcoming unsub!reader fics??? (comment if you’d like to be added lovelies)

unsub!reader masterlist!!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #bloodied roses 🥀

[ourautumn86]

Filthy Rich

Spencer Reid x Fem! reader PT.2

☆ pt1!! pt3!

✧ Synopsis;; Spencer Reid was filthy rich, for he was royalty. Handsome, charming and a gentleman, a dream dressed in pure silk for any kind of woman. But not you.

✧ y/n is a mere slave of a nobel family who just turned 22. On the night of the prince’s royal ball she is dragged against her will to this dance just to be used as a coat rack for the purses and coats of the family ladies, who, of course, treat her like absolute sh’t, to the point where they could agreed to hand her over for a generous amount of gold

“Just name your price, sweetheart.”

“Screw you, my prince.”

Just how lucky you were for had caught the

prince’ s attention!

< enemies to lovers 3

17th century royalty! inspired by bridgerton!

CW;; this series might include 18+ content (details will be given at the start of each new part uploaded) MINORS DNI AND SKIP!!!

WARNINGS PART TWO: cursing, blood, violence and a nude scene(?)

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

WORD COUNT;; +2,5k

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

‘Because from now on you belong in this castle.’

You stepped back at his words, his smile never dropping as you amused him with your fighting against the maids that had returned in a clap of his hands. “You shall let them help you with your clothes and washing, I promise you you’ll feel better once you’ve found yourself clean.” he tried to convince you, his hazel puppy eyes glistening under the lights and his voice soft as a caress.

“I can take my clothes off myself.” you spit, your hands making your way to the back of your dress to unbuckle the single button that was left, among those who had fallen off through the years, and undo the bow that molded it’s skirt to your waist, letting your clothes slip to the floor and around your feet, leaving you completely naked to their sight since no petticoat had been given to you by your old family.

The maids gasped, as you had dared to undress yourself in front of the prince, whose eyes never left yours, not really budging at your actions for he was a ‘gentleman’. His smile only grew up more, which you’d started finding pretty goddamn annoying.

“Then, I shall excuse myself… Ladies.” he bowed to the maids, who did the same and said their goodbyes.

“Oh, bless my soul!” Gideon exclaimed as his eyes accidentally took a glance of your naked body once the door had opened, quickly adverting them to his right.

You gave them your back as he closed the door with a mocking smile towards his right hand, your feet, and later on your whole body, being surrounded in clear warm water for what you thought it was the first time in your life.

You sighed in relief and sank deeper into the bathtub, letting your eyes close once a pair of hands started washing your long hair, getting lost in the feeling of it all, in its warmth.

“I won’t put that on.” you shook your head at the dress that was currently being showed to you. Starting from the fact that it’s skirt was way too big for you to freely and comfortably move around, the puff on its sleeves looked ridiculous and seemed really troublesome and the corset which strings stood in the back really threatened your ability to breath. It was a simple and definite no for you. And the color! That shade of yellow won’t flatter you, that’s for sure.

“It seems that the dresses that Lord Gideon sent are no good…” one of the maids sighed, tossing the last one of them aside.

“What a pity…” you falsely pouted, adjusting yourself in the padded chair you had been forced to sit on so the women could take care of your hair.

“Well, there’s still the one that the prince sent! Let’s give it a try.” a brunette one smiled, to which you huffed, you hair being combed by another maid that simply giggled, really entertained by your reactions. “Where was it…, ah, yes!” she seemed to find it, her gentle fingers taking a grip on the strip sleeves of the dress to reveal it to the rest, who let out a delighted gasp.

“Crumbs*! It’s beautiful!” the maid that combed your hair exclaimed, her eyes shining as brightly as the rest of the ladies’.

It was a really simple dress, though it looked more like a nightgown. It was made out of the most beautiful lace you’ve ever seen. It was light blue, and large, enough to cover your thighs, ending below your knees. It had different layers of silk and lace of all types with little ruffles and decorations. The chest was made out of two triangles of silk with lace surrounding them in a soft-looking way that made you…, not hate it. In fact, it was really beautiful.

“Would you like to try it on, miss?” they all inquired, hoping for a positive answer since they seemed to have fallen in love with the dress.

“Well, it’s the most… pleasant to the eyes,” you muttered, trying to not show your true feelings about that piece of clothing, winning excited smiles from the ladies, who helped you to stand and took off your body the towel that embraced you to help you get on the dress.

