#cmbingo21

[dontshootmespence]

Under the Boss’s Nose

Summary: Spencer is head over heels in love...with Section Chief Erin Strauss’ daughter.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 788

Warning: Little kissing and lead up to smuttiness but no smut.

A/N: This fulfills my boss’s kid square for @cmbingo​. This is an AU of sorts in which Strauss has an adult child around the 7-8 season of the show (no Maeve). I think you see where this is going ;)

If someone had told Spencer a year ago that he was going to be head over heels in love, he would’ve thought they were insane. But here he was, heart racing, sweaty and laughing with his girlfriend in his arms. “That was, um, wow. Yea.”

She giggled into his chest and nipped playfully at his arm, pulling the covers over them both. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Smiling, Spencer kissed her on the forehead and took a deep breath. “Do you think we can come clean to your mom soon? I’d like for her not to kill me.”

She replied with a snickering laugh. “We’ll tell her soon, I promise. I’m just...mom’s always been a pain in the ass with me dating in general.” Her voice was muffled into Spencer’s chest. “So having to tell her that I’m sleeping with one of her agents is probably going to knock the wind out of her.”

The thought of telling Strauss that he was dating, i.e. sleeping with, her daughter made his stomach churn. Despite the macabre work, he loved his job. He was good at it and he wanted to keep it. “You think she’ll fire me?”

“No way,” Y/N laughed. “She gives you guys grief sometimes, but she constantly talks about the BAU. She calls you the BAU’s walking, talking computer.”

Spencer laughed under his breath. “An eidetic memory has its perks. But you promise we’ll say something soon?”

“Definitely.”

-----

Nearly two weeks later, they still hadn’t said anything and the relationship was heating up fast. On her way out of work, Y/N texted Spencer. 

Y/N: Do you want to tell mom now? I could stop by the bureau and we can get it over with.

S: Please? I think she stepped out for dinner but she told Hotch she’ll be back in a little bit.

Y/N: Okay. Here goes nothing! lol. On my way.

Thankfully, Y/N only worked a few minutes away as a chemical engineer, so she walked off the elevator into the bullpen just 10 minutes later. 

She strode across the floor toward Spencer and gave him a quick kiss. “Mom back?”

“Not yet,” Spencer grimaced. The closer they got to telling Strauss about their relationship the more he wanted to hurl his guts up. “How was your day?”

As she regaled him with the findings of her latest research, Spencer relaxed into his chair with dopey, lovestruck smile. 

“What?” Y/N asked with a laugh.

Spencer leaned forward and grabbed her hands. “Oh, you know, just marveling at your brilliance and falling more and more in love.”

Laughing, she blushed. “Flattery will get you anywhere you want to go, Spencer Reid.” When she leaned into him, she brushed her hand against his inner thigh. “There somewhere around here we can be alone?”

Immediately, the recently vacated office of Dr. Blaine Ledbetter came to mind. Grabbing her hand, he led her to the office and shut the door behind them. Her hands ghosted over his neck, teasing at possibilities before her lips meet his. As she slipped her tongue passed his lips, he groaned and pulled her close by the small of her back, his fingers sliding underneath the hem of her shirt. “God, I love you.”

Chuckling softly, Y/N replied. “I think I love you more.” She slipped her hand under his belt, grabbing his ass as he pinned her up against the wall. In an instant, heat dissolved when they heard a voice on the other side of the door. “Hello? Who’s in there?” 

Spencer went wide-eyed. Chief Strauss. His boss and his girlfriend’s mother. It couldn’t get worse.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Y/N? What are you-?”

When she opened the door, she shielded Spencer from the death glare. “Um, Mom. I believe you know Spencer?”

“SSA Reid, what’s happening here?”

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he summoned every bit of courage he had. He’d talked down dozens of unsubs; he could do this. “Chief Strauss, I know this looks bad and obviously being in this office is pretty inappropriate, but this isn’t random. I’m-I’m i-in love with your daughter.”

Her eyes softened.  “Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you freaking out. You’ve always been judgmental of the guys I’ve dated and you’ve told so many stories about the dangers of working at the Bureau that I didn’t want you to try and stop this before it started, you know? But it’s true. I’m in love with him, too.” She squeezed Spencer’s hand and leaned her head into her shoulder.

Sighing, Chief Strauss gave her blessing. “You’re a big girl, Y/N. I trust your judgment. And SSA Reid is a good agent. Agent Reid?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Hurt her and I’ll end you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

#cmbingo #cmbingo21 #cmbingo 2021 #criminal minds #criminal minds bingo #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds masterlist #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #dontshootmespence #under the boss's nose

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Here Comes Secret Santa Claus [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

Find my masterlist here. Taglist is back open, find the form here.

I am currently taking requests for holiday themed fics only. Send me a request here.

Found this idea on a prompt website and I’ve been sitting on it for a while as it didn’t seem right to write it before the holidays. Didn’t have a particular season in mind but it includes the core 8. Also using this as my entry for @cmbingo CM Bingo for the square “Found Family”. Named after “Here Comes Santa Claus”.

Summary: Christmas is your favourite holiday and you eagerly anticipate the BAU’s Secret Santa every year. This year, your Secret Santa has gone all out in order to make you smile.

CW: mentions of alcohol but other than that this is super teeth rotting fluff!

WC: 3.2K

—————————————————————

Here Comes Secret Santa Claus

You’d been on the edge of your seat excited about the BAU’s Secret Santa ever since Hotch announced it five weeks ago. You’d spent five weeks planning and scouring to find the perfect gift for the person you drew and you couldn’t wait for the Christmas party this evening to exchange.

Christmas was where you thrived; it was unrivalled as your favourite holiday. You adored everything about it, from decorating your apartment until it resembled Santa's workshop to wrapping up warm and sipping hot cocoa.

Honesty, you were probably exhausting for the rest of the team. Ever since December first you’d been full to the brim with Christmas cheer.

Each day in December you wore a different Christmas sweater. On office days when you weren’t having to be face to face with grieving families you often wore either a Santa hat or your reindeer antlers atop your head. You hummed Christmas carols twenty four seven, even when you didn’t realise you were doing so.

But your favourite part about the holidays by far, was the gift giving.

You loved buying presents for people. You would spend days, sometimes weeks searching for the perfect gift for someone. You spent all year listening and taking mental notes of things people mentioned in passing that most other people wouldn’t even pick up on.

It was like a sport to you. Finding the one thing that was going to put a smile on someone’s face. That was the real magic of Christmas to you.

When you’d drawn Penelope’s name for this year's Secret Santa you’d been overwhelmed at first. You had so many mental notes stored away about things you could potentially buy her that you weren’t entirely sure where to start.

You knew it had to be something for her office because that was where she spent most of her time. But she already had an impressive collection of animal figures and crazy pens and over the top mugs and you didn’t want to gift her just another chachki.

And then you remembered a mental note of a conversation the two of you had a few months ago.

You’d gone into her bat cave to find her hunched over her desk, groaning slightly.

“What’s wrong Penny?” You hurried to her side, placing a hand between her shoulder blades.

“Oh nothing, my love.” She sat back with a groan, rubbing her lower back as she did so.

“Pen?” You raised a strict eyebrow at her, giving her a look you quite often gave to people on the other side of interrogation room tables.

She blew air out of her mouth, now fiddling with the arms of her chair.

“I’m fine, Y/N, seriously. Nothing that some decent lumbar support wouldn’t fix anyway. Now what can I help your pretty self with?”

That had been the whole conversation but you remembered ever since she had been using various cushions and sitting positions and still seemed to be struggling.

So you’d gone online. You found a company that made, what was supposed to be, top of the line lumbar support for office chairs.

And they were all fashioned into plush animals.

It took you four days to pick one. But ultimately the unicorn shaped support won. You could imagine the exact look on Penelope’s face when she realised the Velcro strap to secure it to the chair was a rainbow pattern.

You’d wrapped it in sparkly paper with a bright pink ribbon around it, wanting everything to be perfect. You were beyond excited. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind who might have drawn your name.

Once all the paperwork was out of the way for the day, you all piled into your respective cars to head to Rossi’s for the party.

Spencer caught up to you in the parking lot, a little out of breath.

“Y/N! Y/N!” You heard him calling you.

You turned as you reached the car and smiled at his haphazard attempt at a run.

“You need a ride?” You chuckled as he came to a stop in front of you, panting a little.

“Yeah, everyone else already left.”

“Hop in.” You beamed at him as the two of you got into the car.

You drove for a little while in comfortable silence while Spencer caught his breath after his brief encounter with exercise.

As you pulled onto the highway, you noticed Spencer watching you.

“I can feel the excitement emanating off of you.” He laughed a little.

You gave him a sideways glance, making sure to not take your attention fully off the road.

“You know me, I love the holidays.”

“I don’t think I’ve met someone who loves them as much as you do.” He sat back in his chair, unbuttoning his coat as the heat in the car rose.

But that wasn’t the only reason he did it.

He managed to manoeuvre out of the coat without removing his seatbelt and placed it in the footwell.

You glanced over at him again and a smile broke out on your lips.

“You’re wearing the sweater.” You giggled a little, using one hand to nudge him in the arm.

Last Christmas you’d drawn Spencer’s name for Secret Santa. You’d agonised over what to get him, and not just because he was the hardest team member to buy for.

A few weeks before the Christmas party the team had been laughing at your particularly gaudy choice of Christmas sweater, covered in bows and bells.

Spencer had remained quiet until you looked at him with a playful smirk.

“I would love to see boy genius in a Christmas sweater.”

“That’ll be a cold day in hell.” He rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, Spence.” JJ laughed. “There must be a Christmas sweater in existence that we could get you to wear.”

“If you could find a…” he paused to consider this, clearly trying to think of the most ridiculous thing he could to ensure no one would ever be able to find such a thing. “A Christmas sweater themed around Halloween, magic and chess, I may consider wearing it.”

It was a good job you were fantastic at knitting.

So, in the space of a few weeks, you designed and knit Spencer a Christmas sweater.

It depicted two people with pumpkins for heads, playing chess in front of a Christmas tree whilst being made to appear out of a magicians hat. They were surrounded by the words Merry Christmas and an array of holly and snowflakes.

Spencer had laughed so hard tears had sprang from his eyes while he hurried to put it on.

That was the only other time you’d seen him wear it.

“I knew it would make you smile.” He tried to hide his blush.

The truth was, Spencer would do just about anything to see you smile, not that he would ever admit as much.

“It looks great on you.” You felt a sense of pride wash over you at being the only person to ever get Spencer Reid to wear a Christmas sweater.

“Thanks.” He turned towards the window to hide his burning cheeks from you. “So uh….did you knit your gift this year?”

“No, not this year. But I’m still very sure the person will love what I picked out for them.”

“Undoubtedly. You are the best gift giver I’ve ever met.”

What he actually meant by that was that you were the kindest, most thoughtful and considerate person he’d ever met.

But of course he didn’t say as much.

“I try.” You smiled to yourself, returning your full attention to the road.

You loved the sweater you made for Spencer, but times like this you wished you’d been braver and gifted him the truth of your love for him instead.

***

Rossi had gone above and beyond with his Christmas decor. Waiting in the entrance was a grand tree that had to be at least twenty foot tall and covered from top to bottom in sparkly baubles and tinsel.

There were smaller trees dotted about on end tables and streams of decorations hanging from almost every inch of the ceiling.

There was soft Christmas music playing and the atmosphere was simply magical you thought, as you and Spencer made your way through to where the rest of the team was in the kitchen.

You greeted everyone and as you slipped your long trench coat off, Spencer tried his best not to stare. He tried even harder not to just keel over on the spot.

You’d bypassed your usual Christmas sweater for something much less cutesy.

The figure hugging, knee length Santa dress had Spencer’s head spinning and his heart racing.

It was simple red in colour with a hem of white fluff and a matching adornment across the top of your breasts which Spencer thought might actually send him to an early grave.

“Holy baby Jesus, Y/N!” Garcia gasped looking you up and down as you pulled a Santa hat from your purse and placed it on your head.

“Santa baby!” Morgan wolf whistled. “Please tell me you are my Secret Santa and this is my gift.” He teased.

“Oh please.” You waved a dismissive hand as Rossi handed you a flute of champagne. “You could not handle my Christmas goodies.”

“You have to tell me where you got that dress, Y/N. Will would lose his mind if I wore that.” JJ laughed.

You laughed too, turning to Spencer as you sipped from your glass. As flattering as everyone’s words were, there was only one opinion you really cared about.

His expression was one you’d never seen on him and you had no idea what it meant.

His eyebrows were knitted in a slight frown while his mouth hung partially open.

It was lost on you, but not on the others that Spencer was strategically holding his coat over his crotch.

Morgan noticed it first and hid his laugh behind a sip of his drink before nudging Emily in the arm.

“Looks like pretty boy has a little problem.” He subtly nodded his head in the direction of Spencer’s coat placement.

Emily followed his gaze before she burst out into fits of laughter, causing the rest of the team to turn and stare at her.

“Sorry,” she said while laughing. “Ignore me…Morgan is…ignore me.”

She turned her back on her coworkers, trying desperately to subside her laughter.

Within a few minutes the joke had been passed on to all in the room, aside from you and Spencer.

Drink was flowing as was the easy conversation between friends until Hotch cleared his throat, loud enough for everyone to look at him.

“Shall we open gifts?” He motioned for everyone to follow him to Rossi’s living room where eight gifts were wrapped on the coffee table.

Everyone took a seat except Emily. It was tradition that the person that made their most recent arrest handed out the gifts. This year it was Emily.

The first gift was for JJ. It was slightly messily wrapped but the giver had clearly tried their best.

You all watched as she unwrapped the parcel carefully, revealing a woolly scarf and matching gloves.

She looked straight at Morgan with a smile.

“I left my last set in Utah a few weeks ago. You were there when I realised.” She chuckled.

“Happy Christmas, mama.” Morgan blew her a kiss.

Next to open was Rossi who received a new cigar humidor from JJ.

Morgan received some tickets to a sports game from Emily. Emily was gifted clothes for Sergio from Garcia and Spencer was given an old copy of one his favourite books by Hotch.

When Emily picked up the perfectly wrapped gift and handed it to Garcia, you squealed internally.

Garcia grinned at the neatly wrapped package and attempted to unwrap it as delicately as she could in her excitement.

Once she got the wrapping off she let out an almost ear piercing screech, holding up the unicorn lumbar support in complete and utter elation.

“Oh em gee!” she squealed, giving the plush a tight squeeze. “My precious, precious posterior will be most grateful for this beautiful gift!”

She looked at you with the happiest eyes.

“No offence Reid, but this is clearly from Y/N.”

“No kidding.” Spencer chuckled.

“Thank you so, so much. I will name her Y/N.” Garcia was beaming like a kid in a candy store. “Oh my gosh! The strap is a rainbow!”

“You’re welcome, Penny.” you giggled happily.

“Last one!” Emily announced, as she thrust a parcel at you wrapped in brown paper and tied with a brown string.

It was only then, as you looked across the room at Spencer, that you realised by power of elimination he had to be your Secret Santa.

You felt your cheeks turn a little red as you ran your fingers over the parcel.

“Thanks Spence.”

“You haven’t opened it yet.” he was blushing too and he averted his gaze from you.

You were a combination of nerves and excitement as you peeled the tape from the paper just enough to create a hole big enough to remove what was inside.

Whatever it was, was wrapped in another layer, this time of bubble wrap.

But the shape it made was almost familiar. Your hands were shaking a little as you unraveled the bubble wrap and you felt your heart practically burst from your chest when you had the gift in your hand at last.

It was a beautiful and intricate snow globe with a winder on the back for it to play an instrumental version of Here Comes Santa Claus by Bing Crosby. The scene inside the globe depicted an Austrian ski resort complete with ski lift and tiny skiers on the slopes.

How did you know all that just from one glance? Because you’d had the exact same one as a child.

Your father travelled for work a lot when you were a kid. But without fail, he would always bring you home a gift from the countries he visited.

