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#spencer reid x fem!reader
irndad · 3 days
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Spencer laying in bed brushing readers hair and rubbing her back while she's asleep and then Derek walks in cause he has a key and Spencer refuses to move reader off him so Derek and Spence just talk in the room while reader sleeps ?
thank you for requesting dove!! she is so soft <3 requests r open!!
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Morgan is a great houseguest, usually. Well, a fine one. He knocks, and when Reid had moved into this place he’d bought Spencer a moderately priced bottle of red wine that has sat untouched in the months that have followed. Still, Spencer had given him a key both for professional reasons and personal ones. He liked to be accessible to Morgan.
Tonight, though, this feels like a mistake. This thing Spencer has with her feels delicate. She’s so lovely, warm and kind and came over to eat takeout on his couch after what seemed to be an incredibly long day. He’d called her on his way out from the office, eager to see her that night, and selfishly was incredibly pleased that she still wanted to come over despite her obvious fatigue. 
She’d put in a valiant effort into staying awake, and god, it was adorable to watch. He likes to watch her, study her like a detailed oil painting. Likes to watch how the light of the television bounces off her lashes and illuminates the lines of her gorgeous profile. He’d watched as her eyelids got heavy, and she fell into a light slumber. She’d leaned onto his shoulder, and then fell into his lap. 
“Are you okay with this?” He’d asked gently, nervous and endeared in equal measures. She’d nodded, and nuzzled into his soft tummy. 
He was immeasurably pleased.
Which brings us to Morgan, busting through door with his spare key, and the most aggressive shush he’s ever given him. Morgan saw a woman on his lap, and his eyes widened in bemused shock. 
“My man,” he whisper-laughed, and Spencer blushed a deep scarlet. 
“What do you need?” he tried to be friendly, but Spencer- he was distracted, alright. 
“I came over to go over a file,” Morgan said, “But if lover-boy is busy…”
“Shut up and sit down,” he says, eyes gesturing to the ottoman. Morgan quirked up his brow in questioning, gesturing towards his sleeping girlfriend. 
“She’s a deep sleeper. Talk quiet.”
When she wakes and she’s told that Morgan had seen her sleep, she’s so embarrassed Spencer thinks she might pop. It’s still so, so cute.
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luveline · 2 days
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if you are looking for spencer and bombshell requests, what about the first time a girl flirts with spencer after they start dating, but bombshell is fully secure because she knows her worth and understands that he’s a catch? if you need more ideas i can squeeze my brain really hard
love ur brain pls keep squeezing it <3 fem!reader
You’re the cheesy girlfriend no one expects you to be. You change your phone contact for Spencer to ‘My Sweet Boyfriend’ with a heart, you hold his hand in stupid places (though you’d done that before, sometimes), you bring him coffee, you fluster when he kisses your cheek no matter your disposition —you're overwhelmed in the honeymoon phase, and everybody’s surprised. 
“That’s not very cool of you,” Morgan says, having noticed your ducked head, your smile dripping with a private pleasure and your cheek still shining with Spencer’s quick kiss. He’s gone to find plastic cutlery. 
“I’m not that cool when it comes to Spencer,” you say. 
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” 
Morgan is as pleased for you both finally getting together as anyone, even if he finds it foreign. It is weird to suddenly be openly in love with each other, and likely stranger for the team to see you in anything that isn’t total calm collection. 
“He’s so lovely.” 
“Yeah, I know,” Morgan says, more earnest now as he slaps a rolled sandwich down in front of you. “He’s a catch. I asked for no mayonnaise, was I supposed to do that?” 
Emily tucks her seat in next to yours. “He’s totally trapped by that secretary again, I hate to tell you.” 
You turn around. 
“Why would you tell her that?” Morgan asks. 
“What?” 
You peer out of the office door, where Spencer’s being chatted to by a stunningly attractive secretary. She has dark skin and darker hair, alluring almond eyes that light her sweetheart face with a bright charm. “Oh, she’s getting prettier,” you say. 
You’ve got Spencer Reid locked in. Nothing in you doubts that he’s currently infatuated with you. You don’t even care when he laughs at her joke, or when she dips her head bashfully toward him. 
“You better go and get your man,” Morgan says. 
“What for?” 
“She’s flirting hard,” JJ says. She’s only just looked up from her phone. “He’s gonna start blushing.” 
As if. You turn back to the table, unwrapping the paper from your sandwich with a happy sigh. Spencer looks so cute when he blushes, his cheeks turn pink and he smiles like he’s being tickled, it’s adorable. If that pretty secretary wants to do the hard work for you, it’s her prerogative. He’s your boyfriend. 
“I don’t need to do anything, he’s fine,” you say. 
You’re cutting your sandwich in half when you feel a presence behind your back. A familiar hand closes around your shoulder, a voice in your ear, “Thanks for nothing.” 
You giggle at his embarrassed tone, turning your face up to his, immediately delighted by his pink-tinged cheeks and neck. “You looked like you were having fun!” 
“You’re not gonna pretend to be mad?” he asks, leaning over you to open your sandwich. He pulls out a sad looking tomato and a similarly wilted slice of lettuce and closes it again. “Did you want a drink? I can’t believe you.” 
“Spencer, did you want me to come and get you?” you tease. 
“It would’ve been nice of you. Drink?” 
You laugh again, tugging him down by the wrist. “No, Spencer, I don’t want a drink, just sit down. What was I supposed to do? I’m not gonna pull her off of you.” 
“But why?” he asks, nearly not quite pouting. “She asked me if it was too hot in here for me.” He sits in the chair beside you, his hand dropping to the soft inside of your thigh as he leans in imploringly. “If you cared about me at all–”
Everybody laughs, including yourself. He’s clearly joking, and for once nobody on the team mistakes it for ineptitude, which seems to cheer him up. He gives your leg a rather bold squeeze considering who he is and where you are, and again when you gesture for him to lift his face to plant a kiss on the ridge of his jaw. “I do care about you, Spencer. Sorry I wasn’t jealous. Should we try again?” 
He turns your face away from your coworkers, eye to eye. “You’re making fun of me.” 
His hand trails to your elbow. “No,” you say, your skin tingling under his touch. 
“I don’t believe you. And I know you need a drink, they didn’t send your bottle of water. I didn’t manage to find those forks, either.” 
He gets up again. He hasn’t so much as glanced at his own food, patting your back in a promise that he’ll return before he edges out of the office and into the station’s bullpen. You take a smug bite of your sandwich. You can’t hide it.
“Told you,” you say once you’ve swallowed. You hadn’t needed to do anything, and you really aren’t worried about other women. “He likes me a lot.” 
“Understatement of the year.” 
You send Morgan a loving smile. When you glance over your shoulder, Spencer’s taking the long way through the office to the water cooler.
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golden1u5t · 2 days
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Reid being really clingy after being in prison, like he doesn’t leave readers side and is constantly holding on to her.
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ꨄ pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
ꨄ genre: fluff
ꨄ summary: you knew spencer was clingy, he’s always been, but it intensifies after being prison.
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“where are you going?” spencer’s voice was full of sleep as he spoke. you were sure he was fully asleep and thought you were in the clear to get out of bed but apparently the slightly bit of movement had him awake and alert. you wanted to go get a glass of water but with how attached to you spencer’s been lately, you wanted to get him to sleep first.
you didn’t have a problem with him being attached to your hip, per se, but you figured it would be nice to have a moment alone, even if it was only for a few minutes. you knew why he was so clingy and it’s sure to pass when he gets back in the routine of being back at home, so for now you’ll let him hold onto you and you’ll give up your personal space until he’s back to normal.
“i’m just going to get a glass of water, baby. do you want to come with me?” it was a stupid question, really, since you already knew he was come with you whether you invited him or not.
spencer didn’t verbally answer you, opting to nod his head and get out of bed. he attached himself to you almost immediately, wrapping his arm around yours and trailing behind you all the way to the kitchen. when you made it into the kitchen spencer leaned against the counter while you fixed your drink.
of course though, the second you were done and ready to go back to bed his arm was back around you.
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stveharringtn · 2 days
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Spencer needs someone that listens to him yap about his silly little facts! Someone that looks at him in adoration while he explains the most complex shit no one understands. He is so not used to having someone actually listen to him and not just tell him to shut it or brush him off.
oh, anon, this is so true !!! ‘stop being yourself for just a second’ is my roman empire because how can you tell ANYONE that ? but thank you for this request!!! i hope you enjoy this love! <3 also this is season five spencer OGGA-BOOGA w; none !! just fluff !!
“did you know that a woodpeckers tongue actually wraps around its brain?” spencer asks so casually. he’s reading a book while you watch a show. you turn your head towards him, smiling when your eyes land on his face.
the glasses he wears in the comfort of home only now slips down the curve of his nose, his fingers pressing them back up.
