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#dr reid oneshot
pathologicalreid · 2 months
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cherry trees | S.R.
You find Spencer reading some... interesting poetry.
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: breeding kink, unprotected piv sex, mentions of ovulation, pregnancy, fingering, d/s dynamic if you squint, nipple play, mating press, spencer reads erotic poetry, aftercare word count: 3.07k a/n: i have no explanation for myself. the poetry in this is all neruda, if you're interested in it. also this is only one interpretation of that poem but it worked for the plot. i still think im bad at writing smut but i liked this idea so much that i had to.
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Peering over at your boyfriend from the kitchen, you filled your glasses with the wine that Rossi had gifted you and returned to Spencer in the living room. His nose was buried in a book, which wasn’t new in the slightest. What piqued your interest was the fact that he had covered the book he was reading. Both the front and back covers had been disguised with brown paper, preventing you from reading the title of the book.
You set his wine glass on his coaster before sitting down next to him, keeping your glass in your hands. “What are you reading?” You asked quietly as you tucked your feet beneath you.
“Poems,” he answered, “be done in a minute.” He adjusted his hands so that he was holding the book with one hand and resting the other hand on your thigh, absentmindedly rubbing your bare skin with the pad of his thumb.
Surprisingly enough, Spencer was a touchy guy for someone who hated germs, but you supposed he trusted you enough. You lived together, you weren’t married, but the two of you never seemed bothered by that fact. “Take your time,” you responded, Spencer reading poetry took about as long as it took you to look through a pamphlet.
He said nothing in response, completely enthralled in the book.
Standing up, you let his hand fall from your thigh, “I’m going to go change,” you said, leaning over and kissing the top of his head, noting the way he hid the pages of the book from your view.
Shedding your work clothes, you changed into pajamas, throwing a sweatshirt over your tank top before returning to the living room.
Spencer had shifted positions on the couch, “Are you alright?” You asked him, hesitantly walking over to him. From the looks of it, he was on the same page he was on when you left.
He didn’t answer, prompting you to narrow your eyes, and reached over and plucked the book from his hands, “Hey!” He said reaching out for the book, but you lifted it just barely out of his reach, and he didn’t seem like he wanted to stand. Instead, he reached out for you, pulling you down onto his lap so that your legs were on either side of his lap.
You felt it before you saw it. Your eyes widened at the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your core, allowing your gaze to flicker up to his book that you were still holding. “Spencer, are you reading smut?” You asked, amusement clear in your voice.
“Technically, they’re called erotic poems,” he answered very matter-of-factly.
Grinning, you opened the book, “Oh, what a gentleman, reading his porn instead of watching it.” Briefly, you looked at the book, “’Of everything I have seen, it’s you I want to go on seeing’-“
Spencer squeezed your waist, “What will it take for you to stop?”
“’Of everything I’ve touched, it’s your flesh I want to go on touching,’” you continued anyway, leaning over his shoulder so you continue reading the book. Spencer took the opportunity to press gentle kisses up the side of your neck before focusing on the soft spot behind your ear, eliciting a soft moan from you.
You were well aware of the effect you were having on your boyfriend, feeling his dick twitch beneath you as you read to him.
Attempting to ignore the fact that Spencer had slipped his hands underneath your sweatshirt, touching your bare skin only at the sliver of skin between your tank top and your shorts. “’I love your orange laughter. I am moved by the sight of you sleeping.’” You read softly.
“Can I have my book back now?” He asked, his voice was an octave lower and his grip on your waist tightened, prompting you to grind your hips into him, “fuck, baby.”
Once Spencer started cursing, you were already past the point of no return. “What in this book got you so hard, huh? What were you thinking about doing to me?” You pulled away slightly and looked at him, his pupils dilated, and lips parted. “’License my roving hands, and let them go before, behind, above, below.’”
Spencer groaned and you knew you had hit your mark, he reached behind his head, trying to grab the book from your hands, but you stood up and backed away from him. “Stop there, baby. Okay?” He pleaded, causing you to flip the page.
“’I will bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses,” You whispered, reading intently from the page. You could see why Spencer was so enamored with the words, you found yourself falling into the same rabbit hole. “Is this about...?” You started, but you couldn’t finish it.
He sighed exasperatedly, “I will do anything for you to forget I was interested in this.” He said, looking at you from the other side of the coffee table.
Intently, you eyed the next line in the poem, I want to do with you what Spring does with the cherry trees. “Is this what you want?” You asked him in earnest, “Do you want to do with me what the Spring does with the cherry trees?” You were breathing heavily as he scrambled to stand up. Walking backward away from him, you lifted the book back up and turned to the next page, “’I have scarcely left you, when you go in me, crystalline, or trembling, or uneasy, wounded by me, or overwhelmed with love, as when your eyes…’” you gasped as the book was swiftly knocked to the ground.
Backed into the wall, your gaze narrowed as Spencer caged you against the wall with one arm on either side of you. “I asked you to stop reading,” he murmured, ducking his head to attach his lips to your neck, following the column of your throat.
“If you wanted to knock me up so badly, all you needed to do was ask,” you spoke to him lowly, a small, throaty noise escaping your lips as his hands moved to creep up your sweatshirt.
Spencer hummed before pulling away from you just enough to pull the extra fabric over your head, placing his lips on yours as soon as he could. Your hands frantically tried to undo his tie, pulling on the silky fabric before tossing it to the floor and starting to work on the buttons of his shirt. “Needy,” he teased as he pulled away slightly to help you with his shirt.
You leaned back up to kiss him once his shirt was off, shuddering as his hand slid down your front, slipping underneath the waistband of your shorts and rubbing you over your panties, “Fuck, Spence.”
Grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself upright, he pushed the fabric of your underwear to the side and circled your entrance with one finger at a tantalizingly slow pace. “You’re so wet,” he whispered, pressing his finger into your wet hole. “If you wanted me to knock you up so badly, you should’ve just asked,” he taunted.
Your walls clenched around his finger; it wasn’t enough – you needed more of him. He was turning this into a battle of wills, and your resolve was fading fast. Spencer tracked your cycle better than you did, but you did know you were ovulating. He knew it too.
“I want to hear you ask,” he said, slowly withdrawing his finger from your cunt before pushing two back in.
A small whimper slipped through your mouth, “Spence, ‘m ovulating,” you breathed, gasping for air as he thrust his fingers into you. You leaned your head forward onto him, landing on his bare chest.
“Why do you think I was reading those poems?” He asked.
Groaning, you muffled your moans in his chest, “You want to breed me? You want to-“ Your voice broke off into a yelp as he firmly pressed his thumb against your clit. “Do what the Spring does to the cherry trees. Fuck me, please. Come in me,” you begged mindlessly, any remaining willpower fading away as your orgasm built.
You whimpered as Spencer withdrew his fingers from your pussy. “Poor baby,” he whispered, “you need to be bred that badly?”
“Yes,” you answered breathlessly, grinning as Spencer crouched down to place his hands on the backs of your thighs, lifting your feet from the ground to move you to your bedroom.
He sat you down gently on the edge of the bed, pulling away from you and tugging your tank top over your head. You took the initiative to shuffle further onto the bed, watching intently as Spencer unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor, leaving him in only his boxers as he clambered onto the bed and hovered over you.
Lifting your head up slightly, you kissed him. It was gentle at first, but lust took over and the two of you grew frantic. Spencer moved his head, leaving big wet kisses down your neck before turning his attention to your breasts. Enveloping your peaked nipple in his mouth, he gently nipped at it with his teeth as his other hand rose to your unattended breast, pinching the small bud with his index finger and thumb.
Your hips inadvertently bucked up, just for them to be pushed back down by Spencer’s as he expertly continues his ministrations on your chest. It took all of your remaining focus to grind up into him, desperate for some kind of friction.
Spencer pulled his mouth from your breast and looked at you, holding your gaze as he tugged at your panties and pulled them off, carefully guiding your legs as he did so. “You’re so wet for me, baby,” he whispered. “You’ve got that little glint in your eye, and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
“You have such a dirty mouth,” you tell him, still trying to steady your breathing. You looked down at him, kneeling between your legs, his brown eyes were completely lust-blown. You gasped as your boyfriend returned his fingers to your core, “Please.”
He hummed in response, slipping two fingers into your dripping heat as he watched your every reaction. Then, as if you had forgotten his intentions, he placed a hand on your abdomen and he started thrusting his fingers in and out of you, eliciting a moan from your lips.
Turning your head into the pillows, you reached around for something – anything – to grab as the orgasm you had been chasing all night finally approached. “Babe… come…” You managed to squeak out as your walls clenched around his fingers.
“Come for me, come on my fingers, baby,” he encouraged the climax out of you, and you knew he relished the way your eyes rolled back and your back arched off of the sheets. “Good girl,” he praised you softly, working you through your orgasm, his fingers moving at a slower pace.
Once you caught your breath, you propped yourself up on your elbows, smiling dazedly at him. You reached out and pawed at his boxers, “Off, please.” You said simply, your grin expanding as he maneuvered and removed the last remaining layer.
His pink cock stood at attention before you and you found yourself subconsciously biting your lip at the sight of it. “Tell me what you want,” he spoke lowly, reaching over to the other side of the bed and grabbing a pillow, lifting your hips off of the mattress and placing the pillow beneath them.
Your cheeks flushed, “Want you to fuck me.”
“Is that all?” He asked, raising his eyebrows at you suspiciously as he reached down to your cunt, gathering your slick on his fingers and using it to pump his cock.
Any and all resolve had gone completely out the window as you watched his hand move up and down his length, “Want you to breed me.” You told him earnestly, “Get me pregnant, put a baby in me. I-“ You paused for a moment, meeting his eyes carefully, “I want to have a baby with you, Spencer.”
That seemed to be enough for him as Spencer gently rubbed the tip up and down your slit before gently pushing in. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered to you softly, “like you were made for me.”
Once he had wholly sheathed himself inside of you, he gave you a moment to adjust and you savored the way you throbbed around him. “Move,” you breathed.
Swiftly, he hooked his arms beneath your knees and leaned over you, effectively folding you in half and pressing his cock impossibly deep into your cunt. Slowly, he pulled out halfway before pushing his hips back into yours, finding a rhythm.
“You’re so deep,” you whimpered. It was some inexplicable feeling; you could feel him everywhere. Inhaling sharply when he pulled out almost entirely before snapping them back into you, continuing that quick pace. “Harder,” you murmured, the only confirmation that he had heard you being the fact that he had begun pounding into you.
He let out a moan and you clenched around him in an attempt to encourage him to be vocal, “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” He continued his pace, lifting himself up so that he could run his hand down your body, “You’ll be so pretty pregnant with our baby.” He dropped one of your legs, opening your core ever so slightly more.
Your hips lifted up to meet his as he massaged one of your breasts with his free hand, “Come in me, make me a mommy,” you whispered, getting closer to your own orgasm as well.
Spencer’s hand dropped to your clit, rubbing small circles as he continued ruining your pussy. His rhythm staggered slightly, and his head dropped to the crook of your neck, groaning into your sweaty skin as he spilled his seed into you.
The heat of his cum in you hurtled you toward your second orgasm, bringing your hand to your mouth and biting the knuckle of your index finger as you came. You felt your tunnel spasming around Spencer’s now half-hard cock, unable to control any of it as your vision spun slightly.
“Are you okay?” Spencer asked softly, pressing gentle kisses to your neck as he stayed still, effectively keeping his seed inside of you.
You nodded slowly, still trying to catch your breath.
He lifted himself up slightly, “Words, please.” He whispered to you, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair from your face.
Nodding again, you took a deep breath, “I’m good. Forgot to breathe.” Your voice was quiet as you reached your arms around Spencer, the aftershocks of your orgasm making their way through you. Softly, you skimmed your palms over Spencer’s back.
“Fuck, don’t do that,” he said, referring to the inadvertent clenching of his length. “I’ll get hard again.”
You hummed as if that wasn’t the worst thing in the world, rolling your hips up into his and gasping at the friction on your oversensitive heat. “Then let’s better our odds,” you whispered, resting your head back on the pillows and biting your lip as you noticed Spencer growing hard again while still inside you.
He moved slightly inside of you, pressing himself tightly inside of your pussy, “You’re going to be the death of me.” He whispered, “wanting me to pump you full of my cum.”
“Please, Spence,” you whimpered, tears growing in your eyes as he started to fuck you again. “You feel so good in me,” you told him, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his hips.
Spencer’s pace sped up at your encouragement, completely ravishing you, “gonna make you come around my cock again, gonna breed you.”
You had completely faded away to the point where the only noises in the room were the obscene squelching as Spencer pounded into you and small, hitched breaths that escaped your lips.
The third orgasm took you completely by surprise, you hadn’t felt the coil in your abdomen before it took you over and you wrapped your arms around Spencer as he fucked you through it, his pace refusing to cease until his hips stuttered again, his seed painting your insides white.
Your legs dropped from around his hips, falling to the sheets. Gently, Spencer pulled out of you, leaving you whining at both the sensitivity and the empty feeling.
“Are you crying? Did I hurt you?” He asked suddenly, fear filling his voice as he returned from his lust-filled state.
Shaking your head, you swallowed thickly, “Just sensitive. I’m alright, Spence.” You smiled softly at him, a breathy laugh escaping your lips.
He ruffled your hair affectionately, “What are you laughing about, darling?”
“I just understood what the pillow under my hips is functioning for,” you answered. A sort of ramp so that none of his cum spilled out of you – Spencer Reid never did anything halfway. Next to you, he was tugging his shirt back over his head, having already put his boxers back on. “How long do I have to stay like this?”
Spencer hummed before leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, “You’re not trapped there. You can move – as long as you’re feeling okay.” He spoke to you before walking out of the bedroom for just one moment, returning from the kitchen to find you sitting up in bed.
You thanked him as he handed you a glass of water, “I love you,” you whispered, reaching over, and intertwining your fingers.
He smiled at you fondly, “I love you too.”
“I do want it, you know. I know it’s been a while since we talked about a wedding and kids, but I do want that,” you told him candidly. “With you,” you added, for good measure.
Gently, Spencer sat down on the edge of the mattress, “Good,” he whispered, “because there’s a good chance that I just got you pregnant.”
Your cheeks flushed, “and if you didn’t, at least now we know we’ll enjoy ourselves trying.”
“And in the interim, what do you say we take a shower and then watch that movie?” He asked, smoothing your hair back before cupping your cheek with his hand.
Humming, you leaned into his touch, “A bath?” You negotiated, “I’m not sure I can stay standing for a shower.”
Spencer grinned before leaning forward to kiss you, “I’ll go get the water running.”
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de4dlyniightshade · 4 months
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I just imagine that like Spencer HATES being vocal but the boys so sensitive he can't help but moan like a whore
THISSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!! I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. DIE ON IT.
HEADCANON SEGMENT!!! :3
i just know he's fighting for his life every time you give him a handjob, his eyes squeezed shut while he grips anything he can, trying so hard not to let any sounds slip out but he just can't help but let out cute little whimpers and gasps.
prince(he's too cute to be a king)of overstimulation!!! he'd take it like such a champ, letting you milk him dry until he can't even think for himself, he'd just moan and whimper and beg.
would literally almost bust when you whispered something like "let me hear you, baby" and just can't help but moan like a SLUT
every time you two go at it at least one neighbour complains bcs he's just so loud, practically screaming your name over and over.
honestly for the longest time he managed to convince you he was just quiet naturally but his facade fell the first time you overstimulated him, which was completely by accident, spencer, unbeknownst to you, had already rubbed one out before coming over but you pounced on him as soon as he was through the door so he was still sensitive and reactive, you thumb rubbing his tip making him let out an almost pornographic moan.
one of your favourite things to do is touch him in public, like in a bathroom or changing room so nobody would see you but he'd have to force himself to be quiet so you wouldn't get caught, your rule being that he wasn't allowed to cover his mouth, he had to just keep quiet.
you'd never been with someone so vocal before and you honestly don't think you could go back, you were addicted to the way he babbled almost incoherently, the pleasure going to his head and making him speak his mind, which is when he said some of the sweetest things to you, like how beautiful you are and how much he loves you and the way you make him feel.
one time derek came to spencer's apartment to drop something off while you two were preoccupied, the sound of spencer's loud moaning and whining being very audible even from outside his door, which started the constant teasing and fake moaning around the bureau.
i honestly might have to write a fic abt this>:3
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moonstruckme · 3 months
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spencer reid waking up the next morning and reader's chest is cOVERED in hickies/bruises and he is freaked out and is so sorry that he hurt reader, and she has to talk him off a ledge bc she just bruises easily? thank you!
