this is a pro-palestine blog. the following are links to [vetted fundraisers] [legitimate charities] [learn more].
⇢ make you mine. [fluff, hurt/comfort]
| spencer notices that you've been skipping a few too many team socials.
⇢ warm you. [18+, fluff, hurt/comfort]
| spencer finds you in a state of hypothermia while the both of you are on a case, and he quickly works to warm you up.
⇢ sweet revenge. [fluff, slight angst]
| in which a female unsub dares spencer to hurt you in exchange for a victim’s whereabouts.
⇢ it takes two. [18+]
| spencer deals with a lot on the field, but nothing can prepare him for when he’s stuck inside a locker with you.
⇢ on your own. [angst, sensitive content] - part one | part two
| a stalker leaves you strapped to an explosive and you're left with three minutes to convince spencer to leave you.
⇢ stitch me. [hurt/comfort, sensitive content]
| you were assigned to negotiate with an unsub keeping a group of females hostage, or so you thought. turns out he has a partner and he’s determined to destroy you, all in front of spencer.
⇢ don't pretend. [hurt/comfort, fluff]
| spencer can see through all of your lies, including the bruises you’re hiding behind makeup.
⇢ red herring. [fluff]
| spencer can’t stop teasing you about how you constantly try to draw his attention away from your rather flawed board/card game skills.
⇢ holding on. [flangst]
| the six times that spencer squeezed your hand, and the six times you fell for him even deeper.
requests
⇢ favorite addiction. [fluff]
| you’re addicted to cigarettes, spencer’s addicted to you. he finds a way to help you through your withdrawal.
⇢ prove it. [fluff, slight angst]
| you confront spencer about a broken promise on his day off from work, and he’s determined to make it up to you.
⇢ wishful thinking. [angst, fluff]
| your boyfriend skips anniversary dinner, but finds a way to make amends with a sweet treat.
⇢ picture perfect. [fluff]
| you work shifts at a local coffee shop where a man frequents every friday evening. when love eventually blossoms between you and the doctor, he makes every effort to be with you – even when teased by his coworkers.
⇢ doctor’s orders. [fluff, suggestive content]
| you fall sick and decide not to disturb spencer during his working hours. when he returns home, he demands that he takes care of you, and you realize how adept he is at fondling the soreness out of you.
⇢ adore you. [fluff]
| spencer doesn’t know if he wants you to style his hair, but you know the perfect way to convince him.
⇢ back to you. [angst]
| upon your return after a year of working outside the bau, everyone welcomes you back with open arms – everyone except for one agent.
p.s. it makes me so happy to know that there are readers like you that appreciate my writing, that trust me to interact with their ideas, and that come back for more! i hope you enjoy your stay <3
he is so pretty i want to cry | note: please be aware of the authors’ warnings before reading. fics include canon tw’s like: violence, death, grief, blood. some fics have 18+ content so minors please DNI.
part 1 | main masterlist
SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS
use somebody | part 2 • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @reidmania (sunshine!reader, fluff, pining, slight angst)
sharpest tool • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @reidmania (fluff, angst +18 but not smut, hurt/comfort, miscommunication)
wanted: a gentleman | lips of a gentleman | if you love me right • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @gghostwriter (very fluffy)
make you feel my love | turning tables • spencer reid x bau!fem!reader
↳ by @reidmarieprentiss (hostage situation, angst, rejection, comfort)
just friends! | what a coincidence! • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @tangledinlove (childhood best friends to lovers, fluff)
never forget a face | late-night talking • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @forhappysake (grumpy x sunshine, comfort, a little suggestive, age-gap)
not our scene | part 2 • spencer reid x fem!shy!reader
↳ by @kisses4reid (fake dating, both spencer and reader are shy, fluff)
him • spencer reid x reader
↳ by @godsfavdarling (anxious!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff)
ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC'S
the one with the bra • boyfriend!spencer reid x reader
↳ by @daydreamingqueen1 (fluff, little suggestive)
recharging • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @railingsofsorrow (dad!spencer, fluff, hurt/comfort)
better than revenge • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @avis-writeshq (best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slowburn, happy ending)
i'll hold your weight when you can't • spencer reid x reader
↳ by @shewroteaworld (sunshine!reader, fluff, comfort)
everytime we touch • spencer reid x gn!reader
↳ by @idmakeitbehave (5+1, fluff)
the playground • dad!spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @whiskeyghoul (very fluffy)
misletoe • spencer reid x gn!reader
↳ by @reiding-writing (flufff)
i wish i knew you wanted me • spencer reid x reader
↳ by @irndad (angst, rejection, spencer’s addiction, jealous!spencer)
yours • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @aliteralsemicolon (smut, fluff, a little angst and i think this is idiots in love?)