“really?” you tilt your head.
“mhm. it’s so it can protect it’s brain while it hammers its beak into a tree.”
“that’s cool. do you have any more interesting things to tell me?” spencer thinks your being mean, but you’re turning off the television and scooting closer, slotting your fingers through his long hair, working through the knots.
his heart tends to beat a bit faster when he can smell your perfume because he knows your close, now it’s lodged in his throat because of how much invades his nose and he loves it.
“this okay?” your fingers stop quickly - you sometimes forget that he doesn’t like being touched. you never want to make him feel uncomfortable.
“more than okay,” he nods. “and… you really want to hear more facts?” he looks towards you. you nod quickly, your free hand pushing his metal frames up.
you need to tighten those up for him in your free time.
“yeah. i love hearing you talk about anything. it could… it could be something so gross and i’d listen because it’s you talking.”
he flushes and a small smile pulls at his lips as he looks away quickly. you giggle softly.
“why, dr. reid, are you blushing?”
“no.” he lies.
“i might not be a profiler… but i believe i have you all flushed, handsome.” your nose trails along his cheek, smiling as you press your lips against the warm skin.
“i… yes,” he mumbles.
“i know.” you giggle in his ear. he smiles at the sound and turns towards you.
“it’s just… i feel like i talk too much. i get too excited and start to ramble about something stupid. people tend to tell me that.”
“what ever comes out of your mouth isn’t stupid, spence. you have a brain of knowledge and that’s a beautiful thing to have - you should be proud of it.”
he looks up at you and smiles. “thank you.”
“for what?”
“letting me be me.”
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reidcoffeemoon · 2 days
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Who the fuck he think he is to be this damn hot?
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incognit0slut · 3 days
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hi! could u write a fic about is the first time of the reader with spencer helps her and them made love so romantic *im sorry im so romantic 🙈* :)
I luv all ur writings <3
xoxo
(18+) soft spencer x inexperienced reader. 1.4k
Love was a foreign concept until he met you.
-
Spencer has savored the taste of chocolate, relishing its rich sweetness as it melts on his tongue. He's indulged in the smoothness of honey, its velvety texture spreading across his palate. And amidst his love for the sugar in his coffee—slightly bitter yet abundantly sweet—none of these flavors could compare to the taste of you.
Because you tasted so divine, it was the only way he could describe it. His hands were pressed on the back of your thighs, forcing you to spread your legs further apart as he worked his tongue over you, swallowing every drop of arousal that dripped down to his mouth.
The thought of ever going back to a life without the taste of you seemed absurd now—It was a crime against his senses. So he devoured you eagerly, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony, completely lost in the spell of your flavor and scent. He couldn't get enough, and honestly, he didn't want to stop.
He was hooked, addicted to the way you writhed and moaned beneath him; your fingers tangling in his hair, your desperate pleas, and the way your hips bucked against his mouth. And when he sensed you teetering on the edge of release, he doubled his efforts, sucking and licking with a feverish intensity, intent on drawing out every last drop of your bliss.
It wasn't until you gently pushed his head away that Spencer finally drew back, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. You couldn't help but giggle at the satisfied grin that spread across his face, his breathless chuckle mirroring your amusement as he crawled over your trembling body.
"That was..." you trailed off, running your hand up his arm as he settled between your legs.
"Good?"
You sighed.
"Amazing. Splendid. Marvelous."
With a soft laugh, he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "Someone's been hitting the thesaurus."
You swatted at his shoulder playfully. "Shut up and kiss me again."
The smile on his face widened into a grin as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin before capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss. He pressed himself closer to you and the unmistakable sensation of his cock brushing against your clit made you gasp in surprise.
"You're so perfect," he muttered, slowly grinding his length along your wet folds. He fought the urge to take you right then and there, but your comfort was his priority. He needed to make sure this was what you wanted. "Are you sure you're ready?"
You stifled a sigh. While you appreciated his concern, it was starting to get on your nerves, after all, it was just sex... You might be inexperienced, but how difficult could it be?
"Mmhm," you answered, though your voice came out a pitch higher than you intended. "Of course, I am."
He slightly pulled away. "You don't sound so sure."
You stared at him for a moment before finally letting out a sigh.
"Fine, I'm a little nervous, okay?" Biting your bottom lip, you voiced the question that had been weighing on your mind.
"Is it—" you suddenly sighed, or it was more like a moan that escaped your lips as the underside of his cock continued to rub along your wetness. "Is it... going to hurt?"
His expression softened as he reached out to gently cup your cheek. "It might be uncomfortable at first, but I'll be gentle, I promise," he reassured. "We can stop anytime you want."
"I don't want us to stop."
A surge of warmth flooded him at your words, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. "Then we won't," he promised, slipping his hand between your body. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."
You made a noise in the back of your throat as you watched him bring his cock closer, dragging it through your folds before he thrust his hips forward. The sensation was overwhelming and unfamiliar, and you couldn't help but tense up in response.
"Is this okay?" he asked. You nodded, though your breathing had become erratic. Your eyes fell closed as you started to feel him stretching you, the sensation both strange and uncomfortable. It was like your body was resisting him.
"Honey, I need you to relax," he murmured soothingly. "Can you do that for me?"
You winced when you felt him pushing further, a sharp pang of discomfort shooting through you. "S-Spence... it hurts..."
"I know, honey, I know," he whispered, his thumb continuing its gentle caress against your cheek. "Breathe with me."
You opened your eyes, meeting his reassuring gaze. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your racing heart, and he followed suit, matching your rhythm. In. Out. In. Out. Hold.
Breathe.
"Good, that's it," he encouraged softly. "Just like that. You're doing great."
Despite the initial discomfort, you focused on relaxing your body, allowing him to stretch your tight walls. He watched your lashes flutter against your cheek before his gaze dropped between you, taking in the stretch of your cunt, slowly allowing him to press deeper and deeper.
He then buried his face in your shoulder as he sheathed himself completely and you stifled a shocked yelp as you clung onto his shoulders for dear life, nails digging into his skin. You hadn't expected to feel so full, for him to reach that deep.
The room fell quiet, broken only by the steady rhythm of your breathing and the faint rustle of sheets. He waited patiently, his body pressed against yours, allowing you time to adjust. Then, he pressed a lingering kiss on your collarbone, his lips warm against your skin.
"Tell me how it feels," he whispered. You weren't sure you could form proper words, becoming so lost at the feeling of him inside of you. But you managed to take a moment to gather your thoughts.
"It feels... weird," you replied.
He lifted his head from your shoulder. "Do you want me to stop?"
You shook your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips as you stared up at him. He was beautiful like this, pressed against you, cheeks flushed with desire, damp hair tousled on his forehead—his cock finally buried deep inside you.
"You're doing so well for me, you know that?" he said, and the words made you sigh in response as his hips moved slightly back before rolling back into you, causing you to close your eyes with a quiet gasp the same time he let out a groan.
Something shifted after that. The air crackled with electricity. The blood in your veins pumped a little faster and your breathing deepened, each inhale filling your lungs with the heady scent of him. With growing urgency, your hips began to buck forward, eager to meet his slow, deliberate pace.
"Th-That feels good," you couldn't resist whispering to him. The initial pain you had felt had quickly faded, replaced by a rush of pure, hot pleasure that overwhelmed your senses.
"Do you think I can go faster?" He whispered, and you could hear the slick noise as he thrust his cock into your dripping walls. "Can you take it?"
A breathless yes escaped your lips and it was enough for him to get lost in you completely. His lips found their way to your neck, trailing kisses along your skin as he quickened his pace. The sensation was overwhelming, it was too much yet not enough, and all he could do was kiss every inch of your skin and tighten his grip on your body.
Spencer never understood the term making love, for love itself had often felt like a foreign concept to him. But with you in his arms, nothing else seemed more fitting, it was as if you were two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together.
He now realized that love wasn't something to be analyzed, it wasn’t something his big brain could understand—it was meant to be felt, deeply and profoundly, and his love for you was as natural as the beating of his own heart.
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weird-is-life · 2 days
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pregnant reader and Spencer fic where he makes her cry on accident 😭😭
Hii lovely, ty for the request🥰! Hope this is okay, warnings: fluff, kisses, like one swear word, reader cries (not because of something bad tho, it's cute), use of pet names (0.6k)
Spencer is running late at least later than he'd told you he would be and he can't stress it more. You've been home alone almost the whole day, and Spencer knows you are probably more than lonely.
But even if he's already late Spencer makes one more stop to get some groceries before heading home to you.
When he finally arrives home, he can't stop apologising as you greet him by the door, the baby bump very visible underneath one of his sweaters.
"Hi sweetheart, I'm so sorry I'm late there was a problem we needed to deal with," Spencer apologises and kisses your cheek.