Thanks for requesting!
Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 728 words
Spencer’s wanted to get you like this forever. In his apartment, in his bed, with the pale morning light washing over your features. Your face is all smoothed out, placid and pretty against his pillowcase. Your eyelids twitch as you dream. Spencer’s never put as much stock into dreams as some other psychologists, but he really wants to know what you dream about. He hopes you remember enough to tell him. 
You stir a bit, rolling onto your back and letting the covers slip down from where you’ve been holding them tucked them underneath your chin. Spencer’s chest warms at the sleepy movement, but he pauses at the mark that’s revealed just above your collarbone. The bruise is stark and angry in the early sunlight, red turning to purple. Spencer’s heart contracts. Is that from him? He doesn’t remember treating you so cruelly. 
He holds his breath, brushing gently over the spot with his forefinger. It has to hurt. How could he have done something like this without knowing? He remembers kissing you there, sucking a little, but nothing that would leave a mark like this. 
You shift at the touch, and the sheet falls another few inches. Two more, one on your shoulder and another just below the first. Spencer sucks in a breath. 
You hum and roll towards him, eyelids peeling open. “Spence?” 
Spencer’s working the sheet out from under your arm, trying to get another look at the bruises. Trying to prove to himself that he did actually see them. 
“Spence,” you say again, groggily. “What’re you doing?” 
“Sorry I—” He lets the sheet go, trying to collect himself. “I just—I saw the hickeys, from last night, and I—”
“Oh, are they bad?” You push yourself upright, letting the sheet fall away completely. 
Spencer is aghast. He’s lost for words. He needs to be thrown into federal prison. 
Bruises cover your chest. Your collarbones, your breasts, the undersides of your breasts, your shoulders—all of it. Spencer doesn’t recall marking you up so thoroughly. He hardly recalls kissing you in half these places. 
“Oh my god.” He looks at your eyes, repentant. “Sweetheart, I had no idea I was being this rough with you. I’m so sorry.” 
“Spence,” you laugh. “It’s okay.” 
“You should have said something if I was hurting you. I never want to do anything like—”
“Hey,” you cut him off, and you’re still smiling, which he thinks is really rather inappropriate. He’s desecrated you. “It didn’t hurt, okay? I was fine, and I’m still fine. I just bruise really easily.” 
Spencer feels his eyebrows bunch disbelievingly. “This easily? These look like they could have been done with a pellet gun.” 
You shrug, looking a bit bashful as you pull your shoulders up around you. He’s willing to bet you’re fighting the urge to cover yourself with the sheet.
He covers one of the marks on your shoulder with his thumb, watching your face carefully. “Does this hurt?” he asks, pressing on it gently. 
Your eyelashes don’t so much as flicker. “No,” you say honestly. 
Spencer feels like his chest might collapse in relief. “Jesus. That really scared me,” he admits. 
Your lips twitch. “Yeah, I could tell. Sorry for freaking you out.” 
“Sorry for defacing you,” he responds, pressing an especially gentle kiss to the side of your neck. “And for waking you up with my freak out.” 
You let your smile bloom, bright and endearingly kind. “I don’t mind,” you say.
Spencer analyzes you, contemplative. “You know, that sort of bruising could be caused by an iron deficiency. Or a lack of vitamin C.” 
“Mhm?” You’re completely uninterested, leaning forwards to kiss his chin. You nose at the stubble on his cheek. 
“How would you feel about having some spinach in your eggs?” 
You sit back. “You’re going to make me eggs?” 
“Well,” Spencer smiles sheepishly, “first we have to go to the store for spinach and eggs, and then yes. If you want, I’d be happy to make you eggs.” 
“Okay,” you say breezily, swinging your legs out of the bed, “but if you’re only doing it so I’ll stop bruising, you should taper your expectations.”
“There’s no way I’m letting this happen again,” he says. “I can’t mark you up every time I kiss you.”
You hum. “I never said I minded.” 
“I mind.” 
“Well, to each their own.”
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latenightreadingpdf · 19 days
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Familiar Faces - Spencer Reid
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Summary: Doctor Spencer Reid reunites with childhood friend Y/N, only to discover she's being stalked. As the BAU investigates, old feelings resurface between them.
The bright fluorescent lights of the FBI building cast a glow over the corridor. Doctor Spencer Reid adjusted his satchel on his shoulder, his mind racing with the details of the latest case file that had just landed on his desk. He was lost in thought when he bumped into someone, nearly dropping the stack of papers he was holding.
"I'm so sorry," a familiar voice said.
Spencer looked up, his eyes widening in disbelief. Standing in front of him was Y/N, his childhood friend from high school. Memories flooded back as he took in her familiar face, though older and more mature than he remembered.
"Y/N?" Spencer stammered, his voice laced with shock.
"Is that really you?" he continued, his eyes scanning her face for confirmation.
She smiled, her eyes shining with recognition and surprise. "Wow, Spencer Reid. I never thought I'd see you here in Quantico."
"It's been years," Spencer replied, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.
Before he could say anything more, Y/N stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. Spencer hesitated for a moment, his touch aversion making him uncomfortable, but he found himself wrapping his arms around her in return.
The team, who had been watching the interaction from a distance, exchanged confused glances. They had no idea that Spencer and Y/N knew each other.
"Is everything okay here?" Hotch, the BAU's unit chief, asked, stepping forward with a stern expression.
"Yeah, we're just... catching up," Spencer explained, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.
As they pulled apart, Y/N's smile faded, her expression turning serious. "Spencer, someone's been following me. I think I'm being stalked."
Spencer's eyes widened in concern. "We'll handle it," he assured her, his voice firm.
The team gathered in the briefing room, reviewing the details of Y/N's case. The stalker had been sending her anonymous gifts and messages and had even been spotted near her home.
"We need to catch this guy before he escalates," Morgan said, his voice filled with determination.
"I agree," Hotch replied. "Reid, you'll stay with Y/N to ensure her safety."
Spencer nodded, his mind already racing with the details of the case. As he and Y/N left the BAU office, he couldn't help but feel nervous and flustered around her, his usual calm and composed demeanor faltering.
Over the next few days, Spencer and Y/N spent a lot of time together, trying to piece together clues about the stalker. Despite the seriousness of the situation, they found moments of comfort and familiarity in each other's company, reminiscing about their high school days and catching up on lost time.
One evening, as they were going over the case files in Y/N's house, Spencer found himself lost in thought, staring at Y/N's face as she concentrated on the documents spread out before them.
"Y/N, I..." Spencer started, his voice faltering.
She looked up, her eyes meeting his. "What is it, Spencer?"
"I just... I never thought I'd see you again, let alone like this," he admitted, his cheeks turning a shade of pink.
Y/N smiled, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his arm. "Life has a funny way of bringing people back together," she said softly.
As they continued to work on the case, Spencer realized that his feelings for Y/N had never truly faded; they had simply been buried beneath years of separation and missed opportunities. He found himself hoping that once the stalker was caught and the case was closed, they would have a chance to explore the connection that had unexpectedly rekindled between them.
The days turned into weeks, and with the combined efforts of the BAU and local law enforcement, the stalker was finally apprehended. As Spencer and Y/N said their goodbyes, both promising to keep in touch, he knew that this was just the beginning of their story.
Standing in the hallway of the Quantico FBI building, Spencer took Y/N's hand, pulling her into a gentle embrace. This time, there was no hesitation, no discomfort—just the undeniable realization that sometimes, life gives you a second chance to reconnect with the people who matter most.
And as they parted ways, both Spencer and Y/N knew that they were embarking on a new chapter of their lives—one filled with hope, promise, and the possibility of a love that had been a long time coming.
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eideticallys · 1 year
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You Think I'm Delicious?
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pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words.
“i don’t like your new perfume.”
genre: fluff & crack
word count: 1.9k
author's notes: here's a spencer reid fluff without plot, just crack (i tried so i hope you'll laugh while reading this). anyway, enjoy reading this one! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).
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THE THING ABOUT DR. SPENCER REID IS THAT HE’S A VERY SENSITIVE PERSON. He's very particular about stuff like his dislikes for certain textures and not knowing about something—making him a good researcher by the way, because if he doesn't know something, you'll find him poring through books—and even certain smells aren't an exception. One might think that this is normal with his job because, of course, he does. He has probably smelled dead bodies more than he has smelled fresh flowers. Of course, he hates smells like rotten flesh. Disgusting, honestly. But, what can he do? That is part of his job.
So, when he suddenly tugged you to his side one day to hug you, you were excited for him to take note of your new perfume and love it. No, you were certain he’d love it just as much as you did when you first took a whiff at the store. You just had to buy it because you were sure he’d go crazy over your smell. He’d tuck his face into your neck and shower you with pecks. Because despite what everyone else thinks they know about Spencer having an aversion to touch, he was quite the cuddler when he was in love. And yes, you were the lucky recipient of his comforting hugs 24/7. 
However, all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with Spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words.
“I don’t like your new perfume.”
Your jaw dropped as soon as he said that distressing sentence. Meanwhile, Spencer was quick to move away from you and continue what he was doing previously—playing chess by himself. Sometimes, if only you didn’t love your boyfriend and didn’t have to face charges, you would strangle him for a lot of things. One of which was being nonchalant after just dropping a bomb like that. What does he mean by you smell bad? You bought a citrus-scented perfume that hurt your pockets; you’ll have to give up your afternoon snacks at the cafe near the FBI headquarters. So, like any good partner out there, you just had to instigate a little argument over your new perfume.
“Excuse me?”
Your boyfriend looked up at your incredulous tone, merely raising a brow at you as if to ask, “What’s up?” This almost got your eye twitching, but you refrained. Taking a breath, you plastered a sickly sweet smile on your face and clarified your previous question.
“What do you mean you don’t like my new perfume?”
Spencer started reddening at your accusatory tone and shrugged halfheartedly, which made you raise one perfectly formed brow at your boyfriend. Now, you’re curious why your boyfriend blushed at your question.
He may be quite shy, but Spencer wasn’t the best when it came to social cues. He rarely gets embarrassed about something unless you blatantly point it out. You could probably count on one hand the number of times he flushed pink. A funny memory you have of him reddening like a tomato was when the BAU were out interviewing streetwalkers. Despite his social awkwardness, Spencer was propositioned by all the women he talked to. You could still remember the exact look he had on his face when he had to pull his tie away from the woman, who was busy rolling it on her fingers.
God, he’s so precious, you’d keep him in your pocket if you could. But right now, he isn’t your favorite person, and you’d love nothing more than to figure out why he was blushing. You were sure there was something behind all those burning cheeks.
“Spencer,” you slowly enunciated the syllables of his name, making him look at you once again. He tilted his head in question as you sighed dramatically, “Out with it.”
“What?”
“You’re flushed pink. You’re picking at your nails, and your right knee just started bouncing.” You pointed it out, and Spencer tried to remedy every single thing you mentioned. “Baby, for a profiler, you’re not doing great at hiding stuff. Tell me what’s going on.”
He scowled and crossed his arms like a petulant child, definitely wishing you weren’t a profiler, and a damn good one at that, like him. You merely chuckled at his antics and crossed your arms in retaliation. No, you weren’t backing away from this one. You spent money on perfume, hoping your boyfriend would love it. But no, he hated it, and now, you have to know why.
You could hear the ticking of the wall clock—if you focused hard enough—with the way not a single sound could be heard from the both of you waiting for the other to cave—not even a phone call from Garcia telling you that you have a case and, you have to be in the office in fifteen minutes could disrupt your focus right now. You could say the same about your boyfriend right now, who is intently staring at your phones on the table. He was probably hoping a work call would come through to save his ass from getting interrogated by you. It’s kind of sick that one would want to hear a new body was found, but at least you’d be out there catching another bad guy and locking them up, never to see the light of day until their last breath. He would rather have a face-off with a murderer than his girlfriend, whom he’s pretty sure is close to resorting to violence for borderline calling her stinky—not really, you’re just dramatic like that.
“Well, for starters, I think it’s strong like I’m drowning in it,” Spencer emphasized the word strong, making your brows furrow. He didn’t have that problem with your previous perfume, and it was stronger—he’s hiding something. You stared pointedly at your boyfriend now, who was fidgeting like crazy under your scrutiny.
“Are you sure that’s it? You didn’t have that problem with my previous perfume, which I’m pretty sure is much stronger than this one.” You clarified, tilting your head to the side as you explained further. “Garcia loved the smell of flowers, but she told me she sneezed every time I passed by. She had to ask me to change the scents immediately. And despite the complaints, you loved it so much that you would tuck your face into my neck.”
At this point, Spencer looked like he was about to burst from an aneurysm with how red he had gotten. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry, but you also had to make him suffer. 
“Tell me, Spencer. Or else, I might just have to resort to other tactics.” You almost cackled at the way your boyfriend looked like he’d rather start digging a hole for him to bury himself in. “And you know, I’m a great profiler. I always get what I want.”
However, as soon as you said those words, you noticed Spencer’s eyes drifting towards a half-full bottle sitting on his little desk filled with heaps of paperwork.
Oh. That’s the problem.
“Baby, I think I know what the problem is here.”
Spencer quickly leaped off your couch to avoid getting teased by you—which wasn’t your plan at all, by the way—and was about to run into your bedroom, but you were quick on your feet and were able to catch his arm and pull him towards you. Yep, unfortunately for your boyfriend, you were better when it came to physical activities.
Although you were better at that angle, you still weren’t able to properly estimate the way you pulled him into you because both of you ended up toppling over on your couch. Luckily, it was the couch, because you’re sure Hotch would have your heads served on a platter if both of his agents were injured and there was a sudden case.
You both landed unceremoniously, with Spencer squeaking as he ended up face-first into your chest, and you groaned as you cushioned his fall. Choosing to pause for a moment, you ran your hands through his brown curls as you both tried to catch your breath. Spencer seemed to agree with that idea as he started inhaling your scent, which made you smile a bit.
“You know, it’s not that I hate your perfume because it smells bad.” Spencer started explaining in a hushed tone, “I just liked it better when you smelled like me.”
Your eyes widened at his confession. This was the first time Spencer had ever said something possessive. Despite not being the usual alpha male girls go for, Spencer had enough confidence in himself that you chose him out of all the guys out there you could’ve gone for. At the start of your relationship, you made it clear to him that he was the one you wanted to be with. Not someone as domineering as Hotch or someone as bold as Morgan.
No, you wanted Spencer. 
You wanted to be with Spencer.
So, you were shocked at your boyfriend’s display of possessiveness, but at the same time, you found it cute that he wanted you to smell like him. It wasn’t every day that he wanted to engage in a public display of affection. And just like any other girlfriend out there who enjoyed the attention you got from your boyfriend, you laughed as you tried to pull Spencer’s face towards yours.
“God, you’re so adorable, Dr. Reid,” you exclaimed as you peppered his face with pecks and pinched his cheeks as he tried to dodge, embarrassed after saying he wanted you to use his perfume, “I could eat your face!”
“We don’t want that." Spencer said, "The BAU would lose two of their best agents with me inside your gastrointestinal tract and you in jail for cannibalism.”
You rolled your eyes at him as he blinked at you innocently. Sometimes, you hate his brain. 
“Stop taking things literally!" You exclaimed to your boyfriend, "You know what I’m talking about!”
“I don’t.” Spencer frowned. You could hear the cogs in his brain start working, meaning he was about to spew out some facts. “Actually, our senses of smell and taste are directly related. They both use the same types of receptors, so if you smell something that you think is delicious, this triggers the same area of the brain that activates our salivary glands. Wait, you think I’m delicious?”
You facepalmed yourself. For a guy with an IQ of 187, your boyfriend could be an idiot.
“You’re an idiot.”
“No, I’m not!” Spencer protested and explained some more, “Seeing an object, food, or even a person that is pleasing to the eye can cause people to salivate. Pleasant smells such as your favorite food, your partner’s natural scent, or smelling perfume on your partner can stimulate the production of saliva more than looking at that person. This process can initiate feelings of wanting to eat or bite.”
Despite his protests, you simply clucked and pinched his nose. Wanting to retaliate, Spencer continued spilling his tangents.
“Aha! You like me so much, my smell makes you want to bite me!”
“You know what, Spence?” You asked sweetly at your boyfriend, who was now listening intently to you. He’ll never know what hit him. “I love you so much, but I preferred it when you got embarrassed about wanting me to smell like you.”
By your admission, Spencer started blushing profusely again as he tried to bury his face in your neck.
“Shut up!”
“I love you too, Spence.”
