hi! could i request track one with spencer reid where reader gets drunk and needy for spencer 😭 but he denies (cuz yk shes drunk) and just takes care of him please? thank you!
off my face — spencer reid
summary: “i’m off my face in love with you.” in which reader gets drunk and spencer has to nurse her back to health.
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
genre: established relationship, fluff
warnings: rated 16+ for allusions to smut, reader gets drunk, reader wears lipstick and a dress, mentions of throwing up [not in detail], spencer being sickeningly perfect, lots of pet names, inspired by that one video of matthew. you know which one i’m talking about.
a/n: i er… got carried away because i love this trope 😔 i am in fact obsessed
wc: 1.23k
It’s too loud. Granted, it’s a club; it’s supposed to be loud. Spencer cringes a little as the music somehow manages to get even louder and he sips at his coke. He has your purse in his lap and he’s also manning your drink like a guard dog; moving himself to the furthest seat in the booth that is away from the crowd. Your inevitable return is a lot sooner than he expected, and he watches with amusement as you slide into the booth and curl into his side, reaching for your drink.
“Have fun?” Spencer asks with a soft laugh, one arm wrapping around your shoulders as he presses a kiss to the top of you head.
“Mm,” you hum in affirmation, eagerly sipping at the sugary concoction in front of you. “Would’ve been funner with you, baby.”
He laughs louder at that, rolling his eyes teasingly and squeezing at the flesh of your waist. “You know it wouldn’t have been.”
“Bet you’d be real sexy with all that sweat dripping off you,” you coo, your voice sickeningly sweet as your fingers move to toy with the buttons of his shirt.
Your fingers are wet with the condensation from the chilled glass of your cocktail and they brush against the sensitive skin of his collarbone. A shudder runs down his spine at the contact, and his cheeks grow hot. His hand finds your wrist and he holds it firmly, but not enough to hurt.
“Don’t,” he says, half jokingly half seriously as he moves his head to track your gaze. “How much have you had to drink, angel?”
You ignore the question, moving your fingers upward to brush against a blooming purple mark near his collar. A pout rests on your lips as you gesture to it, a frown forming on your face. “Who gave this to you?”
He bristles, moving the flap of his collar to cover the bruise. “You did. This morning.”
“Oh yeah!” The smile returns to your face awfully fast and a giggle bubbles up from your throat. “You love me.”
“I do,” he agrees, kissing your head again.
Your expression is all too gleeful as you move your head just at the right time so that he lips would meet yours. He pulls away after a brief moment, about to say something else, when you effectively cut him off by pressing a wet kiss to his cheek.
“Angel– sweetheart, you’re very drunk,” he says gently, prying your needy fingers away and holding them firmly in his hand.
“Nuh uh,” you deny, leaning forward again and kissing his neck right where you left a mark earlier that morning.
He jolts at the contact, pulling away as pink rises to his cheeks. “We’re not doing this while you’re drunk, honey.”
You blatantly ignore him, maneuvering yourself so that you’s practically half on his lap with your arms wrapped loosely around his neck. He doesn’t mind the attention, per se. He just feels incredibly guilty about enjoying it when you’re loopy from all the cocktails you have had. You’re pressing kisses against his cheeks while your hands play with the collar of his shirt, tugging at the purple tie you chose earlier that day and there are lipstick stains all over his skin. He’s well aware of it; bright red with a sticky residue and he will forever not understand how you can wear it all the time.
His tie has come undone entirely and you pull at his shirt to kiss dangerously close to his collarbone.
“Okay–” he’s flushing scarlet and he doesn’t dare meet the eyes of anyone in the team. “Okay, baby, that’s enough. Let’s get you home.”
“Ooh,” you giggle, wiggling your eyebrows with insinuation.
“You need sleep.” He says it sternly, although you don’t seem to grasp the concept.
“What kind of sleep?” You ask, winking.
He shakes his head, amused and exasperated, as he rebuttons his shirt and reties his tie. “The REM kind. Come on, angel. Say good night to your friends.”
You giggle tiredly, waving goodbye to your friends. Penelope looks absolutely hammered, wiggling her eyebrows at you with an expression full of insinuation. Emily is smirking in your direction, swirling her martini around before taking a sip. JJ looks equally elated, snickering softly as she holds onto Will’s arm.
Spencer ushers you gently into his car, leaning over the console to open the glove box on your side and brandishing a packet of micellar water wipes. He takes out two for himself before passing the rest of them to you.
“For your makeup,” he explains, wiping the lipstick marks off his cheeks. “I’ll help you with your skincare when we get home, alright?”
You’re in love. It isn’t long before he’s helping you up the stairs of his apartment and sitting you gently on the couch. Your eyes are droopy and it seems like the sugar high from your cocktails is wearing off. Spencer runs his fingers through your hair gently while he holds a glass of cold water to your lips, urging you to drink. You only do it to appease him and once he’s satisfied with your water intake, he’s reaching for the zip of your dress.
“Someone’s needy,” you coo, giggling as he pulls it down to just below your ribcage. “Gonna rough me up?”