"It's okay, Spence," you say into his shirt, already hugging him tightly, "I missed you a lot though."
Spencer looks at you like he always does with a too loving smile, "I missed you two, too."
Spencer ushers you towards the couch, he doesn't want you to be standing for too long 'cause he knows your feet would hurt, and also because he intends to cuddle you as much as possible there.
He quickly unpacks the groceries, and remembers the snacks he's bought for you. What he doesn't know is that you've been craving exactly the same snack he's bought the entire day.
"Here I got you these sweetheart," Spencer gives the snacks to you and rushes to the bedroom to change into something much more comfortable than the suit.
You stay still, your eyes filling up with tears as you hold the snacks in your hands.
When he comes back to you, he finds you eating the snacks while the tears run down by your cheeks.
"Woah, woah, woah, what's wrong?" Spencer immediately sits next to you, and starts to wipe the tears away.
"I just....-" you start with small hiccup, "I just love you so much."
A warm chuckle escapes Spencer's mouth, before he's back to comforting you. He's read every single book there's on pregnancy, so he knows how tough it is with the changes of hormones.
"Oh, baby, I love you too is that why you're crying, huh? Or is it something else? Maybe me being late?" He really hope it isn't the latter.
"N-no, I just-... I just really wanted these snacks all day, Spence," you tell him as another set of tears escapes from your eyes, "a-and they are too good."
"Oh sweetheart, if I knew you wanted them so badly i would have bought more," Spencer tells you with a sympathetic smile.
He understands it can be a lot for you from time to time, even if it's something as simple as craving some snack, so he let's you eat your snacks while he wipes away the tears. He does that until the snacks are gone along with the tears.
You look just unhappy about finishing the snacks as you did minutes ago eating them. You give him a puppy eyes, and Spencer is up on his legs before you can even say his name.
"Spencer...?"
"Don't worry, lovely. I got it, I'll buy you more than enough," Spencer quickly gives you a kiss, and goes to put on his shoes, car keys already in his hand.
"Spence?"
"Yes?" he looks back at you so fucking lovingly completely unbothered about the fact that he has to go to the shop again that you think you might start crying again (Spencer loves you so much that it happens a lot, you crying about how much you love him).
"Of course, but only if you really want to. I don't mind going alone."
"I want to," you say enthusiasticly. That is all Spencer needs to take your shoes, and go back to you. He puts the shoes on for you, kisses your bump, and helps you get up.
"C'mon, sweetheart. I'll get you anything you want if you tell me about your day, " Spencer happily listens to you chatter about everything that crossed your mind through the day.
You and Spencer leave the shop with way too many snacks, but it's okay because you're happy as one can be and that's all Spencer needs, okay maybe the cuddles too.
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sailorholly · 3 days
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Between Us Pt. 2
Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.
Pairing: Spencer Reid × F. BAU Reader
Warnings: Friends with benefits. Angst.
See My Masterlist Here
Part One
Tonight was the night you were going to confess your feelings to Spencer. You couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore, it was too painful. You were worried you would lose him when you told him, but you thought there was a good chance he felt the same.
You spent all afternoon cooking his favorite foods, planning for a night of cuddling and love making after you got the confession out of the way. When you were finished getting dressed, Spencer knocked on your door.
You invited him in, taking your seats at the table. You ate in silence, your nerves making your stomach hurt. “I have to tell you-“ “We should talk.” You spoke over each other. You smile, giggling with excitement. Spencer wanted to talk too. This is going so well.
“You go first.” You prompt him, smiling wide at him. “These past six months have been so fun. But I think our time together should come to an end.” You try to swallow the lump in your throat, willing yourself not to cry.
“I want to keep it professional at work. We can still be friends, we will just take the sex out of it.” He explains, studying your face. All you can do is nod as he rattles on about how the statistics of such a relationship show that the longer you did it, the harder it would be to end it.
You used to love hearing him spout a million facts about whatever topic he was talking about. But not tonight. “So what did you want to tell me?” He asks, serving himself more food. “Um, I was just going to tell you that book I ordered you came this morning. I thought you would be excited.” You rise from the table, retrieving the thick book from the counter and bringing it to Spencer.
“Thanks.” His smile breaks your heart. You can feel that your attempts to keep the tears at bay are failing. “Why don’t you take the food with you? I’m suddenly not feeling well.” You tell him, as you turn your back to get the lids for the bowls. You hand them to him, turning your back as the tears start to fall. “I’m going to lay down. Lock the door behind you.”
If he thought your sudden illness had anything to do with him, he didn’t act like it. Spencer was right about nothing changing. He was the exact same as he had always been with you, just without the sex.
Spencer was heartbroken. He didn’t want to end his sexual relationship with you. But he couldn’t put himself through the pain anymore. He spent all of his spare time with you. He couldn’t keep you off his mind. Things had changed a few months ago. He had bent the rules he set in place so he wouldn’t fall for you.
You had started spending the night and cuddling. Spencer had fallen fast and hard. But he couldn’t go through every day knowing you didn’t feel the same. So he had to end it, as painful as it was for him. It was no secret that you had been hooking up. But he didn’t want to talk about it with anyone.
Until two weeks after he called it off, he was so upset, he broke down and talked to Derek. He wanted to know all the details, but Spencer only told him the important information. “I have an easy fix for you, pretty boy.” Morgan smirked at him. Spencer leaned in, excited there was a solution.
“You know what they say, if you want to get over someone, get under someone else. You just have to sleep with someone and she will be the last thing you’re thinking of. Works for me every time.” Spencer cleared his throat. “Easy for you to say. I’m lucky she agreed to sleep with me. I’ll never find someone else so quickly, and I’m not sure I would want to.”
“I know someone who has been into you since she started here.” Derek boasts, nodding his head to the blonde at the coffee pot talking to Rossi. “Ashley?” Spencer squeaked, while Derek laughed.
Ashley Seaver was one coworker you could not get used to. She was impulsive, always throwing herself into trouble. You couldn’t stand her. Not only for how she acted on the field, but for how she looked at Spencer. She wanted him, and she didn’t care who knew it. She was all over him from the second she started working at the BAU.
She even knew that you and Spencer were hooking up, but she didn’t care. She used every opportunity to touch him or say something flirty, making eye contact with you the whole time she did it. Luckily, Spencer was oblivious. When you mentioned how she hung all over him, he said he didn’t even notice. He was too busy thinking about the case or the thing you did with your tongue the night before.
So you stopped being jealous. It wasn’t like you had any right to be. You and Spencer were just hooking up. If he wasn’t interested in her, then you would just let it go. The last time she tried anything had been a month ago. You were sick and she invited Spencer to go eat after work.
Spencer being the nice guy he is, accepted her offer. While they were out, he talked about you the whole time. She had told him to stop talking about you, that she was right there and she wanted whatever he was willing to give. He politely turned her down, but she was furious. She kept her distance from both of you since then.
That’s why you were confused when you heard her squealing and giggling, saying Spencer’s name as loudly as she could. You looked up from your mountainous stack of paperwork that you came in early to work on to see Spencer hugging her.
There was a vase of roses on her desk. “I can’t believe you got these for me! What a surprise! I knew you would come around!” She almost yelled, looking directly at you. Spencer took her hand in his, “I wanted to get you something before our date tonight, but I wasn’t sure I would have time to get them after work.” He explained shyly looking at her.
That little shit! Was he actually blushing? Was he seriously going on a date with Ashley tonight? And what is with the roses? He never once got you flowers. Did he call things off with you to date her? Seeing them together made you feel sick. Actually, the temperature felt like it rose a hundred degrees. You needed to get up now. You ran to the bathroom making it just in time to throw up.
Tags
@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @spenciesprincess @kimm4710 @tmilover1993 @nomajdetective @cynbx @comboboo @13430ona @wannabewolf @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck
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Text
Say that You Love Me - Chapter 24
Break Free and Leave Us in Ruins
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, canon typical violence, insecurities, death, inaccuracies for how the U.S. government works, the Turning Point, angst!!! conclusion to the Replicator episode, end of Season 8
Series Masterlist
It came at night. 
You felt vulnerable. You hadn't felt like that in years.
Maybe the last time was when you got a little drunk in front of the team during your graduation party. Though, ever since Emily left, things were never the same. You felt it slowly at first, then by the time you realized, your guard was already back at ten feet tall.
Except when you were with Spencer.
But Spencer's gone. At least, the Spencer you knew. The Spencer who didn't hate you merely for existing. 
You hit the wooden dummy again with your fists tight around your knives. The dummy was your anger outlet, standing there innocently as you obliterated it. 