You felt free in it. It moved with you and it let you breath, and it was so soft. You jumped and twirled, testing the waters. Nothing seemed to get exposed, what made you really happy. Your incredibly long hair caressed your almost bare back, falling to your waist. Your fingers went through it in awe, no knots being found. You smelled like pure lilies and you felt so clean and soft that you almost felt the urge to cry once you’ve taken a glimpse at your reflection in a mirror the maids lent you. You touched your clean face in disbelief, your cheek was bruised and stung when touched, the same as your lips, but your wounds had been cleaned and your skin looked so pure you felt unrecognizable, always being greeted by your reflection full of dirt, cuts and bruises in the pond’s water you used to visit when the mistress’ clothes needed washing.

“You look truly wonderful, miss.” one of the maids said, the rest nodding and agreeing with her, and just when you were about to thank them for their help with a smile, two knocks at the door caught yours and their attention, the prince stepping in after a short minute just in case you were still getting dressed.

“I apologize for my intrusion, ladies. Is everything alright, here?” he asked as he stepped in, along with Gideon, his eyes quickly finding your back and later on when you had turned to face him, your eyes. He simply stood there, silently staring at you, his eyes capturing every single detail in your body and sinking deep in the way you looked…, with the dress he had chosen himself. “You chose it…” he smiled, his eyes finding yours once again, his soft voice reaching you.

“Well of course, it is the most comfortable amongst them all.” you said, looking down at the dress, catching him staring as you did.

He cleared his throat before bringing his hands from his back to the front, letting you see a couple of, really low heels, almost flat silk shoes. “I brought these, though I couldn’t find anything more comfortable, I’m afraid.” he awkwardly smiled, stepping closer and kneeling in front of you, what caused you and the maids to step back in astonishment and Giddon to whisper-yell a ‘Your highness!’. “May I?” he inquired, one of his palms facing upward as he signaled to your feet. You slowly and unsurely nodded, surprised by his actions, but allowing him help you put on the shoes.

You could guess what everyone was thinking at the moment;

Why in the world was the prince of the realm, no one else than Spencer Reid, kneeling and helping a slave like you put on some shoes?

You slightly bent down to take a better glimpse at them. They were white with a little piece of lace surrounding its collar. They were beautifully simple, and they looked really comfortable. When you put your feet back down on the floor you could agree on your judgement by their appearance. Compared to your wooden ones, this shoes felt like walking on clouds. When your sight drifted from them, your eyes met the prince’s once he had gotten off the marble floor once again.

“Well?” his eyebrows rose in anticipation, wanting to know your opinion on them. Everyone seemed to.

“They are not too bad.” you shrugged, your pride making him smile and let out a soft and short laughter. The tension inside the room seemed to dissipate with that sound.

“I’m glad to hear that.” he nodded, making his way back to the door. “Then? Are you ready to go and eat supper?” he offered you, opening the door whilst his eyes looked into yours.

You glared at him for a couple of seconds, still not truly trusting nor liking him, but still decided to take your first step. And after the first one came a second, and later on; a third.

His eyes never left your body as you exited first, waving your hand to the maids as a quick goodbye, which they returned. He bowed at them before closing the door. You awaited next to Gideon in the corridor, which was carpeted with crimson velvet carpets and glistened under the candles of the chandeliers above your heads.

“Shall I fetch the cooks and maids to set up the table, your highness?” the brunette spoke, his hands intertwined behind his back, which stood straight, awaiting for an answer.

“You shall not.” he shook his head. “I wouldn’t like them to work so much this late at night.” the singing of the cuckoo clock hitting midnight catching your attention as your eyes met with the wooden cuckoo that jumped in and out of its home. You wandered through the corridor, your fingers detailing the marble and wood of the oak chest you found on your left, plagued with porcelain decorations and flowers. There were multiple of them through the interminable corridor, perhaps for embellishment. “Though I would appreciate it if you could fetch something for her. I could wager all the gold I have in my hands that she hasn’t eaten for days.” he seemed concerned, his smile fading for a couple of seconds before appearing once again when he saw you twirling around a porcelain doll sculpture of a ballerina.

Not even his friend could understand his actions nor read whatever wondered inside his mind. But he thought he could just wait for whatever the future would offer.

“Sure, your highness. I’ll make sure to send it to her room in no time.” he nodded, after a ‘thank you’ from his friend and prince heading the other way.

You were about to place down another sculpture that you had picked up when his voice startled you.

“It’s Greek.” you felt your heart plummet to your stomach when it slipped from your hands, his being quick enough to catch it in the air. “Almost a was.” he mocked you with a smile, putting it back down on the chest amongst the others.