“No.” He answers it swiftly, and had you been sober your heart would have split in two. He continues, “I’m going to put you in something more comfortable and then you’re going to sleep.”
“Boring.”
“No, it’s not– it’s not boring,” he flounders, his cheeks growing hotter at your words. He can’t believe he’s arguing with a drunk person. “It’s not boring, baby, it’s safe. Alcohol is a neuro inhibitor. There’s a reason why you can’t drink and drive and it’s because the brain’s neural activity patterns are suppressed or blocked. That’s also the reason why you can’t ask a drunk person for consent; they don’t know or understand what’s going on around them.”
You’ve half fallen asleep at his explanation, the sleeves of your dress falling down your arms and a shiver runs down your spine. “So we’re not going to be partaking in passionate steamy love making?”
“No, we’re not,” he confirms, pulling your favourite pair of cotton pyjamas over your head. It’s a pale pink set with little bows prints all over it and a lacy collar. “Lift your hips for me, angel, I need to get the shorts on you.”
You comply, kicking the dress off into some forbidden corner of the room and Spencer takes this chance to slip the matching shorts onto your legs and up your thighs. The rest of the night is smooth sailing from there– he has successfully applied your skincare in such a way that you would be singing his praises. He has also managed to get you to drink another cup of water, and even though you’re going to wake up complaining about the fact you need to pee. He’d rather you complain about that instead of some raging headache.
Spencer climbs under the covers next to you, pulling you into his chest and kissing your shoulder. A soft snore leaves your lips and he can’t help but chuckle. Passed out, as expected.
“Good night, angel,” he murmurs into your ear, holding you tight. “See you in the morning.”
reblogs are always appreciated !!
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Fic: Home
When Regulus first mentioned he was moving out of Sirius and Remus’ place, his brother insisted it wasn't necessary. But today, on his last day, Sirius couldn't hide his excitement about living alone with his boyfriend. Regulus was genuinely happy for them, though what bothered him most was leaving their cozy flat behind and getting used to a new living arrangement.
Moving out meant finding a new place and a new roommate. Regulus had enough money to live solo, but the thought of loneliness irked him more than anything. Sirius knew this, which is why an hour after Regulus announced his departure, he received a text from James Potter.
[Jamie] Come live with me
Regulus smirked at his phone. James had saved his contact with that nickname, hoping Regulus would feel guilty about being mean to him. He didn’t, but that didn't mean he wasn't growing fond of James.
[Regulus] Where are your manners, Potter? Shouldn’t you at least ask me out first?
[Jamie] You’re such a princess. I have a spare room and you need a place to live.
[Regulus] So you’re my knight in shining armor coming to my rescue then?
[Jamie] I mean, I do have the looks for it.
[Jamie] Just take the offer.
[Jamie] Don’t even try to say you don’t like my flat when I know for a FACT that you do.
[Regulus] Fine. You sure?
[Jamie] Positive, princess.
AAAAH IM SO EXCITED
Read the complete work here
Snippet of the fic based on the concept that @noasmirrorball shared
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Hands Off
Pairing: Spencer Reid × GN!Reader
Fluff
For: Anonymous Request
Content Warnings: Reader is drunk, miscommunication, memory loss?, thinks a random man is trying to take her home but not in a creepy way
Summary: A man wants to take you home. Good thing your boyfriend can take care of him.
Author's Note: This trope is sooo cute! I love this sm
Feedback is always welcome!
Requests are OPEN
You stumbled along after going out with your boyfriend’s team for drinks, having consumed a bit
too much. Although the dinner he had insisted you eat helped, you were still definitely bordering
on wasted.
A man was helping you to your car, his large hands guiding you along as you held onto the wall.
His smile was cute, but you weren’t going to admit that out loud. After all, you had a boyfriend.
Spencer was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for. He was kind, smart, and always put your
needs first. Even though this stranger was really cute.
He almost reminded you of him.
His hands were now brushing your hair out of your face, the heat in your cheek contrasting his
cold fingers.
“You can’t do this.” Your voice was whiny and slurred, and you barely recognized it yourself.
He just grinned wider and tilted his head, holding you closer to keep you warm.
“Can’t do what? Make sure you get home safe?”
You shook your head stubbornly, leaning away from him.
“No, I have a boyfriend. I don’t want your hands all over me.”
He just laughed at you, which made your frustration grow. You reached in your pocket, fumbling
with your phone as you tried to call your boyfriend.
“He’s an FBI agent. He could arrest you right here.”
The man sighed, watching with amusement as you found Spencer’s contact information and hit ‘call’.
To your surprise,
the stranger’s phone happened to go off at the same time.
Huh.
Even weirder, your name popped up when he received the call.
Oh.
A wave of embarrassment spread across your face as you pieced it together, and you groaned, cursing his eidetic
memory that would let him relive this moment forever.
“Don’t you dare tell anyone, Spencer.”
He kissed your forehead gently before opening the car door for you and helping you inside.
“Anything for you, stranger.”
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