You didn't know how long you were there. All you knew, your workout playlist that consisted of 20 songs had been repeating itself multiple times. And yeah, maybe there was some blood from your knuckles and your hands were hurting every time you hit the dummy. But hey, at least, you could pinpoint which part of your body was hurting.
That was, until your left ear was void of any music. Instead, someone screamed out, "Stop, Daisy."
You didn't, stabbing the knife (sorry, dagger) to the middle part of the dummy. "Gym's closed."
"Y/N," Spencer wrapped his hand around one of your upper arms, turning you to face him instead of the dummy. "Stop it, please."
His pleading tone made you falter. You looked up at his face, illuminated only by the shitty fluorescent light of the FBI old training gym. His jaw was set, and you didn't want to know what his eyes were saying.
"What do you want?" You asked, desperately trying to hold together your ten feet wall that was already crumbling for him.
His brows furrowed in pain. "Y/N‒"
You scoffed. Anger was that one thread holding it together. "Which part of ‘I don’t want to talk to you’ don’t you understand?"
Spencer slid his fingers to your palm, then, bringing them together, sandwiched between his. "Are you okay?"
You snatched your hands back from his hold and shoved at his chest. He fell back, and wasn't expecting it, back hitting the dummy. In a fraction of a second, you snatched one of the knives from the dummy, pushing it under Spencer’s neck. He didn’t falter. He stared you down without an ounce of fear. 
If anything, he relaxed, pushing his skin down the blade, drawing up blood. 
You scoffed, annoyed that the power play wasn’t working and he turned the tide with a breath. You threw that knife on the mat. 
"What the fuck do you want from me, Reid?" You asked. "Just one less thing to be guilty about? It took you a near death experience to fucking care about me, huh?"
"That's not what's happening." He reiterated, tone pushing against your hard one.
"What? You have a fucking type, Spencer, and it's only a matter of time before everyone who loves you either die for you or because of you! But guess what–"
"Do you think I don't know that?" He was angry now. With you. Again. This was good. This was familiar. 
"–this isn't about you," You continued like he didn't say anything. "And I don't want to see you right now.”
"Stop deflecting!” He said. “Say something fucking real for once!"
"I miss you! I miss my best friend! And I'm sorry that I'm not as smart as Blake or as great as Emily. I'm sorry I wasn't there for Foyet or Maeve!”
You both were breathing hard, and you cursed yourself for letting that slip. For letting your mask slip. Spencer tried to reach out, hold your arms, but you pulled away. 
“Daisy–”
You took a deep breath to calm yourself down. All it did was make you notice the tears on your face. “I've tried to make peace with the fact that I lost you, Spencer, but it's so hard because it feels paralyzing. But I get it, okay. I fucking get it. Hate me all you want if it makes you grieve for her better. But Spencer, how do you grieve someone who’s still here?”
Spencer paused at your familiar words and his heart lurhced. “So you jumped head first into danger because you think I hate you?”
Just like that, the fire in your chest was ignited once again. How dare he boiled down what happened to a suicidal mission bullshit? You scoffed. “It was part of my job. Anyone else in the team would've done it."
"But you’re not anyone else," he said. "You’re Y/N L/N, you’re Daisy. You’re smart and better than this."
"Christ," you swore. "Maybe I’m not, okay? Maybe I’m just an impostor and I don’t deserve to be in the team!"
"You do, you are the best of us!" He said. "But not when you're like this."
You knew that deep down, that you brought nothing to the table. Just plain stupidity and bravado. 
They still could solve cases without you. Still could go to bars and clubs without you. Somebody else would pick up their coffee or keep the caramel candy in stock. It didn't have to be you. 
You were expendable. Back when you were a child, your parents finally had a son they have always wanted. Back at the CIA, dying was a part of the job description. Even now, when the one person you care the most said that he didn't want you with his family, you knew. 
Didn't mean you liked hearing it out loud.
Spencer swallowed at the look on your face. Oops. Your walls crumbled in less than a minute. 
"Y/N–" Spencer started. “I –I didn't mean –I’m sorry, please–”
"Don't," You stopped him. You bent down and took your duffle bag over your shoulder. "I get it."
“Stop,” he pleaded. “Just stop, please, for once, stay with me.”
Those words stopped you on your track. 
Those words struck your heart like a fishing hook and yanked it around.
“I'm not a target for your guilty conscience, Spence.”
“But I am,” you felt him moving closer to you. He was behind you now, close, so close. “I am guilty. Not on Maeve but with you. You were gone, Daisy, for weeks–and you didn't come when I needed you–”
“Spencer–”
“–if you couldn't come for me, then what happened to you?” He continued. “I know Hall and Barnes resigned the moment you got here, while Wilkes didn't come back. And these–” he traced the round of your left shoulder, feeling the scars. His hands moved to your shoulder blades, following the jagged skin. You shivered. “Why do you insist on diving head first into danger while leaving me–us behind?”
You ran out of words as you tried to hold back your tears. Angela had covered this during multiple sessions, but you weren't ready to admit to her the truth.
“Because it's all I've ever known,” you whispered, pulling yourself away from his hands.
“It doesn’t have to be that way anymore. The team needs you–I need you, but we need you sound,” he said.
You turned to him, Spencer, who was so deep in his own grief he lost more than just sleep and an unsub. “That’s rich coming from you.”
“And I was wrong.”
“Then why are you so angry with me, Spencer?” you asked, defeated.
Spencer swallowed, his head hung in shame. The coldness in his chest spreads to the tip of his toes. “You were right. I needed someone to blame. It shouldn’t have been you but when you left it was like–”
“Like your dad,” you finished. 
Spencer curled his hand into a fist, refraining himself from reaching out for comfort. He wanted to touch you, pull you close to his chest. He wanted to feel your heartbeat, remind himself that you were there and alive and breathing.
“And you’re right, I was angry with myself and I’m so sorry,” Spencer finishes. “I need you to be okay, and I need you to trust me again. However long it takes, Daisy.”
With that, Spencer squeezed your arm and walked away, being the one to leave you there for once.
**
Spencer had been trying to make amends. 
There would be an iced oat matcha latte on your desk every morning, along with a blueberry muffin. You were ready to forgive him, but you held strong. A small part of your brain was scared of the betrayal and you hadn’t fully trust him again. There was also a small detail of Marlin Roy targeting Ron’s life, and you couldn’t take the chances with anyone from the BAU.
There was something harder about cases involving significant others of the members of this team. You had always hated it when it was personal, and so did Strauss, you supposed. So yeah, you weren't looking forward to an impromptu trip to New York without a Broadway ticket booked in advance.
The killer, however, used drugs as his weapon. You didn't like that one bit, especially since it showed that the killer was targeting an already-vulnerable marginalized population.
"Look at all these," Derek said, gesturing to the mess of the latest crime scene where six people clubbing were found dead. "Because of some drug."
"Tainted drugs," you countered. "Besides, it's not their fault. Did you guys not watch Rent?"
"Well, someone's defensive," he said with narrowed eyes. "Have you done it before?"
"What? Drugs in general or MDMA specifically?"
"There's a need for distinction?" He whistled slowly. "Mama, didn't know you were a bad girl. What is it? Ecstasy? Meth?"
"Oh, no, stimulants made me sleepy. Strictly weed and shrooms, baby!" As soon as you said that, Rossi, who was passing, stopped in front of you. He raised a questioning eyebrow. "That was a joke, for legal reasons. That was a joke.”
Rossi shook his head and started to walk away. "I don't want to know."
Hotch was worried, you could tell. He knew something the rest of you didn't, and you didn't figure it out until you actually came face to face with Sean Hotchner. The guy reeked of omitted truth and under the table transactions. Back in your CIA days, he'd be the perfect guy to manipulate first to make your way in.
Seeing Sean reminded you of your brother, but you didn't want to think about the look on his face when he realized that was simply a job hazard to you. You didn't want to think about him waiting for you at the hospital or getting into a fight with Emily before he got into it with you.
You were at a pizza parlor across the street from Cassie's Manhattan penthouse when the call about Strauss came in. 
It was a rare time that you and Cassie could meet up face to face.
"I don't know, Cass," you told her after she asked you what you were planning to do about Roy. “How's Valerie doing?
"She's still recovering," Cassie said, a sadness in her tone. “The doctor said it was because her body was too worn down to carry a baby.”
"I'm so sorry, Cass," you said, holding her hand across the table. 
"Yeah, so we know I'm the one who can carry the baby, the next time we try,” Cassie finished her milkshake. “Are you sure you don't want Valerie's help about Roy?”
“I'm sure,” you said with conviction. “Especially not after the attempt on Ron's life. I'd rather he stay away too, but he's stubborn.”
“Well, you know good ol’ Ronald,” Cassie shrugged. “Is that why you're resigning too? To protect them?”
“What I have to do–it’s the only way I can come back after.”