It was a week before your tenth Christmas when your dad had arrived home from a longer than usual stint in Austria. When your mom was cooking dinner he had secretly shown you the snow globe and told you he was going to wrap it and give it to you Christmas morning but he just needed you to know he hadn’t forgotten your souvenir on his trip.

He told you that when he was away and you missed him, to play the song, even when it wasn’t Christmas, and think of him.

It had been your prized possession. But when you moved out of your childhood home to go to college, the snow globe had gotten misplaced somewhere and you’d never seen it again. And although this was a replica, it was a pretty damn good one.

You fiddled with it in your hands as tears welled in your eyes. You turned it upside to give it a shake and something else caught your eye.

A post it note was tapped to the bottom and even if you hadn’t already known who had given you the gift, you would have recognised the handwriting anyday.

“I hope you like the gift. It was difficult to find but seeing you smile will be worth it. From your Secret Santa.”

You looked up at Spencer, eyes glossy with tears you were trying so desperately to contain.

“I-I love it.” your voice cracked as you spoke. “How did you-”

You were cut off by a clock timer coming loudly from the kitchen.

Rossi jumped up immediately.

“Looks like dinner is served, kids.” he waved a hand for the rest of the team to follow him which they did.

You hung back in the living room, as did Spencer.

You were still clutching the snow globe, scared to let it out of your sight.

“How did you…I don’t understand Spence.” you laughed a little but your first few tears escaped your eyes.

Spencer chewed his lip with a small shrug.

“You mentioned it once, years ago when you’d been drinking. I always thought about it. And after you made me such a thoughtful gift last year, I wanted to return the favour. Garcia helped me get your mom's number and I called her. She told me exactly what it looked like, even sent me some photographs of you with it. I had it made for you.”

You looked from the snow globe up at him with a small smile.

“It was lucky you picked my name.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it. Emily drew your name. I traded her for you. I’m going to be cleaning a lot of litter trays in the foreseeable future.” he laughed but it was an awkward laugh.

“I don’t understand why you would do this for me.” You sniffed, wiping your tears with your thumb.

“You’re just such a great gift giver. I wanted you to know what it’s like receiving the perfect gift for a change.” Spencer was blushing and not quite meeting your gaze.

You placed the snow globe on the table before you threw yourself into his arms.

“Thank you so much, Spencer. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He tentatively wrapped his arms around you and it immediately felt like home.

God how he loved you. Making you smile was the only thing he ever wanted to do. And he had.

“Guys, are you coming?” JJ suddenly poked her head into the room and you and Spencer sprung back from one another.

You smiled and nodded saying you’d be right there before she left again.

“We better go eat.” You squeezed Spencer’s shoulder. “Thank you again, it really means so much.”

“You’re so, so welcome.”

You beamed at him before practically dancing from the room.

Spencer smiled to himself once he was alone and picked up the snow globe.

He turned it over and looked at his post it note on the bottom.

He picked a little at the corner of the note, revealing a tiny glimpse of the other note he’d hidden underneath.

He wondered how long it would take you to find his secret note.

The one in which he finally professed his love for you.

Loving you and being loved by you would be the best gift of all. He just hoped he didn’t have to wait another Christmas.

—————————————————————

Taglist -

All ships & genres -

@muffin-cup @andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @takeyourleap-of-faith @a-mended-pact @spencers-dria @sassymoon @sexy-dumpster-fire

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@frickin-bats @dreatine @adoringanakin @dr-spencerr-reidd @sleepretreat @spenxerslut @sweetandsunny @bellaswanismysoulmate @mcumorningstar @dontcallmekittens @kuolonsyoja @radtwinkie @drayshadow @lytrc @nani-2305 @rainsong01 @malboroniightz @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @safespacespence @shemarmooresfedora

Spencer x reader specific -

@multixfandomwriter @gspenc

#cmbingo21 #spencer reid #spencer reid fanficton #holiday fics #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Contact Comfort

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~2000

Warnings: None, really? Emotional hurt/comfort and sorta like a touch starved deal doing on, but it’s pretty thoroughly fluffy and sugary-sweet. 

A/N: For the “bed sharing” square on my @cmbingo​ card! 

Title is from the referenced psych study, because I’m a dork. 

“One sec,” you call, wincing at how thick and nasal your voice sounds.

You wipe your cheeks hastily as you sit up. It’ll be obvious anyway, though; wouldn’t take a profiler to notice your tear tracks and blotchy face. 

It’s Spencer. Of course it is — because he’s the last person you want to see you like this, when you’re all snotty and puffy and gross. 

His eyes go wide and solemn when he sees your face, genuinely distressed. There’s that empathy again, the too-big heart that everyone seems to overlook in favor of his big brain. You love him for it. 

Well, you love him for a lot of things. 

“Hi,” he says quietly. “I was going to just ask if you were okay, but… I guess I don’t actually need to ask now.” 

You let out a watery little chuckle. “Guess not.” 

“You want some company?” He looks hopeful, almost, and then seems to catch himself, dropping his gaze with a shrug. “I understand if you just want your space, though.” 

If it was anyone else, you absolutely would not want company right now. But it’s Spencer, so. You pretty much always want him around. 

“I was just about to turn on some shitty TV because it felt too quiet in here, honestly. Company would be really nice.” 

He gives you a quick twitch of a half-smile as he steps past you, and after you close the door, there’s a pause where you both stand there and look at each other, Spencer suddenly shy as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, in a thin unhappy voice. 

“Not really. Just… one of those days. One of those cases.” 

“Can I do anything to help?”  

You hesitate, because it seems like such an immature thing to say out loud, but you’re too tired to be anything other than honest.

“I could use a hug.”  

Spencer’s expression goes all soft and sweet, and your cheeks feel hot under the drying salt water as he steps closer. He wraps his arms around you, and you bury your face in his chest and try to inhale. Your exhale is a ragged little shudder, and you fist both hands in the back of Spencer’s cardigan as you cling to him, feeling raw and sensitive and so very young. 

He lets out a quiet, shaky sigh of his own, squeezing you tighter. 

How long has it been since anybody hugged you like this? It’s like the contact — the warmth of him — the pressure of his arms around your shoulders — the rise and fall of his chest under your cheek — is lifting some massive weight you never realized you were carrying. All you want in the entire world is to hold him tight, take the comfort while you can, but you know you should pull away. 

He hesitates for a second before releasing you, like maybe he doesn’t want to let go either. 

Then he’s stepping back, hands in his pockets, slightly pink-cheeked as he bounces on the balls of his feet and gives you one of his frog-faced not-quite-smiles. 

“You said something about shitty television?” he asks. “Or maybe we could watch some television that’s not actually shitty?” 

“That sounds perfect.”

Turns out Planet Earth is on, which is the rare overlap in your and Spencer’s tastes, and it’s not until you’re eagerly toeing off your shoes that you realize the bed is the only seating option. 

Spencer sits cross-legged, with his elbows on his knees and his chin propped on his fists, and he stays as close to the edge of the bed as physically possible. You lean back against the headboard and hug your knees to your chest, feeling the need to hunch over, like you could physically protect your heart. 

Then again, it’s much too late for that. You knew your heart was in trouble the moment you met Spencer. 

Today, especially, you already feel vulnerable, like all your carefully-constructed walls cracked open the second you let yourself cry, and now you’re just ripped-open and bare. You need a good night’s sleep and a long, hot shower before you’ll be able to go about your life as a professional, fully-functional, grown-up human again. Right now you’re just kind of a mess.  

“I know there’s the germ thing,” you blurt out, without looking at Spencer. “But —” 

His laugh sounds crackly and nervous, but relieved, like maybe he’d been holding his breath. “Come here.” 

You give him a grateful smile as you scoot closer to each other, and apparently you’d been so worried about your own swollen eyes earlier that you hadn’t noticed the fatigue evident in every drawn, wan line of his face. 

Not that he isn’t still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

You duck tentatively under Spencer’s arm, and it’s not like you’re cuddling, exactly, because there’s still an inch or so of space between your hips and legs… but the bony plane of his chest, between collarbone and heart, makes a surprisingly perfect pillow. You pull the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, tucking them under your chin, curling up.

The moment feels delicate, like a soap bubble that you could burst if you simply breathe too loudly, and you hold yourself stiffly, at first, not wanting to move any closer for fear of pushing a boundary. It feels like you’re glowing at the points where your bodies are touching; the warm weight of his arm feels like bright spring sunshine across your upper back. His palm on the round of your shoulder is thawing away the last chilly bits of your self-consciousness. 

When the commercial break starts, Spencer says, “Do you ever think about how little physical contact the average single adult experiences on a regular basis?” His voice is quiet and almost sheepish. 

You smile. “Yeah, I’ve considered it.” 

“Especially when we live away from our families,” Spencer says wistfully. 

You can feel the vibration of his words in his chest. You shift, making yourself more comfortable, feeling dazed and dumb with his proximity.

“The monkeys. I feel like — you know?” 

“Harlow. I know exactly what you mean.”

Trust him to get that from your ridiculously vague mumbling.  

“Except they’re babies,” you add. 

“The emotional benefits of physical touch don’t decrease just because we get older,” he says softly. “It’s just that the fear of judgement makes it difficult to be honest.”

There’s silence for a minute as the show starts again, and David Attenborough says something about sloths. Spencer’s thumb strokes your shoulder gently, back and forth, soothing. It’s hypnotic, and the tension drains from your muscles, leaving you more relaxed than you’ve felt in a long time. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

You swallow hard. “For what?” 

“Being honest.” 

There’s no reason for your eyes to be stinging like this, but they are. “I should be thanking you.”

“Nothing to thank me for. This is… really nice.” 

“Yeah. It really is.” 

He’s quiet again. 

Spencer smells like vanilla and old books — although the latter might just be your imagination, something to do with the power of mental association — Spencer could probably explain the science behind that. Your brain has them inextricably linked, though. You’ve caught hints of that smell before, but never up close like this. 

The softness of the worn knit of his cardigan makes you want to rub your cheek against it like a cat. His arm, skinny as it may be, feels like protection — like you’re safe here. 

After the brutal violence of the case and the emotional turbulence of the day, this quiet, golden moment is even more breathtakingly peaceful by contrast. It doesn’t feel real. 

It’s too good to last. This isn’t yours. It’s not going to last, no matter how right it feels, and your chest already aches with the idea of letting him go.    

You try to appreciate it while you can, to remember every sensation, but your body is leaden, exhausted down to the bone, completely drained of whatever adrenaline-stubbornness-caffeine combination was keeping you running until now. Spencer’s thumb rubs invisible circles on your shoulder, and he breathes evenly, and you feel safe. 

You’re asleep before the next commercial break. 

A distant car alarm wakes you, sometime later. In the handful of seconds before it’s turned off, you come to without opening your eyes, trying to remember where you are and who you’re with. The smell of vanilla makes you relax instinctively, before you can process why. 

Spencer has all but melted against you in his sleep, soft and boneless. He’s got both arms around you now, holding you close, his breath tickling your forehead. Then he stirs, and you can feel the moment he realizes where he is, because his muscles go tense as he freezes. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs hoarsely. He’s barely audible over the infomercial voices coming from the TV. “I didn’t mean to — sorry. I’ll go.” 

And before you can think better of it, you whisper, “Don’t.” 

He’s still frozen, and silent for a second that feels like an eternity. “You mean —”

“I don’t want you to leave. Stay.” 

Honesty seems to be your default setting tonight, and anyway, you can tell without looking at a clock that it’s long past midnight, well into the early-morning hours where boundaries and reservations and reality don’t seem to follow their usual laws. You can’t lie to him (or to yourself) right now. 

Spencer’s voice cracks as he says, “Okay. I’ll just — let me get the light.”

You don’t open your eyes as he slips away. This all seems like a dream, and the sharp bright lamp light might make it dissolve around you. You might wake up. 

The TV goes quiet, and when you tug at the hotel comforter, sliding between cool sheets fully clothed, the barely-there rasp of moving fabric sounds loud in its absence. 

Spencer turns off the lamp, and you open your eyes. You can just see his shape as he navigates the dark room, negative space on a charcoal backdrop, but as your vision adjusts, you can see a faint suggestion of his features in the blue-black. 

You feel it, though, when his weight makes the springs of the old mattress dip. You’d expected him to lie on his back again, but instead his face is just inches from yours when his cheek comes to rest on the pillow. You feel the way he’s breathing, quick and shallow and nervous. You feel your heart kick in your ribs, thudding so loud he must be able to hear it. 

He reaches out slowly, hooking an arm around your ribs, and pauses with just the very tips of his spidery fingers touching your back, between your shoulder blades: five soft points of contact that you feel so intensely they might as well be electrode pads connecting you to a defibrillator. 

This is crossing a line, and you both know it. 

It’s not a sexual touch, it’s not that sort of thrill going through you, but something about this feels profoundly intimate. That intimacy is almost more shocking than lust might’ve been, and it’s much more dangerous. It’s the sort of closeness you don’t walk away from unscathed.  

Spencer’s fingers flutter, butterfly-wing delicate, like one or the other of you might be trembling. 

“Are you sure this is okay?” he whispers. 

“Yes.”  

Maybe you’re both trembling. 

His palm comes to rest on your back, easing you closer, and you shift, settle, readjust. He pulls back and tilts his head just long enough to brush his lips over your temple, soft and sweet, before tucking you neatly under his chin, where you fit like you were meant to be there, with your nose nudging at the gap between his collar and the delicate skin of his throat.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, sounding just as awed as you feel. 

“Sweet dreams, Spencer.” 

.

.

.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message! 

More Criminal Minds fic is here. 

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader

[dreatine]

Title: Naked Rescue

Author: dreatine

Rating: NC-17

Pairing : Spencer/Fem Reader

Disclaimer: I own nada…

@cmbingo Square Fulfilled : S13

Summary: Luke and Penelope believe something happened to the Reader, just not what they expected.

Notes: This is my first Reader insert story. Hopefully, I was able to put the inserts in properly. And a decade, I think of writing anything resembling smut.

Word Count: 500+ ( I stopped handcounting after 500)

******

“ Spencer?”

"Yes, Y/N?" he replied, his nose in a book.

There was a strong chance that a new case might pop up soon and Y/N and Spencer were spending their free time catching up on some leisurely reasing before the inevitable call to work would come.

She stood and stretched. "Let's take a book break." she raised her arms over her head. "I feel like a pretzel."

Spencer looked up, a sly smile appearing on his face. He silently watched her stretch, admiring the way her body moved. Sleek and sensual, she was as graceful as a panther and as aggressive as one too.'Especially in bed' he mused, his body warming up. An idea formed into his head and he smiled rakishly.

Standing up, he crossed to her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist. She jumped a bit, surprised

but elated. "Spencer?" she asked softly, leaning into his embrace.

"Sshh..." he muttered, nuzzling her neck. His experienced tongue darted out licking the silky flesh.

He gently nibbled her neck, his teeth grazing over her pulse. "I thought you wanted to take a break."

She nodded wordlessly, his machinations making her unable her to speak. She could feel him smiling against her skin as he continued his tender assault. She tilted her head back allowing him even better access to her.

"Shall we take this into the bedroom?" he asked enticingly, blowing into her ear for emphasis.

"Yes." she whispered huskily, her mind and body lost in his ecstasy.

Wordlessly, he scooped her up into his strong arms pulling her close to his body. She wrapped her arms

around his neck, loving the feel of being in his arms.Every time he did this, she always felt like a fairy

princess and he, her knight in shining armor.

As she leaned in to plant a kiss on him, the phone rang. "RRRRRRRRRRRRIIINNNNNNGGG!!!!!!!!!"

The ringing startled them both causing her arms to tighten even more as Spencer almost dropped

her."Ignore it." he replied, heading for the room.

"It might be important."

"More important than this?" he uttered before kissing her passionately but briefly. Releasing her, he arched

his eyebrow. "Well?"

Breathlessly, she said. "Normally no but...."

"It might be a case." he sighed dramatically.

She nodded as he carried them back to the sofa. Plopping down, he cradled her in his lap as she

reached over to pickup her phone. "Hello?" she answered as he began to kiss her neck.

Covering the phone, she hissed. "Spencer."