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unseededtoast · 3 months
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I'd Wait For You | Spencer Reid x F! Reader
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Summary: In which you find that a broken engagement leads you to the love of your life. (Friends to lovers)
Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted
wc: 6.9k
"You have no idea how long I've waited for you." 
-----
There is something weird in the air this morning, Spencer feels it the second he wakes up, but is unable to put his finger on what it is. As he goes about his morning routine he continues to ponder what this feeling could be from. He hadn't forgotten to turn in any papers, there is no rush to get to work, there is simply nothing going on that would cause this unsettling feeling that takes residence in his chest. But it persists nonetheless.
His commute to work is no better either, the sense of dread looms over him for no particular reason, and the anxiety causes him to pick at the skin around his nails, a bad habit he had stopped long ago. Spencer doesn't consider himself to be superstitious, but this is all beginning to feel a little foreboding to him. But he tries his best to mask the feeling as he walks through the familiar BAU doors, ready to distract himself with whatever tasks get assigned to him today.
The rest of the team shows up a few minutes later than he did, everyone taking their time to get settled at their desks. They had just returned from a case yesterday, so a day in the office is much appreciated.
The minutes slowly tick by and everyone but Spencer begins working on something, he just can't seem to focus today. Instead of trying to force himself to do work, he decides a cup of coffee might bring some sense of normalcy to the morning.
He picks his favorite mug and makes his coffee just as he usually does, but he takes his time stirring in the sugar, becoming entranced in the swirl within the cup as he stirs and stirs. Emily and JJ's voice outside the break room break his trance and he tosses the stir stick away as they walk in, happily talking about something.
"Did you hear?" Emily asks Spencer with a smile on her face. Spencer's eyebrows crease and he recalls the past few days, trying to remember if she is expecting good news. But he comes up short. With a shake of his head, he glances between the two.
"Hear what?" With his question, JJ turns her phone around to show Spencer a picture. As he realizes what is on her screen, he swears he feels his heart stop beating.
"She got engaged!" JJ exclaims, as if it's the best news she will hear all year. And while it might be the best news for her, it couldn't be worse for Spencer.
"About time too." Emily says, looking at Spencer expectantly. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he nods shortly.
"Yeah." He tears his eyes away from JJ's screen and brushes by the two of them to get out of the room as quickly as possible, forgetting his coffee on the counter.
Spencer swiftly walks through some of the quieter halls in the office until he finds a secluded conference room. With unsteady hands, he closes the door behind him and lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His mind races with a hundred different thoughts at once, all of them revolving around the photo of you with a shiny ring on your finger.
Spencer should be happy for you, he should be over the moon that you had found happiness. But instead all he feels is sick to his stomach and like he had been kicked in the chest. He closes his eyes tightly, trying to keep tears at bay as he vividly remembers the moment he knew he was head over heels for you. It's a bittersweet memory for him, and one he thinks of quite often.
You had been on the team for a few months when Hotch assigned you and Spencer to put together the geographic profile together. You jumped at the opportunity, eager to learn something new, and he was excited to get to know you better. While the two of you worked together, Spencer couldn't help but notice the sweet smell of your perfume and how you nibbled on your lips as you concentrated. He found himself getting sidetracked by you more and more often, and couldn't help the pink flush of his cheeks whenever you glanced his way. It was on the third morning of working together when he realized that he had started to fall for you; the shiver that ran down his spine confirmed it as your hands brushed when you handed him a cup of coffee.
But that was four years ago, and nothing is the same.
As the memory fades, Spencer tries to pull himself together by straightening his tie and taking a few deep breaths. He's sure that Emily and JJ will have questions, but he's hoping they won't pry into the matter. Although he's sure that they've told everyone else how he ran off.
Once he feels like he's not going to cry at the mention of your name, he leaves the empty conference room and goes back to his desk where he has reports waiting for him. It's wishful thinking, but he hopes they offer some distraction from you. His foot taps with each pen stroke across the page, and he does his best to ignore Morgan's eyes staring at him a few feet away.
"You okay?" Morgan doesn't let Spencer ignore him any longer. With a sigh, Spencer puts the pen down and looks to Morgan, who appears to be studying every microexpression on Spencer's face.
"I'm fine." Spencer tries his best to keep his tone even and nonchalant.
"You don't seem fine." Spencer knows that Derek is just trying to be a good friend, and he appreciates that, but he knows he can't talk about what's bothering him here. Not in front of the team, and not in front of curious eavesdroppers. So to deflect the conversation away from what's really bothering him, Spencer gives a halfhearted answer just to be done with it.
"I guess I'm just ready for the weekend." Spencer quickly averts his gaze away from Derek's, his eyes catching the only photograph that resides on his desk.
It was a picture taken four years ago with the whole team, you had asked for a group photo before you left, and Spencer had printed one for himself as well. You were in the middle of the group, one arm wrapped around Spencer while the other wrapped around Emily. A wide, bright smile was on your face, but he knew if he looked hard enough he could see the tears you fought away, the same ones that broke loose immediately after the camera's flash.
Before you left you had admitted to Spencer that you didn't really want to leave, but your boyfriend had received a job offer he couldn't refuse, one that was across the country. Every bit of Spencer wanted to beg you to stay, but he knew how happy your boyfriend made you, and he couldn't bear to see you unhappy. So he swallowed his pride and encouraged you to go, to embrace new opportunities; but he made a point to let you know that you would always be welcomed back with open arms.
The night you left Spencer remembers how he cried for hours, looking at the photo and knowing that he would likely never see you again. He knew he would never be able to forget your smile, your kindness, and all of your quirks that he had fallen in love with over the years. His heart constricted with the thought of another man's hands on you, but he could only blame himself, for he had never found the courage to tell you how he really felt.
-----
Rain splatters on the windshield as you speed down the highway, the wipers trying their hardest to keep your view clear. Your mind had become numb to the inclement weather at this point, having already traveled eighteen hours of the twenty five hour journey; a journey you never thought you'd make. But here you are, driving on an empty highway in the middle of the night, alone.
Mile after mile flies by, your thoughts replaying yesterday's events over and over again like an unhealthy obsession. It had come as a shock, walking into your home to see your fiancé with another woman on his lap. You weren't expected back home for a few more hours, but your boss had let you go early.
You remember vividly how excited you were to come home early for once, to spend time with your fiancé because work had been keeping you busy. But that excitement turned to nausea within a second. She had her arms around his neck, he had his hands on her waist, both of their faces flushed. Of course he tried to tell you it was a misunderstanding.
"It's not what it looked like." He begged you as you zipped up your last suitcase. Without sparing him a glance, you wheeled the luggage to the front door, unusually calm despite the circumstances. Your hand rested on the cold handle and you cleared your throat.
"Don't call me, don't text me. If I left something here I will have my attorney contact you." Is all you said before you left your home of four years. Maintaining composure, you placed the bag in the back of your car and got inside.
As soon as your home disappeared from view in your rearview mirrors, the dam broke. Tears fell quickly down your cheeks, harsh breaths wracked your chest, your hands tightly gripped the steering wheel. You must've cried for hours before the tears dried, your breathing had leveled, and your aching hands eased up on the wheel. Within the blink of an eye, your life had been turned upside down and you had no idea how to pick up the pieces.
You decided to go back to Washington D.C., the one place you really ever considered home, after a few hours of driving East. Truthfully, you have no idea what you're going to do or where you're going to go once you get there, and you only have a few hours to figure it out. But you have blind faith that you'll figure something out, even if it does take a few days.
-----
The next day, you wake in a hotel room, enveloped in pristine white covers. The sun peeks through the heavy curtains, and you rub the sleep from your eyes. Checking your phone, you see dozens of missed calls and unanswered text messages from your now ex-fiancé. It seems he can't follow instructions very well. You ignore his messages and delete his voicemails without listening to them, you have no desire to waste your time listening to his lies.
You scroll through your contact list and block his number, eager to be rid of the man as fast as possible. While scrolling, your thumb lands on a distantly familiar name, and an idea blooms in your mind. Your eyes read over his contact card for a second, Aaron Hotchner, your old boss. You could always call and see if there's any chance the team would take you back. Though it would be humiliating to explain why you had come back, you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss the team who became your family.
The thought of being reunited with them is enough to send Aaron a text before you can talk yourself out of it. It's a simple message, and right to the point. If there's one thing you remember about Hotch, it's how he appreciated conciseness.
Your phone finds its way to the side table as you get out of bed and get ready for the day. You had no plans in particular, and you had the hotel room booked for another week, so there was no immediate rush to get out. Today you would allow yourself to meander aimlessly and tomorrow you would get serious about finding a place to rent.
Halfway through your unplanned day, your phone buzzes in your pocket and your heart drops. There's only one person it could be. Not having the patience or restraint to wait, you pull your phone out immediately and read the text from Aaron.
"Come by the office tomorrow." The message is simple, in true Aaron fashion and a smile breaks out on your face, happy that something is finally starting to look up.
-----
Familiar glass doors are feet away from you, the FBI logo engraved into the glass, they look exactly like you remembered. Your heart thumps in your chest with each footstep towards the door. You hadn't told anyone but Hotch about wanting to come back, but you know when you walk through these doors that all hell is going to break loose. With a deep, calming breath, you open the doors and start towards Hotch's office casually.
But of course, as fate would have it, you don't make it there without being noticed. To your right, you hear a gasp, then another, and then suddenly your name is being called out by your old friends. Turning to face them, it's like everything is starting to click and fall into place. Emily and JJ rush over to you, smiles on their faces, and you can't help but smile as well. You've missed your team dearly.
"I didn't know you were coming!" Emily says as she wraps you in a warm hug, to which you return.
"Yeah, it was kind of unplanned actually." You say, stepping back from her arms. JJ and Emily look at you expectantly, but instead of giving them the answer they're wanting to hear, you take another step back and look to Hotch's office.
"We'll catch up later." JJ smiles, noticing your eagerness to get to Hotch. You nod before turning away. With a light knock, you knuckles make contact with the wooden office door.
"Come in." Hotch's deep voice calls out.
When you enter, he stands with a ghost of a smirk on his face and extends his hand. You return his handshake and take a seat in front of his desk.
"It's good to see you again." He says as he sits back down and you sigh, looking around at the office. Hotch really hasn't changed anything since you've been gone.
"Yeah, it feels good to be here again." You answer truthfully, meeting his eyes.
"I assume this isn't just a visit?" He questions, interlocking his fingers together in front of him.
"Perceptive as always. But you're right. Listen, I haven't told anyone but I am no longer with my fiancé and I was wondering if the team had a vacancy you're looking to fill." You get right to the point and your stomach turns with anxiety. Hotch's eyebrows lift at your words and you can tell he hadn't been expecting those words to come out of your mouth. But after a few moments of contemplation, he finally answers.
"We would be glad to have you back. When can you start?" You blink a few times, trying to process that he had actually welcomed you back and hadn't let you down gently, like you had half been expecting.
"I um, I can start whenever." You say, stumbling over your words with excitement. This time, a noticeable smile adorns Hotch's face.
"How about you get settled back here first, then we can talk about coming back." He says and you agree, knowing that having a stable place to live first is probably the right thing to take care of before diving headfirst into work again.
After catching up with Hotch, he allows you to mingle around the bullpen, where your old friends have been anxiously waiting. You can tell from the look on their faces that they're expecting some sort of explanation, and you can't help yourself but share the news.
"I'm back!" You say with a wide smile. JJ and Emily cheer, Morgan comes and claps you on the back, and even Penelope comes out and talks a million miles a minute about how you need to tell them everything. And while you love being back with your team, you can't help but notice how Spencer lingers in the background.
Spencer and you had grown very close over your years together, and once you had moved away you hadn't really heard from him. It hurt, but you understood and didn't want to pressure him to keep contact. But you really had missed him. You catch his eye from across the room and you smile, knowing that once you're back full time that you will have a lot of time to catch up with him, and you hope that you're able to pick up right where you left off.
----- "Well it looks like you're getting quite the welcome back. Four women went missing in Athens, Tennessee. All four of them were found on the same day in the same manner. They had their arms tied behind their backs and their heads were submerged under water. But the medical examiner does not believe they died by drowning." Penelope briefs the team on the newest case and as she speaks you study the images in front of you.
It's been years since you've worked a case, or really in any law enforcement capacity at all. Once you had moved out west with your ex-fiancé you had decided to take a job as a daycare teacher. It was a nice change of pace for a while, but it makes getting back into the BAU lifestyle that much more difficult. After being surrounded by innocent children for years, you're now being re-immersed in a world full of psychopaths and it feels overwhelming.
You sit back as the team discusses early theories. Once upon a time you would have jumped in with your own thoughts, but you suddenly feel under qualified to be here. It has you second guessing whether this was the right decision or not. But before you can dwell on that for very long, the team is loading the jet and speeding off to Tennessee.
While on the jet, Hotch assigns everyone their duties, and you find yourself being paired with Spencer, just like you usually were. Being paired with him ignites a feeling of excitement within you. You still hadn't been able to catch up with him properly, but you're hoping this could change that.
Everyone keeps to themselves for the majority of the ride, busying themselves with reviewing the case and resting up. Once upon a time, you usually tried to sneak in a nap on the way to a new case, but the nerves creeping around in your veins keep you unable to do so, instead you worry about performing well for the sake of your reputation.
When the plane lands, the team hits the ground running. Some members go to the medical examiner's office, others go to interview the families, while you and Spencer are left to piece together the geographical profile. He's spread a map out on a table and marked where the bodies were found.
You pitch in when you feel comfortable with your findings, such as where the victims were last seen. The beginning of the process is fairly straight forward, it isn't until the deduction part until you start feeling dread and nervousness. Spencer hadn't said a single word directly to you, he's only spoken into the open air and you've responded.
"Well, what if they were all going to the doctor for the same condition?" You pitched in and Spencer hummed in response. And for the first time, he finally acknowledges you directly.
"You might actually be onto something. Let me call Garcia." His words are rushed and he leaves the room as the phone dials. Your heart sinks as he leaves. This isn't like how it used to be at all. No, you and Spencer were always a dynamic duo, but this feels very static and compartmentalized.
Perhaps it's because he's unsure if your abilities are still up to par. Or maybe he's still upset that you left in the first place. You couldn't be sure, but you hoped that this phase would pass soon so that you could have your dear friend back.
-----
You look at the clock with burning eyes, seeing that it's already one in the morning. The rest of the team had left for the motel hours ago, but you and Spencer had stayed at the station, having struck gold with Garcia. Apparently, all of the victims had contracted a very unique disease and so you and Spencer had researched that disease extensively to locate where they could've contracted it from.
So far, there was a very limited list of possibilities. With your mind becoming more fuzzy with exhaustion you know you're not being a very good teammate. Yawning, you break the long-standing silence and stand from your seat.
"I think I'm going to go to the motel, I'm exhausted and I can't comprehend anything I'm reading anymore." You announce, throwing away your empty coffee cup from hours earlier. Spencer caps the marker he's using and straightens his posture.
"Yeah, I'll go with you." He rubs his eyes as he stands, and the two of you walk out of the station together.
The night is warm and you appreciate the night sky as the two of you walk back to the motel. Your brain feels like it's been put through a meat grinder, and the unrelenting nerves double down on your exhaustion. It feels like your feet weigh twenty pounds each and so when you finally reach the motel, it's like seeing an oasis in the desert. Spencer goes in for the keys to your room and to his room and you notice the teams' cars parked in the lot.
"Bad news." Spencer says as he walks back from the lobby.
"What?" Dread fills you and you're not sure how much more you can take before you mentally break and physically collapse.
"They had to rent out one of our rooms, I guess they made a deal with Hotch for a partial refund. So, the two of us are going to be in room B12." He says, swinging the keys from his finger.
"You're kidding." Your voice is monotone. All you had wanted was some space alone, but you can't even be afforded that luxury. Instead of arguing or complaining further though, you just sigh and head towards room B12, where you trust the others have relocated your items.
You hear Spencer follow closely behind you and he unlocks the door once you reach it. Inside, there's one bed and one small armchair. The two of you just stand in the doorway, staring at the inadequate accommodations.
"I can go see if I can get the keys to one of the cars." Exhaustion is thick in your voice and you feel beat down and defeated from the day.
"No, you don't have to do that. I can take one of the cars." Spencer speaks up as you turn to leave and you meet his eyes, tiredness obvious.
"Spencer you're too tall. No, just let me it's okay." You take a step forward, but he catches your upper arm.