“Didn’t know the prince would be into collecting porcelain.” you winded him up.

“That would be my mother, the queen.” he chuckled. “Along with the king she has parted to the east to meet Rembrandt and discuss about his new works of art.” he explained, making you now understand his announcement at his ball, asking forgiveness for the monarchs’ absence. “Though I must admit, I take pleasure in pretty things.” his eyes met yours and for a moment you felt as if you were frozen in place, the only warmth you felt being the touch of his fingers gracing yours on top of the oak chest, after his hand had fallen near yours. Your eyes met his hand and later on his eyes again, pulling away from his warmth after a couple of seconds.

“And what does beauty mean to you, your highness?” you inquired him, giving him your back and taking a few steps away from him. “Perhaps gold? Diamonds? Maybe castles?” your hair softly fell on your shoulder as your turned back to face him once again, your dress beautifully dancing along with you.

He just silently stared at you, his hands once again on his back as he took a couple of steps closer to you, a smile tugging on his lips. “I guess I still have yet to find out.” his brown eyes found yours once he stood by your side, the amber of the candles shining on them. There was something in them that you could not read. “Then, shall we?” his eyes left yours just to show you the way in which you supposed you should head to to meet ‘your room’. You seemed unsure for a couple of seconds, to which he decided to taunt you a little bit more. “After you, sweetheart.” he moved aside, giving you a little bit of space.

“Don’t you dare call me that again.” he laughed at your rudeness.

You gave him a side look before taking a step forwards, and then another, and another, the moonlight of the windows hitting your skin, perfectly matching with the color of your dress.

He took a deep breath before following you.

What beauty was…, huh?

“I hope you find the room to your liking. If you are in need of more pillows or sheets just ask for them, alright? You can ask one of the maids to light up the chimney for you if the night gets too cold too.” he said while opening the door and letting you step inside. It was spacious and beautifully decorated. As you stepped in, the very first thing you could see was a huge window that met the gardens of the castle, to your left a chimney with red velvet sofas and a central tea table with books on top of it, you could find more of them on the willow bookcases on both sides of the chimney. And to your right you could find a queen size bed with puffy white sheets, a white dosel and an incredible amount of pillows of all kinds, along with oak nightstands with candles and a big white closet. When you looked upwards your eyes met with the shiniest of chandeliers.

Once you’ve turned around to meet his eyes once again, these caught a glimpse on a food trolley.

“The maids discussed that since you’ve probably not eaten in days it would be better for you to eat something soft so it wouldn’t upset your stomach.” he said, while taking off the top of the plate cover, the smell of chicken stew along with baked potatoes and steamed vegetables making your mouth water. But that was not really what caught your attention. “I apologize if you find it too-”

And before he could even finish his sentence or take a hold onto your actions, his back was slammed against the half-open door from which you’d entered the room, closing it in a very harsh slam exactly when Gideon seemed to be back to check on the prince.

“My prince?!? My prince!!” he desperately knocked on the door, trying to open it but finding it imposible due to the weight of both your bodies on the other side. “Guards!” and as he called for the guards that rounded the corridors…

“Give me a single reason for which I shouldn’t kill you right this moment, my prince.” your breaths intertwined as you stood completely pressed against his body, a knife that you’ve snatched from the trolley threatening to cut his throat as you pressed it against the skin of his pale neck.

He seemed astonished at first, his hazel eyes staring into yours as your heavy breath caressed his lips, which parted as he spoke.

“You wouldn’t dare.” he pressed against the knife to get even closer to you, its edge sinking into his skin and the vermillion of his blood making its way to his collarbones like a river flowing down the hills.

“And what makes you think that?” he smirked at your inquisition, his fingers brushing delicately your arm, its pads descending. From your shoulder to your elbow and later on to your free hand, which stood slightly hidden behind your dress. You gritted your teeth as he slowly and carefully rose it up ‘till both of you could clearly see it. You were trembling, so much it was actually impressive that you could hide it so well.

“Your body speaks to me, sweetheart.” he answered, caressing your palm with his thumb as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on its back.

And before any of you knew, more blood spilled as you rose the knife.

To be continued…

*Crumbs;; used for expressing surprise.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid cm #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader

[rynwritesreid]

This is v specific so totally get if it’s like too much pressure, but what about angst/fluff with a BAU reader. It’s her birthday, and Penelope tried to throw a little office surprise party for her after snooping through her file, not knowing she doesn’t like her birthday. Her dad died on her birthday years ago, so when everyone starts singing and all this attention’s on her she freaks out and leaves. Then Spencer goes to see what’s wrong and they spend the day together on her terms (very hurt/comfort yk?)