"Hmm?" he mumbled as he placed wet kisses along her neck and all the way down to her collarbone.

Sighing helplessly, she asked. "Hello?"

"Y/N?"

"Luke? What's up?"

"We need help with some paperwork."

"Hmmm?" she said distractedly as Spencer began to unbutton her blouse. Halfway undone, he reached in and

unclasped her bra, pulling the material away from her silky skin. He captured one of her nipples between his

thumb and forefinger rolling it gently while placing his kisses farther down her neck.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself the briefest moment to lose herself in the exquisite torture he was

creating.

"Y/N? Hello? !" Luke asked. "Are you there?"

"Yeah?"

Luke screamed into the phone."What's wrong?"

While Spencer's hand was busing itself with her upper body, the other was exploring her lower body. His experienced hand slid under her skirt, running up her firm thigh to the edge of her underwear. He moved his long fingers closer to her moist heat, the tips of his fingers teasing her gently. She shifted forward trying to force him to press harder but he resisted.

She moaned." No..don't.."

"Y/N!" Luke yelled."What's happening?"

Reid whispered laschivously into her ear."What's wrong, love?"

She turned and gave him a reproachful look. A look that promised retribution later. Spencer just smiled

wickedly at her frustration. She leaned back more against him, the receiver cradling her ear. She turned her head and lightly nipped his earlobe.

"Ohh.." Spencer groaned, loud enough for Luke to hear.

"What the hell was that?" Luke shouted. "Y/N!! Who's there?"

Penelope, standing next to Luke, tugged on his sleeve. "What's going on? What's up with Y/N?"

Luke turned to face her."I don't know. I just keep hearing moaning."

"Moaning?" Penelope asked confused. "Is she hurt?"

"I don't know." Luke continued. "Y/N?"

She smiled shyly at spencer's reaction. It served him right for teasing her like that."Like that?" she squirmed on his lap, feeling his burgeoning erection against her. "Oh, you did."

Reid looked at her and saw her smug smile. 'I'll show you, love.' he thought right before he moved his fingers under the elastic of her underwear and plunged two of his fingers into her welcoming heat.

"AAAHH!" she screamed right before she dropped the receiver on the ground.

Both Luke and Penelope heard her screams."Y/N!! "they yelled at once.

She grabbed Spencer's head and kissed him ferociously. She dug her fingers into his hair, scratching and pulling at the scalp. He opened his mouth and she darted her tongue in, tangling it fiercely with his own. Soon, they battled, tongue and teeth, trying to dominate. So caught up in their kiss they forgot all about the phone call and lost themselves in their shared passion.

***

"Y/N!!!" They screamed again, fear creeping up at her inability to answer them. "Y/N!"

Hearing nothing but faint groans and moans, they hung up the phone and left.

"We have to do something." Luke yelled frantically. He pointed at Penelope. "You're the tech queen, do something!"

"From here?" Penelope shouted back." I am not Bewitched here. I can't just 'poof' and hightail it to someone's home."

He nodded his assent. "I know. But, we have to do something." he snapped his fingers. " Trace her phone."

"Good idea." Penelope replied determinedly. "Emily won't mind. We're going to save Y/N from whoever or whatever is attacking her."

"Right." Luke said as he led them down the street."By the way, where is Reid? Those two are connected to the hip."

"He's probably not with her" she explained. "Besides, do you think Boy Genius would just stand there and let Y/N be attacked?"

He nodded. "You're right. Cell block Reid would come out and play if he saw Y/N in trouble."

"Yes, he would." Garcia said. "Now, quit talking we need to save Y/N."

The calvary was on its way!

***********

15 minutes later at Y/N's apartment....

Penelope and Luke ran up the last flight of stairs, huffing and puffing.

"Wait." Garcia coughed." I need to catch my breath."

"Damn, Y/N's apartmet has some steep steps." Luke said as he raced to Y/n's door. They could hear some faint sounds, ones of an animalistic quality.

"Open the door!"

"It's locked." Luke said as he tugged on it. An idea popped into his head and he ran away from the door.

Penelope looked at him strangely. "What are.." she started to ask as he launched herself at the door. "..you doing?"

Luke, leapt into the air, his right leg extended straight out in front. It connected solidly with the oak door, his strength almost ripping the hinges off the door. The door slammed open, banging against the apartment wall.

"What the hell?" Y/n exclaimed, popping up from behind the couch when she heard the door open.

Luke quickly rushed in screaming. "Y/n, we're..." he stopped when he saw her naked form peek out from the back of the couch."..here.." ‘Damn, Y/N’s gorgeous’

"Sweet Pea, are you.." Penelope asked, stopping dead in her tracks as soon as she saw Y/n." ...all right?"

"Yes." she replied angrily. "What the hell are youguys doing here?" She wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to cover up. as she saw Luke staring at her. She glared at the two intruders pointedly, waiting for them to saysomething. "Answer me, you two."

"Well, we're here to rescue you." Penelope offered in explanation.

"Rescue? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Y/N shouted.

"It certainly is." a voice under Y/N said. He grasped her hips and lifted her off of him and set her

down on the couch. Forgetting his nakedness, Reid stood up and faced them. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Well..."Luke said openmouthed. He couldn't help looking at Reid naked. 'Damn, he's

fine.'

"We're rescuing you." Penelope pointed at Y/N."from the tall, dark and naked man."

Reid finally realized he'd stood up naked and quickly retrieved a pillow from the floor, where they had hurriedly tossed them to the ground minutes before. He'd been so angry at the intruders for interrupting his alone time with his girl. Between their jobs, they rarely had time to be alone together. And so they took as much advantage as they could.

Now, it was ruined.

Reid eyed them darkly, a glint in his eye. Both intruders swallowed at Spencer's sneer and unconsciously moved back a few paces.

" Garcia, Alvez." he turned to Luke, who was still staring at him.. "Luke?"

He shook his head. "Sorry. I was just...wow."

"Luke stop looking at Y/N." Reid said, as Y/N replied."Luke, stop looking at Spencer."

Penelope smiled sheepishly at Luke. They were still in awe, first at seeing them together in a more than

friend kind of way and second, naked. Not that the thought hadn't crossed either of their minds, a fact

they would never admit but to see first hand Spencer and Y/N like this still shocked them to their core.

"Okay, no more looking." Luke offered.

"Good."

"But," he continued. "We want to know. Why are you two..together?" he gestured with his hand.

"Yeah. And for how long?" Penelope piped up.

Reid looked at Y/n and a silent communication passed between them. They had been dating secretly for

months, but had opted not to say anything. They knew that the two of them as a couple might not go over so

well. Case in point.

"Well..." Y/n started as Spencer grabbed her hand for support. "A few months ago."

"Few months?" Luke and Penelope exclaimed at the same time.

She nodded as Spencer continued. "Yes. I won't go into specifics of how we came together because it's none of your business. " he said pointedly at them. "But, it's been the happiest months of my life." he grinned happily at Y/N.

"Mine too." she kissed his hand.

"Okay. Enough lovey-dovey." Penelope motioned to their joined hands. "But, why didn't you tell us right

away?"

Spencer shrugged. "We just wanted something that's just for us. Not for the entire team to know."

Y/N nodded. " You know, how everyone wants to know everyone elses personal lives 24/7." she answered, staring pointedly at Penelope.

"Hey!" Garcia sputtered, as Luke pulled her arm.

"Well, we should be going " Luke replied as he dragged Garcia halfway out the door. "I'm still slightly surprised seeing you guys naked right now." Reid and Y/n realized they were still naked and scrunched behind the couch. "Besides, one ofus.."he gestured to Garcia." has to be the mature one."

"But.." Garcia yelped. "they're..naked.."

Luke wrapped an arm around Penelope. "Yes, I see. Now, we'll leave them alone. "he waved to the two of them. "Bye, guys."

She closed the door behind her as she went out, Spencer and reader could hear the two outside bickering.

Y/n turned to Spencer who looked just as stupified as she. "Well, they took it well."

Spencer nodded in agreement. "I think Penelope was more shocked at us being naked than us being together." he pulled her into his lap and began to nuzzle her neck. "Besides, who cares? They're gone, aren't they?"he kissed his way to her mouth. "Now, where were we?"

**************

the End

#cmbingo21 #cmbingo2021 #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #dreatine fics

[criminallyfanatic]

Close One

Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader 

Summary: The team don’t know you and Emily are dating, but an incident involving a white shirt and a glass of red wine might put that in jeopardy, and you don’t want to be the one to lose the bet 

warnings: some swearing, the lead up to some sexy times but no actual sexy times

This fills my sharing clothes square for @cmbingo ​ 

                                                              *

The door flew open and she pulled you in, her lips against yours. The door swung shut behind you and you were pushed against it, her hands roving your body, goosebumps trailing behind them. Your hands wound into her hair, pulling her against you, drinking her in like a woman starved. Not until you were gasping for air did you pull apart, her forehead coming to rest against yours, the only sound your heavy breathing.  

“Hi.” you huffed out a laugh, eyes flickering between her eyes and her lips.

“Hi yourself.” she shot you a smile, before pulling away.

Your limbs unwound from each other, your bodies moving away. You felt her loss as she moved further into the apartment, your body craving her close to you again. Following her, you saw the freshly opened wine bottle on the kitchen counter, the two glasses half poured. She topped them up and handed one to you, the smile still painted on her lips. 

You both drank in silence for a moment, simply looking at one another, taking in her form. Her hands played with the stem of the glass and you found yourself staring, imagining all the things she could do with them. When you looked up you saw she had noticed where you had been staring, her eyes locking with yours. You felt your cheeks heat, caught in the act. She held your stare, the air between you warming. 

Then she was on you, pulling you in again, glass discarded on the side. Her hands wound around your waist, pulling you closer, closer, her lips locked with yours. It happened so quickly you forgot the wine still sitting in your hand, and as you raised it you felt the liquid spill over down your white work shirt. 

“Shit!”

She leapt from you as the wine spilled out, her hand coming to her mouth. “Oh god, I’m so sorry”. She reached for the tea towel on the counter, dabbing at the stain forming on your shirt. A seemingly innocuous move, but you felt your body warming as her hands moved across it. You reached out, placing the now considerably empty glass on the countertop, moving your hands to her wrists, stopping her in her frantic movements. 

“It’s fine Em. Don’t worry about it.” Her hands stilled in their movements, hands resting on your torso. Her eyes still held the stain, eyebrows knitted in concern. You reached up your hand, lifting her chin so her eyes were level with yours, before placing a gentle kiss on her lips, cradling her chin with your thumb. As you kissed her, your other hand raised, pulling the buttons apart on the still wet top. She pulled away slightly, eyes flitting down to your movements. 

Your hand fell from her chin, joining the other to speed up the process. She simply watched you, here eyes clouding with the thoughts of what was to come. You dropped the shirt on the floor, her hands now moving up your bare torso, making gentle circles with her fingertips. You shivered slightly, goosebumps once again trailing behind her fingers. 

“You’re so pretty.” She whispered, dropping her head to your shoulder and peppering kissed into your neck. Her hands moved to grasp at your hips, pulling you against her. 

“I think now it’s your turn.” 

She lifted her head from your shoulder, a smirk gracing her lips. Grabbing your hand she pulled you towards the bedroom, her other hand making quick work of her shirt. 

                                                                   *

You lay next to each other, the sound of your breathing filling the silence. You looked across at her, her hair splayed across the pillow, the light from the lamp giving her skin a faint glow. Like an angel. Your hands followed the same paths her’s did early, drifting and swirling across her skin. You wished you could freeze this moment, stay in it forever. Let no distraction pulled you out of it, nothing from the outside world even - 

“Shit.” the shrill sound of your phone buzzed from the pocket of your trousers, discarded in some corner of the room. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Emily said, rolling over to rest against you, pinning you to the bed, “It’s probably nothing.” 

You almost believed her, willing yourself to lay back and forget all about it, until the telltale sound of Emily’s phone went off beside you. You both groaned. Typical.  

She reached over to the bedside table, picking up her phone and checking the message before turning it to you. 

Garcia: Hey lovely, we have a case, sorry x 

Rising from the bed you began to pick up the clothes that were scattered across the floor, throwing various items of Emily’s at her, still lounging on the bed. You pulled them on as you found them, Emily still watching you, seemingly making no move to get up. At last you had everything on but your shirt, which was … 

“Oh god.” You groaned, throwing your head back, thinking of the now ruined shirt still left on the kitchen floor. 

“What?” she let out a small laugh at your display, pushing the hair from her eyes. 

“My shirt. It’s ruined. I have another one in my go bag at the office, but I don’t particularly feel like having to explain why I’m turning up in a stained shirt. And I don’t think the FBI or your neighbours would appreciate me walking around shirtless.” 

“Maybe not. But I certainly wouldn’t mind it.” You lobbed a pillow at her that had fallen on the floor as she laughed at you, catching it before it hit her in the face. “I don’t know why you’re so stressed about this. Just borrow something of mine.” 

“You don’t think someone will notice?” As far as your fellow BAU members were aware, you and Emily were just ‘good friends’. They had absolutely no idea the two of you had been dating for the last few months. And you had to give it to the two of you, you were pretty good at sneaking around. 

“Please. I think you give them too much credit.” She finally got out of the bed, moving to her wardrobe. She began pulling clothes out for her to wear, lobbing a turtleneck at you over her shoulder. “Now put that on and stop worrying.” 

                                                                *

Emily made sure to arrive at the BAU before you. She lived closer so it made sense. It had began as a precaution, you didn’t want your relationship to affect the dynamic of the team, if it didn’t work out it could have ramifications, Hotch might not approve. But now it was fun. Last month you made a bet that the person to let the secret out to the team owed the other fifty bucks. And you sure as shit were not losing that bet. 

The team were gathered at the round table as you made your way up the steps and into the conference room. Emily was sat next to JJ and as you walked in she shot you a smile, before looking back to the pictures JJ was showing her on her phone. You sank into the last seat next to Morgan, opposite Emily, but it wasn’t her that caught your eye this time, it was Reid, staring at you like he was trying to figure something out. Or rather, staring at the top you were wearing. Emily’s top. Shit. 

“Hey, isn’t that Emily’s shirt?” Everyone turned to Reid as he said that, pointing at your top. You felt your heart skip as he said it, everyone’s eyes on you, willing them not to notice the embarrassment now seeping in. 

“I don’t know what you mean Reid?” 

“Yeah. She was wearing it the other day.” 

Ok, no big deal, play it cool. There’s plenty of reasons why you would be wearing this shirt. EMILY PRENTISS DON’T YOU DARE START SMIRKING AT ME NOW. I WILL NOT LOSE THIS BET!  Oh god why is everyone staring! 

“Don’t you know, Dr Reid, that women can shop in the same store. Now you say it, Emily probably does have a similar shirt.” You pretended to inspect it, like you were only just noticing that it was the same as Emily’s. Like you weren’t wearing her FUCKING SHIRT.  

Luckily, looking back up it seemed they were convinced, mostly. There was an odd look here and there, like they were beginning to put two and two together, but they were still missing something. The room fell quite as minds seemed to whir for a moment, mulling it over. You cleared your throat, uncomfortable at the amount of attention still being paid to this. 

“Don’t we have a case or something. Is that not why we’re here on a Friday night. Seems more important than where I buy my clothes, no?” 

The room seemed to lighten then, minds shifting into work mode. Hotch nodded at Penelope to start the briefing. Her eyes flitted between the two of you for a moment, before starting to download you on the case. She was definitely not going to be letting this one go anytime soon. The thought made you chuckle slightly, which you tried to pass off as a cough. Emily shot you a look, eyebrows raised in question. You shook your head slightly in reply. I’ll tell you later. 

The briefing ended and the team filed out, readying their things for the flight. You hung back in the room, slowly gathering you files off the table, hoping Emily would do the same. At last, just the two of you and Hotch remained in the room. He shot you both a look before shaking his head, leaving the room. 

“What do you think that means?” She was standing beside you now, files clutched in her hands, both of you looking to where Hotch had just left. 

“I think it means, ‘I think I know, but I don’t want to know’” 

You huffed a laugh in response. 