"Listen, Hotch needs the sleep, he hasn't been resting well lately. So why don't we just try to figure something out here." He lets go of your arm and closes the door behind him. At this point, you just want to sleep and so you agree.
"Yeah, sure. I'm going to get changed." You say and rub your eyes as you go to rummage around your bag for something comfortable. As you go to the bathroom, you hear Spencer messing with the blankets.
Once the door is closed behind you, you grip the edge of the counter and look in the mirror. Your bloodshot eyes stare back and the anxiety of the day catches up to you with full force. Feelings of inadequacy and disappointment fill you and you worry that you're letting the team down by not being able to solve things faster. Once again you find yourself wondering if coming back was the right decision.
You let go of the counter and change, ready to pass out for a few hours and be dead to the world, hoping that your anxieties don't also infiltrate your dreams. When you exit you see that Spencer has changed as well, and has also constructed a sort of pillow wall in the middle of the bed. You can't help but smile at his efforts.
"Are you sure you're okay with this?" You ask, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. After all your years of knowing Spencer, you knew he valued his personal space. He nervously nods and clears his throat as you approach the bed.
"Yeah, it's fine. Are you sure your fiancé isn't going to care?" His words are calculated and from the look on his face you can tell he had been stressing over this for a little while.
Looking down at your finger, you see the glistening ring and you spin it around a few times, remembering what it used to symbolize. You hadn't wanted to tell anyone about the break up just yet, but you know you have to tell Spencer now, or he'll be up all night worrying about the fiancé he thinks you have.
"I um, I don't have a fiancé anymore." Your voice is soft and you hear the vulnerability in it. Unable to meet Spencer's eyes, you just keep staring at the ring.
"But I thought, you're wearing the ring, and JJ said that-" He stumbles over his words and you finally look up to him, seeing him in an almost panicked state.
"We broke up. I left him, actually. I came home and saw another woman on top of him." You admit, fingers leaving the ring as you mention the infidelity. His eyes glance down to the ring before he meets your eyes again.
"I'm sorry I didn't know." He says with exasperation and you shrug but beneath your calm demeanor you feel the repressed sadness and anger within you.
"I wasn't going to tell anyone yet but I didn't want you to worry. But yeah, I left that same night and haven't looked back." You sit on the edge of the bed and Spencer follows suit, the two of you almost shoulder to shoulder and it feels like your friend is coming back to you.
"You didn't deserve that." His voice is kind and soft.
"I know. I just wish I hadn't wasted all that time on him. I wish I hadn't moved away from everyone. I missed you all every single day and for all of it to have been for nothing is just, it's a hard pill to swallow." You tell him, unable to keep your thoughts to yourself for any longer. You feel tears burning the rims of your eyes and for the first time since that day, you allow yourself to feel the emotions you've worked hard to ignore.
"Come here. I've missed you too. We all have. But we're so happy to have you back." Spencer wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into him. He rubs small circles on your back as you sniffle, and you're thankful for him. This feels like the Spencer you know and a familiar comfort overcomes you.
You remember all the cases where he would help you deal with the trauma. After particularly hard cases, he would always remind you that you were welcome to call or drop by anytime, that he would be there any hour. In the mornings he would bring you coffee and he'd ask about your night or weekend. Everything with Spencer was always effortless.
And after a few minutes had passed, you and Spencer get into bed, pillow wall be damned as you link your pinky with his, just to know that he's here with you. That night your fears and anxieties did not follow you into your dreams.
-----
Spencer knows he shouldn't be happy to hear that you left you fiancé. As your friend, he should be upset with you and sympathetic. But instead all he feels is a deep sense of relief.
Since working side by side with you, the shiny ring on your finger had become quite the annoying distraction. Every time it caught the light it served as a reminder that he could never have you. But now, it no longer holds any power over him.
And when you link your pinky with his, an unfamiliar feeling blooms within him. One of hope, one that had long died inside of him when you moved away.
He's happy that you came back and before he falls asleep with you by his side, he promises himself that he will not lose this opportunity. This is his second chance and he will take it when he finds the right time.
-----
Three days later and the case is coming to a close, you can feel it in your bones. You and Spencer had begun working as a duo once again and successfully put together a full geographic profile.
Now, all that's left is to locate the suspect and bring him in for questioning. You and Spencer sit around a table waiting for the others to come back from their field investigations, and you can't help but notice how his hair is curlier than you remember.
Not only is his hair curlier, but you notice how the sun brings out the honey tones in his eyes. His long fingers lock together as he looks over a map, which is what you should be doing as well, but instead find yourself admiring Spencer.
He had grown in the last five years, blossomed into the bright man you knew him to be and he seems more comfortable in his own skin. You're happy he's finding his stride. And you can't deny the newfound confidence looks good on him.
With the realization that your thoughts had taken a turn, you snap yourself back to focus on the task at hand. There's no way you were just checking out Spencer of all people. No way. As quick as they manifested themselves, you repressed them deep within your mind.
Thankfully the others arrive back with good news, they've found the suspect; he was almost exactly in the center of the projected safe zone you and Spencer had established. They don't stay long as they gather the sheriff and some deputies before they go and arrest the man. You're sure that the team has found the right man, and you believe he's going to crack as soon as they put some pressure on him. You and Spencer stay behind to lend technical support if they need it.
Turns out, you were right again. It took all of ten minutes before the suspect confessed. The man who wanted to be seen as confident crumbled into a sobbing mess under Hotch's questions. He was taken to the county jail in cuffs and the team was left to pack up and head back to Quantico. You had forgotten what it felt like, what it really felt like, to solve a case. The feeling sinks in and you remember just how much you've missed this job. 
The jet ride back to Quantico is fairly silent. Everyone has found their own thing to do and while they decompressed you looked out the window. The view from the jet never really got old, you always found some beauty staring out into the clouds. But eventually, your eyes drift from the wispy clouds to Spencer, who has opted to take a nap on the journey home. And once again, you come to appreciate him more so than you ever have for his continued friendship. 
You're happy that you came back, and you look forward to what the future may hold. 
-----
The night is chilly but the sky is clear. You and Spencer walk side by side down a path alongside a river, the two of you stressed about work and thankful to finally have a Friday night to yourselves. Of course, the others all had plans, except for you and Spencer, so you both decided to take a late night walk.
You look up to the sky and admire the stars, seeing some shining brighter than others. You're sure Spencer has a fun fact as to why that is, but you're perfectly happy to just walk beside him in quiet content. It's been a month now since you've been back and you feel like you and Spencer had grown closer than ever before in that short amount of time. 
Your gaze shifts from the stars to him, admiring his side profile and how defined his features are. There's no denying that he's grown into his features nicely, and you can't help but to appreciate his beauty, inside and out. 
Eventually the path leads you to a small stone bridge that arches over the river. Crickets chirp in the distance and the moonlight reflects beautifully off the calm water. Leaning forward on the stones, you take a deep breath of crisp air and close your eyes to appreciate the moment of peace. 
"You're still wearing your ring." Spencer's voice breaks the silence between you. Looking down, you see how the diamond is reflecting the moonlight. It's a beautiful ring, yet you had never been so disgusted with a piece of jewelry. 
"Yeah." You twist the ring around and around on your finger before you take it off.
"Are you going to tell the others? I know they've been asking." He says and you nod slowly. 
"Yeah, I'm going to tell them, I just don't know how to I guess. They're all so happy that I've 'found the one' but, he was the furthest thing from my soulmate. I just don't want them to pity me." You say, meeting his eyes. Spencer leans on the bridge's railing as well, his eyes trained on the ring in front of you. 
"You know you don't owe them anything, right? They'll understand." He encourages, and you know he's right but you can't help but feel anxious about it. 
"I know they will." You say, looking back down to the ring. 
What once used to symbolize loyalty and undying love is now nothing more than a reminder of the time you had wasted and the time you'll never be able to get back. It reminds you of how you bent over backwards to please that man, one who used and took advantage of you. Anger rises within you and in a split second decision, you toss the ring into the river below. 
It sinks to the bottom, out of your sight forevermore. And as it sinks it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. You feel free, untethered.
"I didn't mean for you to throw it away you probably could've sold it for a good amount of money." Spencer rattles off, obviously flustered that you just threw a thousand dollar ring into the river. But you just shrug, at peace with your decision. 
"It was worthless." You say with conviction. Spencer's lips fall apart and your heart beats faster when you meet his eyes. 
"Come on, it's getting cold out here." You break yourself out of your own thoughts and Spencer nods, offering you his arm. 
You link your arm with his as the two of you walk back to the parking lot and it feels right. Being around Spencer feels effortless and you feel like you can be your true, most authentic self around him without worrying about judgment. His presence makes you feel safe and secure, and as you walk you rest your head on his arm lightly, grateful to have him.
-----
"No I think you put it on backwards." Spencer says, reading the instruction manual again. You take a step back and look at the chair you're trying to assemble and see that he's most definitely correct. 
"I think you're right. Why is building a chair this complicated?" You ask as you sit back down and begin disassembling the part you had just put on. 
It's now been four months since you've been back. In that time you've found an apartment and have decided to finally furnish it. And thanks to Spencer, you don't have to assemble the furniture alone. The two of you had put together a credenza, a bookshelf, a side table, and now are tackling the chairs, which are proving to be more of a challenge than anticipated. 
After another hour, the chairs are finally assembled. Spencer collapses on your couch dramatically as you push the last one in to complete the dining set. Feeling like he deserves some thanks for helping you today, you go to the kitchen and pour him a glass of wine. 
You return to your couch and sit next to him, putting the glass in his hand. He hums in appreciation and takes a sip. Before you partake in your own glass, you go and turn on the fireplace, feeling like it would complete the atmosphere. The amber glow from the flames envelope the two of you in warmth, and you take a long sip of your wine. 
It's not unusual for Spencer to be over at your apartment anymore, he had been coming over pretty consistently since the night you two had taken a walk over the river. It's like something changed that night between the two of you; like throwing the ring was symbolic of more than just unloading past baggage. It's like it allowed you to move on and start anew. 
Lately, you found yourself thinking about Spencer more and more often. When he wasn't around you find yourself missing him. You miss his humor, his comfort, just everything about him. Every time he knocks on your door butterflies erupt in your tummy and you're unable to keep the smile off your face. 
You had denied the feelings for a while, explaining them away as just sentiments of friendship. But eventually, you had come to realize that you had slowly fell in love with your best friend. He makes your days brighter and brings peace to your soul. 
As you sip on your wine, you move closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder. There's just something about Spencer that draws you in, almost as if he has his own gravitational pull. Like he's the sun and you're just a planet in his orbit. But you wouldn't have it any other way. Spencer puts an arm around your shoulders and hugs you closer, sending a warm feeling down your spine. If only you could stay like this forever. 
The two of you finish off the wine in a comfortable silence, and it's not too long after that you find your eyelids growing heavy. You burrow yourself closer to Spencer, who adjusts so that you two can comfortably lay on the couch together. The crackling of the fire and Spencer's warmth lulls you close to sleep, and you might have fallen asleep, had it not been for feeling Spencer pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. 
The kiss was quick, gentle, but you know he had meant it. As you lay on him, head on his chest, his arms wrap you up and hug you tight, like he's afraid you'd float away if he let you go. You feel warmness creep up into your cheeks as his hands start rubbing slow circles on your back. It's almost like he wants you to fall asleep on him. 
Before you're pulled into sleep, you look up at him through your lashes, only to be met with his warm, tender gaze already on you. Your lips fall apart as you feel the butterflies take flight in your tummy. Up close and under the soft glow of the fire, you're sure Spencer was actually an angel in human form. You had never seen such delicate beauty before. 
Unable to stop yourself, your hand travels up his torso before it rests on his cheek. Your thumb gently strokes over his cheekbone as the two of you explore each other's eyes. It's unspoken, but you feel as if there's an agreement between the two of you, an acknowledgement of sorts. 
Feeling a surge of confidence, you lean up and press your lips to his. He's warm and soft, and his hands cradle your face as if you were made of glass. Your lips move in perfect tandem, as if you had done this a million times before. 
When your lungs begin to burn, it's only then that you pull away with a heated face and swollen lips. You blink a few times as you gaze into his eyes, seeing his pupils dilated and his lips pinker than they were just a moment earlier. His hands hold your face delicately and he looks at you as if you had personally put all the stars in the sky. 
"You have no idea how long I've waited for you." He whispers before leaning in for another kiss. His words are deliberate and genuine, and you know he's not lying. 
As you break away again, a smile finds its way to your face. Spencer smiles back and it feels like things are falling perfectly into place. You wish you had the ability to bottle this moment up and preserve it. Your heart and soul had never felt such peace than when you're in Spencer's loving arms. 
You lean your forehead against his and close your eyes, knowing with every fiber of your being that Spencer Reid is the man you're going to spend the rest of your days with. 
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007reid · 5 months
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So, still in the au of “secrets: Spencer Reid”..
I wanna see the teams reactions to reader and how cute Spencer is with her and how protective she is of him. Maybe Spence gets a little drunk and reader has an arm locked around him with a possessive scowl on their face. Pleeaasee??
you ask and you shall receive! i’m glad you enjoyed secrets, anon<3 sorry this is so late :(
secrets p. 2. spencer reid
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spencer reid x fem!reader
part 1 | part 2 ♡ this can be read as a stand-alone though!
summary: everyone expected spencer’s plus one to be his grandma or a close friend visiting. to see him show up with you hanging off his arm, clad in a black dress and rubbing your blood red lips together, you become the talk of the night.
warnings: fluff fluff just straight fluff!! spencer introducing his gf to the fam, teasing, drinking, flirting , nothing out of da norm. r is tough and possessive and spencer is basically her girlfriend.
a/n: someone take pinterest away from me because i’m getting too good at scouring for mgg stills and staring at them for hours. tell me you didn’t stare at that picture too.
spencer texted morgan that night, telling him that he’s bringing a plus one. morgan responded with a curt “yea bring ur ma on over why not.”
it appears that morgan did not take spencer that seriously. so he texted garcia, and she responded with “which member of the family havent we met? ❤️” spencer was just midst of falling on to his knees.
the day rolls around and spencer dreads it, plots a plan to make you watch a star wars movie marathon so that you’d fall asleep by the time of the event. he’s not a social recluse, by any means (okay so sometimes he is) but he prefers an evening staying in over going out. and it’s sunday evening, too, and he just wants an early night and to kiss you lazily until he’s sleepy. he doesn’t want to start the car, doesn’t want to get dressed up and get tidy for the bar. doesn’t wanna go anywhere.
the marathon plan backfired on him. just as you’re halfway through the third movie, you start pushing the throw blanket off your bodies, nudging spencer’s arms off of you. spencer whines, and he tries to make himself look extra pathetic (which didn’t take much, considering how he’s already desperate to get out of meeting the team) so that you’d pity him.
you don’t fall for his act one bit, which is extremely humbling to spencer. his puppy eyes used to work on you, but he suppose you’ve grown an immunity to them. “lazy boy,” you chides. he hides his face in the crook of your neck and you laugh. “come on, we’ll be late.”
“fashionably late,” spencer quips. you laugh again, detangling your bodies and press a kiss on his cheek before leaving the living room. spencer sits on the couch for a while and contemplates.
he does end up dragging his ass off the couch and freshen himself up. you have decided to use the guest bathroom for some reason, and he gets ready by himself, shaving before throwing on a simple burgundy sweater with all kind of patterns on it and some black pants, smoothing his hair out a bit and tucking them neatly behind his ears.
he rubs at his chin, looking at himself in the mirror. he looks like a middle school civics teacher, but he couldn’t careless.
he grabs his phone and slides it in his back pocket, going to the closed guest bathroom door. he knocks softly, leaning in close to not miss your voice.
“yn?”
“almost there,” you respond through the door.
“can i come in?”
“uhh,” spencer frowns. it’s unusual you’re doing this. you guys have shared an apartment for five months now, and he’s basically learned to lived around your life, to always have you wherever. getting ready apart is definitely unusual, and you’re being hesitant about letting him in, even.
maybe you’re still mad about the lila thing. he should apologize the moment he gets the chance.
“sure honey,” you say finally. spencer cautiously opens the door, and you’re sitting on the bed, pulling up your black pantyhose. he melts and perks up simultaneously at the sight of you.
you’re wearing a shiny, black silk dress that goes halfway down your thighs, the material pooling on the white sheets as you adjusts the pantyhose, reaching for your matching black leather mary janes. spencer looks down at himself, feeling timidly underdressed. you look up and smile at him so easily as if you're not the most beautiful woman in the world.
spencer feels his throat clog up. he clears it but when he speaks his voice is still blurry. "hi."