Before Cassie could protest, your phone lit up on the table, JJ was calling you. Your screen was also flooded by texts from Penelope, who was just sending three consecutive S.O.S.
"Oh, shit," you said, getting a bad feeling. "I gotta go.”
Cassie sent you off with a small smile. "Be safe, darling!"
After a hug goodbye, you answered JJ, and ran like hell to the metro station, cursing Strauss in your head.
When the case was deemed inactive, so did the order to call off your protection detail. You had argued with Strauss, of course, but JJ insisted it was going to be fine. So you didn't have anyone following you to New York. 
And so, you were chasing after The Replicator again.
You went straight to the conference room after shoving your go bag in your locker the moment the team got back to the headquarters. Tensions were running high, everyone was equally determined and scared. They didn't have a chance to mourn Strauss, and you still hadn't decided how to feel about her in general.
Penelope's system crashed, so it was like you were missing a limb. Information was slower than you'd like to have, so you were more agitated than usual. Impatience and urgency clawed at your chest, making it a little harder to breathe every passing hour.
You left to get some chamomile tea in the breakroom to deal with the headache. It wasn't until you were making your way back to the conference room that you noticed something on your desk.
A single stem of a common daisy taped to a book you didn't recognize. At least, not at first.
Then you remembered. A middle-grade book that you got when it first came out six years ago, because Cassie gave it as a gag gift. It looked so stupid, but the message wasn't. 
Everything started to run in your brain all at once. The flower, the book, the fact that it was left on your desk–you ran up to the conference room where everyone was theorizing.
“I know how to find the Replicator.”
You had a team to test the items for drugs and other substances, bringing them to the conference room once they stated the all clear. Your gloved hand flipped through the pages, where more daisy petals fell out and a bookmark that said Zugzwang.
"The book is by Ally Carter, first one of a series about a teenage girl who was training to be a spy," you explained. "My friend, Cassie, gave it to me as a joke."
"So it's his way of saying he knew you were CIA?" Derek speculated.
"Maybe it also speaks to what his opinion is about Y/N," Spencer said. "A little girl who doesn't deserve her place in the BAU."
Hearing those words came out of his mouth stung like hell, even though you knew it wasn’t meant maliciously, but Blake had the decency to look down in shame. 
“And after Romania, the DoD sent me for a psych eval, did a cognitive where I told the former agent what happened during the mission, including about the daisy,” you took a deep breath. “Bianca–one of the orphans gave me a daisy before she was killed in the attack,” you continued, wiping your palm on your sides as if to get rid of the blood coating it. “Since I didn't give the Daisy moniker to anyone else, either the guy was in that hall during that lecture or–”
“He has access to the psych eval report and notes,” Derek finished. “We checked everyone in that hall when we were looking for Y/N, so it's not the former.”
Blake leaned over. “Who did your cognitive?”
“Uh, Jason Gideon,” you answered, noting the surprised look on everyone's faces except for Hotch and Rossi, but especially Spencer. “But it's not him. The guy barely wanted to do the job in the first place. And there's only a handful of people with that kind of clearance.”
Hotch cleared his throat. “So it is an inside job.”
"Yeah, well, find the person who accessed my files, find the Replicator."
Opening the Bianca drawer made you overflow. The thick feeling of blood on your hands wasn’t going away. You were tired, and exhausted and you needed to get away. You excused yourself to get some air, the painful memory of Bianca triggered the drawers of everyone else you have gotten killed, suffocating your head.
The moon was big that night, and usually with the light and air pollution, you wouldn’t be able to see it. But you did, and your hand itches for a pencil or some paint, at the very least to cover it so you don't feel the blood anymore. You wished you could lay a blanket there, to stare at the moon and the stars until everything was okay again. You wanted to call Angela, but decided against it as it was still related to an active case.
When you got back, they found that the team's case in Seattle when you were in Vienna was also replicated. Blake left to get the files from the fax machine, and Derek went to Penelope, leaving you, Spencer, and JJ at the bullpen.
JJ picked up on your unease, exchanging a glance with Spencer. “I’ll get you a new chamomile.”
Rossi walked in, then, looking worse for wear. He ran straight to his office, and you knew he just made the difficult decision to continue working on the case instead of wallowing in his grief.
"Do you think he’s going to be okay?” Spencer asked.
You shrugged. “He will be after two fingers of ancient whiskey.”
“And you?”
You kicked your feet to spin on the office chair. “What?”
Spencer put his hand on the back of the chair to stop it from spinning, forcing you to look up at him. After what happened at the Bureau’s gym, he had been trying to get your attention and you had been trying to avoid him. 
“Will you be okay?” He asked. 
There were times when you wanted to call him, have him come over for a marathon or ice cream. Angela would say it was your pride, but she didn’t know the truth. She didn’t know that another homicidal maniac was after you and you couldn’t take the risk of putting him in danger. You were ready to make amends and be friends again with Spencer since the first time he got you an iced matcha latte. Before you said anything, though, Derek and Blake joined you, and you remained silent. 
"I need everybody in the conference room," Hotch commanded, before making his way there himself. 
He briefed the team on a list of names he scored from a contact at the DoD based on the profile and perimeter the team listed out. After Hotch gave you a list of names, he left with Derek to talk to Rossi.
"Just a question, do we have to do this legally?" You asked to the room.
"Yes," JJ said simply.
"So I can't–"
"Nope."
You frowned. "You don't even know what I'm going to say!"
"We are not getting anyone in the CIA in on this, under the books favors or not," JJ said pointedly at your frowning face. 
You pouted. "Fine."
Hotch came barrelling into the conference room five minutes later, face concerned.
"They're taking Rossi in the infirmary, he'd been drugged," Hotch informed. He turned to you, "You should go with him, report to me if anything changes."
"Aye, aye captain!"
You followed the paramedics guiding Rossi down with a stretcher, a line of saline hooked to his arm. His face and neck were covered in sweat, lips dry and pupils blown wide. 
"Oh, that's a bad trip, isn't it, old man?" You teased, looking at him who was holding his pounding head.
"You're being too loud," he grumbled. You laughed at him and said thank you to the medic. You took the water the medic left and opened it, which he gulped down eagerly. "Thanks."
"You should eat something, so it'll clear up faster," you extended the pre-packaged cold sandwich you managed to grab from the break room beforehand. "Trust me."
Rossi took half of the sandwich –cheese and turkey– and gave the other half to you. You took a bite. "Aaron told me about the daisy."
"Yeah, well," you swallowed, shrugging. "It wasn't in the initial report. No wonder you didn't know."
"I'm sorry," he said. "You had to go through all that, when you were so young."
"I'm sorry, too." You said. "About Strauss. I don't really know her, but I knew you two were close."
"I didn't want to put you in an awkward position," he admitted. 
You groaned. "Are you kidding? The team thought you and Hotch are my surrogate dads. I'm already in an awkward position."
"Aaron is more like the grumpy uncle," he joked. "But you're family, you know that, right? Anything you need, you can come to us."
Your mind immediately went to him. The BAU had resources you didn’t have, namely six competent, very smart profilers and a Penelope Garcia. Then again, you had Ron and Valerie and basically zero red tape. You didn’t know the extent of how far he will go and you’d like to find out for yourself before bringing in other people. 
"Right now, I need to get this son of a bitch," you said, finishing your sandwich. You really didn't want to question your place in the team in front of him. You stood up, stuffing the crumpled wrapping paper to your jacket pocket. "You coming, old man?"
And that was how you ended up driving like a maniac to rural Virginia with Penelope guiding you and Rossi strangely calm in the passenger seat.
Local PD was on sight, along with firetrucks and ambulances. You and Rossi passed the crashed helicopter, and you couldn’t help but hoped that Spencer was okay. After the lead detective briefed you on what he knew, you and Rossi came up with a plan. 
The two of you and a SWAT officer entered the house from the front. Immediately, you spotted the electrical wiring on the walls. You spotted one of the transformer boxes, and you called the officer over. 
“I need you to do exactly as I said back there,” you told him. “Then, I need you to wait at the entrance. Lead everyone back to the safe zone, do you copy?”
The officer nodded. “Copy.”
You split up with Rossi at one point, with you going straight to where the team was being held. Once Rossi reversed the mechanics of the door, you went inside with your gun raised and was greeted by another bunch of guns pointed at you. 
“Y/N,” Spencer said, breathing in relief. You lowered your gun when you made sure there were no other threats.
“Everyone okay?” You asked. They nodded in confirmation. You made your way to the pressure plate on the seat. With a skilled hand, you put the folded sandwich wrapping paper from your pocket to create a wedge between the springs, keeping it in a seated position for the door. You shouted. “It’s in place!”
You heard a thud, then Rossi walked through the sliding door calmly. He ordered, “We need to get out, now.”