“You almost lost fifty bucks there, that was a close one.” 

“And completely your fault. If you hadn’t spilled wine on me we wouldn’t be in this mess.” 

“Pity.” She leaned in close now, her breath wafting across your neck, “You look good in my clothes you know.”

Your breath caught in your chest, eyes following as she walked out the door now, shooting you a wink over her shoulder, leaving you alone in the conference room. The next few days were certainly going to be interesting. 

#cmbingo21 #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic

[ddreammcatcher]

Spin the bottle

This fills my JJ/Elle square for @cmbingo The team is in for an interesting night at Rossi’s.

It’s one of those nights that we are all hanging out at Rossi’s. We’ve all had a hard week and it’s nice to just relax. I glance across the room to Elle, who is my girlfriend. We agreed to keep it a secret for now. What I really want to do is go make out with her, but I can’t. She smiles at me, making me want her more.

Rossi walks into the room at that point. “I have alcohol.” He says. We all reach for it at the same time. After a couple of hours, we have all relaxed completely with help from the alcohol. “We should play spin the bottle.” I hear myself saying. “JJ, aren’t we a little old for that?” Spencer asks. 

I chuckle and mess with Spencer’s hair. “We are never too old for spin the bottle.” I say. After about ten minutes, everyone except Spencer has agreed to play. We sit in a circle on the floor. We are all talking excitedly to each other. “Quiet people.” I say hyped for the game to get started. “When it lands on you, you can choose truth, dare, or kiss. It’s up to you.” I say.

I spin it to start and it lands on Hotch. He says dare and we decide to blind fold him until it lands on him again. After that, it lands on Elle. She gets up and walks over to me. She tilts my head up and gives me a gentle kiss. Rossi and Derek whistle. I blush. 

We continue the game for a while. At some point, Elle decided to annoy me. Every time it landed on her, she kissed someone different. It’s starting to piss me off. I just want to kiss and make out with her and instead she's teasing me. It lands on me next. I choose kiss. I walk over to Elle and crash my lips on hers. It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s passionate and deep. When I finally pull away, everyone else is looking at us. I lean down and whisper in her ear “Mine.” 

I walk back over and sit down without saying a word. Both of us are still trying to catch our breaths. I’m not usually the possessive one, but right now I just want her for myself. She has a huge smile on her face. “JJ, what was that about?” Spence asks since he's the only one with a clear head. “She’s my girlfriend and it was annoying me that she was kissing other people.” Elle blushes when I say that. “JJ, we agreed to keep it a secret!” She says with a laugh. At that point, everyone is giggling. 

For the rest of the night, I sit next to Elle. I cuddle her and drop kisses on her lips at random times. None of us are sober enough to drive, so we all crash at Rossi’s for the night. I cuddle up to Elle and fall asleep quickly. 

The next morning, I wake up curled around a sleeping Elle. I get up to go find aspirin. I have a headache from last night. I walk into the kitchen to find Rossi, Hotch, and Spencer sitting at the table. “Good morning. Rossi, please tell me you have aspirin somewhere?” I say. He tosses me a bottle. “So JJ, how long have you been seeing Elle?” Spencer asks. “Fuck. Did I really kiss her possessively last night?” I’m screwed. “Yeah, you did.” Spencer says. Rossi laughs and Hotch looks surprised. “How much do you remember about last night Hotch?” “Um, not much after we decided to play truth or dare.” He says. I sigh.

Elle, Derek, and Penelope walk into the kitchen at that point. “Elle, Spencer and Rossi remember last night, but Hotch doesn’t. Sadly we have to tell them again.” I say sadly. She laughs. Derek and Penelope are both confused. “JJ and I are dating. She kinda made out with me last night during truth or dare.” Elle says. I blush and hide my head in my hands. “This is so embarrassing.” I mumble. Elle walks over, pulls my hands away, and kisses me. “I’m not embarrassed. It just means I can kiss you when I want.” I kiss her passionately, glad that I can kiss her whenever now.

#cmbingo21 #Jennifer Jareau #elle greenaway #aaron hotchner #david rossi #spencer reid #Penelope Garcia #cm #cmfanfic #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds #jjxelle #JJ x elle

[cmbingo]

Eight days!

Hope you had fun this year making your creations. We certainly loved seeing all of the awesome content you put out into the Tumblr-sphere.

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[fortheloveofwonderland]

Sweet Tooth [Spencer x gn! Reader]

A/N: this is for my “Donuts” square on my CM Bingo Card for @cmbingo​ AKA The four times Spencer gave you donuts and one time he didn’t. 

CW: absolutely none, complete and utter fluff.

WC: 1.5K

Find my Masterlist here.

You would always remember the first time you saw him. The morning rush had you exhausted, sweaty and somewhat flustered. You swore every DC man and his mother got their coffee for their morning commute at your shop. 

Just as it was dying down he stepped up to the counter, large hazel eyes and a slightly awkward smile. 

“Black coffee please.” His voice was like honey to your ears. It took a few seconds for you to register his words. 

“Uh...yeah sure. Coming right up.” You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and turned towards the coffee maker. “Anything else?”

The man mused this for a moment. He had unruly curly hair and a jawline that could cut glass. 

“Do you have a donut recommendation?” 

You finished his coffee and slid it across the counter as you contemplated this.

“Well my favourite is strawberries and cream. But you have to have one hell of a sweet tooth for that.”

He smiled with a small nod. 

“I’ll take one of those.” 

You got a paper bag and cautiously placed the delicacy inside. 

You rang up his order and he paid. You slid his donut across the counter but he smiled playfully.

“It’s not for me.” He slid it back, his eyes sparkling at you. “Enjoy.” 

And with that he was gone. 

You stared dumbly at the spot he had just been standing. The moment had been so fleeting it was almost as though it had never happened.

But there was a strawberry and cream donut on the counter in front of you.

***

Three weeks passed and there was no sign of your mystery donut customer. Every time the little bell over the door chimed over those three weeks your heart skipped a beat and your eyes would dart to the door. But it was never him.

Over time you started to think you must have imagined him. You’d been exhausted that morning and maybe your mind had created the handsome stranger as a distraction.

Or if he had been real, he’d probably been a tourist which would explain why you hadn’t seen him again. And every day your hope dwindled a little more that you ever would see him again. 

You weren’t even sure why it mattered. It had been a fleeting moment, a small act of kindness but for some reason it had stuck with you. Maybe it was his intoxicating eyes or his warm smile. 

After you returned from your break that day and were getting your apron back on, something caught your eye. It was a paper bag behind the counter with your name on.

“What’s this?” You asked your colleague with a frown. 

She turned from where she was cleaning the coffee machine.

“Oh some guy came in and asked what the sweetest donut we did was. I told him it was probably the caramel sensation and he paid for it and told me to keep it for you.” She shrugged.

“What?” You picked up the bag. “Who? When?”

“Some guy.” She shrugged again. “Tall, messy hair. Said his name was Spencer I think.”

“When? How long ago?”

“I don’t know?” She laughed. “Maybe a quarter of an hour ago?” 

Your heart dropped and soared all at once. He’d been here and you’d missed him. But he’d left you a donut. 

You cautiously removed the donut from its bag and before you took a bite you muttered to yourself, “thanks Spencer.”

***

Two days later right smack bang in coffee lovers rush hour, he appeared again. He sidestepped being served by your colleague and as a dad and his boisterous children stepped away, he materialised in front of you.

“Hi.” He smiled. “How was the donut?”

“It was good thanks.” You blushed, you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Good.” He blushed slightly too. “So you know my name, am I allowed to know yours?”

You giggled a little and pointed at your name badge pinned to your apron.

“Y/N.” 

Oh god he felt foolish. He’d never thought to look. 

“Oh yeah.” His blush deepened. “Sorry.”

“Can you hurry it up!” A large, angry looking man behind Spencer grumbled. “I don’t got all day for your flirting.”

You both blushed again at his words.

“Uhm...black coffee?”

“Yes please. And a donut of your choice.” 

You set about making his drink, trying not to stare at him but it was hard when he was so gorgeous. 

You picked out two chocolate sprinkle donuts and bagged them separately. 

“Why two?” He frowned a little when you slid one over the counter. 

“It’s your turn to have a donut on me.” You pulled at all your confidence and winked at him. “Coffees on me too.”

“What? I can’t do that.” He shook his head a little frantic. 

“You’ll think of a way to return the favour.” You smiled at him and then you moved on to serve your next customer while Spencer just stared, slightly slack jawed. 

***

Another few weeks passed and Spencer didn’t come back into the coffee shop. You worried you scared him off with your blatant flirtatiousness. Maybe you’d come on too strong. 

Just when you’d resided yourself to the fact you had indeed frightened him away and that he was probably getting his fix at Starbucks rather than your small boutique cafe, a delivery man of all people proved you wrong.

He nudged the door open with his hip, a large flat box in his hands.

“I’m looking for Y/N.” He grunted slightly as he came to the counter.

“That’s me.” You pointed at your name badge. How did people always miss that?

“These are for you.” He set the box down on the counter. 

You stared down at the delights through the transparent lid. At least a dozen donuts of all varieties laid inside. 

You looked back up but the delivery man had already gone. 

You carried your treats through to the back office and opened the lid where you found a small note inside. 

You unfolded it and read the messy handwriting inside.

Y/N, 

Sorry I haven’t been in for a while, my job is hectic. But I wanted to make up for it, so here is a donut for everyday I haven’t been able to see you. Hope to see you soon,

Spencer.

You felt yourself blushing as you read his words over and over. He wasn’t avoiding you. You hadn’t freaked him out. He sent you a donut for every day you’d been apart. 

God this man was something else. You couldn’t wait to thank him to his face. You just hoped you didn’t have to wait too long.

***

It was another week before you spotted that mop of curly hair sat at a table outside the coffee shop in the DC sunshine. 

You waited for the place to quieten down, placed two chocolate custard donuts on plates and took your break. 

You took a few deep breaths as you pushed open the cafe door and stepped out onto the street. He had his back to you reading a newspaper as you approached. 

“I thought it was high time I returned the favour.” You spoke, making Spencer almost jump out of his seat. 

You giggled a little and without being invited you slid into the empty seat opposite him. 

“Oh hi Y/N.” He spoke, regaining his composure and folding his newspaper. 

You slid him one of the donuts.

“Hi Spencer.” You smiled back at him. 

You kept eye contact as you both took a bite of your respective donuts. 

“So, as much as I love trading donuts back and forth,” you started between mouthfuls. “Are you ever going to ask me on a date?” 

You weren’t sure what came over you, you were never so forward with men. But Spencer was different. You would do anything it took to make him yours. The attraction between the two of you was palpable. He’d made the first move with the donuts, now it was your turn.

“That’s why I’m here.” He smiled at you and it sent shivers down your spine. “What time do you get off work?” 

“Five.” 

He looked at his watch, it was just before two.

“Ok, I’ll be right here when you finish.” 

“You’re going to wait all that time for me?” You couldn’t hide your blush.

“As long as I have coffee, I don’t mind waiting.” His smile turned a little shy and you thought it was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen. 

“I’ll make sure you never have an empty cup.” You finished your donuts, your eyes fixed on one another. “I need to get back.”

“I’ll be waiting.” You pushed your chair back and stood up. 

“Where do you want to go for dinner?” He looked up at you, eyes sparkling. 

You thought about this for a second before you grinned. You started walking away and turned to speak over your shoulder. 

“I donut mind Spencer. I donut mind at all.” 

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #cmbingo21 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Teach Me, Tease Me [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

A/N - this is for my Training Square on my CM Bingo Card for @cmbingo​ at least it is if you squint hard enough. CM Bingo Masterlist can be found here.

Really had an itch that needed to be scratched here in the form of Professor Spencer and a TA in training the reader. Just utter, utter filth. AKA - You are nervous enough for your first day of teaching training, and when you meet your new mentor, the incredibly attractive Doctor Reid, it only makes the situation more tense.

Masterlist for all fics can be found here.

CW - Age gap (Spencer’s late 30’s and reader is early/mid 20’s) dom! Spencer/ sub! Reader, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), female/male masturbation (mildly) some degradation, swearing. 

WC: 3.5K

Smoothing down your skirt and taking a few deep breaths in the hopes to calm your rattled nerves, you knocked on the door. 

Dr Spencer Reid’s reputation preceded him. Not only was he supposed to be an incredible lecturer in criminal psychology but he had fifteen years on the job experience with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. To learn from such a legend in his field was a dream come true to you. 

Getting accepted in a TA role at Georgetown had been an incredible achievement in itself but to be Spencer Reid’s TA, to be trained by this great man left you a bag of nerves. 

Your hands were shaking as you smoothed down your skirt again. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and then quickly untucked it again just as the door opened. 

You were met with a pair of intense hazel eyes. They belonged to a tall, slim man with messy hair as though he’d just gotten out of bed and the most sinful pair of lips you had ever laid eyes on.

You swallowed, trying to push down your attraction.

“Uhm...I’m sorry I just have the wrong office. I’m looking for Dr Reid.” You went to turn to leave because this man was far too attractive and you would no doubt end up making a fool of yourself but his voice caught you.

“You’re in the right place. I’m Dr Reid.” 

You tried to stop your jaw from hitting the floor. You had pictured Dr Reid to be a man much older than the one in front of you, either greying or balding and on the heavier side.

The Dr Reid in front of you was drop dead gorgeous. This had to be some kind of joke? How were you possibly supposed to learn when you were just getting lost in his eyes?

“You’re...you…” you stuttered, not being able to form words.

He laughed and it was such a magnificent sound you wanted to hear it every day for the rest of your life.

“You must be Y/N? My new TA?” His smile made your knees buckle and you hoped he didn't notice. 

His eyes glanced up and down your body and butterflies swarmed in your stomach. Your skirt suddenly felt too short and your shirt too tight. 

“Mmm hmm.” You mumbled, worrying if you spoke your voice would come out a high pitched squeak. 

He chuckled again and stepped back, creating a space for you to enter.

“Please come in.” He motioned for you to step inside his office. You slowly stepped inside, your legs shaking. 

This was the first step towards your dream job of lecturing at Georgetown and it was terrifying enough without your new mentor being the most attractive man you’d ever seen. 

“Take a seat.” Spencer smiled at you as he stepped behind his desk, taking his own seat. 

You chewed your lip as you made your way to the chair. His eyes never left you. You felt his eyes dance over your bare legs and up your thighs. Your palms were sweating under his intense gaze. 

You were thankful to sit down as you couldn’t be confident in your legs ability to hold you up right. 

“I’m very pleased to be here Dr Reid.” You croaked, feeling like you needed to say something, anything. 

Spencer leant his elbows on the desk, smiling across at you. 

“Please, call me Spencer.” 

“O-ok.”

“Are you ok?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “You seem...nervous.”

You were more than nervous. You were turned on. The way he was looking at you and the way he periodically licked his bottom lip was driving you crazy. 

“This is a big...opportunity for me.” Your words were punctuated with deep breaths and you knew Spencer noticed it. 

“As long as you're sure that’s all?” 

“Yes, it is.” You lied. 

“Ok good.” He smirked at you. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. He wasn’t a big headed man, but he knew attraction when he saw it. 

He saw the way your chest heaved as you breathed, heavier even when he licked his lip. He saw the way your hands couldn’t stay still and the way you pressed your thighs together every now and again. 

He could hear it in your shaky words and staggered breathing.

And honestly, Spencer loved it. 

He didn’t think he’d ever had this effect on a woman before and it was enough to make him aroused. He already knew he wanted you, needed you. It was wrong, you were his TA, but the illicit nature of it made it hotter to him.

“So,” he sat back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Tell me about yourself Y/N.” He licked his lip again and watched your thighs press together once more. 

He wanted to put his head between those thighs. 

“Uhm...I’m not sure where to begin.” You breathing was heavy, breast heaving. 

He wanted those breasts in his mouth, he wanted to take your nippes between his lips and suck on them. 

You spoke but he didn’t hear your words. His head was entirely elsewhere. He had to think of a way to make you his. And he would. He was sure of it. 