"hi," you buckle up your mary janes, gold necklace hovering above your knee. spencer stands awkwardly at the door, too entranced to move. you look up when he doesn't answer immediately, and breathe out a laugh when you see the dumb, starstruck look on his face. "gonna stand there all night baby?"
"mhm," spencer says absentmindedly. he finally bounces off the door frame and carefully sits himself on the bed next to you, cautious with every move. he immediately gets a faceful of the scent of your perfume and you look like an angel, smell like one too. "new dress?"
"mhm, thrifted it the other night," you respond. you stand up from the bed and do a small twirl, the thin fabric forming the shape of a flower, flying. you remind him of a black cherry blossom, if those even existed. "you like it? found it for four dollars. can you believe that? deal of a lifetime. if i had gotten to the thrift later someone would've snatched it right up."
to be honest, spencer isn't listening to a single word you're saying. he stares at you, and your silver hoops and crinkling eyes and the silver necklace he gifted you for your birthday five months ago and gets dizzy with the thought of how lucky he is.
"crazy deal," he says. then blurts. "you look beautiful."
you smile playfully. "you're just saying that," you laugh, smoothing out your hair in the mirror installed in the wardrobe. spencer stares at your reflection. "looking dapper yourself, doctor."
"do you think i should change?" he asks. because right now, it looks like you're both dressing up for different events. him to a school-based textbook debate conference and you to a high class art museum. neither events are the actual event you are both going to.
"you look handsome, spence," you reassure him. "that sweater. it suits you."
"it doesn't suit the bar," spencer grumbles quietly, still upset that he has to show up. he's not a bar man. more of a picnic or joinery kind of guy.
"you weren't born to suit whenever you're going," you say and then grab his hand. "we're gonna be late."
***
spencer gets even more grumbly when you both enters the bar, but you know in his heart he's extremely happy. he practically lights up when he sees his team crowding at a booth, dragging you along by the arm. he says hi to everyone, immediately comfortable just from the presence of his team except his excitement isn't mutual. the team isn't looking at him, but at you.
goggling like an eagle, some might say. you elbow spencer in the ribs. spencer looks at you questioningly, as if he doesn't know what to do.
"introduce me," you urge, feeling more awkward by the second. a man staring at you with his jaw on the table, beer frozen halfway to his lips you assume is morgan has a terrified look on his face. everyone does, actually.
"oh yeah. sorry," spencer says, ears turning slightly red but his beam is still bright. "everyone, this is yn. she's my girlfriend!"
"sweet mary jesus," morgan finally says. he breaks the ice, and the entire booth corrupts in excitement.
"reid, what are you doing? sit the lady down," jj scowl, scooting over and making space, squishing emily against her. spencer lets you slide in first, next to jj and he sits down after you, hand gentle at your waist. "why didn't you tell us?"
"well i tried to--"
"i really thought we had nothing to hide from each other. you know you could've trusted me with it!" garcia quips, her thick neon red earrings moving back and forth.
"i didn't do anything deliberate to hide it!" spencer defends himself snarkily.
"i couldn't deduce you had a girlfriend. i just thought someone who made you really happy started crashing at your place," hotch says, thoughtfully.
"let the girl talk," rossi rolls his eyes. spencer definitely captures their personalities well when he tells you stories about the bau, you recognize everyone just from a sentence. the table quiets and you can feel the warmness of eyes all on you.
"hi everyone," you could feel your cheeks getting warm from the attention. you wanted to make an impression, but it's hard. you go for the standard, "i've heard a lot about everybody."
"we would've loved to hear about you," garcia chirps. "but spencer is a very private soul. how long have you been together?"
the evening dissolves into small talk and teasing, and out of everyone in the bau, perhaps the one who's most shocked and proud of spencer is morgan. he sits back, arm tossed around garcia, admiring spencer like a pleased older brother seeing his baby brother ask for his car keys to take his new girlfriend out on a date. hotch has the same expression on his face, one of a proud dad.
he knew that something had been keeping spencer extra upbeat than usual, the lack of eye bags and how he's always energized and better put together. hotch couldn't place a figure on what it was, but now he realizes it was you. spencer almost glows, basking in the shower of your presence and hotch knows that under the table you and spencer are probably doing something cringy like rubbing circle-eights into each other's knees or holding hands under the table. the same thing he did when he was hopelessly in honeymoon love.
the entire table are happy for the both of you, but there's probably isn't anyone in the club more happy than spencer. he is lovesick and you're so beautiful, he can't help it. he feels more comfortable than he ever had been in a club, and that encourage him to knock more drinks down, have a little more fun.
"i'll grab the next round," you say, noticing that the beers in everyone's hands are getting lukewarm. you press a hand against spencer's thigh as you get up. spencer looks up at you, eyes wide and sweet. "i'll be right back."
as soon as you absorb into the crowd, the entire table startles in cheers and whistles. spencer glows red, partly from the alcohol. mostly from the attention. "my man!" morgan praises, knocking a punch into spencer's shoulder.
"ow!"
"she's beautiful," jj says approvingly. "she knows how to dress."
"i'm sayin'!" despite how much he denies it, derek is a horrible lightweight. he slurs. "how the hell did you bag her? tell us your secrets."
spencer blushes like a newly courted bride, going magenta all over.
"okay stop bullying the kid," emily says, but she's grinning wide.
"he definitely likes it," garcia giggles, pressed flat against morgan.
when you return, beers in your hand, the entire booth are giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls and your boyfriend is rambling, on and on. "sorry i took a while," you say, and within a flash everyone's grabbed beers for themselves, knocking the caps over. it's reached that point of the night when everyone's breath smells of beer, and the music is extra loud and everyone's extra dizzy. spencer latches onto you immediately the moment you sit down, staring at you with fucking moons in his eyes.
"i was just talking about you," he says, pupils wide. you know your boy is beyond drunk.
"yeah?" spencer nods. "what about?"
spencer hiccups and forgets the question. "wanna dance?"
a small smile creep on your face. it's unusual for spencer to ask, usually he doesn't even want to witness the act of people dancing together at all. "you sure?" you lock an arm around him. no one pays attention to the two of you, lost in their own conservations. spencer nods again.
"can we dance? let's go," he makes to move, pouting his lips but you slither your arms all over him, trapping him into you. "y/nnn," he whines.
"stay put for a bit for me okay?” you murmur, trying to distract him from the dancefloor.
it’s not like you oppose to dancing. hell, you love dancing, but ever since you stood up to grab the table drinks, you notice unwanted eyes across the bar glued on your boy, women with sharp eyebrows and pointy chins and short dresses, and you can never help the awful feeling that coils in your stomach.
jealousy is an irritating feeling to feel, and it’s telling you to dig your teeth into his neck and mark him all over for everyone to see and look away. but you won’t do that, because you have a slightest drops of decency you have saved up, and the least you can do is pamper spencer with kisses and grab onto his hand so tight he’d think of you instead of the inviting dancefloor.
spencer falls for it immediately, returning your kisses and whining pathetically against your lips, the alcohol making his head spin. spencer ‘s never been a fan of pda but he couldn’t careless now, hanging on you like a cat, dancefloor forgotten. you smile against his lips.
victory.
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0anonnymouslyours0 · 5 months
Text
spencer w girly reader 🎀( part.5 )
spencer smiles fondly behind you, as you walk eagerly over to hotch, heels clicking on the ground.
"hotch!" you say, a smile on your face.
aaron looks mildly confused, eyebrows knitted, as he stares down at you. your wearing pink, and besides penelope, he rarely sees this much colour in the office.
"hi?" he says, confused, but polite as always.
"i have a cookie! freshly baked this morning, though i do recommend you heat it up because theres chocolate inside and it will warm it up and i hope it cheers you up because, you just look so sad, and your frowning-" spencer pats you on the shoulder, silently acknowledging your rambling.
"wait m'sorry!"
"no, dont be." he says, smiling fondly.
"well i hope you enjoy, and oh, do heat it up. right bye hotchy!" you say, standing up on your tiptoes and planting a little kiss on his check. you hand him the tupperware, cookie tucked inside.
you skip around, leaving hotch ( who would usually never tolerate a nickname ), standing with a cookie in a pink tupperware with stickers, and spencer scratching his head with a shrug.
1K notes · View notes
reidsdaisies · 23 days
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hi! can i request rose prompt 14 with dom!spencer and sub!fem!reader where they're on a case and spencer is very stressed and on edge and the reader decides to help him relax, when they're in a car alone she tells him to stop and get out in the middle of nowhere, he wants to check is she's wet under her skirt and is met with a surprise
have a nice day!!!
༉‧´ˎ˗ pairing; dom!spencer reid x sub!fem!reader
༉‧´ˎ˗ prompt(s); rose, 14 – “No underwear? Did you plan this?”
༉‧´ˎ˗ content warnings; car sex(ish?), some touching over the pants, pet names (sweetie, dirty girl), fingering (f recieving).
༉‧´ˎ˗ wc; 0.6k
celebrate with me!
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𝐂𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 || 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
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“Pull over,”
“Hm?” Spencer mutters, eyes still focused on the road, hands gripping the wheel.
“Could you pull over, please? I think I know of a way to help you relax.”
He quirks his eyebrow, side eyeing you. You use his moment of distraction to place your hand over his thigh, fingertips dangerously close to his crotch. That’s when it clicks in his brain, you want to help him destress that way.
You begin to rub slow circles onto him over his slacks, squeezing his thigh ever so slightly.
A smirk quickly forms on your face as he listens to you, pulling over onto the side of the road and putting the car in park. He sighs deeply, leaning back against the seat.
“What’s this about relaxing?” he teased, licking his lips, playing along with your little game, resting his hand atop yours.
“Oh, nothing, just thought you could take that stress out on something other than the wheel you’ve been death-gripping this past 15 minutes, and take your mind of the case. I know it’s been really bugging you.”
“Don’t mention the case,” he orders, tightening his grip on your hand and guiding it in the direction of his semi-erection.
You swallow at his slightly harsh tone, nodding your head, allowing him to act as puppet-master and use your hand as his puppet. His hand encapsulates yours, rubbing both back and forth over himself. He lets out a grunt when you cup him on your own, continuing with the motions he set in place for you.
“C’mere, sweetie,” Spencer whispered enticingly, beckoning you over to sit in his lap. You do as he says, tossing your arms over his shoulders as he places his hands on your hips, guiding you down onto your new seat— his lap.
You begin to grind on his lap, and that’s when he notices the little secret you’ve been keeping from him.
“No panties, huh? Did you plan this?” You can’t help but smile cheekily at him, nodding your head. “Is that why you went to the car before me, to take them off without me noticing?”
You bite your lip, unable to hide the fact he was completely correct and just found you out.
His hand dips beneath your skirt, fingers grazing your inner thigh, inching closer to where you need them the most. Finally making contact with your arousal, he begins to stroke you with his fingers. A whimper falls from your lips, beginning to grind yourself on his fingers now, instead of his thigh.
“You’re such a dirty girl,” he whispers into your ear, nipping your earlobe and causing you to react the same way you did just moments ago, wordlessly begging him to push his fingers inside of you.
Spencer’s not a mind reader, but he’s far from clueless, and so, his fingers dip lower, breaching your entrance, pulling a choked moan from you.
His fingers work skillfully, stretching you open with ease. It isn’t until he’s using his thumb to rub circles on your clit, and you’re on the brink of orgasm, that he withdraws his fingers from you. The loss makes you whine, now feeling especially empty after getting used to the filling of his fingers filling you. You attempt to reach for his hand, but you’re too slow to grasp it, him being on a mission to lick his fingers clean of you. Mouth agape as you watch him lick your essence from his fingers, he uses this to his advantage, kissing your mouth, swirling his tongue with yours, allowing you to taste yourself.
“Tastes good, hm?” he doesn’t let you answer though, because he slides his fingers right back inside you, rendering you speechless. “It’s just too easy to please you,” he chuckles.
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935 notes · View notes
alwaysmoncheri · 1 month
Text
𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐨 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝
summary: spencer gets drunks and you offer to take him home. your intentions are clear, you long for him to offer you to stay, but when you do, your relationship becomes more unclear.
cw: fem!reader, mentions of alcohol, drunkenness, drunken confessions, general confessions, kissing, mutual pinning, idiots in love, some angst, fluff, lightly proofread, 3.7k words
<3
the crowd of people in the bar is unexpected, normally there aren’t many people lined across the countertops, snapping their fingers for drinks. it appears that you and the rest of the team have caught the bar at a particularly busy time. you have never been one for bars or alcohol, but whenever the team decides to all go out together, you always find yourself making an exception. after all, who were you kidding? you could use a little distraction from your lingering feelings for a certain pretty boy, genius. 
the entire team sits around a table, nose buried in each of their hands of cards as you compete in an intense game of poker. the air is warm and you can feel each piece of clothing uncomfortably sticking to your stick like a humid summer day. you shift in your seat, bringing one hand away from your cards and to the edge of your tight shirt, carefully pealing it away from your perspirating skin. and though, you meant to erase him from your mind, if only for one night, spencer peeks up from behind his hand of cards, noticing your sudden movement. and when he tilts his head to one side, the motion sending you a silent question, asking “are you okay?” you can’t help but adore him for everything that he is. with a gentle nod in his direction, you silence his worries, before returning to your game of cards without the rest of the team’s knowledge of your interaction. 
"and I win!" morgan’s sudden and triumphant declaration echoes through the room, the resounding slap of his cards hitting the table punctuating his victory. a cocky grin adorns his face, reveling in the satisfaction of his unexpected triumph. the rest of the team, caught off guard, let out a chorus of exasperated groans, their cards dropping onto the table with defeated thuds, and frowns of disbelief etched on their faces. morgan, seizing the opportunity to revel in his victory, turns his attention to spencer, who had been the reigning champion in the previous few games and, truth be told, usually emerges victorious in most gaming scenarios. "would you look at that? pretty boy must've lost his touch," morgan teases, a mischievous glint in his eye as he playfully nudges spencer.
spencer, caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events, sits there with his mouth agape, his usually quick and analytical mind momentarily stunned by the twist in the game. the unexpected defeat has him grappling with a mix of surprise and amusement, and he blinks in disbelief as if trying to process what just happened.
"cat got your tongue, reid?" morgan continues to taunt, while you and the rest of the team watch, amused, fond smiles cast upon your faces as the friendly banter unfolds.
"must be all those drinks," hotch quips, his tone playfully accusing as he crosses his arms in the seat next to spencer, "starting to cloud that genius brain of yours."
you playfully roll your eyes before spencer calmly counters, "i've only consumed a total of five drinks, which technically wouldn't be enough for the neurotransmitters in my brain to stop fully functioning. they could be slowed down, but I'm still fully capable of winning a game of cards at this stage in the evening." a ripple of laughter and teasing remarks follows spencer's scientific explanation, the team thoroughly enjoying the conversation. you, hotch, rossi, and prentiss exchange amused glances. 
morgan, chuckling at spencer’s very sober response, quips, "okay, it's time for you to have another drink."
spencer raises an eyebrow, contemplating the proposal. "but first, I demand a rematch."
the room erupts in a mix of cheers and groans as the team anticipates another round. penelope, observing from the sidelines, can't help but interject with enthusiasm, "oh, this is getting good! i’ve got my money on reid for the rematch!"
morgan sends penelope a look of faux offence, before returning his attention to spencer with a challenge, "whoever loses, drinks the same number of shots as the highest card in their hand."
spencer considers the terms before nodding in agreement, "deal."
"alright, I think it's time for me to grab another drink," emily declares, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she stands from her seat. she turns her attention to you, a playful glint in her eyes, "care to join me?"
you can't help but laugh in response, the invitation exactly what you need. glancing over at spencer, you notice his keen observation, as if he's scrutinizing your every move. you playfully divert your attention, standing up with a grin. "sure, why not?" you reply, the corners of your mouth turning up.
as you follow emily toward the bar, you observe the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversations surround you, and the lively energy of the bar becomes more apparent. the dim lighting casts a warm glow on the faces of the maybe people all around, creating an inviting feeling that contrasts with the intense focus of the card game.
“so, what’s going on between you and reid?” emily asks nonchalantly, as if the question wouldn’t have the effect on you. she slides you a drink across the countertop before grabbing her own and taking a small sip. you body tenses in response to the question and you don’t want to know what color your cheeks must be. 
“what do you mean?” you ask, trying to ignore that fact that you can’t seem to compose yourself. emily raises her eyebrows, shooting you a look of disbelief. 