“You heard him,” you pushed. “Go!”
However, instead of running towards the door, Spencer moved towards you. “Aren’t you coming with us?”
“I need to try to diffuse the bomb, Spence,” you told him. “We’re taking him alive, aren’t we?”
Spencer pushed his lips into a firm line. “Then I’m staying with you.”
You stood up, hand finding his arm, holding on tightly. If your calculations were correct, you’d be out of here in time. If not, you’d be toast along with Rossi and Curtis. But Rossi was fully confident in the plan, and you couldn’t pass up an opportunity for him to get his revenge. 
“I promise you,” you said to Spencer, looking into his eyes. “I will meet you out there. You have to trust me.”
It was JJ and Rossi who pulled him away. With one last look at you, the six of them left the trap room. 
Second phase. 
Sure enough, thirty seconds later, John Curtis entered his own trap. Surprised painted his features when he found you there, leaning against the doorframe, wrapping paper in your pocket, instead of Blake and the rest of the team.
“I always wondered why they fought tooth and nail to get you on board the BAU,” He taunted when he recognized you. “After all, you’re not that special.”
“Drop the gun” you started, nodding at the weapon at his hand. Crossing your knee over the other, you kept your own pointed at him, relaxed. The leather of your boots shone under the dim light. “I don’t need to be special, I just need to be better than you.”
He lowered his gun to the floor and kicked it towards the door. “You little–”
“Shit? Yeah, so predictable,” you said. “If it was up to me,  I would make sure my face was the last one you see before you rot in a far away gulag. But sadly, it’s really not up to me.”
“Hello, Curtis.” Rossi rounded the corner then, coming out of his hiding place. He took Curtis’s gun further out the door.
John Curtis recognized Rossi. More importantly, he recognized the fury and hatred in Rossi’s eyes. He knew what was coming for him, and in a desperate attempt to save his life, called out to you. “He's coming after you. After all of you! I can help!”
Rossi glanced at you in question, but you just shrugged at him. “A poor man’s attempt to save his own life.”
However, you knew what Curtis said made sense. If he was stalking the team, he would have seen what was going on with you and the Art Crimes division. He would've known or even made contact with your very own ghost. Too bad for him that you already had your way out.
Something shifted on Curtis’s eyes, he sat on the pressure plates. “You’d really die for them?”
“That’s the oath we all took to protect this country from people like you,” he answered. “No matter what.”
Curtis shook his head. “You never appreciated me, none of you! I gave you my life, and you rejected me, while you took a little girl off the streets and gave her what I deserved!”
“You could tell me your sob story while walking,” Rossi said, having no patience for Curtis’s evil spiel. 
Something pinged, and you knew that was the device Curtis used to monitor the bomb. You breathed out. This was the part where timing played an important role. The jammer you had that officer put on the transformer box gave you just enough time for this. From the start, you knew Rossi wasn’t planning on taking Curtis alive, but you had to give him the choice. 
“We’ll go out as heroes,” Curtis said as he stood up, closing the door. 
You exchanged a glance with Rossi. Smiling, you pushed yourself off the wall. “Yeah, well, we’re not so sure about that.”
The door slid open as you pushed it from behind Rossi. Strauss’s Alcoholic Anonymous coin jammed the locking mechanism, and you quietly promised her that you forgave her for saving your life in that house.
“Zugzwang,” Rossi taunted before stepping out the door. You let your hand go and didn’t stay long enough to watch Curtis’s face as he was locked in his own trap. 
Rossi ran in front of you, and when you counted to five, you tackled him to the grass as the place blew up into the air. Hot blast licked your skin, all consuming. You heard Hotch calling out for Rossi, and you heard Spencer calling out for you. 
Your ears rang because of the blast and after feeling the grass beneath your fingers, you couldn't really hear anything. You saw Hotch pulling Rossi up, moving his mouth and gesturing as best as he could towards you. The force of the blast knocked the wind out of you, and you felt your chest tightened.
A cough, then another one. It was like your lungs were trying to clean themselves.
“Y/N!” You heard faintly. Someone wrapped their arm around your shoulders, pulling you up. You turned your head only to find Derek.
“Come on, pretty girl,” you heard him say faintly. Your head was pounding, everything was too bright.
Then, you looked up. 
Spencer was not wearing his vest anymore. As you got closer, you realized he had a wild look on his face. His hand twitched, and you knew he wanted to hug you but was unsure of where you both stand on that.
So you ran up to him first. It was as if the smoke had lifted, the air cleared, your ears were working again, the moment his arms wrapped around you.
“I thought I lost you,” he said, voice breaking.
“I'm okay,” you assured him and yourself. “I'm okay.”
And there you were, at Rossi’s, laughing and nodding along the team as they mourned someone you didn't really know, as they celebrated her life. That night was about family, and you might not know Erin Strauss, but you knew your team. 
You knew Rossi and the blooming rose bush you planted in his backyard. You knew Hotch and Jack. You knew JJ and Henry. You knew Derek and his secret taste for designer shirts. You knew Blake and her newfound appreciation of you. You knew Spencer and his touch that didn't leave you that night.
And you knew that to keep this family together, you needed to leave.
So you made up your mind. And when you got home, you called Cassie.
91 notes · View notes
diqldrunks · 2 days
Note
as like a follow up to spencer reid grieving dead!reader, what if spencer started hallucinating readers ghost?
HOW DO I TRUST AGAIN? — S. REID (dwyg!spencer)
nav | inbox
spencer masterlist | main masterlist
summary: a part three to ‘dancing with your ghost’/‘how do i love again?’
a/n: nonnie hon, you’re killing me here (whilst i kill you off lol) and i love you for it (i’m thinking about giving this it’s own tag bc i’m becoming obsessed with it)
cw/tw: spencer struggling to cope with reader’s death and hallucinates. no graphic violence — only mentions of you dying from being shot. (fem!reader)
*:・゚✧*:・゚
jj had pulled spencer to the side, moving him away from the busy street to a more secluded alley way. she grabbed spencer by his shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eyes. her voice was gentle yet firm as she spoke.
"spence—" spencer pulled himself away, running a hand through his hair as his eyes began to well up with tears.
"no— no. don't you 'spence' me, jj. i know what i saw—"
"you're grieving, this is normal—"
"i swear jayj, i saw her." his voice caught in his throat. "she was right in front of me—"
"i know, i know."
(what should we do with grieving spencer next 🤭🤭)
spencer reid taglist; @madamequackson @maroon-winestain @loveeharrington @garfieldsladybird @rotten1angel
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Note
hear me out
spencer with booktuber!reader
making spencer read something waaay out of his comfort zone like acotar or maybe better something like the naturals series and he relates to the characters
okay so i dont read fantasy that much or at all
but i love this idea so much! and im adding it to my list!!
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irndad · 2 days
Note
Hi, I’m so sorry, I searched for request guidelines and must be missing them so if this isn’t something you write I apologize-
Flower prompt heliotrope with Spencer where reader sacrifices herself/or gets shot to save Maeve so Spencer can be happy, even though she’s hopelessly in love with him. 🥹
Little angst, little fluff. You can decide if reader fully sacrifices or just gets really badly hurt and how Spencer reacts.
my dear!! there are no rules yet- i have things i won't fill but thus far the onus has been on me to clarify. i had so much fun writing this- thank you for requesting it!!! requests r open :^) wc: 1.1k
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“Is Maeve okay?”
It’s the first thing she says when she wakes up from her hospital bed. Spencer’s shaking, a little woozy too. It turns out that they have the same blood type, and she lost a whole fucking lot of it. He’d been happy to give it to her, although ‘happy’feels like the wrong word to use in this situation. 
She had internal bleeding, and collapsed harshly from the gunshot, scuffing her forehead so badly she needed stitches. Comparatively, it’s the least of her worries, but still- Spencer can’t stop staring at it. She’s literally marred by the choice she made to protect him. 
Maeve is okay. She’s in the same hospital, but Spencer’s spent about ten minutes with her- the rest of the last 12 hours of his life were spent oscillating between donating blood and praying to a deity he’s not sure exists. 
She’d survived. They’d both survived. He should feel relieved- why doesn’t he feel relieved?
It’s a stupid question that he keeps asking himself. Two of the most important people in his life are alive, but still in the moment, her blood spilling over him- the gasp of her breath when the bullet hit her- He’s going to remember the sound of it forever, what it sounded like for her to almost die for someone else. He hates that she’s the type of person to do it. To jump in front of a loaded gun for a woman she’s never met before. 
He’s mad at her. He has no right to be- he gets a chance with Maeve now, and that’s all due to the choice she made. And yet- he’s so, so angry at her. Because she could be dead right now. He could never, ever talk to her again. She made a choice that meant that he might have never been able to hear her voice, do a magic trick for her, ever, ever be near her again. How the fuck could she do that to him?