He wouldn’t rest until he had you.

***

The next week you dressed more conservatively for work. Strictly pants and thick jackets. But it didn’t stop Dr Reid’s wandering eyes.

After the first few days you felt less nervous around him and actually you found yourself loving the effect you had on him. Today during a lecture he had dropped a pen on the floor and you’d picked it up for him, making sure to give him an eyeful of your backside. 

He’d stumbled over his words for a few minutes after that and you were left with an odd sense of pride.

After the first few weeks you started dressing less conservatively. Your pencil skirts came back out of hiding and sometimes you left an extra button on your shirt undone. 

Despite the obvious tension between the two of you, you were learning a lot from Dr Reid. He was incredibly smart and a wonderful lecturer. You found yourself hanging off his every word when he lectured and you could tell his students felt the same.

After a month of working with him, you were starting to get more friendly with one another. You would spend your free time on campus getting coffee and walking the grounds together while he told you stories of his time with the BAU. 

You were able to relax around him, make jokes and playful conversation. But there was still that underlying sexual tension that drove you both wild. 

That night Spencer had papers to grade and you offered to stay and help. 

You popped out to the campus coffee shop for some pick me ups and when you returned to his office his jacket was slung over the back of his chair, his tie undone and draped around his neck and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. 

It was such a sight you almost dropped the coffees but managed to steady yourself in time. 

“Ah my saviour.” He smiled up at you from a stack of papers. “Bring the chair around here, we can read together and you can tell me what you think.” 

Nervously you pulled the chair around next to him but not too close. Spencer laughed. 

“I don’t bite.” He smirked at you. Unless you want me to. 

You laughed nervously and shuffled a little closer. You picked up the paper on top of the stack and started reading over it.

Spencer’s eyes were on you the whole time and it made your concentration wane. His gaze was intense and focused on your mouth and you squeezed your thighs together. 

“You do that a lot.” His voice was low and breathy. 

You looked at him like a deer in headlights.

“Do what?” You croaked.

His eyes were trained on your lips and you had never wanted someone to kiss you more in your entire life.

“Squeeze your thighs together.” He leaned closer to you and you could feel his hot breath on your face. “Is it because of me?” 

“Spencer,” you whispered looking down into your lap.

“I know, I know.” He sighed. “You're my TA. I’m a lot older than you.”

“You’re not that much older than me.” You looked back up and your eyes met his. He was chewing his lip. 

“It’s wrong that I feel this way.” He swallowed. “But goddamnit Y/N, ever since you walked into my office I can’t stop thinking about you and all the things I want to do to you. But it’s wrong. But gosh that makes it so hot.” 

A surge of confidence came over you and you pushed your chest forward, leaning even closer to him.

“So what are you going to do about it, Doctor Reid?”

He hissed at your use of his honorific. 

“You are a tease, do you know that?” He growled. “A filthy fucking tease.”

“Maybe you should do something about it then.” 

Spencer couldn’t hold back any longer. He’d shown a hell of a lot of restraint this past month but he couldn’t do it anymore.

He grasped your face and closed the small space between you. Your lips finally met with blinding passion. You moaned at the sensation you’d been dreaming of for weeks. Spencer took advantage of this and his tongue thrust into your mouth. 

He pulled you into his lap and you straddled him as he deepened the kiss. You let him control you, you’d let him do anything to you, you were sure of it. 

His hands left your face and trailed down your sides before rounding your back. His fingers pushed your skirt up and then his large hands cupped your ass, squeezing tight. 

You moaned again, your hands diving inside his shirt to feel the hot skin of his chest. You started toying with his shirt buttons but Spencer broke the kiss and glared at you.

“Nuh uh.” He shook his head. “You lost your privilege to do what you want when you insisted on teasing me in class. You’ll do what I say, and only what I say. Understood?”

Oh god that was hot, you felt weak.

“Yes.”

“Yes who?”

“Yes Doctor Reid.” 

“That’s better.” He smirked. “Now get up.” 

You nodded, slipping off his lap and standing in front of him. 

Spencer stood from his chair, towering over you. 

“Bend over the desk.” 

You swallowed, nodding stiffly. You turned around and leant over the desk, your palms flat on the wood, sticking your ass up as high as you could.

Another hiss left Spencer’s lips. You felt him move close to you and press his body into yours. You could feel his hard dick in his pants pushing against your rear.

“You want that Y/N? Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” You croaked. “Yes please Doctor Reid.”

He laughed, his breath hitting your neck. 

“Well you’re going to have to wait.” 

You felt his hands on the backs of your thighs and his fingertips traced over your skin. He hoisted your skirt up again and hissed once more.

“Black lace panties, really Y/N?” He ran his fingers over the fabric. “This is underwear that is begging to be seen.” 

“Yes Doctor.”

“Who did you wear these for?”

“You Doctor Reid, only you.”

“Damn right.” He slapped his palm on your ass cheek, the sound of flesh on flesh filling the room. 

He leant into you again, his hands now on your stomach, making their way to your breasts.

He cupped your breasts through your shirt, palming them and applying pressure. 

“Perfect.” He groaned into your ear. “Just fucking perfect.” 

Suddenly he stood back again and you felt empty without his touch. For a few seconds the room was silent and you didn’t know what to expect. 

“Turn around.” He spoke again suddenly, startling you a little. 

You did as you were told, loving the way he was domineering you this way. 

His eyes trailed up and down your body, lingering on your chest. 

“Undo your shirt.” He growled at you. “I want to see you. That’s what you want isn’t it? My eyes all over your body. That’s why you dress this way you fucking tease.” 

His words made you so wet. He was usually so nice and so soft spoken so seeing this side of him was making your toes curl.

Once again, you did as you were told and started unbuttoning your shirt. You made sure to tackle the buttons slowly, really give Spencer a show. Once all the buttons were undone you shrugged your shirt off your shoulders.

Spencer took in the view of your breasts clad in a bra that matched your panties. He was chewing his lip so hard he could taste his own blood. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He hissed. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Whatever you want Doctor Reid.” 

“On your knees.” He instructed and you smirked to yourself, liking where this was heading. 

You got down on your knees in front of him, looking up at him through your lashes.

“What do you want, Doctor?” You pouted, licking your lips. 

He unbuckled his belt and popped the button on his slacks. The zipper slid down soon after and he pulled his dick free of the confines of pants and underwear. 

His was painfully hard, practically throbbing. He was big but you knew you could take him. 

You bowed your head and let your tongue lap over his swollen head making him groan in an animalistic fashion. 

“Is this what you want Doctor?” You breathed, making sure your breath hit his cock.

“You fucking know it is.” He growled. “Take me. Take all of me.”

You smirked up at him, knowing just the thought of his dick in your mouth was breaking down his tough facade. 

You took his command and wrapped your lips around his head before quickly moving down his shaft. 

He felt his dick hit the back of your throat and his hand flew to your hair, tugging hard. 

“Fucking hell.” His head fell back and his eyes closed. 

You smirked around his shaft as you started moving. You bobbed your head up and down his length but before long, Spencer started thrusting, practically fucking your mouth. And it was so hot.

He tugged your hair harder and harder as he thrust in and out of your warm, wet mouth. He forced his eyes open so he could watch his cock disappear in and out of your mouth.

“Touch yourself.” He grunted. You could taste his pre-come leaking from his head. “Now.”

You pulled your skirt up with one hand and moved your panties aside. Your finger danced on your wet clit, making you moan around Spencer. 

His eyes flicked between your mouth bobbing up and down around him and to your hand between your legs. 

It was almost too much for him but he wasn’t ready for this to be over. He startled you when he pulled back, removing his dick from your mouth. 

You stared up at him, your hand at a standstill on your core. You wanted to await Spencer’s instructions. 

“Are you wet?”

“So wet.” 

“Good.” He wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you up to your feet. He took your fingers in his mouth and moaned at the taste of you on his tongue.

“God you taste so fucking good.” Quickly he reached behind you and swiped his hands across the desk sending the paperwork flying. He took you by your shoulders and guided you back until your ass collided with the desk. 

He pushed you back so you were laying down and practically tore your skirt and panties off leaving you in just your bra and heels. He grabbed hold of your legs and swung them over his shoulders before he thrust into you with all his might.

You both moaned loudly as he filled you up. You were so tight and wet around him he almost blew his load then and there. 

He started his thrusts, hard and fast and frantic. With your legs on his shoulders the angle he was hitting you at was phenomenal. You arched your back and closed your eyes.

“Look at me.” He spat making your eyes shoot back open in an instant. 

He smirked, he loved how he had you wrapped around his little finger so easily. 

“Take off your bra.” He was panting now as he spoke, feeling dangerously close to the edge. He tried to steady himself, he wasn’t ready for this to be over just yet. 

You arched your back some more and reached your hand behind you to undo the clasp of your bra. It took longer than usual as Spencer was pounding into you, slamming you against the desk.

When it was unhooked you slid it off your arms and discarded it on the floor.

Spencer chewed his lip and hissed, taking you all in.

“Fucking hell.” He groaned. He let your legs slide from his shoulders to his waist so he could move closer to you. 

He bowed his head and wasted no time in taking your hard nipple in his mouth. He’d imagined sucking your tits countless times but nothing compared to the real thing.

He continued thrusting while using his teeth to really work you up. His fingers played deftly with your other nipple.

You were a complete mess beneath him, completely succumbed to him and his will. 

You moaned when his lips left your nipple but they stayed on your skin, sucking on the swell of breast. He wanted to mark you. He wanted you to remember this for days to come. 

He sucked a mark on your other breast and then moved to your neglected nipple. He was so close he knew he couldn’t last much longer and judging by your stifled moans you were close too. 

He stood back up right so he could thrust deeper inside you. 

“This is what you wanted isn’t it? You fucking…tease.” His words were punctuated with moans. “Touch yourself. Touch that pretty little clit for me.”

You were compliant and slid your hand down your body between your legs. 

Spencer’s thrusts were becoming sloppy as you watched your fingers dance over your heat. Your eyes rolled back in your head. Between your fingers and Spencer’s dick hitting you in places you’d never experienced before, you couldn’t hold out any longer.

“Doctor,” you groaned. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna…”

“Come you fucking dirty tease. Come all over my dick.” 

Your orgasm washed over you and moaned incoherently. You tightened around Spencer as you came and it pushed him to his own orgasm. 

He moaned your name as he filled you up, lazily still thrusting. His face was flushed and slick with a sheen of sweat. 

He rode out his orgasm inside you and then he pulled out. He gently took hold of your wrists and sat you up on the edge of the desk. 

He cupped your face delicately, so far from the man he’d been mere seconds before.

“Are you ok Y/N?” His eyes were riddled with concern as he looked at you.

“I’m more than ok.” You smiled at him. 

He kissed you softly but it was only brief before he pulled himself away from you.

“Good. Now be a good TA and clear up this mess.” He gestured to the papers now scattered all over the floor. 

You nodded and went to reach for your discarded clothes.

“I didn’t say anything about getting dressed.” He smirked as he sat back in his chair, now soft dick still hanging out of his pants. 

You did as you were told and dressed only in your heels you started bending down to clear up the papers, making sure to put on a show of it.

You could feel his heavy gaze on you and it didn’t take long for his dick to start hardening again at the sight of your bare ass as you bent over.

“Such a tease.” He growled, his hand finding his shaft. You looked back at him as he started slowly pumping himself. “You’re a slut aren’t you Y/N? A filthy slut.”

You felt a sense of pride over what you were able to do to this gorgeous man. Teaching training was definitely going to be an interesting experience. 

“Only for you Doctor Reid.” You smirked. “Only for you.” 

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #cmbingo21 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #professor reid #filth #smut #so much smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Sixty Six Percent [Spencer x fem! Reader]

A/N - This is for my “girls night out” square on my CM bingo card for @cmbingo​, which you can find the masterlist for here. Also loosely based off this prompt I’ve been wanting to write for a while - Our best friends are that awful “cute” couple that make out in public and call each other “sweetie” and “sugar” and god they’re awful, let’s talk about how awful they are – develops into “oh we’re that awful couple now”. Includes some Galvez and is set circa season 14 ish. Bottom right image taken from Kirsten’s Instagram. 

CW - not much really - just drinking and fluff.

In which girls night takes an unexpected turn when it coincides with boys night.

WC: 2.2K

Find my full Masterlist here.

Western’s bar in DC on a Friday night had been a must for girls night out. It was known for its cheap drinks, loud music and packed dance floor. Everything you and the girls were looking for. 

When your closest friends worked for the FBI, arranging girls night was always a near impossible feat. You’d lost count of how many times Penelope, Emily, JJ and Tara had to bail on your plans because another case had come up. 

You understood, you’d been best friends with Penelope for years now and you appreciated their schedules were hectic but you were always left downtrodden when they’d had to cancel again. 

But finally after weeks of cancellations and rescheduling, tonight they had been free for girls night. 

Shots were flowing and you all showed off your moves on the dance floor. You and Tara being the only single ones of the group danced with a few men but it was all harmless flirting, nothing serious. 

You weren’t looking to take someone home tonight. 

It was nearing midnight and you had all taken a break from dancing to rehydrate with vodka. You noticed Penelope’s eyes shift away from the girls across the room and her perfectly sculpted eyebrows knitted together.

“What is it, Pen?” You asked her, having to speak loudly to be heard over the music. 

“We can’t just have one night.” She rolled her eyes but then her face broke out into a large smile. “Excuse me.” And with that she sauntered off.

Your gaze followed where she had gone to see her throwing herself into the arms of her boyfriend, Luke Alvez. 

You chuckled to yourself, nudging Emily in the arm.

“They just can’t stay away from each other can they?” You laughed.

“It’s disgusting really.” Emily also laughed. 

“Looks like they're having a boys night. We should probably go and say hi.” JJ shrugged.

“I suppose it would be rude not to.” Tara agreed.

The four of you followed in Penelope’s footsteps across the room. You’d met most of the team over the years thanks to Penelope and you said your hellos to Luke, Rossi and Matt. 

The last man you came to had incredible hazel eyes, which even in the dim lighting of the bar you could see were flecked with gold. He had a light stubble on his cheeks and untamed curls you had a sudden desire to run your fingers through. 

Spencer Reid, you assumed. You’d heard of him countless times but for whatever reason the two of you had never met. You got the impression he avoided social situations in lieu of more academic pursuits. 

You’d heard stories of his time in prison and looking at him now it struck you that there was a hint of sadness in those hazel eyes and you assumed that must be why. 

“You must be Spencer.” You smiled a little shyly at him. You had no idea he’d be so attractive. “I’m Y/N.”

He smiled at you but you noticed it was stifled. Like he knew the fact you knew his name meant you knew what had happened to him.

“Yes, I’m Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you Y/N, I can’t believe we’ve never met before.” Despite the sadness about him, his eyes seemed to sparkle as they looked at you and it made you feel hot under the collar. 

“Me either.” You couldn’t help but beam, had Penelope been hiding him from you? He was just your type. 

You turned to look at your friends briefly but were surprised to find them gone. Tara, Emily, JJ and Matt were now dancing in the middle of the floor while Rossi propped up the bar, sipping his single malt. 

A few feet from where you were standing with Spencer, Luke and Penelope were swapping saliva in an extremely NC-17 fashion. 

He had his hands on her voluptuous backside and her fingers were clawing at his shirt. 

“Are they always like this?” You turned back to Spencer with a grimace.

He shrugged.

“Not always but often enough not to be phased by it anymore.” He chucked a little. 

“Young love.” You laughed too. 

“They’re actually pretty cute when they aren’t pushing the boundaries of public displays of affection.” 

“Pen always refers to him as bunny, it makes me sick.” You laughed harder.

“Oh gosh.” Spencer pulled a face. “They flirt over the phone on cases all the time. It takes forever to get an answer out of Garcia because they have to flirt in every single call.”

“I bet he hasn’t described to you their sex life in graphic detail. Because Penelope has.” You shudder a little. “I know more about Luke’s anatomy than I ever needed to know.”

“That’s...that’s unfortunate.” Spencer laughed. 

“Yeah that’s one way to put it.” 