“I mean, pretty boy over there, hasn’t stopped glancing over here since we left,” emily explains, her words prompting you to turn your gaze towards spencer and the rest of the team. true to emily’s observation, spencer’s eyes are fixated on you, the intensity of his gaze evident even from across the room, “and I’m pretty sure he’s losing.” emily adds, a small smirk resting on her face and the two of you watch as morgan, once again, slams his cards onto the table with a victorious smile. 
“oh, I don’t think that’s because of me.” you reply quietly, trying to downplay the situation. your gaze shifts back to your drink as you swirl the glass around in your hand and watch the liquid flow. 
“are you sure?” emily questions, her eyes twinkling with mischief and her posture relaxed yet keenly attuned to the movements of the conversation.
“I mean, yeah, we like each other,” you admit, looking up at emily’s smirk, which is accentuated by a slight tilt of her head, before quickly dismissing it away, “but not like that.” 
“but you want it to be, like that.” emily suggests and you don’t respond, confirming her suspicions. the weight of emily's words lingers in the air as the two of you watch the team hand spencer drinks, the effects of the shots he's taking becoming increasingly evident. the atmosphere is charged with unspoken tension, and you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions.
“I don’t know what I want.” you finally confess, answering emily’s last question with your eye lingering on spencer’s drunken self. 
“I think you do.” emily responds, her voice gentle but probing, “but I don’t think he does.”
“emily, I–” you start to respond, urgency to end the conversation evident in your tone, but before you can, emily interrupts. 
 “oh, it looks like he’s coming over.” she says, her eyes widening with anticipation and her smirk evergrowing on her face.
“what?” the sudden realization sparks a flurry of movement within you, a mix of nerves and excitement intertwining as you prepare for the impending interaction.
“i’ll leave you to it.” emily grins, giving you a supportive pat on the shoulder before slipping away into the crowd.
“hi,” spencer greets and you can practically hear the amount alcohol he has consumed within the tone of his voice. it isn’t the same shy tone that you know and love, there’s a little more sweetness and a slight edge of confidence embracing his voice.
“hi, spence.” you respond, your eyes meeting his in a moment that seems suspended in time.
“you’re so pretty,” spencer suddenly slurs, expressing his admiration with sincerity as he hops on the stool next to you and slumps over the edge of the bar, “you’re always so, so beautiful.” he sighs with a soft smile. you hum in agreement, sipping on your drink as you watch spencer with loving amusement. 
“you know, you’re my favorite person ever.” he adds, before his eyes widen suddenly and he leans forward, gesturing for you to lean with him, “but don’t tell morgan, he thinks it’s him.” spencer whispers, earning a loud cackle from you. that seems to make spencer happy, earning that kind of reaction, even if he’s too drunk to truly understand what he’s saying. 
“I love your laugh.” spencer’s words spill out with a warmth that feels like a comforting embrace in the dimly lit bar. his eyes, glazed but loving, reflect a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings. 
“spencer, honey, how much have you had to drink?” you ask, concern evident in your voice. in response, spencer clumsily grasps your hand, his fingers fumbling to intertwine with yours. the touch is a blend of affection and intoxication, and you can't help but smile at the endearing sight.
“shh, shhh, you can’t tell anyone,” spencer replies with a giggle escaping his lips, it makes your heart race and sends a delightful shiver down your spine, “I lost another round of cards.” 
“oh, spence, I think it’s time for you to go home,” you suggest gently, running your thumb across his hand, “do you want me to take you?”
“would you?” spencer’s eyes widen with a hopeful glimmer, lifting his head before a soft curl falls onto his sweaty forehead, “I hate taking the bus alone.” spencer admits, his eyes glistening, almost as if he’s about to cry. 
“let me give you a ride, spencer.” you offer, your voice carrying a soothing reassurance, “you shouldn’t ever have to take the bus alone.”
“I know, I know.” spencer replies quietly, feeling ashamed, before you reach out with the hand not holding his to brush a loose curl away from his face.
“alright, let’s go.” you say, gently standing and guiding him towards the exit of the bar, “do you have all your things?” you ask, stopping to face spencer to see his response. he nods, squeezing you hand, before you smile and walk towards the table where the rest of the team sits in order to grab your purse from your chair. 
“hey guys, we’re heading out. I have to get him home safely.” you announce to your teammates, sending them a gracious smile, thankful for the night out, “we’ll see you in the office on monday.”
a series of goodbyes and drive safes echo from your teammates as you allow spencer to hold your hand and lean on your shoulder for stability. together, you make your way out of the bar and towards your car. unlocking the door, you assist spencer into the passenger seat before settling into the drivers seat and taking a moment to reach over to buckle spencer in.
“I can do that myself.” spencer protests, attempting to push your hands away with sluggish movements. 
“sure you can.” you retort, a gentle smile playing at your lips as an annoyed, “hmph,” leaves spencer’s mouth. 
the drive to his apartment is marked by a comforting quietness, the soft hum of the engine interweaving with the occasional murmurs from spencer. when you arrive, you jog over to the passage door, eager to assist him as you navigate the stairs together. reaching his apartment door, spencer retrieves his keys from his pocket, his attempts to unlock the door met with visible frustration. recognizing the need to intervene, you gently step in, placing your hand over his, “hey, hey, let me help you.” you whisper giving spencer a sympathetic smile before he allows you to take his keys and unlock the apartment door. 
“thank you, y/n.” spencer says, letting go of your hand to take a step into his apartment, while you stand just outside.
“you’re welcome, spence.” you respond gently.
the two of you stand there for a moment, locked in each other’s gaze. but, the silence is too much, you can’t handle the truth of what you and spencer are and are not. 
“I guess I should—” you start, but the hesitation in those few words lights a match of hope in spencer’s heart and he can’t help but interrupt. 
“don’t go.” 
“what?” 
“stay.” spencer says with such emotion that your heart feels like it’s about to stop. and when he reaches out for you to take his hand once more, you don’t hesitate.
“yeah.” you nod, stepping through the doorway and into spencer’s apartment, “yeah, I can do that.” you repeat, taking in the space before you. it looks all too familiar to times that you’ve been before, warmth, inviting, just like him. 
before you can engage in any conversation, spencer's sluggish movements guide the two of you towards his bedroom. he briefly releases your hand to sift through his drawers, searching for a set of less damp clothes to wear for the remainder of the night.
"feel free to use the bathroom," spencer mumbles, his words slightly slurred as he gestures in the direction of the adjacent room. the soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm hue, revealing the disheveled state of his bedroom.
in the bathroom, you peel the sweaty material from your skin, feeling the immediate relief of shedding the remnants of a night spent in a crowded bar. the mirror reflects your image, and you assess yourself. the makeup, meticulously applied before the evening's festivities, shows signs of wear. small smudges underneath your eyes and imperceptible flaws on your face catch your attention. you find a washcloth and gently wipe away the remnants of the night, revealing the natural contours of your features.
returning to spencer's room, you find him seated on his bed, his gaze fixed on his lap as his fiddles with his hand. the room is dimly lit, shadows playing on the walls like silent spectators to the unfolding scene. spencer glances up as you enter, his eyes carrying a mix of longing and fatigue.
“stay, with me, please," spencer practically begs, his words carrying a weight of vulnerability that echoes through the room.
"okay," you find yourself saying, the decision flowing from your lips with zero hesitation.
silently, the two of you climb into his bed, laying side by side. your gazes linger on each other for a moment too long, the air thickens and you find yourself momentarily breathless. as you notice spencer lean toward you, searching of your lips, you feel as though your heart beating out of your chest, the rapid movement making my breath catch. but when he kisses you, you know you’re an absolute goner.
his lips are soft and his kiss is gentle, so gentle, like he’s afraid if he kisses too hard, you’ll break. but when you pull away, the realization of spencer's drunken state washes over you.
"I love you," he confesses, the abruptness of his words catching you off guard. your eyes soften with sympathy, understanding that his declaration was led by intoxication. 
"oh, spencer," you hum, reaching forward to gently cup his face, which he tenderly leans into. "tell me when you're sober."
"okay," he murmurs, a whisper of agreement that lingers in the air, before the both of you wrap in each other’s arms and spencer falls into a comforting sleep. yet, you lie awake for moment, questions about your relationship clouding your mind, until finally you give in and fall asleep too. 
the morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. as you slowly regain consciousness, a dull ache pulses through your head, the sign of a mild hangover. the warmth of the body beside you serves as a gentle reminder of the events that unfolded the previous night, and a rush of memories floods your mind. you glance at spencer, and you can’t help but notice the furrowed brows on his forehead, confirming your suspicions of a major hangover of his own. the desire to kiss away his discomfort lingers, an unspoken gesture to alleviate the tension etched on his face. however, uncertainty about the nature of your relationship holds you back, even after the intimate connection you shared last night. 
silently, you slip out of the bed, careful not to disturb spencer's peaceful slumber. the soft creak of the door announces your departure as you head to the bathroom, intent on changing back into your own clothes. spencer's clothes, a reminder of the night's events, lay neatly on his dresser. the room retained the echo of shared laughter and whispered conversations, leaving you in a contemplative state.
once dressed, you tiptoe through the hushed space and navigate through the familiar halls of spencer's apartment. in the kitchen, you leave a glass of water, a tylenol, and a quick note on the counter, a small offering to soothe the aftermath of the night. with each passing moment, your thoughts swirl like leaves caught in a gentle breeze. questions about the nature of your relationship with spencer remain, and the quiet house seems to hold the weight of those unanswered queries. you hesitate before leaving, casting a final glance at the still-sleeping spencer, his vulnerability exposed in the morning light.
summoning a cab, you venture back to your own apartment, the familiar surroundings offering a respite from the whirlwind of emotions. the click of your keys on the kitchen counter echoes through the space, and you collapse onto the couch with a sigh. running a hand down your face, you lean back against the cushions as you repeatedly replay the events of the previous night in your mind. 
monday morning unfolds with a swiftness that catches you off guard, a reminder that the enjoyment of the weekend has drawn to a close. seeking solace, you head to the bau office early, hoping to avoid spencer, at least for the time being. the comforting hum of the coffee machine beckons, and you find yourself mechanically preparing a cup to ready yourself for the day ahead. a yawn escapes, betraying the exhaustion that lingers from the weekend. as the rich aroma of coffee envelops you, a familiar chuckle interrupts your thoughts.
"how was the rest of your weekend, gorgeous?" morgan inquires, his tone light-hearted, though you can sense a mischievous undertone.
you roll your eyes in response, leaning back against the counter with the warm cup cradled in your hands. "it was good."
morgan, undeterred, pours himself a cup of coffee and continues his interrogation, a sly grin on his face. "and your night with reid? how is pretty boy treating you?"
your eyes widen before narrowing in suspicion. "what do you know?" you question, the accusatory edge in your tone not lost on morgan. he raises his free hand in defense, a playful shrug accompanying his innocent expression.
"hey, I was just wondering," morgan replies before taking a sip of his coffee. "it's obvious that you two like each other," he adds slyly, leaving you momentarily stunned, echoing the shock from your recent conversation with emily.
"no, it's not," you retort, your gaze still narrow as you fight to defend your emotions.
"whatever you say, sweetheart," morgan comments, walking away, leaving you standing by the coffee machine, your mind swirling with the weight of recent revelations.
as you ponder emily's words, spencer's drunken confession, and morgan's casual observations, the scent of books and wool approaches beside you. your heart skips a beat in anticipation of the impending conversation.
“hey, can we talk?” spencer asks, his voice regaining its sweet, shy tone, replacing the confident echoes of his intoxicated self. the smell of books, wool, leather, and a hint of coffee instead of the burning scent of alcohol. his gentle smile and shy gaze. his curls tucked perfectly behind his ears, and his form tall instead of slouched toward the ground. you prefer him this way—sober, gentle, sincere. 
“um, yeah. yeah, we can talk.” you nod, each word a conscious effort to maintain composure.
“look, we can pretend I never said what I said if that means—”
your eyes widen with shock before you interrupt, “what? no! you can’t take it back!” you almost yell, catching the attention of a few of your teammates, who are walking around the office, files in hand. 
“then I don’t really know what to do,” spencer admits, his vulnerability laid bare, “because I meant it, y/n. I love you and I’ll say it a thousand times even if it means that we aren’t friends anymore. and I want you to know I haven’t stopped thinking about you all weekend but I thought you needed space. and—”
“I love you, too, spence.” you confess, stopping spencer’s rant from going any further, and ending any confusion between the two of you. 
spencer's face lights up, delight evident in his expression. "really?" he asks, and a giggle escapes your lips as you revel in his excitement, mirroring your own bubbling joy.
"yes, really," you respond, placing your cup of coffee on the counter. spencer takes a couple of quick strides towards you, a beaming smile seemingly etched permanently on his face.
"can I kiss you?" spencer boldly asks, his excitement momentarily overriding his usual composure. you nod, and spencer gently grasps your face, his palms pressing against your cheeks as he kisses you in such way that tells you he’s been wanting to for a very long time. when you pull away, wide smiles adorn both of your faces, the giddy excitement, like a child’s, taking over your senses and it’s not long before your lips are on his once more. 
“wheels up in ten,” hotch’s voice suddenly interrupts, jolting you back to reality. both you and spencer pull away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment of being caught by your boss, “and I better not see any more of that in my office.” hotch adds sternly, shooting you each a pointed look. 
“yes, sir.” spencer nods nervously, casting you a quick glance, while hotch’s gaze also turns towards you. 
you offer a shrug, glancing at spencer with a soft smile, “i’m not making any promises.”
<3
masterlist . spencer reid masterlist . taglist
thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!
tags: @ihrtmasong, @averyhotchner, @jordie-gvf, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites
alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.
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pathologicalreid · 3 months
Text
occupational hazard | S.R.
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You and Spencer have a discussion about the dangers of his job.
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: plot discussions from 9x23 (angels) and 9x24 (demons), canon compliant injuries, crying, established relationship word count: 1.23k a/n: thought of this while i couldn't sleep after watching the season 9 finale. also its me. I'm the crier.
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Your mother always said you had a problem with staring. In the grocery store as a kid, she would pull you to the side and tell you that you were being rude. It always confused you because you didn’t think it was possible to be rude without speaking.
Spencer never seemed to mind your staring, he’d ask if everything was alright, but he never really asked you to stop or told you off.
So, while he was over at your apartment, sitting on the couch grading papers, you just stared at him. You studied how his hair fell in front of his face as he scrawled on the printed paper, and how he set his jaw when he noticed a mistake. Your brows furrowed when you noticed a small scar on the side of his neck, a confused noise escaped your throat.
That got his attention, “What’s wrong?” He asked, matching your furrowed brows before setting his pen down.
Cocking your head curiously, you leaned forward to try to look at his neck, “What is that?” You whispered. It was an old scar, so you could only really notice it when the light hit it just right.
“What is what?” He asked, looking behind him and on his shirt like he was looking for a spill.
Gently, you reached out your hand and touched the scar with your fingertips. “Where did you get this scar?” You couldn’t believe you had never noticed it before – the two of you had been dating for more than half a year.
He reached up his hand and met yours, intertwining your hands together, “On a case in Texas.”
Your lips parted slightly as you looked at the scar again. “How did you get that scar on a case in Texas?” You asked, even though you were fairly certain you knew the answer.
Turning, Spencer set all of the papers on the side table before he turned back to face you. “I was shot in the neck,” he answered almost a little too calmly. As if it was just another day in the office, and maybe it was to him.
It certainly wasn’t to you. “What do you mean you got shot in the neck?” You asked, your voice was high and reedy with panic. Fear settled in your chest on behalf of a version of your boyfriend you didn’t even know.
“Hey, hey,” he said in an attempt to calm you down. “I’m okay, this happened almost five years ago, love. I’m fine,” he said, cupping your cheeks with both of his hands.
Your eyes were still wide, like deer in the headlights wide, and you nodded despite yourself. “That’s so scary, Spence,” you whispered as emotion burned in your throat. You knew he worked for the FBI and had for a long time. You knew he had been in love with a girl who was killed in front of him – that’s why he was so protective sometimes. You knew he had been in prison for three months for a crime he didn’t commit – that’s why he taught classes for thirty days. This was the first thing you had figured out – you had told him to tell you everything in his own time.
For a moment, he watched you like he had something he wanted to say but wasn’t sure where to start.
You sat on your heels and retracted your hands from his neck, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry I just… I saw the scar.” Awkwardly settling your hands in your lap, you sighed. “You’re right, it was a long time ago.”
“Wait, what just happened?” He asked dumbfoundedly.