A/N: To everyone who has lost a dad, or any close family member/friend, I am so very sorry. Grief is a difficult process, but I do know that it does hurt less eventually, and you can talk about them without crying. I truly do love all of you guys and please feel free to reach out if you need someone to listen to you. I hope this story does bring someone comfort though.

Also, I want to give @iluvreid a lil shoutout, and if you want to follow an amazing person, follow her. She always proofreads my work, and gives me the best requests. ILY.

Summary: After Garcia, and the rest of the team, surprise you for your birthday, you're forced to face how hard this day really is for you.

Content: Hurt/Comfort (angst to a degree). Grief. A lot of talks about losing a father figure. Comforting!Spencer. Sad!reader. Fluff.

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

As the last notes of "Happy Birthday" faded away, you stood frozen in place, unable to move. Everyone's eyes were fixed on you, waiting for you to make a move, and cut the cake. Garcia's face was beaming with a wide smile, clearly proud of herself for throwing this surprise party for your special day. "I had to do some snooping through your file to find out when it is," she admitted with a delighted singsong voice. 

You could feel your eyes welling up, you knew you meant to feel happy, especially knowing Garcia had put so much effort into this. But you hated your birthday, it was no longer a happy day to you. All you could imagine now was getting that call, one to inform you that your dad had sadly passed away.

Without saying a word to anyone, you run out of the building hearing Garcia, Emily, and JJ shouting after you, trying to stop you. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you sprinted down the street, the distant sounds of your friends' voices fading behind you. Tears blurred your vision as you pushed yourself to keep running, desperate to outrun the memories that threatened to consume you.

You didn't stop until you reached the park, the familiar sight offering a semblance of peace. Collapsing onto a bench, you buried your face in your hands, the sobs wracking through your body. The ache in your chest felt unbearable, the weight of grief pressing down on you like a physical force.

You hadn’t told anyone about how much you hated your birthday, and the only one who knew about your dad dying was Spencer. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you felt a presence beside you on the bench. Looking up through tear-streaked eyes, you saw Spencer standing there, concern etched in his features. He didn't say anything, just sat quietly next to you, offering his silent support.

“Everyone’s going to hate me, aren’t they Spencer.” You wanted to know, your voice barely a whisper amidst the sounds of the park. Spencer shook his head gently, his eyes filled with understanding.

"No one is going to hate you," he replied softly, his hand reaching out to give your shoulder a comforting squeeze. "We all care about you, and we just want to help."

"It's just... every year on my birthday, I can't help but remember the day I got that call about my dad," you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper. “And I know I should have told someone, but I just couldn’t.”

Spencer listened attentively, his presence a calming balm to your raw emotions. His gaze was warm and understanding, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your pain. The weight of unspoken grief hung heavy in the air between you, a shared moment of vulnerability that drew you closer together.

"I understand," Spencer finally spoke, his voice soft and gentle. "Losing someone you love is never easy, and it's okay to feel overwhelmed, especially on days like today."

His words offered a sense of solace, a reminder that it was alright to struggle with the memories that haunted you. You let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension begin to ease from your shoulders as you leaned into Spencer's comforting presence.

"I should have told you all," you admitted quietly, the weight of guilt settling in your chest. "I didn't mean to run out like that... I just couldn't handle it."

Spencer's expression softened even further; his eyes filled with compassion. "It's okay," he reassured you, a small, understanding smile tugging at his lips. "We all have our own ways of coping with pain, and it's alright to take the time you need to heal."

“I don't know how to face this day anymore, Spencer," Spencer's hand tightened slightly on your shoulder, offering a steadying presence. "You don't have to face it alone," he said quietly, his gaze unwavering. "We're here for you, no matter what you need. Whether it's to talk, to cry, or just to be with someone, we'll stand by you."

“Is it okay if I just spend the day with you? I’d like to do some stuff to remember my dad by if that’s okay?” your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’d be honoured to spend the day with you and remember your dad together. Just let me call Hotch first to tell him you’re okay.” Spencer dialled Hotch's number and explained the situation while you sat beside him, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude wash over you. As Hotch assured Spencer that everything was under control back at the office, Spencer turned to you with a gentle smile.

"We have all the time you need," Spencer said softly, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that resonated with your own pain. "Let's take today to honour your dad in a way that feels right to you."