“Can I buy you a drink?” His smile was much less sad now, and more genuine as he looked at you. The way he was smiling at you made you feel weak. 

“That would be really nice.” You nodded. 

You followed Spencer to the bar where he ordered you both a drink and paid. He then led you over to a small booth away from the chaos where you sat next to him to allow you to be able to converse over the music. At least that’s what you told yourself.

It had nothing to do with the fact you wanted to be close to him. Absolutely nothing. 

“One time we were on a case in Boston and I called Garcia and for whatever reason she thought I was Luke and she started graphically describing what she was going to do to me, Luke when I got home. It was...disturbing to say the least.” 

“Oh wow. That sounds...horrible.” You laughed. 

“I’ve not been able to properly look her in the eye since.” Spencer pulled a face.

“They are the definition of sickening. But they’re happy. I guess that’s all that matters.” You shrugged, sipping your drink. “They’re lucky, one night stands have never worked out that well for me.” 

“No?” Spencer looked inquisitive. “I’ve never had one.”

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought everyone had had at least one.”

“Statistically only sixty six percent of American’s have had a one night stand before.” 

“I forgot Penelope told me you were a genius.” You laughed again. “That’s a surprisingly low number.” 

“It’s still over two hundred and sixteen million people.” he didn’t even look as though he had to think to know something like that. You were impressed and felt slightly inadequate in comparison to him.

“Oh, in that case I suppose it is a lot.” you didn’t really know what you could say to that. “Can I ask why you’ve never had a one night stand?”

Spencer contemplated his answer this time. Facts and statistics rolled off his tongue but when he had to speak of personal things it often took him a moment to find the right thing to say.

“I suppose I’m a romantic at heart. One night stands seem kind of...disheartening to me. I’m not saying never but I’ve never felt the need thus far in my life.”

“See I don’t agree.” you turned in your seat so you could look at him properly. This close you could really see his incredible bone structure, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. You wanted to run your fingertips over the delicate curves of his face, kiss the stubble on his soft skin and make your way to those plump lips of his. “Being single is hard, especially when your best friend is Penelope who is and is all loved up with Alvez. One night stands provide a little solace from the loneliness I guess.” you shrugged, trying not to sound like you were throwing a pity party for yourself. 

“But isn’t it just lonely all over again when it's over?” Spencer leaned closer to you and your eyes were fixated on his lips. 

“I don’t know.” mirroring him, you leaned closer. “We could always find out.” you smirked at him. You had just met him and you knew being so brazenly flirtatious could be dangerous territory. But you’d gone all these years without ever crossing paths so you supposed if this went south and Spencer rebuffed you then avoiding him wouldn’t be that difficult. 

His facial expression didn’t change so you had no idea what he was thinking or how he had taken your advances. He leaned even closer and your eyes were still locked on his lips.

“Are you asking me to come home with you Y/N?” his eyes were dark, lust perhaps? 

“I’m asking you to join the sixty six percent Spencer.” 

For a few long seconds neither of you moved or spoke. Spencer eyes fell over you, lingering longer on your lips. You shifted a little in your seat feeling hot under his intense gaze. He leaned even closer and you thought he was about to kiss you, but just as he inched towards you, a voice snapped you back to reality.

“Y/N there you are!” it was Emily. “And Spence, hey.” 

“Hi Emily, what’s up?” you would never forgive her if she had gotten in the way of Spencer kissing you.

“Come and dance, it's girls night!” she tugged your arm, pulling you so you were on your feet. 

Spencer shuffled out of the booth behind you. As Emily started dragging you towards the dancefloor, he came close to your ear and whispered “I’ll come and find you later.” and then he headed over towards Rossi who was still propping up the bar.

You danced with the girls for hours, even Penelope when she came up for air and pried herself away from Luke for more than a few seconds. The drinks kept flowing, laughter was aplenty; it was a great night all round. It had been worth waiting for.

Around three am you and the girls decided to call it night. You were a little tipsy and your feet hurt from all the dancing. You had lost track of Spencer earlier in the night, you were a little disappointed but it was probably for the best. A one night stand with your best friend's colleague would no doubt only end in disaster. 

You said your goodbyes outside, hugs and cheek kisses were dished out and they all promised you would have another girls night as soon as their schedules allowed. You lived on the other side of town than the girls so you waved off their cab from the curb and awaited the next one. It wasn’t long before another cab pulled up and to your confusion the rear window rolled down as it came to a stop.

“Told you I’d find you later.” Spencer smiled at you from the backseat. 

You tried to hide your blush as you slid in next to him. 

“I thought you left.” you buckled yourself in and almost immediately Spencer took hold of your hand.

“Not without you.” he leaned closer and then his lips pressed against yours in the backseat of the cab and you felt your whole body turn to jelly at the sensation. He used his free hand to cup your face as he deepened the kiss.

You felt a jolt of electricity coarse through you, something you had never felt before. Your lips moved in such a synchronized fashion it was crazy to think you had never done this before. You felt as though you’d waited your entire life for this moment. 

The kiss lasted a few minutes and when it ended you both panted slightly, trying to grasp at the air that had escaped your lungs. He kept his hand on your cheek, stroking small circles on your skin with his thumb. 

“Are you ready to join the sixty six percent club Spencer?” you smirked at him in the dark. 

He kissed you again, softly this time, more cautiously. 

“I’m quite comfortable in the minority. And I already know I am not going to be able to settle for one night with you.”

Your heart melted at his words, and the loving look he was giving you. You squeezed his hand, kissing him once more.

“If you take me for breakfast in the morning, you can have as many nights as you like.” you winked at him which made him blush a little.

“I’m sure we can arrange that, my love.”

“Thirty four percent it is then.” you laughed, settling your head on Spencer’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed your head. 

You would have to berate Penelope for not introducing you to Spencer sooner. But you might also need to cut her and Luke some slack, because you had a feeling you and Spencer were going to become an awful, cutesy couple just like them. But when it was happening to you, you didn’t mind so much. Maybe you’d even let Spencer call you bunny…

...On second thoughts, maybe not. Somethings would never change. You’d leave the cringey nicknames to Penelope and Luke. At least for now anyway. Tomorrow was another day. 

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #cmbingo21 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #penelope garcia #luke alvez #emily prentiss #tara lewis #jennifer jareau #david rossi #matt simmons #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Blind Spot

Spencer Reid x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Word Count: 2640

Warnings: Hair pulling kink! Bucketloads of sexual tension but no actual sex. Gratuitous facts about bird nests. Dorks being oblivious. Lots of fluffy heart-eyed banter. Accusations of intercourse with fictional tree-beasts. 

A/N: I saw a gif that made me want to pull Spencer’s hair. That’s it. I have zero shame. 

For the “friends to lovers” square on my @cmbingo​ card! Proofread by @fangirlxwritesx67​ because she’s the best. 

“You look like you fucked an Ent,” you commented cheerfully, stealing sideways glances at Spencer while you waited for the light to change.  

“Thanks, that’s helpful.” He grimaced, trying to tug another burr out of a snarled curl. 

“Oh my god, you’re just making it worse! I’ll help you when we get back to your place. Leave it, you goober.” 

“Did you just call me a goober?” Spencer asked, trying not to laugh. 

“You’re like the dictionary definition of a goober,” you said fondly. 

“I have three PhDs!”  

“I really wish I’d gotten a video of that tumble, Doctor Goober.” 

Spencer was blushing, grinning down at his lap as he shredded a piece of leaf. It was hard not to stare at him when he smiled like that. 

He’d essentially face-planted into a burr bush earlier, somewhere in the Virginia woods — he’d been so excited about explaining some wonky bit of Star Trek physics theory to you that he just forgot to pay attention to his feet — and he’d floundered out with half a hedge stuck in his hair before picking up exactly where he’d left off. 

In other words, Doctor Spencer Reid was a ridiculous human being. You knew that, objectively. It didn’t stop you from having a massive crush on him. 

Either he was pretending not to notice, to spare your feelings, or he was socially oblivious; you tended to believe the former, considering how well you’d seen him read other people, but you appreciated it. There was a chance you’d make it out of this — if you could just get over it already — with your friendship intact. 

You cleared your throat and told him, “You look like the bastard child of Grandmother Willow and the Wizard of Oz scarecrow.” 

“Even if they were real, the anatomical —” 

“You didn’t mention that when I brought up the Ents. Something you want to tell me about you and Treebeard?” 

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffed, trying to sound exasperated, but he could barely keep a straight face for a second before he was laughing, that scratchy sunny childish giggle that only came out when he was really relaxed and carefree. 

“Close the window before a bird sees you and decides to take up residence.” 

“How about you watch the road?”

“What, no facts about bird nests?” 

“Is that a rhetorical question?” 

“Nope.” 

“Well in that case… gyrfalcon nests are frequently re-used and passed along for generations. The oldest one that’s been discovered was in Greenland, and it was actually estimated to be approximately 2,500 years old.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yes! In fact…” 

You had to remind yourself, yet again, to stop staring. 

Maybe someday you’d get sick of hearing Spencer talk, but you couldn’t really understand the way most of your teammates reacted to his rambling. Even if you didn’t care about what he was saying, there was something amazing about the way his eyes lit up and his hands fluttered around to illustrate his point.

You parked in front of his building and followed him upstairs. His apartment had become comfortingly familiar — ever since you and Spencer bonded over a shared love of sci-fi, you’d taken to driving him home and, if it wasn’t too late, sticking around for an episode or two of Doctor Who.  

He got his ancient little DVD player up and running, and you settled on the couch, fluffing pillows and shoving aside his nest of colorful crocheted blankets, getting cozy. There was something about Spencer’s space that always felt like home; maybe it was the smell of books, or just the general Spencer-ness of the whole place. 

Just being around him had always kinda felt like home, too. Sometimes you forgot you’d only known him for six months. 

He disappeared into his room for a second and came back with a comb. It was cheap plastic, missing a couple teeth, and looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. You looked from him to the comb and back again. 

“That actually explains a lot,” you said, grinning. Spencer rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor in front of you, leaning back against your shins, and after a dismayed glance at his curls, you commented, “We could always just shave it all off.” 

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” he said primly. 

You started with a couple of the less tangled pieces, finger-combing carefully through one soft lock at a time. You half-expected some comment about primates and social grooming, or at least a few facts about the quantum theory behind the TARDIS, but Spencer was uncharacteristically quiet and still, his eyes fixed on the TV. 

You separated out one of the worst knots, and he tilted his head to the side to give you better access. You were being as gentle as possible, but you knew you were hurting him at the first tug — he sucked in a breath, knuckles going white as his fingers clenched on his knees. 

“Sorry, I’m trying,” you sighed. 

With his head tilted like this, you could see the muscle clenching in his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. 

“S’okay,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s not — not your fault.” 

He sat there stiffly as you worked. His hair was silky, where it wasn’t hopelessly knotted, and you were close enough that you could smell whatever clean, sweet shampoo he used. Something about it made you want to hold your breath; it felt like you were too close. Spencer rarely let you inside his little bubble of personal space. 

Maybe that was why he seemed uncomfortable. He was usually so fidgety, tapping out a rhythm or twirling a pen between his long fingers, and it was strange to see him motionless like this. 

You ran your fingers through a de-tangled section, slow and careful, and Spencer shivered, his shoulders trembling for a moment before he went unnaturally still again. 

Spencer blurted out, “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

At the same time, you asked, “Are you cold?” 

You paused for a moment, surprised by the reaction, but after hesitating, Spencer just muttered, “Yeah. Cold.” 

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something. It was too warm, if anything; Spencer had a patchy flush crawling up his neck and over the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones. 

“Here you go, goober,” you said, awkwardly cheerful in an attempt to cover your uncertainty as you grabbed an afghan from the couch and draped it around his shoulders. 

“Thanks.” He pulled the blanket down onto his lap without looking at you. “But maybe I should just do this myself.” 

“You’re never gonna get this loose on your own, not without scissors,” you warned, plucking at the knot around the last burr in his hair. “I’ll just, um — I’ll try to be more gentle.” 

“Maybe just go for it,” he said. “Get it over with.” His voice had gone all high-pitched and strained, like he was on the verge of a panic attack. If this was how much he disliked physical contact, no wonder he always avoided hugging you. 

You tried to go quickly, figuring that one quick moment of pain was better than another ten minutes of making Spencer uncomfortable. In your nervousness, you ended up tugging the burr out much more abruptly than you’d intended, and Spencer let out this rough, low, choked-off sound. Before you could apologize, he was jerking away from you, curled in on himself with his shoulders up around his ears like he was worried you were going to hit him, and — 

“Sorry,” he said, voice cracking. 

— what? 

“Spence?” you said tentatively. “What—”

He was still just curled up on the floor in a ball of gangly limbs, but he half-turned to you, twisting around. He wouldn’t make eye contact, though; he was staring intently at the pillow that was on the couch next to you. It felt weird, looking down at him like this, so you slid down onto the floor, hoping it wouldn’t spook him. He shifted back slightly, but at least he didn’t flinch away. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t — this was a bad idea.” 

The profiler in you couldn’t help but notice a few details. He was blushing, for starters. His lower lip was red where he’d been biting it, and — this was the part that surprised you most — his pupils were huge. 

You knew what Spencer looked like when he was panicking, and this wasn’t it. 

“Oh,” you breathed. “Oh.” 

He looked down at his lap, frowning as he played with the loose thread in the cuff of his sweater. 

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I know you don’t feel the same way, I wasn’t trying to — I didn’t realize it would be like that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and—”

“Wait, what?” 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable! I shouldn’t have asked—”

“I don’t feel the same way about what?” 

“I know you’re not attracted to me,” Spencer said, barely audible. 

“You’re… you…what?” 

He looked up, at that, genuinely startled. There was something sweet and vulnerable shining in his eyes, and your heart was racing. You slid a little bit closer, so that your knees were almost touching Spencer’s as you faced each other, cross-legged. 

“I thought you knew.” His hushed, croaky voice broke on the last word. “I thought I was being obvious.” 

You gaped at him for a second before letting out a sharp, hysterical giggle. 

He ducked his head again, hiding behind a curtain of hair, but not before you saw the hurt expression that flashed across his features. 

“No, that’s not—” you blurted out. “Spence. Spencer.” 

“Forget it,” he said sharply, his body going tense like he was about to bolt. “Can we just forget this happened?” 

Before you could think better of it, you reached out and pushed a few curls back behind his ear, and then you grabbed, twisting your fingers in his hair to tug him forward. You cut off the startled noise he made with a clumsy, eager kiss. 

The angle was all wrong, both of you leaning forward awkwardly, but it felt like sparks all down your spine.

You pulled away just far enough to get the words out: “I thought I was being obvious.”  

Then Spencer was surging closer on his hands and knees, crowding into your space, until you had a lapful of rumpled doctor pressing you back against the couch. He cupped your jaw with gentle spidery fingers, gaze locked on your mouth, and leaned in slowly like he was still waiting for you to push him away. 

There was nothing awkward about it this time. If the first kiss was sparks, this was fireworks — it was such a goddamn cliche you wanted to kick yourself for thinking it, but it was true. Your head was spinning. Every pillowy press of his lips and soft slide of his tongue seemed to steal the breath from your lungs. 

By the time you broke apart you were panting, but at least you weren’t the only one. Spencer’s chest heaved as he pulled away. He was still staring at your mouth like he couldn’t help himself. Part of you wanted to kiss him again and maybe never stop, but another part of you was paralyzed, trying to process the fact that this was actually happening. 

You just wanted to put the world on pause so that you could memorize everything: the way he licked his lips, the smell of his laundry detergent, the barely-perceptible movement of his pulse — you’d never seen that before because you’d never been this close to him before. You wanted to hold onto it, even the less-than-perfect details — the soundtrack of buzzy Dalek screeching in the background — the way you were folded together on the floor, all too-long legs and bony elbows, which was going to get uncomfortable fast.  

Spencer seemed to feel the same way. He grazed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, then followed the curve of your smile out to your temple and traced the shell of your ear with careful fingertips. When he brushed his curled-up fingers along the ridge of your cheekbone, you turned your head and kissed his knuckles.  