Shrugging, you settled into the couch cushions. “I just saw the scar and I was curious,” you whispered as your eyes burned. “I didn’t… I just mean you don’t owe me an explanation.”
Reaching into your lap, Spencer took one of your hands in his, gently skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “You can always ask, it’s a fact that my job is dangerous,” he told you softly. “Getting hurt is an occupational hazard. It was never my intention to make you feel like you can’t ask me questions about… Why are you crying?”
You wiped furiously under your eyes at the tears that had flooded your eyes, “because you got shot.”
“You’re crying because I was shot five years ago?” He asked in bewilderment, his tone wasn’t belittling, he was genuinely surprised at your reasoning.
Nodding, you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes in an attempt to stop your tears. “I am a crier; I cry at everything. Please don’t read into this,” you pleaded, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.
Gently, Spencer pried your hands away from your face, “Please don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry, and I don’t know what to do.”
You shook your head, and your bleary eyes met his, “Really, Spence, I’m fine. I’m just a crier, okay? Sad, happy, mad, I cry.” You looked up at the ceiling light and sniffled, fanning your face in an attempt to dry it off.
He was staring at you, “You are quite possibly the sweetest human being I have ever met.” Spencer reached out and pulled you to him, “Look at me.”
Begrudgingly, you looked at him. “How many times have you been shot?”
“I’m not answering that until you stop crying,” he said, sweeping your hair behind your ears.
That answer did absolutely nothing to comfort you. Huffing, you pressed your lips into a thin white line, “I’m fine,” you whispered, “I’m just crying.”
Spencer smiled at you, “That is an oxymoron, and you know it.” His smile faded, “I’ve been shot three times.”
“Oh my god, Spencer,” you said, dropping your head to his shoulder.
He hummed softly, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple, “Once in the knee, once in the arm, and once in the neck. Please don’t cry.”
You nodded into him, “Yeah, you’re… you’re okay now, right?”
“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?” He asked softly, running his hands along your back.
You bury your face in the crook of his neck, “I love you,” you whispered.
His movements falter for just a moment, “I love you too.”
Pulling away and wiping your eyes, “You should finish grading those papers,” you whispered to him, moving away.
Instead of letting you go, Spencer pulled you closer, “I’ll finish tomorrow. I want to be here with you now,” he responded softly. “Are we okay?”
“Your job scares me,” you answered candidly, “but we’re good. We’re great.”
He nodded self-assuredly, “I can’t change the job, but you could meet my team if you wanted to. Maybe meeting them would make you more comfortable with me going out into the field,” he offered. “And maybe I could…” his voice trailed off as he mumbled something else.
Tilting your head curiously, you hummed in an attempt to prod at him, “Maybe you could what?”
“I could make you my emergency contact. If that’s something you’re comfortable with,” he said. “I’ve never really had anyone to add, but I’m sure Emily wouldn’t mind.”
You smiled softly at him, grateful for every bit he let you in, “I would be honored. Just don’t have any emergencies.”
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de4dlyniightshade · 3 months
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Thoughts on touch starved spencer with a touchy gf?
touch starved spencer my beloved!!!
he'd lovvvveeeeeee it like he hates admitting what he wants because he doesn't want to seem needy or clingy but when he comes home after a long day and you're right at the door when he walks through it, immediately slinging around arms around his neck and hugging him close, pressing a kiss to his cheek, followed by another and another, inching closer to his lips before you can't help but messily kiss him, spencer sighing as you did as his hands moved to rest on your waist.
"missed you" you whispered against him before you pecked his lips, pulling away to look into his eyes, smiling sweetly as you let your hand trail down his body, biting down on your bottom lip as you palmed him through his clothes, revelling in the way his eyebrows twitched, lips parting slightly as his hands squeezed your waist.
"love touching you, spence, d'you like when i touch you, baby?" you teased, smiling at the way he nodded eagerly, licking his lips as you stroked his half hard cock through his clothes. "r-really needed you today" he practically whimpered, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your neck, letting out a relieved sigh as you touched him.
"aw you poor thing" you cooed as you unbuckled his belt, undoing his pants so you could slip your hand into his underwear to take his length into your hand, spencer whimpering at the slightest touch, his hips rolling into your hand as his hot breath fanned your neck.
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moonstruckme · 4 months
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“Wow,” Morgan sighs happily, “I don’t know which one of you is more whipped.” 
i'm so obsessed with this line from one of your recent spencer reid works and i would loooove to see more of this dynamic if you're interested in doing it 💗 maybe more moments of them being soft/whipped for each other and the team noticing it? thank youuu!!
Thank you lovely!
cw: mention of kidnapping (more a backdrop than anything)
Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 1k words
Spencer really wishes he’d remembered his gloves. The air is biting, fresh powder glistening on the deep green spruces whose boughs stoop under its weight. It’s picturesque, and yet the snowfall couldn’t have come at a worse time. It’s impeded their search party by hours, potentially dooming the kidnapping victim they’re all braving the weather for. Spencer keeps his hands stowed in his coat pockets. 
“Hey.” 
He turns as you and Emily come up behind him. You’re both dressed better than he is, actual winter wear as opposed to the tweed coat he’d worn into the police station that morning. Even so, your cheek and nose are look chilled as you smile at him. You carry a disposable coffee cup in each hand. 
“Hi,” Spencer says, taking the one you extend to him. His numb fingers are grateful for the warmth of it. “I thought you guys were interviewing the uncle?” 
Emily’s shaking her head before he’s finished speaking, mouth pulling in discontent. “That was a dead end. He and his sister have been estranged for years. He doesn’t know anything.” 
A frown tugs at your features as Emily talks but you perk up quickly when you feel your boyfriend’s gaze. “We figured we’d be more helpful here,” you say brightly, “and also that you might want some liquid reinforcement.” 
“Thanks.” He does a little toast with his disposable cup and regrets it immediately, but thankfully you smile. Spencer isn’t sure how he got so lucky; it seems like he can get away with any number of weird things and you’ll find them endearing every time. “There hasn’t been much progress here either. If they left any sort of tracks, the snow covered it up. I’m not…” he lowers his voice, angling his head away from the others in his group. “I’m not sure we’ll find her alive in this.” 
“We’ve still got eight hours,” Emily points out. 
She’s right, he tells himself. There are eight hours left in the forty-eight hour window. But that’s also just a statistic. And as someone whose brain is packed full of statistics, Spencer knows that they’re not always reflective of reality. The eight hours his team has left might be more for hope than anything else. 
Emily drifts ahead of you in the group and you bump your shoulder lightly into his, forcibly derailing his train of thought. He looks over at you. Your lips are tipped up, just a little. Not faking anything, but understanding, a quiet promise that regardless of how today turns out, you’ll be in it together. He finds it easier than expected to return your smile. 
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Your hair curtains your face as you look down, unzipping your jacket to dig something out of the interior pocket. “You left your gloves at the station.” 
“Yes.” You laugh at his eagerness as he takes them from you. “I can’t believe I forgot them, thanks so much for bringing them.” 
“Of course, it was no problem.” Your eyes skim the trees. Spencer suspects that if your face weren’t already so pink it’d be coloring now. “I figured you might need them, so.” 
“You were right.” 
Your gaze flits to his as you grin, then falls to where he has his gloves held bunched with his coffee cup. “Oh, do you want me to take that so you can put them on?” 
“That’d be great,” he says, relieved. 
He holds the cup out to you. You reach for it, but when your fingers brush his in the transfer, you gasp, covering his hand with yours. 
“Spence,” you say softly, remonstrance gentled. “Your hands are freezing!” 
“They’re not as bad as they were before. What are you doing?” 
You’ve taken one of his hands in yours and appear to be inspecting it closely. “Checking if your fingernails are blue.” 
“They’re not,” he laughs, though he lets you finish your perusal until you’re satisfied. “I would know if I had frostbite. I’d be able to identify the symptoms early on.” 
“They’re just so cold,” you fret. “I’ve never felt skin that cold before.” 
The tops of his hands are still freezing, but his palms and the pads his fingers have warmed from the coffee cup. “I’m not sure they’re colder than your face,” he says, pressing his free hand to one of your cheeks. 
Unsurprisingly, your skin is cool to the touch, but you smile warmly as you push your cheek into his palm. 
“Okay, you two,” Emily says without turning around, “less fraternizing on the job. 
You straighten immediately. “We were just—”
“Being cute and coupley?” Uncannily, Morgan appears on Spencer’s other side. He has no idea when his nosiest coworker had drifted back from the front of the group. “We know. But could you save it for the hotel later? Even all the sparks flying off you two can’t melt all this snow, and I want to get out of here sometime before dark.” 
Spencer suspects his face is about as red as yours as he looks down to pull on his gloves. Morgan relishes in it, raising an eyebrow at you. 
“And don’t think I didn’t notice that you brought pretty boy here a coffee and not me.” He tsks. “I didn’t expect such blatant favoritism from you, sweetheart. I’m disappointed.” 
“I was carrying yours,” Emily says, her tone conveying an eyeroll so effectively she doesn’t need to follow through with the action. She pushes a disposable coffee cup into Morgan’s chest. 
He doesn’t look one bit sheepish as he takes it, though Spencer notices you trying to repress a grin that’s bordering upon smug. 
“This has lipstick on the lid.” 
Emily shrugs. “I finished mine in the car.” 
“So you started on mine?” 
“I sampled.” 
“You’re lucky I exhibit such blatant favoritism,” you say quietly to Spencer under their bickering. “I finished mine in the car too.” 
He raises his eyebrows, and you shake your empty cup as proof. Spencer takes your hand, wrapping it around his coffee cup. “We’ll share.”
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elenalolls · 2 months
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I’ll Get By With You On My Mind — Spencer Reid.
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Summary: What was supposed to be a simple check-in turned into an abduction where the team must find you.
Word Count: 1.4K+
Warning/s! — Kidnapping, guns, knives, violence. It’s Criminal Minds.
A/N: Hellur!
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You.
Getting kidnapped and potentially tortured was definitely not on your 2024 bingo card, that much was for sure. But unfortunately, life has a way of surprising us when we least expected it.
So here you were, tied and strapped down to a wooden chair where a piece of wood struck out, poking your thigh. That ultimately keeping you from dozing off. Basically, it’s been a while since your abduction and quite frankly, you were tired.
Deciding to use your time wisely, you clamped your eyes shut, trying to perform a cognitive on yourself. What led you here? Or in this case, who.
The harder you tried to remember, the more gaps seemed to appear in your story. You were walking— no, you were running. Something had caught your attention, but what was it?
It had to have been a scream, sounds of a struggle, nothing else would have gotten your attention. That would cause you to rush towards the sound, sound, sound.
It was a scream.
“Agent Y/L/N. Glad to see you awake,” an unfamiliar (but confusingly familiar) voice started. Their— his heavy footsteps gradually becoming more louder the closer he got. “A shame it has to be you of all people, I’ve grown to like you.”
With furrowed eyebrows, you look over your shoulder before talking. “Do I know you?”
A laugh, deep and creepy. “‘Do I know you’, she asks. Of course you know me.”
“Come out into the light and I’ll see if I know you.” You replied, trying your best to seem unaffected, calm.
With a short scoff, you instinctively flinch as the chair you're tied to is abruptly turned around. The loud screech making you grimace.
Opening your eyes, you take in the man in-front of you. You did know him - he was the latest victims boyfriend. You felt your trembling hands ball into fists. You had been there for him, offering consolation and comfort, making it clear that you were there to support him through this difficult time. And to find out it was him all along? You were deceived and he was well aware of that.
He tilts his head, a sinister smirk plastered on his features. “Didn’t expect it to be me, did you?” Silence. “Didn’t think so, you must feel like such a fool.”
“You’re pathetic.” You spat, unable to stop those two words from leaving your lips.
Now, one thing you did expect was some sort of retaliation to your insult. That being his hand coming in contact with your face, knocking you out cold.
Spencer.
He ran a hand through his already tousled hair for what seemed like the millionth time, earning a concerned glance from Emily, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Reid, we’ll find her.”
"She shouldn't have gone alone," he muttered to no one in particular, as he walked over to the board displaying various details about the case.
“It was just supposed to be a simple check-in, none of us could’ve seen this coming—”
“Repeat what you just told me, Garcia.” JJ ordered, walking into the conference room. Placing her phone on the table so the others could hear.
“As you know, Jessica Woods had a boyfriend. Nothing skeptical about that, right? Well, you’re wrong. I was doing a background check, y’know, looking through records and whatnot, I found out her boyfriend, Sean, has a history of violence. He’s gotten into ten fights in the span of just this year. But! That’s not even the thing, he grew up in an abusive household, mother left, leaving a nine year old Sean behind in the process, and to make matters worse, he was deemed safe in his fathers care, things must’ve went downhill from there.”
Questioning furthermore, Emily asked, “Any updates on his father?”
“He worked at the grocery store Sean works at now—”
Spencer straightens. “Worked. Why past tense? What happened to him?”
“Hold on…” She trails off, the room filled with the sound of her keyboard, before she speaks again. “Oh. He, uh, died last week.”
“Right before the killings started,” JJ stated, “Let’s think about this, the victims were blonde, blue eyes, and all were in their thirties, we’ve already established that they were surrogates. What if they were surrogates for Sean’s mother? His father’s death could’ve brought back memories he didn’t want to remember which would’ve also inevitably led to him remembering how his mother practically abandoned him. And the only way to… release his pent-up anger was to find woman who resembled her and well, kill them.”
“But Jessica didn’t look like them at all? She was brunette and had brown eyes.” Emily went on, her brows knitting together. “Not only that, but she was in her mid-twenties.”
“She probably found out what he was doing, she wasn’t apart of the plan.” Reid voiced, “Garcia—”
“Address has already been sent to your phones. Stay safe,” and with that, the line goes dead.
“JJ, take Morgan with you. I’ll send in more backup. Reid, you’ll stay with me—“ her words come to a halt when she notices him already rushing out of the room.
He's already in the car, equipping his bulletproof vest by the time JJ and Morgan get in. Morgan then starts the car, turns on the sirens, and speeds towards the address Garcia sent.
It took ten minutes for them to arrive. Spencer quickly jumping out of the car before it even has a chance to stop. He hurries towards the house, glancing back at Morgan, who raises a hand to signal him to wait.
His jaw tightens as he complies, but the moment he hears your pained cry, worry floods over him. And Reid doesn't need to say a word for Morgan to understand they need to hurry.
So without a second to spare, Morgan kicks the door open. “Sean Walker, FBI.”
Spencer follows suit quickly after him, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of a knife being held to your throat. “Make any sudden movements and she’s dead.”
Not answering, Morgan’s eyes focus on something behind him. “Okay, okay. Look, I’m leaving. See?” He says, slowly backing up and out the door.
“God— what kind of FBI agents are you? Leaving a clearly armed suspect with one of your own?” He questioned out loud, pressing the knife harder against your skin, eliciting a whimper, his attention turning to you. “Do you understand how easy it was to lure her out? All it took was a recording of someone screaming and she came running right to me.”
“You’re right,” Spencer nodded, keeping his gun trained on the boy in front of him. “What kind of FBI agent falls for the easiest trick in the handbook.”
“Oh, please. Just stop,” He glares, “I know what you people do. You try to make me trust you, try to make it seem like you think like me. Because I can assure you, you don’t.”
“We think exactly like you, how do you think we found you?” Spencer pushed, his attention subtly drawn to Morgan's presence at the open window behind him. Making every effort to enter through it quietly, “Sean, we know what your father did, why your mother left.”
“And what exactly did my father do besides teach me to become the man I am today? My father did that, my mother didn’t. She was weak.“
“If you hated her so much, why kill four innocent woman including your girlfriend because of her?” He inquired, tone stern.
Sean’s expression falters at the mention of his girlfriend, making him tighten his hold around you. “Shut up.”
Noticing his sudden change in demeanor, Reid continues, “You loved her.” He acknowledged, “And yet you killed her, you loved her and then ended her lif—”
With a menacing scowl, he raises the knife, about to speak when Morgan swiftly intervenes, grabbing his arms and forcefully pushing him against the wall. In the chaos that ensues, you crumble to the floor, prompting Spencer to rush towards you.
“Y/N—”
“Untie me, please, get them off.” You cried, referring to the ropes that bound your wrists.
He wastes no time and quickly follows through. Once they’re off, you throw your arms around him. He’s caught off-guard by your sudden embrace, but he welcomes it nonetheless. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
You don't respond to his comforting words, only repeating the same five words, "I knew you'd find me." In response, he tightens his grip around you and gently lifts you up, guiding you towards the waiting ambulance where you'll receive the care you need.