“Yes,” he replies, “she’s okay.”
She nods agreeably, before wincing at what appeared to be an intense ache at her temples. 
“My head hurts,” she says, her voice low and endearing, and his heart roars with protectiveness. “Do you think I could have a juice box?”
She’s so sweet- he wants to laugh, in a sad desperate kind of way. This is his favorite person in the world, sitting up shakily and asking for juice, clearly groggy and so endearing. He almost lost her. 
“You’re okay too,” he says, “If you’re wondering. You scared us. You had internal bleeding and a concussion. You lost a lot of blood.”
It’s only then she frowns. 
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she pouts, trying to sit up and speak to him. “But it all worked out, Spence. She’s okay.”
“It didn’t all work out!” Her eyes widen at his outburst, and he feels like scum. Yelling at her when she’s in a hospital bed, taking a bullet so he’d have a chance at romance. 
“You said she’s okay,” she says back, slowly. “I don’t understand.”
“You lost blood. You almost died. That is not it working out. You have to tell me you understand that.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so harsh, but he also doesn’t know why he has to explain this to her. 
“I know,” she sighs, “I know. But this is the job, and I didn’t have time to get a vest on!”
“Then you wait. You wait. You don’t just burst in-“
“And you would’ve lost the love of your life!”
“What makes you think she’s the love of my life?”
A nurse shuffles by the room and Spencer takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to be kicked out of her room, and on some level he knows how crazy it is to be yelling at a gunshot victim. He pinches his nose, eyes winced in frustration. 
She’s been his favorite person by a wide margin for an incredibly long time. She joined the team as a consultant and he remembers the first time he did a card trick for her- the first time he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder. He was so grateful to know her. Still is. In this moment, knowing feels like time slipping out from an hourglass- like it was almost numbered. Their time was almost finished. 
Maeve was lovely. Maeve listened and she was kind and Spencer really did like her. He’s glad she’s safe, now. But his best friend, his coworker and favorite person- Spencer thought everyone could tell that he’s been in love with the team consultant since the first week he knew her. 
Everything he liked about Maeve reminded him of her. 
And she’d jumped in front of a bullet for someone she thought he was in love with. And fuck, maybe he did love her in some way- but whatever ‘in love’ meant with Maeve, this sorrow, the pain of knowing she’d almost been someone he’d have to remember was far, far deeper. 
“You’ve never mentioned anyone to me romantically. I’ve known you for years, Spencer. She’s important to you.”
Maeve is. She was. It’s all so confusing now. He has liked someone for years, though. He couldn’t tell her, though. Maeve was a welcome distraction from a love he thought was wholly impractical and impossible to love him back— a love that now he has to witness languish in a hospital bed. 
Morgan knew. Morgan would tease him every time Spencer drew a smiley face in purple marker on her coffee cup. He would tell him to just ask her out, and it had always felt so improbable. She’d never go for someone as lanky and uncharismatic as him. 
“You’re important to me.” 
She has no idea how much. 
Her eyes soften at that, and not for the first time, he wants to curl into her arms. He wants to lay next to her in the hospital bed, and feel her pulse beat against bare skin. Feel her pulse and with every beat know that she is alive. 
“I know that, Spence,” she breathes out.
Even though it’s not kosher, not necessarily the right thing to do when your not-girlfriend/girl you went on one date with is in the same hospital, but when his best friend opens up her arms for a hug, he ends up doing exactly what he wanted. 
The team finds her asleep in her hospital bed, with Spencer asleep in her arms. It feels voyeuristic to look at, but Spencer really, really couldn’t care. 
He resolved to tell her that he loves her as soon as she’s healed. With the way Morgan side eyes him every time he ‘helps’ her walk across a room by holding her waist, he’s not sure he’ll last that long. 
692 notes · View notes
luveline · 1 month
Text
𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝
Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem
cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky. 
You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely. 
Total quiet. 
“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?” 
“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?” 
“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?” 
“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…” 
“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?” 
“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.” 
“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.” 
He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh. 
“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated. 
Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry. 
“Spencer?” you ask quietly. 
“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?” 
“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?” 
“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups. 
“Where are you?” 
After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him. 
He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.” 
Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?” 
“Where was I?” 
“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed. 
“Still where?” 
“Did you hit your head?” 
“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.” 
“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk. 
“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.” 
“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.” 
“…What?” 
You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.” 
“I annoy people.” 
“You don’t annoy me.” 
You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here. 
You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?” 
“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection. 
“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?” 
“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly. 
“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.” 
“Am I in trouble?” 
“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?” 
“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.” 
“Hi Milly,” a new voice says. 
You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room. 
Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark. 
You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly. 
“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!” 
His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer. 
“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask. 
You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again. 
“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.” 
He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath. 
“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers. 
“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger. 
“I missed you.” 
“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year. 
He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.” 
“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.” 
“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.” 
You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”
“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!” 
You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.
Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity. 
“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek. 
“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.” 
You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly. 
“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says. 
“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway. 
“I don’t want to be alone forever.” 
“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates? 
In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess. 
You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?” 
“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”
His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.” 
“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol. 
“She kind of looked like you.” 
You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.” 
“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.” 
“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“I know,” he says. 
“Do you?” 
“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.” 
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” 
“Is that why you make all your jokes?” 
“What jokes, babe?” 
“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.” 
You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?” 
“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.” 
“Spencer, you remember everything.” 
He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.” 
You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him. 
You’re happy to. 
“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”
“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled. 
“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse. 
“You look so cute,” he says mournfully. 
You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally. 
“Can I come home with you?” he asks. 
That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.” 
— — 
Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.” 
“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.” 
“So you want three?” 
He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.” 
Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time. 
You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?” 
He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him. 
You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory. 
He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that. 
The avocado is making him feel sick. 
“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?” 
“I think I'm gonna throw up.” 
“You’re okay.”
“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes. 
You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button. 
“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 
He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.” 
“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.” 
Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”
“But it’s you.” 
“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”
“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now. 
You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.
But you’re perfect, he’d said. 
To you. And you’re perfect to me.
“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say. 
You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again. 
You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.” 
He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. 
The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…
“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask. 
Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” 
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️
4K notes · View notes
golden1u5t · 23 hours
Note
heyyy how’s it going ? I LOVE your work 🫶🏻
I have a little request about Spencer arriving to the BAU with a hickey hidden under his collar but Morgan noticed and start teasing him about with the others.
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ꨄ pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
ꨄ genre: fluff + suggestiveness
ꨄ summary: spencer’s not very used to having to hide hickeys on his body and you had to leave before he had the chance to ask you how to hide it. doing the best he could, he threw on a shirt with a collar and hoped for the best.
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spencer was sitting at his desk, head ducked down as he worked on his reports for the day. he was finishing up his third report when morgan walked up to his desk, a open folder in his left hand and a cup of coffee in his right.
“hey, kid, what did that note the unsub-“ morgan looked up from the file and looked at spencer, his eyes landing on the deep red bruise poking out of his collar. a smirk immediately broke out on his face. “what is that?”
spencer’s lips turned down, he looked down thinking something was on his shirt but quickly realized that his collar wasn’t in place. his hand shot up to cover his neck but it was too late. “nothing! it’s nothing!”
“since when have you been getting some action, pretty boy? if i remember correctly the last interaction you had with a woman you spilled your coffee on yourself.”morgan snickered and set the file and cup of coffee down on spencer’s desk, he pulled out the chair from the empty desk in front of spencer’s and took a seat.
“i’m not- this is none of your business!” his voice went up a few pitches and a blush was rapidly spreading across his body. spencer’s hands trembled with embarrassment as he tried to fix his collar.
“what have you done to him, morgan? he’s so…red.” garcia walked up behind derek and placed her hands on his shoulders, her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she took in the sight of spencer.
“i haven’t done anything to him but apparently someone else has.” derek reached forward and pulled spencer’s collar to expose the hickey to penelope. spencer swatted his hand away and jerked back, pushing his chair back so he was out of his reach.
“spencer, i didn’t even think you did those types of things!”
“i’m an adult,” spencer’s eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. he knew he was the youngest on the team and they all saw him as the baby of the group but he didn’t actually think that they thought he was exempt from doing adult things. “i do adult things just like the rest of you.”
there was a grimace painted on garcia and derek’s faces when he said that. derek slapped his hands on his legs and gathered his things, mumbling something about unwanted images in his mind as he walked away.