His hand came to rest on your shoulder, and you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, holding it in place, feeling the blood and bones shifting under the skin.  

“You really didn’t know?” you whispered. 

He shook his head shyly and gave you one of those incandescent smiles that always made your heart race. “No idea.” 

“I thought you were just ignoring it to spare my feelings,” you confessed. 

“I thought you were doing that.”  

“I thought you were good at your job!” you laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” 

“I think I have a blind spot, where you’re concerned.” He was blushing again. “But I was so distracted by you that I walked into a bush! How did you not —” 

“I’m the one who stares at you all the time like a creep.” 

“You thought you were being creepy?” he said sheepishly. “As soon as you started touching my hair — oh my god that’s embarrassing.” 

“That’s not the word I would’ve used.” 

You tangled your fingers in his curls, tugging experimentally. His breath hitched. 

Both of you were utterly still for a moment, watching each other, and the tension between you seemed to fill the air like a living thing. You were excruciatingly aware of all the places your bodies were touching.

You considered all the places you could touch. It would be so easy. You could tug him in, kiss him, melt into each other… there were so many possibilities, suddenly, and there was something incredible about that: the electricity, the excitement, the moment of pure potential in the pause between certainty and action. 

Spencer sighed, long and shaky, and you were so close that you could feel the current of exhaled air. 

“I couldn’t think straight,” he murmured, with a twitch of a smile. “That doesn’t happen to me often.” 

“So you didn’t know…” 

You scritched your fingernails down his scalp, marveling at the way he shivered and swayed closer like he was hypnotized. He curled his hand around the side of your neck, thumb slowly stroking the hinge of your jaw. 

“I knew I liked it,” he confessed. “But — within a certain context? Not out of nowhere like that. I didn’t think it would be... like that.” 

“Like what?”

“Intense.”  

“Yeah?” 

“But I think maybe it’s just you.” His eyes had gone all glassy and heavy-lidded, and you could barely breathe. “Maybe you drive me crazy no matter where you’re touching me.” 

“I can think of a few ways to test that hypothesis.” 

You caught a glimpse of his grin, but then he pressed his forehead to yours and his features went blurry, too close for you to focus.

“Never really thought I’d be into dirty talk, but if you’re going to start quoting the scientific method…” 

“Funny, most of the time you never shut up,” you said, giddy and overwhelmed. 

The tip of his nose brushed yours. There was maybe an inch of space between your mouths, and you wanted to close that gap so badly it felt like a physical ache. 

“I mean, if you want me to start rattling off statistics—” 

“Spencer.” You fisted both hands in his hair, tugging sharply, and he shuddered. “Take a hint.” 

“Blind spot, remember?” he whispered, lips brushing yours as they shaped the words, feather-light and maddening. 

“You know, for a genius—” you started, but he kissed you, hungry and sweet like he was making up for lost time, until you’d completely forgotten what you were going to say. 

.

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There is now a sexy follow-up here! 

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#cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader fic

[dontshootmespence]

Freight Train

Summary: While struggling with sobriety, Spencer loses control.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Male!Reader

Word Count: 841

Warning: Feelings of extreme guilt and depression leading to drug use. Overdose on drugs. Needle use. 

A/N: This fulfills my season 2 square for @cmbingo​ and a request I had for an angsty Spencer x Male!Reader fic involving Spencer’s drug addiction. The person asked for fluff at the end but that felt a little disingenuous so I went with a hopeful ending without fluff.

In the emptiness of the apartment, the needle called to Spencer like a moth to a flame. Sobriety was a hard-won battle and he’d made it, but in the loneliness of their home came doubt, with doubt came shame, and with shame came guilt. With guilt came the overwhelming need to numb it out. It was like a freight train.

Ever since Y/N had found his stash, Spencer had promised to get help, and he did, achieving what he thought impossible. But after an especially difficult case, his tenuous grip on sobriety slipped further and further from his grasp. He’d promised his boyfriend that he was done, but he couldn’t control his guilt. His guilt from the case today, all the cases he couldn’t solve, disappointing those around him - it was all too much, like a freight train. And the only one to dodge it was the needle.

Spencer picked up the only bottle Y/N had never found and turned it over in his fingers. Before he could talk himself out of it, the other hand reached for a tourniquet. Despite the months away, the muscle memory was there, his fingers sliding over the latex band. Like a practiced play, he tied the band tightly around his arm, picked up the needle and inserted it into the bottle. 

As the needle slid into his arm, he winced, the familiar sting giving way to the comforting burn and welcoming void that followed. Leaning back into the headrest of the bed, he pulled loose the band and dropped the needle to the floor before unconsciousness became his only friend. 

----

When Y/N entered the apartment, he could feel the tension in the air. In the last weeks, he’d been sure that Spencer was struggling despite him closing himself off. “Spence?”

Carefully, he set his bag down on the floor and walked slowly toward the bedroom, hoping that Spencer was just asleep. However, when he rounded the corner, he immediately saw the needle on the floor and the bottle sitting softly in his open palm.

He ran toward the bed and felt for a pulse, faint but there. With tears in his eyes, he called 911, throwing the bottle of dilaudid to the floor. “I need an ambulance at 95 Capitol Street Apartment 203,” he said, his voice tight. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N. My boyfriend overdosed on dilaudid. Please hurry!”

With the promise of help to come, he tossed the phone aside and shook his boyfriend. “Wake up, Spence. Don’t do this to me.” Spencer inhaled sharply, eyes rolling toward the back of his head. “Don’t do this me. Stay with me, okay? I love you.”

Wiping the tears from his eyes, he ran to the door for the medics and stood aside, helpless and watching as Spencer drifted in and out of consciousness. Before he could get downstairs, the medics had already left with Spencer in tow, leaving Y/N to follow behind in their car. One road bled into the next, his mind racing with all the possibilities that lie ahead. 

Would he die? Would he live and decide that he wanted the drugs more than their relationship? Would he promise to get help and then back out? Or relapse again? There was no way to know and that’s what was killing him. After pulling into the parking lot of the hospital, he barely put the car in park before running inside. 

Each step he took felt like walking through cement. He couldn’t breathe. It felt like years passed before he arrived in Spencer’s room. 

“Hello, are you here for Spencer Reid?”

Nodding, he turned to face the nurse. “Yes, I’m his boyfriend.”

“Apparently, the ride here was touch and go, but he’s okay now.”

Mouthing ‘thank you,’ he walked to Spencer’s bedside and grabbed his hand, staring off into the distance as he prayed for him to wake up. Hours passed before his eyes opened and when he met Y/N’s gaze, the guilt washed over him again. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just, it was there and I was weak and I-”

“I know. Listen, Spence-”

“I don’t blame you,” he responded, eyes welling with newfound tears.

Squeezing his hand, Y/N spoke. “I’m not breaking up with you. Yet. But I am setting up ground rules. The last time you got clean you went to work within a week. I knew you weren’t ready. I said you weren’t ready and you didn’t believe me. This time you are taking time off. At least a month. We’ll be okay on my salary. I’m going to go through the apartment with a fine tooth comb.”

Spencer sobbed. “I understand. I need to earn your trust again, I know. I promise. Y/N, I promise I’ll get clean.”

The words stung. He’d heard them before. “Don’t promise. Just work at it, okay?”

“Okay.” 

Gathering Spencer’s hand in his, he brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I love you, Spence. So much.”

“I love you, too, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

#cmbingo #cmbingo21 #criminal minds #criminal minds bingo #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #dontshootmespence #freight train

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Play Pretend

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~4170

Warnings: I don’t think there are any? Some language. Egregious amounts of fluff. A blanket fort and a Star Trek onesie. Gratuitous descriptions of Spencer Reid’s bone structure, because apparently I can’t help myself. 

A/N: For the “treat yo’ self” square on my @cmbingo​ card, and also for @railmereid​‘s 2k challenge! Prompt for the latter is bolded.

It’s been a godawful case, and in the BAU, that’s saying something. At least nobody ended up in the hospital this time? But as you all troop onto the jet in a straggly line of wrinkled clothes and puffy eyes, that’s about the brightest spot you can find in this whole fucking week. 

As you get settled, though, Hotch clears his throat. “Your attention, please. We’re taking a long weekend, Strauss’s orders.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter under your breath.  

“Once we get back and grab our things, you are not to return to the office for a full seventy-two hours.” Hotch looks sternly (well, even more sternly) at Spencer, who’s on the couch next to you, curling up for a nap. “Understood? And you are not allowed to take case files home, Reid. I mean it this time.” 

“Understood,” he says grouchily. You can’t help but laugh at the pout on his face. 

“Seriously?” you ask. 

He shrugs, lips quirking up like he does actually realize what a ridiculous human being he is. “I have many talents, but ‘taking it easy’ is not one of them.” He does the air quotes, even.

“All those PhDs and you never got a degree in relaxation?” 

“That’s not—” He realizes you’re teasing and grins. “No. No I did not. I just… never really know what to do with myself, I guess?” 

“Shocking.” 

“What are you going to do, then?” 

“I am going to have a treat yo’ self day,” you declare proudly. 

“A what?” 

“You know, like in Parks and Rec?” He gives you a blank look. “No, you totally don’t know. Of course you don’t. But there’s this one episode where two of the characters have a ‘treat yo’ self’ day, and they go shopping and get, like, really self-indulgent things that they wouldn’t ordinarily buy themselves.”

He frowns. “You’re going shopping all weekend? You’ve never struck me as a particularly materialistic person.”

“Fuck, no. It’s more about indulging in experiences. Self-care. Things that make me feel relaxed. Just… whatever makes me happy.”

“Like what?” He still has this totally puzzled look on his face, with his nose wrinkled up. It’s so much more endearing than it has any right to be. 

“I like painting. I’m not good at it, but I like it, so I’m gonna get some new paints and a big canvas and make a mess, because it makes me happy.” 

“Huh.” 

“What about you, then? What do you do to relax?”  

“That’s… a good question, honestly.” 

“Well, what’s your idea of a perfect day?” 

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that self-care is a foreign concept to him. You wait patiently as he overthinks it.

“Perfect seems unrealistic,” he concludes wryly. 

“So, like, remember when you were a kid and you walked into a really awesome toy store?” you prompt. “Just feeling that sort of carefree, giddy kind of happy?” 

“Not really.” He shrugs. 

“What did make you feel like that, though?” you ask. “When you were younger? There had to be something.” 

“I think I just — I didn’t do much normal kid stuff.” He lets out a huff of a laugh and runs his hands through his messy curls, suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t get to play pretend, or… I don’t know. Didn’t have time.” 

“Right,” you say softly. “Sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” 

You nod, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. Get some sleep, Spencer. Sweet dreams.” 

He gives you a tired half-smile and tugs his blanket up to his chin, tucking his hands under his cheek, and the dark hollows under his eyes are hidden by his long lashes as he falls asleep almost immediately. You need to rest too, but it takes you a while; you sneak a glance at him every so often, feeling that twist under your breastbone that happens all too often when you’re around Spencer. 

By the time the jet lands, though, you have a plan. 

* * * * *

You second-guess your plan approximately a thousand times on your way over to Spencer’s the next morning. When you get to his door, you almost convince yourself to walk away before you manage to knock; is this totally presumptuous? Is Spencer going to think you’re ridiculous? Is the whole thing just plain stupid? 

Then again, you were stupid enough to fall for Spencer in the first place, so. What’s another stupid decision on top of that whole mess? 

When he opens the door, he’s wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a phenomenally hideous bathrobe, and he’s all messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, and for a moment you’re panicking because oh shit I woke him up. It’s almost noon, to be fair, but he did have some serious sleep to catch up on. Then you notice the coffee mug in his hand, and after a moment of relief, that morphs into more of a oh shit he’s so fucking beautiful type of panic. 

You’re used to that, though. 

Then you realize he’s staring at you, smiling but puzzled, and you haven’t explained yourself. Oops. 

“Um. Trick or treat yourself day?” you blurt out, hoisting your shopping bags and giggling at your own lame joke. “I… brought you something. Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you — I should’ve texted, I just—”

“You’re always a good surprise,” Spencer says shyly, and then seems to shake himself. “Come in. Sorry. Coffee?” 

“Please.” 

You set down your shopping bags and follow him to the kitchen, where he fixes you a mug of your own — exactly how you like it, because of course he remembers. Then he takes a couple deep gulps of his own sugar-sludge and tops it up, and by the time you go back out to the living room, he’s starting to look vaguely awake. 

“What’s all this about?” he finally asks, head cocked to look curiously at the bags. 

“Well,” you start slowly. Now that you have to say it out loud, it sounds even more stupid. “I was thinking a treat yourself day would be a lot more fun with company, and it seems like… maybe you’re overdue for some of that? For… self-indulgence, and just, like, enjoying yourself without worrying. And you deserve it. So. You wanna?” 

His eyes are soft and bright, oddly vulnerable, and a smile spreads slowly across his face, twitchy at the edges like he’s not sure he’s allowed to smile yet. 

“Really? I don’t know what to do, though.” 

“Well, I have some ideas about that. But first, you gotta make a deal with me.” The way he’s beaming makes you feel a whole lot more confident as you tell him, very seriously, “This is the sacred covenant of treat yourself day. You have to solemnly swear to do whatever you want. Anything you can dream up. Indulge every whim. Take an oath to give in to every one of your silly, random, frivolous desires, without any form of self-denial or doubt. Can you do that, Spencer?” 

“I can try,” he says, and his voice cracks. It’s like he can’t shape the words, with the way his smile has taken over his entire face. 

“Okay, good enough. And… I have a few ideas.” 

“Like what?” 

You shrug. “Like… some things I thought maybe you didn’t get to do as a kid? Here, let me—”

You rummage until you find what you were looking for, and then you turn around, holding it out like an offering. Spencer’s mouth drops open. 

“Is that a Captain Kirk costume?” he asks squeakily. 

“It’s a Captain Kirk onesie,” you correct. “And it’s for you.” 

“Holy—” 

He shucks the bathrobe and sets down his coffee hastily, and he’s zipping the onesie up before you can say “Beam me up,” looking down at himself with this joy on his face, totally giddy in a way you’ve never seen him before, and holy hell, even if he hates the rest of your ideas, this will be one hundred fifty percent worth it for the memory of that smile on Spencer’s face. 

“I have one too,” you admit, and pull your Chewbacca onesie out of your backpack. Once you’re both appropriately attired, you tell him, “Next order of business is cartoons.” 

“I don’t actually have TV?” he says apologetically. “I mean, I have a TV, but it’s only for —” 

You grin. “I came prepared, though!” 

Spencer’s the only person you know who still has a VHS player, but you’ve been holding onto some things you rescued from your parents’ attic a while back; you find your VHS of Tom & Jerry cartoons and wave it at him triumphantly. 

“I’ve never watched that before.” He examines the cover, bemused. 

“It’s essential viewing.” 

“Okay,” he says slowly.

While he performs whatever arcane ritual makes his ancient TV work (there’s like a rain dance and an animal sacrifice involved, you’re pretty sure) you settle on the couch, nesting in all the blankets and sipping your coffee contentedly. Spencer presses play and sits down next to you, but you can feel his uncertainty; he’s holding himself stiffly, and he keeps sneaking glances at you. 

“Spit it out,” you tell him, a few minutes in. “If you hate it, you can just say so, Spence. I won’t take it personally.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that! I just — is this really how you want to spend your Saturday?” 

“What do you mean?” You have a Chewbacca onesie, a perfect cup of coffee, and great company; you’re not entirely sure how this could get any better. 

“Doing nothing,” he mumbles. “This is… there are so many things you could be doing. Don’t you have a whole list of things you wanted to do? But instead… I don’t know. You’re here. With me.” 

Sometimes you want to scream until he realizes how awesome he is, but the screaming is probably not the best way to convey that particular message. 

Instead, you keep your voice very quiet as you tell him, “There is absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now.” 

It’s a little too true. Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the TV, trying not to dwell on the way you can see him watching you in your peripheral vision. 

“Okay,” he says hoarsely. He settles himself more comfortably into the blanket nest, and before long, he’s giggling along with you. 