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DT(s) — @bellelovesmen ! ౨ৎ
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eideticallys · 1 year
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Who Needs Time Management When I Have You?
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pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: one of the many perks of having a boyfriend with flawless memory is that you do not have to remember stuff—he remembers them for you.
genre: tooth-rotting domestic fluff
word count: 1.5k
author's notes: i wrote this because domestic!spencer reid is a guilty pleasure of mine. i can definitely picture him as an attentive boyfriend because aside from the fact that he has flawless memory, he's an overall caring guy. with that said, i hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).
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ONE OF THE MANY PERKS OF HAVING A BOYFRIEND WITH FLAWLESS MEMORY IS THAT YOU DO NOT HAVE TO REMEMBER STUFF—HE REMEMBERS THEM FOR YOU. Do you have a dentist's appointment at 9? Covered. He will be waking you up at 7 with breakfast in bed. Your sister’s birthday is coming up. No worries! He has already ordered a bouquet ready to be sent on the day. It is amazing, and you thank your lucky stars for him every morning when you wake up and see him cozily sleeping beside you.
However, you were out of luck on the boyfriend angle today. You had your monthly—or if the BAU is free—girls' night scheduled tonight. As much as you enjoy having girls' nights with the BAU girls, Spencer also likes to spend some time out with the guys for a nightcap or something, whatever the men at the BAU enjoy when there is no case. And that means, your boyfriend is busy getting ready to go out as well. Although Spencer has never forgotten a thing in his life—even when he is on the brink of life and death—you do not want to stress him out even more by asking him what you think you have forgotten to prepare.
So, today when you were running around the house like a madman trying to collect the stuff you need to bring to Garcia’s for girls' night, you have no one else to blame but yourself. You have depended on your boyfriend to remember stuff for you that you always leave the preparation at the very last minute. At the moment, you believe you’ve never hated yourself as much as you did now, which is quite the feat considering that you’ve hated yourself a lot before for chickening out on confessing your feelings to boy wonder—your boyfriend, Spencer Reid—only to find out he shares the same feelings.
Scratch that, you hate your boyfriend right now more than you hate yourself.
Currently, that same boyfriend has been snickering nonstop at you dashing left and right and gathering the things you need to bring. Face masks? Check. Wine? Check. What else were you forgetting?
“You know, there’s this study that says only 82% of people have a time management system.” 
Your ever-loving boyfriend, Spencer, decided to share. You were about to chuck the throw pillow at him because you could hear the I told you so in his voice, but you knew his fact-sharing and nagging was his unique way of saying, “I love you, but you could’ve remedied this problem by preparing the stuff you’ll need the night before.”
“No, I don’t, Spence. But, do tell.” 
At this point, you’re pretty sure Spencer was sporting a shit-eating grin and was probably holding in a laugh at the strain in your voice from recalling whether you’ve got everything so you can head over to Garcia’s. You’re pretty sure Garcia is about to talk your ear off if you’re running late. You missed out on the last girls' night after you bailed on them, wanting to spend the night with Spencer, watching Star Wars, and eating takeout.
“There's a survey done recently which revealed that 90% of people say better time management can lead to increased productivity.” Spencer started explaining, hands waving around as if to demonstrate the numbers in front of him. “However, only 18% of people have a proper time management system.”
“And?” 
“Well, it just reminded me of you.” Spencer pursed his lips now, as he tried to explain his thoughts without annoying you. “If you just had a proper time management system like a to-do list or a planner. You could save at least..” He stared at his watch and did the math, “You could save at least one hour and forty-three minutes of your time instead of panicking over whether you got all the things you need for girls' night.”
“I don’t need that when I have you. Don’t you think so?”
This made your boyfriend blush, and you giggled, heading towards his direction, so you could wrap your hands around his waist and bury your face into his chest. You were the luckiest person alive for getting to date someone as wonderful as Spencer.
What you just said would not have made anyone flush and nervous, but Spencer was different. You knew he’s never been in a formal relationship with anyone before you. Thus, from time to time, he still gets embarrassed by your antics which you’ll always be endeared by. You live to see your boyfriend getting flustered because it gives you a reason to shower him with affection like now.
“I love you too, Spence.”
You looked up at your boyfriend, who looked like he was about to burst from your directness. You and he may deal with a lot of blood and gore during work, but he can be the most fainthearted person alive when it came to your affections.
“B-but I didn’t say I love you..” He trailed off, confused as to why you were suddenly proclaiming your love for him. You grinned even more as you pinched the tip of his nose.
“You didn’t have to, Spence. I know your nagging is one way of you saying you love me, and I love you for that.” 
Spencer scrunched his nose and rubbed the back of his neck out of shyness. If you could keep him in your pocket for safekeeping, you would. He’s just too precious for this world.
“But, as much as I love you, I know just as much that Penelope will have my ass kicked by Emily if I get to her house late,” you broke free from your boyfriend’s comfy arms, checking the bags you packed while doing so. “I have to go, baby. I think I got everything I need.”
Picking up your bag and care package, you ruffled your boyfriend’s brown locks, which made him frown a bit and sigh. You snickered at his reaction and proceeded to walk towards the front door. You were about to reach the staircase just outside your shared apartment when you realized something. 
You forgot your car keys.
Berating yourself in your head, you were certain once you entered that door, Spencer would be on your case like a mother duck. He can be too fretful when it comes to you. Oh well, that is one thing you love about him. Huffing, you slowly turned the doorknob and found Spencer leaning on the wall just inside the door with his arms crossed, looking at you smugly. You rolled your eyes.
One thing about Spencer Reid is he can be a cocky little shit when proven right. And that happens most—if not all—the time, with his IQ of 187 and eidetic memory. Unfortunately for him, he also happened to date a cocky little shit—you—who likes to fluster the living lights out of him. And right now, you just thought of the perfect way to get back at him.
But first, your car keys. Spencer next.
Once you have retrieved the pesky item—like it’s the car keys’ fault, you forgot to get them—you turned towards the door, not paying any attention to your boyfriend, who was already cracking up at you. Only when you’ve reached the door, your back towards Spencer, did you smirk. Oh, he’ll never know what’s coming to him. You did a U-turn and 
“Forgot something, sweetheart?”
“Why, yes I did, Dr. Reid,” you stated plainly, beelining towards him, making him take a few steps back until he ended up with his back against the wall. He's so easy to fluster. "I forgot to do this."
You slanted your head and pressed your lips against his. Your bodies were snug against each other as you kissed heatedly against the wall. You could feel the flutter of his long lashes against your cheeks as he parted his lips slightly to kiss you deeper. You could taste your shared breath, smell his faint perfume, and feel the slight scruff of a stubble about to show up. Warmth blossomed in your chest when you felt Spencer caress your face as if you were fine porcelain.
Kissing Spencer Reid never gets old in your books. Despite his lack of romantic experience and being the eager researcher that he was, Spencer was an eager lover—he would kiss you every chance he'd get to know how to please you, which paid off, by the way. This may be a biased opinion but you think the best kisses you have shared were with Spencer.
However, like all good things, kissing Spencer has to end, or Garcia will have you banned from her house for running late.
You pulled away from Spencer and grinned at him, to which he returned with a stunned smile. You chuckled when you noticed your lipstick smudged on the corner of his lips and brushed a finger to erase it. You wouldn't want your boyfriend to be the subject of Morgan's teasing once they're together after this. Noticing the daze your boyfriend is under is about to wear off, and he was about to say something, you beat him to it by pressing a smooch on his nose and pulling away completely. 
"I gotta go, Dr. Reid. Don't miss me too much!"
You scampered towards the door and shot a wink at your bewildered boyfriend—who was now sputtering in indignation for interrupting what he was about to say. He is so cute.
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springtyme · 2 months
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𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐝 ♡
Spencer being a fish dad is so important and special to me.
Spencer Reid x f!reader|| Masterlist || Spencer playlist
summary: Spencer comes home to find you sleeping on his couch and suddenly he can't help but ask you to take the next step in your relationship.
word count: 2.0k
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You contemplate if you should knock again or wait longer for a response, but with the silence that followed your first knock, you feel pretty sure that neither will produce a new result. You had really hoped that Spencer would be home. You could, of course, just have called him and checked, but you had thought that surprising him would be nice.
It’s early Friday evening and you were supposed to spend your night with some of your girlfriends but the plans fell through at the last minute, which you secretly had been quite relieved about. You have been feeling exhausted lately and all you really want is to share a lazy evening with your boyfriend.
As it becomes clear that Spencer isn’t home, you reach into your purse, rummaging around until you get your hands on your keychain, which now includes the spare key that Spencer had given you a few months back. You have not used it yet, and you feel a little nervous about doing so now, not wanting to invade his private space, but he had given you the key and insisted that you use it whenever you needed or wanted to.
Turning the key in the lock, you push the door open and step inside. The familiar scent of Spencer’s apartment surrounds you, making you feel instantly at home. Toeing off your shoes, and dumping your keys back into your purse, you leave them by the door and make your way further into the apartment. Your sock clad feet padding softly across the living room carpet.
You step over to the aquarium, where Spencer’s fish dart around, seemingly happy to see you, or at least you like to imagine so. You smile at them, automatically searching for your favorite, the one guppy with a slightly lighter tail and fins than the others. It’s the only one you can single out from the others, who you have lovingly named Finn, which quickly turned into Finley, and which Spencer had found quite amusing.
“Hey Finley,” you whisper, tapping very, very lightly on the glass. The guppy swims closer, as if in response to your voice, and you can’t help but feel a sense of connection with the little creature. “Where’s your dad at, huh, bud?” you ask, knowing that you won’t get an answer but still wanting to fill out the silence in the room.
You make your way over to the couch, and you can’t help but smile as you take in the sight of the pile of books scattered on the coffee table.
You notice a familiar book lying on the coffee table. It’s one you had been reading together, taking turns reading chapters to each other. You pick it up, running your fingers over the pages and feeling a pang of love and longing in your chest.
You settle onto the couch, tucking your legs underneath you and opening the book to where you last left off. As you begin to read, you can almost hear Spencer’s voice in your mind, soft and soothing, reading the words with a warmth that always makes you feel at peace. The sound of his voice, the way he’ll pause at certain moments to make a point or emphasize a passage, it all comes flooding back to you. You can almost see him sitting beside you, his eyes focused on the pages, a small smile playing on his lips.
Lost in the world of the book, you continue to read, the words transporting you to another place and time. The gentle ticking of the clock on the wall fades into the background as you immerse yourself in the story, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity wash over you.
But as the minutes pass, you start to feel the heaviness of sleep creeping in. Your eyelids grow heavy, and before you know it, you're drifting off, the book slipping from your grasp as you succumb to the pull of slumber.
You find yourself sinking deeper into the soft cushions of the couch, a sense of contentment washing over you as you let yourself relax completely. The last thing you hear before you drift off completely is the sound of the fish tank bubbling softly in the background, a soothing lullaby that carries you off to sleep.
· · · · ·
As Spencer turns the key in the lock, he feels a sense of relief wash over him. It has been a long day at work, and all he wants is to come home to the comfort of his own space and decompress, ideally with you, but he guess he’ll have to settle for just a few texts, maybe a phone call if he’s lucky.
He knows you have plans and he doesn’t want to disturb you, but he really misses you, despite having seen you only a few days ago. If it was up to Spencer he would see you every day.
As he kicks off his shoes and hangs up his jacket, he notices a pair of familiar shoes by the door that definitely aren’t his and a smile tugs at his lips, feeling a surge of warmth in his chest at the thought of you being here. The hardwood floor creaks softly under his feet as he makes his way further into the apartment, following the gentle scent of your perfume that softly lingers in the air.
As he makes his way into the living room, he can’t help but smile even wider at the sight he’s met with. You, fast asleep on his couch, the book he had been reading with you clutched in your hand. He watches as you breathe softly, the rise and fall of your chest a comforting sight amidst the chaos of his day. His heart swells with affection at the sight of you, so peaceful and serene in your slumber.
He can’t help but admire the way the soft glow of the lamp illuminates your features, casting a warm light over your face.
Quietly setting down his bag, he moves closer. His steps careful as to not wake you as he crosses the room, and sits down beside you. He feels how his heart skips a beat as he marvels at how beautiful and content you look, so utterly at ease in his home.
He leans in close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, causing you to stir slightly in your sleep and Spencer feels a surge of tenderness wash over him as he sits himself down on the floor next to you. He settles back against the side of the couch, content to just sit and watch you for a while longer. Finding you here was the best surprise ever.
As he gazes at you, he can’t help but think about how lucky he is to have you in his life. You bring him so much joy, so much light, that he can’t imagine his world without you in it. He’s so glad that you felt comfortable enough to come in, even when he’s not home.
He has never felt like this with anyone before, where he feels so at ease with someone else in his space, and who seemingly enjoys being with him despite his quirks and idiosyncrasies. He knows that you understand him in a way that few others do, and he cherishes that connection more than words can express. It’s a feeling so deep that he can’t quite put it into words, despite his proficiency with language.
After a few minutes of simply sitting in the quiet of the moment, with the soft hum of the aquarium pump in the background and the gentle sound of your chest rising and falling as you sleep, as the only sounds in the room, Spencer brings his hand to your cheek, gently stroking the soft skin of your cheekbone, his touch light and tender. He can’t help but smile at the way you unconsciously lean into his touch, even in your sleep.
Spencer watches as you begin to stir, a soft smile gracing your lips as you wake, your eyes starting to softly flutter open. As your gaze meets his, a look of confusion quickly gives way to recognition and a warm smile spreads across your face.
“Hey,” you say softly, your voice slightly hoarse from sleep.
“Hey,” Spencer responds, his own smile widening. “Did you have a good nap?”
“Yeah,” you reply, stretching your arms above your head and letting out a contented sigh. “I hope you don’t mind me letting myself in. My plans got canceled and I missed you, so I thought I would wait for you to get home.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Spencer replies, his heart swelling with affection. “I’m glad you did.” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, savoring the moment of closeness between you. “I love having you here with me, always.”
You smile at him. “That’s lucky cause I love being here,” you say, leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder.
“You’re always welcome here,” Spencer says, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace.
“Careful what you say,” you tease, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “I might just take you up on that offer and never leave.”
Spencer feels a surge of warmth and longing at your words, his heart full with love for you. The question he has wanted to ask you for a while, but never found the right moment to, suddenly feels like it’s pressing against his chest, demanding to be spoken. He takes a deep breath, gathering his courage, and meets your gaze with unwavering determination.
“Well, that wouldn’t really be such a bad thing,” he begins, his voice soft yet resolute. “I know this might be a bit sudden, but...” he trails off, suddenly feeling a wave of nerves wash over him. But he pushes through, taking your hands in his and looking into your eyes with sincerity. “I was wondering if maybe... you would consider moving in with me? I love having you here, and I just can’t imagine my life without you in it. And I want us to create a home together. You obviously don’t have to answer now, and we don’t need to live here if you don’t want to. We could live at your place, or find somewhere new if that is what you want. I just want to be with you, in whatever way makes you happy,” he says, feeling the weight of his words hang in the air between you.
Spencer’s heart pounds in his chest as he awaits your answer, hoping beyond hope that you feel the same way he does, that you want to take the next step in your relationship together.
Your eyes have turned wide as you look at him with surprise and Spencer holds his breath, waiting for your response. But soon your shocked face turns into a bright smile, and tears start to glisten in your beautiful eyes. “I would love that, Spence” you say softly
Spencer’s face breaks into a wide grin, his eyes shining with happiness. “Really?”
“Really,” you confirm, leaning in to kiss him, sealing your promise with a tender touch of your lips. Spencer wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. He feels a surge of joy and relief wash over him at your answer.
You both sit there in a bubble of happiness, basking in the warmth of your love for each other. “I love you,” Spencer whispers, his voice filled with sincerity.
“I love you too,” you reply, pressing your forehead against his. “And I would love to live here with you, Spence.”
He feels like his heart is going to burst with happiness at your words, feeling a profound sense of gratitude and love for you. He can’t believe how lucky he is to have found someone who not only accepts him for who he is but also wants to build a future together with him.
“I can’t wait to have you here with me, every day,” Spencer whispers, his voice filled with love and gratitude.
Spencer pulls you in for another kiss, his heart overflowing with love for you. And as you snuggle closer to him, he couldn’t be happier to have found someone who loves him so deeply and completely.
You both sit there, reveling in the warmth of the moment, knowing that this is just the beginning of a new chapter in your relationship. As the realization sinks in that you will soon be sharing a home together.
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