“Is it okay if we go for a little drive, I always give my dad his favourite flowers and write him a letter. It makes me feel closer to him.” Spencer nodded; his expression filled with unwavering support. "Of course, let's go," he said, standing up from the bench and offering you a hand. You took it gratefully, rising to your feet as a sense of calm settled over you. The weight of your grief felt a little lighter with Spencer by your side, his quiet strength a grounding presence.

Together, you walked out of the park and towards Spencer's car. The drive was quiet, the soft hum of the engine providing a comforting background noise. You watched the world pass by in a blur, lost in your thoughts as memories of your dad flooded your mind.

When you reached the flower shop, Spencer parked the car and turned to you. "Take all the time you need," he said gently, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. You nodded, grateful for his understanding, before stepping out of the car and into the fragrant shop.

The shop was a riot of colour and scents, the vibrant blooms lining the shelves like a kaleidoscope of memories. You moved through the aisles with a sense of purpose, selecting your father's favourite flowers with care. Spencer followed quietly behind you, a silent presence of support as you gathered the blooms in your arms.

As you made your selection, you approached the counter to pay for the flowers. The florist, a kind-faced woman with gentle eyes, looked at you with understanding as she rang up your purchase. "These are beautiful choices," she remarked softly, her voice tinged with empathy.

"Thank you," you replied, offering her a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. The weight of grief sat heavy in your chest as you accepted the bouquet, cradling it carefully in your arms.

Stepping back out into the sunlight, you felt a mix of emotions swirling within you. The drive to the cemetery was quiet, the gentle presence of Spencer beside you offering a sense of peace. As you approached your father's resting place, the familiar sight of his gravestone brought a fresh wave of sorrow crashing over you.

You knelt down by the grave, arranging the flowers with care as tears welled in your eyes. Spencer stood a few steps behind you, giving you the space to grieve while offering his silent support. With trembling hands, you placed the bouquet at the base of the gravestone, your fingers brushing against the cold stone surface.

"I miss you, Dad," you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse murmur. Memories of him flooded your mind – his laughter, his guidance, his unwavering love. The ache in your chest felt raw and consuming, but being here, honouring his memory with Spencer by your side, brought a sense of solace.

The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze seemed to echo the whispered words you spoke to your father's memory. Spencer moved to stand beside you, a silent sentinel as you poured your heart out. The weight of your grief felt momentarily lighter with each word you uttered, each shared memory a balm to your wounded soul.

"I wish you were here, Dad," you continued, your voice filled with longing. "I wish I could tell you how much I miss you, how much I still need you." The tears flowed freely now; tracks of sorrow etched on your cheeks as you laid bare the depth of your pain.

"I know he's watching over you," Spencer said softly, his voice a soothing murmur. "He's proud of the person you've become, and he'll always be a part of you, guiding you through the difficult moments."

Spencer's words wrapped around you like a warm embrace. “Thank you for being here with me," you whispered, your voice thick with unshed tears. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Spencer's gaze was unwavering, filled with a depth of understanding that spoke volumes. "You don't have to face this alone," he said softly, his hand reaching out to gently brush away a stray tear from your cheek. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

“Is there anything else you’d like to do today?” Spencer offered, his voice gentle and reassuring. You took a moment to consider, the weight of grief still heavy on your shoulders but somewhat lifted by Spencer's unwavering support. After a moment's pause, you looked up at him with a small smile playing on your lips.

"I would like to go to that little cafe my dad and I used to frequent," you said, a faint glimmer of nostalgia in your eyes. "It would mean a lot to me to revisit those memories today."

Spencer nodded, his expression warm and understanding. "Let's go," he replied simply, offering you his hand as you rose from where you knelt by your father's grave. The two of you made your way back to the car, the drive to the cafe filled with a comfortable silence.

The cafe was just as you remembered it - cosy and inviting, with the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. As you and Spencer settled into a corner booth, memories of shared laughter and quiet conversations with your dad flooded your mind.

"I remember how much he loved coming here," you said softly, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. "He would always order the same thing and sit by the window, watching the world go by."

"He sounds like an amazing man," Spencer replied, his voice warm with genuine interest. "I wish I could have met him."

You shared stories of your dad with Spencer, recounting cherished moments and funny anecdotes that made the weight of grief feel a little lighter.

Another A/N: If you seek help, or advice while dealing with grief, please do not be afraid to reach out to anyone/someone.

Sibling support (for those dealing with the loss of a sibling)

The good grief trust

The grief gang

Cruse-parent loss

What’s your grief-podcast

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#hurt/comfort #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom #bau team #criminal minds fic #penelope garcia

[nereidprinc3ss]

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. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic

[inkdrinkerworld]

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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