You watch in peaceful silence for a little while, but at some point, Spencer’s stomach growls, and you pause the tape to make food — chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream, as per his verdict on “ultimate treat food.” As it turns out, he knows a lot about the science of cooking, but not a whole lot about the actual practice, so he sits cross-legged in a chair and directs you to various cabinets as you measure and mix and whisk. When you get the batter poured out on the griddle, he’s pattering on about the chemical differences between baking soda and baking powder. 

He looks utterly dismayed when the first chocolate chip hits his forehead. Turns out his lack of hand-eye coordination applies to mouth-eye coordination too, and the floor is littered with semi-sweet projectiles before he actually catches one, but he’s laughing, so you really can’t bring yourself to care. 

The pancakes are a total success. When you’re both stuffed and sugar-high, you grab the syrupy plates and bring them to the sink for a quick rinse. 

“You don’t have to,” Spencer protests. You ignore him. His next words are much softer, scratchy and hoarse: “Thank you. I don’t — just — thank you.” 

“Nothing to thank me for,” you say briskly. Then you turn around, and you freeze, because he’s a whole lot closer than you thought he was; he’s right there, close enough that you could reach out and run your fingers through his hair, or trace the sharp line of his jaw. 

He has a tiny streak of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth, right where his lips curl up as he smiles, and for a second you can barely breathe with how much you want to stand up on your tiptoes and see if he tastes as sweet as he looks. 

For a second he looks like he wants you to. He’s frozen too, for a moment, and you can hear his breath catch, but then he scoops you up in a hug, squeezing tight. And yeah, it’s just friendly, but it’s a hug from Spencer, and that happens rarely enough that it feels like a treat of its own, so you go with it, forehead pressed to his shoulder, heart racing.

When he releases you, you tell yourself you’re not disappointed. 

“Right,” you say, bossy to cover how flustered you feel. “Back to business.” 

“I think I need more practice sitting still,” Spencer confesses, following you back out to the couch. “It feels weird just… not doing anything.” 

You pause, deliberating. “Well, we could keep our hands busy?” 

With a quick rummage, you produce paint and an extra large pad of paper, holding them up for Spencer’s inspection. He frowns. 

“I don’t have any paintbrushes.” 

“They’re finger paints,” you say, grinning, and he laughs. 

“Of course they are.” 

You set everything up on the coffee table while Spencer presses play, and the two of you sit down on the floor, side by side. Spencer looks down at his onesie, then at the paint, frowning. 

“It’s all washable, Spencer.” 

“Still,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to take it off, but —” 

He unzips the onesie halfway, peeling the arms off and letting the fabric bunch up around his waist. 

“There we go, putting that genius brain to work,” you tease, but you’re touched that he cares enough about your present to worry about stains. 

It’s hard to ignore how close you’re sitting. You do your best, keeping your eyes on either the TV or your masterpiece of Abstract Expressionism, but Spencer’s knee is pressed to yours, a constant warm pressure, and your hands keep brushing as you both reach for containers of paint, and you can smell him, like vanilla and maybe old books. The whole thing has you feeling flushed. 

Other than that, though, it’s comfortable. It’s always been easy to talk to Spencer, which makes sense considering how much he knows about every subject imaginable, but it surprises you sometimes how easy it is not to talk to him, too. Silence isn’t awkward, with him. Neither of you say anything for the next hour or so. You just giggle at the TV and paint, wordless and companionable, and it’s the happiest you’ve felt in… longer than you care to admit. 

Life is rarely perfect, especially not in your line of work, but this? This is pretty close. 

As the credits start to play, you stretch, and then you look at his paper. It takes you a second to recognize yourself, but the likeness is unmistakable. Spencer’s got the exact angle of your eyebrow when you’re looking at him skeptically — apparently you do that often enough that he’s memorized the expression. He somehow managed to capture your smile, the curve of your lips, all in tiny delicate pinky-strokes of purple and turquoise… trust Dr. Spencer Reid to bring that level of precision to finger-painting, and oh god you are not going to think about his fingers any more. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Yeah,” you manage. You clear your throat. “Yeah, I really do.” 

Then he makes it worse by rubbing the side of his neck, bashful and self-conscious, smearing blue-green paint from his collarbone to the sharp line of his jaw, and he’s so busy smiling at you that he doesn’t seem to notice. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple dips, shifting a streak of color, making it flicker. It’s such a silly thing, but it draws your attention to his skin — makes you want to touch. Worst of all, it reminds you that he’s already art, that the shape of him, the delicate precise way he’s put together, is more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in a museum. 

It reminds you that you want some things you can never, ever have. 

“You’ve got — um,” you say, gesturing helplessly. He blinks at you, slow like he’s coming out of a trance, and tucks his hair behind his ear, smearing more paint there before he remembers. You giggle, sharp and nervous, and it breaks the tension all at once. Spencer laughs too, rolling his eyes at himself. You get up clumsily to go grab a wet paper towel from the kitchen. 

The moment is gone, but your heart is still racing. 

“What’s next?” Spencer asks softly, once you’re both cleaned up. 

He missed a tiny spot; there’s a blue smudge right at the corner of his jaw, and you want to touch it, feel it under your fingertips, see if the skin is as soft as it looks, right there where the bone stretches it thin. 

“Blanket fort,” you blurt out, before you can do anything embarrassing. 

His eyes light up. 

It really shouldn’t surprise you that Spencer and his engineering PhD make quick work of a pile of sheets and clothespins. You’re pretty sure that he could revolutionize the entire field of blanket fort construction, if left to his own devices, but you keep poking him when he gets lost in his head or starts muttering calculations to himself. The point is having fun. 

The end result is a lot more Frank Lloyd Wright than any of your childhood creations, but Spencer looks absolutely gleeful, so. It’s the spirit of the thing. 

“One more thing,” you say. “Do you have any Christmas lights?” 

Spencer frowns. “I don’t — oh! Wait!” 

He runs to the closet, and he ends up halfway inside the closet, digging around on his hands and knees. You’re about to make a crack about Narnia when he comes out, holding up a box with a triumphant smile. 

You read the label: “Halloween decorations 3 of 4.” 

Because of course Spencer Reid has Halloween lights. He pulls out several long ropes of them; a couple are shaped like tiny skulls, one is strung with Jack-o-Lanterns, and two could pass as Christmas lights if they weren’t orange and purple. You help him detangle the knot of them and drape them over and through your fort, and when you turn out the normal lights and draw his heavy curtains, the whole thing glows in patches of orange and purple and white. 

“After you,” you tell Spencer, and he crawls in without any more prompting. 

There’s more than enough room to sit up, but Spencer is lying down on his back in the nest of blankets and pillows that you’d relocated from the couch. He’s staring up at the “ceiling” in silence, eyes glittering with some unreadable expression where they catch the twinkling shards of light. You make yourself comfortable next to him, looking up and wondering what he’s seeing. 

“I always wondered what the appeal was,” he whispers. “Of blanket forts. And… childhood in general, I guess.” 

“You grew up pretty fast, huh?” you say quietly. 

“Yeah. And I never — I feel like most of the team doesn’t take me seriously sometimes. Like I’m still a kid to them. I always feel like I have to prove myself.” 

Your instinct is to deny it automatically, but you know what he means. They laugh him off for his quirks, for the way he gets excited about things and for the things he gets excited about. That’s what’s so incredible about him, though: that dichotomy of knowledge and curiosity, the breathless excitement when he makes a discovery.

“I liked pretending I had my own little world,” you tell him. “Blanket forts. Felt like I could actually shut all the bad things out.” 

“Still feels like that,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Nothing wrong with acting like a child, sometimes. We need that. Even if it’s just pretend.” 

“I think I get it now.” 

“Hmm?”

He’s silent for a long moment before he says, “In here, everything’s perfect.” 

“Or we can pretend it is.” 

You turn your head to find Spencer looking at you, and he doesn’t look away when your eyes meet. You barely want to blink for fear of breaking whatever spell you’re under. 

There’s something raw and earnest and almost scared shining all over his face, like you’re catching a glimpse of the child he used to be, before the world taught him to put on a brave face and keep his most intense feelings to himself. It makes you feel shaky in ways you were really not prepared for. 

There’s a heavy moment of silence. You’re painfully aware of how loud your breathing sounds. 

It’s a hell of a thing, to have his focus like this. You fell in love with him watching him work; you know how intensely he can devote himself to a task, to a puzzle, to a map… and every so often, when the two of you talk, he focuses all that brilliance on you, and he listens so completely that you feel his attention like a spotlight. 

That’s when he usually looks away, dropping his gaze like it’s something to be embarrassed about, because too many people have told him to stop staring. 

He’s not looking away now. He turns onto his side to completely face you, curling up in that sweetly childish way with his hands between his cheek and the pillow, and you mirror him.

“Feels like we’re alone.” 

He’s right; there are no distractions, no excuses to be made, no interruptions. It’s just the two of you, and it’s terrifying. 

“Feels safe,” you whisper, because that’s true too. Your heart is racing, and it’s like you can hear your pulse in your ears, but it’s the quietest sort of panic you’ve ever felt. “I think that was exactly what I wanted, after the last couple weeks. To get away. To feel safe.” 

There’s an orange light throwing most of his face into shadow, but you can see the corner of his mouth a little too clearly. You’re maybe a foot apart. It would be so easy — 

“We don’t get that often.” His voice is barely more than a breath. 

“Safety?” 

“That too, but —” His breath hitches, and he clears his throat. “What we want. I don’t usually get what I want, but this was — this was very close to perfect.” 

“Yeah, well, when is life ever perfect?” You manage a smile. “What would make it perfect? If you could have anything.”

“It’s not something I can have, though.” 

“So pretend. It’s just us, and there are no rules today. What would it be?”  

He bites his lip. “I don’t think —” 

“For once in your life, Spencer, stop overthinking it,” you half-laugh, and then he’s propping himself up on one elbow, shifting forward, leaning closer, close close close until he’s all you can see, and —

He kisses you. 

It’s the most gentle, feather-light brush of a kiss you’ve ever felt, barely more than a graze of his parted lips over yours. It’s there, and then it’s gone again before you can even begin to process the sensation. 

As your eyes flutter open you can already see the fear setting in, dark intense gaze fixed on you as he inhales sharply. 

You’re still trying to remember how to breathe; you’re too stunned to react beyond blinking at him. 

“I’m sorry. Can we just —” He shakes his head, hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hold onto the kiss. “Do you think we could pretend — can we pretend I didn’t do that? I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t want to pretend,” you say shakily.  

He stares. 

This doesn’t seem real. It’s such a strange moment that you might as well be trapped in a Dali canvas. There’s fingerpaint on his face, and he’s wearing a Captain Kirk command uniform onesie, and there’s a tiny Jack-o-Lantern glowing over his head. If you’d imagined the “perfect” moment, this would not be it. 

But you reach out, running your fingertips over the dark smudge of paint on his jaw, and the skin is hot and smooth. He shivers at the touch. It’s real. 

“Spencer?” Your throat is tight, but you manage a choked, “I want you to kiss me again.” 

He does, with a careful hand cupped to your cheek and a smile curling his lips when they meet yours. You run your fingers through his hair, and you both laugh when they catch on dried paint. 

“Perfect,” he whispers. 

It really is. 

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#renswritingchallenge #cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm fic #criminal minds #spencer reid

[there-must-be-a-lock]

In Theory

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: 950

Warnings: It’s not technically explicit, but it’s definitely sexy. Gratuitous references to the scientific method during fun naked times.  

A/N: @softspence​ got me thinking about Spencer being inexperienced, and... here we are! I wrote this as a follow-up to Blind Spot, but you don’t really need to read that first. 

For the free space on my @cmbingo​ card. 

Sure, you used to try to ignore your crush on Spencer. It was just that your mind wandered, sometimes. You used to find yourself imagining how he might touch you, how he would sound, how he would taste… 

You know. Theoretically. 

You were aware that he didn’t really have much experience when it came to sex, at that point, and you always imagined him being shy. In your fantasies, he would blush when you asked him what he wanted — hesitate when he tried to answer — smile and stutter as he undressed you — and you predicted that if you ever were to end up in bed with Spencer, you would (theoretically) be the one to take the lead. 

A month ago, when the two of you got together, you discovered that your hypothesis had been completely, totally, gloriously wrong. 

You never could’ve imagined Spencer like this. His mouth is red and swollen, his eyes are dark with this fierce feral hunger, and he’s licking his lips as his long nimble fingers flutter and tease at this one particular sweet spot, deep inside, that you never even knew existed. You never could’ve imagined the way it feels, or the way you’re twisting and squirming and choking out his name, overstimulated and overwhelmed as you come down from another mind-numbingly intense orgasm.

It’s Spencer, after all. Spencer Reid is earnest, and he’s sweet, and sometimes he’s a little clueless. He’s polite, when he’s not so preoccupied by his thoughts that he forgets his manners. You always assumed he was the kind of guy who would ask for permission before he tried anything. 

Holy hell were you wrong. 

Well, not about the asking for permission thing. You were one hundred percent right about that — he’s unfailingly polite. It’s just… you never, ever imagined the things he’d politely ask for permission to do. 

(And yeah, he did have a brief moment of speechlessness when he first saw you naked, but there was no trace of hesitation when he finally did speak.) 

“Can I please watch you touch yourself?” he asked, eyes raking up and down your body like he was memorizing the sight of your skin. “I want you to show me what you like.” 

It was the way he said it, too: that hoarse breathless tone of his, the way his voice cracked and crackled around the words. You’d heard it before, mostly when he felt shy or vulnerable — when he was being uncomfortably honest — and you’d always associated it with sweet unexpected compliments or earnest late-night conversations in the back of the jet. Something about that voice always sounded so innocent. 

Now, though, you hear that smoky voice whispering requests like, “Can you pull my hair?” and then a few minutes later, muffling his groan against the skin of your inner thigh, “Harder. Please.” 

One night he pressed you up against his apartment door the second it closed behind you, toying with the button of your jeans, and murmured, “I’ve been thinking about you all day and I don’t want to wait long enough to make it to bed. Can I please take these off?” 

Another night it was, “Can you tell me exactly what you want me to do to you?” 

“Can I tell you what I dreamed about last night?” 

“Can you bend over the table for me so I can eat you out from behind?” 

“Please let me taste you?” 

It’s dirty, but it’s not “dirty talk” in the way most guys grunt out godawful phrases yanked directly from porn. Spencer’s not trying to talk for the sake of filling the silence; he only says things like “Does this feel good?” and “Do you like that?” because he actually wants to know. 

The first few times you slept together, it felt like he touched you for hours, like he completely forgot about his own body in favor of exploring yours, his fingers and lips and tongue teasing every inch of your skin and his eyes sparkling with fascination as he catalogued your reactions. When he found something you liked — when you gasped or twitched under his hands — he repeated it, testing, experimenting like the scientist he is. 

You weren’t wrong about his inexperience. You just underestimated his determination to master this, master you, in the same way he masters everything he sets his mind to. 

Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did. You’ve seen Spencer when he’s in the middle of a case, after all. He gets his map and his markers and he focuses so intently that a goddamn tornado could go through the precinct around him and he wouldn’t even notice. 

And there’s always been something incredibly attractive about the way he holds himself when he’s working: with his eyes narrowed, his long fingers wrapped around a pen, his lips parted as he thinks. When Spencer is in his element, he’s sharp and sure and brilliant. There’s no sign of his usual self-conscious fidgeting when he’s gathering information and testing hypotheses. When he’s curious about something, he forgets his shyness; he’s single-minded, even obsessive, as he searches out answers to his questions. 

The question of the moment just happens to be, “How many times can I make you come tonight?” 

You might lose your mind before Spencer gets his answer. 

“One more?” he asks, husky and heated. 

“I can’t,” you whimper. “There’s no way.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Spencer does something with his fingers that sends sparks jittering out through your skin — it makes you throw your head back, shuddering as your muscles start to spasm with the frisson of heat. 

“You’re welcome to test that theory,” you gasp. “I might be wrong.” 

Wouldn’t be the first time. 

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