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425 notes · View notes
stveharringtn · 2 days
Note
HELLOOO
Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader
Basically him and reader have been married for like a year or sum, they’ve been dating for a while, THEYRE IN LOVEEE OKAY?! But thenn, something goes horribly wrong during a case and then reader ends up dying ! 😭
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ohhhh anon’s …. u know me so well & how i like to write the utmost, soul crushing things, huh???? w; death!
going undercover wasn’t a plan that you or spencer or anyone else wanted. going uncover meant risks - heavy risks.
this time, it was needed. this time it was spencer’s and your mission to save even more couples from dying.
but it had went south quickly.
spencer told you to stay back, begged you. but with the knowing determined look on your face, you weren’t going to be easily deterred.
he finds you on the ground, fingers clenching at your side as blood seeps through, a cough emitting from your throat that sounded wet.
he’s quick to run towards you, dropping to his knees as his own hand lands on yours, blood coating his palm.
“s-spencer.” it’s choked and he watches as you swallow. he doesn’t want to look at your face, he’ll loose it if you do.
his other hand reaches across. “we need a medic! now!”
his hand drops towards your side. the blood seeps through his fingers and to his palm.
“s-spence. i…im tired.” you whisper. he finally looks at your face, and he regrets it when he feels the sting in his eyes. there’s blood splatters on your chin.
“i know… i know, im sorry. i-there’s… there’s people on the way. there- i called… i called for someone.” he presses down harder on the wound and you cry out, the sound echoing off the walls.
and because he’s spencer, and rambling on about something he knows, even in a serious situation - he starts rambling. mouth moving entirely too fast for him to even comprehend what’s happening.
“did you know that the average time to bleed out is two to five minutes? average responders time is seven to ten minutes. luckily, we have some right outside,” he doesn’t feel the tears that stream down his face. he’s pressing too hard on the wound that there will most likely be a bruise.
his lips are shaking. “uncontrolled bleeding is a major cause of preventable deaths. approximately forty percent of trauma-related deaths worldwide are due to bleeding or its consequences, establishing hemorrhage as the most common cause of preventable death in trauma,” he’s not even paying attention to what spews from his mouth - but he knows if he did, none of this would make him feel any better.
“but… but you’ll be okay. yeah, you’ll be okay,” his lips pull into a shaky smile and he tastes the saltiness of his own tears slip into his mouth. “they’ll… they’re on their way. they’re almost…” his eyes finally trail back towards your face.
the hand that was placed on top reaches up and taps at your cheek. he says your name softly.
“hey…. hey, come on, now. don’t… don’t do this to me,” he shakes his head. his hand grips your shoulder and he shakes your body a bit, saying your name again. “no…. no, no, no,” his voice is raw and gravely, his hand leaving yours, he doesn’t notice the way it drops to the ground.
his hand splays against your cheek, blood smearing across your skin. “come on, wake up… please, you can’t-” his chest shudders and he feels a hand on his shoulder.
“reid.”
“you can’t leave me!” he shakes your head from side to side, his thumb trying to wipe away the blood splatters that feel on your chin. it only smears. he lets out a sob, pulling your limp body closer.
your arm was at a awkward angle behind you, his own wrapped around your sides to hold you up. his cries are muffled in your neck, but echoes off the walls.
he pulls away again, thumb rubbing at the apple of your cheek, before brushing your hair back. “please…. please, wake up.” he whispers.
“reid… she’s gone.” derek says solemnly.
he knows it, but he can’t accept it. he shakes his head hesitantly, another shuddering breath falling from his lips before he presses his forehead against yours.
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tinyluvs · 9 months
Note
imagine dating spencer and you come to visit or something and make him so distracted that he literally can’t info dump on something and the rest of the team is just shocked
yes yes, a hundred times yes 🤭 thank you so much!
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catching a glimpse of yourself in the elevator mirror was the last thing you needed right now. you were covered in paint, your dungarees showing up every coloured streak and hand print against the light denim. you're sure there's paint in your hair but you don't have time to dwell on it, you're late
you'd got stressed, painting your boyfriends apartment on your own, lost track of time and then didn't have the time to change before running out of the apartment, just about managing to remember to grab yours and spencer's lunch on the way
"i'm so sorry i'm late," you sigh and frown as you rush through the bullpen to the collection of desks you're oh so familiar with, "please excuse the state of me,"
spencer turns at the sound of your voice, "hi sweetheart," he hums, looking up at you just as you dip to kiss him quickly before pushing the bag of food onto his lap
"hey," you smile softly at your boyfriend before turning to his colleagues, "hey guys, how are we all?" you ask, getting a mixed bunch of replies back
"how's painting?" derek laughs, looking at your appearance and the state of your clothes
you slide onto spencer's desk, pulling your legs up to sit cross legged, "standing six feet up a ladder trying to hold a tray of paint and a brush is hard, i've nearly fallen off twice," you huff,
spencer hands you the sandwich he knows is yours and then seemingly looks at you properly for the first time since you've been there, "hey," he says, almost breathlessly
"hello?" you question, head tilting slightly, "you've already said hi," you say, looking at emily and jj who just snicker and shrug their shoulders but spencer doesn't reply, "oh before i forget!"
your boyfriend watches you carefully as you produce a piece of paper from the tiny pocket on the front of your dungarees, flapping it around to unfold it, your other hand busy clutching your food
"the living room is next, i need to know how much paint to buy," you explain, handing the paper to him, "the cans are one litre or five litres, i can't figure it out"
truth be told you hadn't bothered to try and work it out, knowing spencer would be able to reel off the answer like it's nothing, naturally, he knew the exact measurements of every wall in his house
the boy stares up at you blankly, big brown eyes soft and sparkly. your cheeks heat up under his gaze, your eyebrows raising slightly, "spence?" you nudge him with your knee
he jumps ever so slightly, his head shaking a bit, "hmm?" he asks before only just registering you've handed him something, his eyes scan over it, "oh!" he blushes, turning his chair to face his desk
"what colour are you doing the living room?" jj asks while she stabs at her salad like it's offending her. you'd consulted the girls with all of the decorating developments.
"a light brown i think, we have so much to hang on the walls," you pause to swallow, "so something neutral," you finish with a slight nod
a door opening to your side grabs your attention, aaron coming out of his office with his lunch. he comes down into the bullpen, sitting on the edge of emily's desk, "the paint fighting back?" he asks you, slight smile creeping over his face
you roll your eyes at him, playfully, while the other laugh at your expense, "very funny but i don't see any of you offering to help"
penelope scoffs, "actually, i did" and she was right, however her idea of getting wine drunk and decorating had been quickly shut down by spencer, the only input he's actually offered up in the whole process
giggling, you turn back to your boyfriend who's been far too quiet, "boy wonder?" you say gently, pushing your fingers through his hair, "got an answer for me?"
usually he would have an answer within seconds, his minutes of silence making you frown, he turns to you with the same frown painted across his face, "i don't know," he says
people around you gasp, loudly too, "what do you mean, you don't know?" emily almost chokes on her lunch, sitting forward to gawp at the boy
"i do not know how much paint we need" he confirms
derek scrambles, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "say it again, i need record of this moment" he pleads while garcia smacks him
"well there's a first," david says, wandering over after hearing spencer say i don't know for possibly the first time, ever
your boy stares at the paper in his hand and then up at you, confused, "i have to go and work it out, excuse me" he says, rushed, as he stands and takes off towards circle table room
after a moment of shocked silence you turn to the team who are all staring directly at you, "i'll go check on him, i wonder what's wrong?" you say to no one in particular as you hop off of the desk
"i think i know," jj sing songs and the others hum in agreement as you hop up the stairs and along the walkway into the room.
when you get into the room spencer is stood in front of the biggest whiteboard you've possibly ever seen, marker in hand though the board is still empty of his handwriting
"spence? angel?" you say quietly, staring at his back as he starts to write the measurements of the walls in his living room, "everything alright?"
he hums, not turning to look at you as he continues to work through the problem, "yeah, fine, just can't think properly when you're around," he admits, "not when you look like that," he turns slightly to look at you
"oh, do you want me to leave?" you're sad, its obvious in your voice. nervously you start fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt
your boyfriend gasps, "no, no, honey that's not what i meant!" he says, holding his arm out. you slide into the space, head resting on his shoulder, "you're so beautiful and i love you so much, so so much, my brain just switches off when you’re around"
"really?" you giggle, looking up at him. he hums and nods his head, a light blush rushes up his neck before taking over his cheeks, "i love you too,"
he's taller than you, forcing you onto your tip toes to kiss him, not caring when someone, emily, whoops from the bullpen. gentle hands squeeze at your waist, while you hold his face with one hand, the other resting on his shoulder
"three litres," spencer mumbles against your mouth, you pull away with a sight hum, forgetting what you'd asked of him, "you need three but it's cheaper to just buy five and have left over, now come back" he huffs, his arm wrapping tighter around you to pull you back in for another kiss
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thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!
❥ spencer reid masterlist !!
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