twenty questions • spencer reid x bau!gn!reader
↳ by @viaisms (fluff)
an “i love you” that isn’t words • spencer reid x reader
↳ by @mcondance (fluff, very domestic)
between heart beats • spencer reid x reader
↳ by @vee6lolz (angst)
not enough • spencer reid x bau!fem!reader
↳ by @g0dlyunsub (angst but also fluff, hurt/comfort)
the whole world • dad!spencer reid x mom!fem!reader
↳ by @spencereid-reads (very fluffy)
i’d give you my sunshine, give you my best • spencer reid x reader
↳ by @mwahmimi (veryy fluffy)
bundle of nerves • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @gghostwriter (fluff, fainting)
down the fire escape and into my heart • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @justawhitebloodcell01 (meet cute, fluff)
call your mom • spencer reid x reader
↳ by @railingsofsorrow (exes to lovers, hurt/comfort)
amorphous • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @pathologicalreid (fluff)
your beauty never scared me • spencer reid x bau!fem!reader
↳ by @auroralwriting (fluff, comfort)
all of the books beside your bed • spencer reid x reader
↳ by @tlou-reid (very fluffy)
cherry picking • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @certaimromance (mentions of sex, miscommunication, fluff)
period disturb • spencer reid x reader
↳ by @vanteguccir (fluff, comfort)
innocent love • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @cookiescribble (smut, fluff, both spencer and reader are virgin)
north star • spencer reid x uni student!reader
↳ by @parfaitblogs (post prison spencer, trauma, nightmares, hurt/comfort)
i keep you clean; you surrounded me • husband!spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @nereidprinc3ss (spencer’s addiction, comfort)
dearest friend • spencer reid x reader
↳ by @endearng (idiots in love, jealous!spencer, fluff, a little angst)
the bolter; cannibal• spencer reid x bau!fem!reader
↳ by @ophelia-is-complex (angst, comfort)
opposite • spencer reid x bau!reader
↳ by @reidsbabyhoney (angst, a little fluff)
why didn’t you tell me? • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @unequivocallyreid (smut, angst with happy ending)
heavenly • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @dudeitiskarev (post prison spencer, age-gap, smut, fluff, so so good)
stolen glances • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @justawhitebloodcell01 (fluff)
last, last time • spencer reid x reader
↳ by @sweatervest-obsessed (angst, breakup, kidnapping, tw: dv)
federal beach investigation • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @reidmarieprentiss (fluff)
the prodigy path • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @imagining-in-the-margins (comfort, a little angst, dad!spencer)
two pair • spencer reid x reader
↳ by @unlosts (sososo sweet spencer, fluff)
what do we do now? • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @anniebeemine (unplanned pregnancy, fluff)
light as a feather • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @unseededtoast (fluff, general cm stuff, comfort)
one bright morning • spencer reid x fem!reader
↳ by @unseededtoast (angst, trauma, blood, comfort, lightly suggestive)
(totally not based on my day) but a simple request for spencer helping reader out with a bunch of chores bc she's overwhelmed with life and she decides to thank him with like the quote "best head of his life" and he's like "its okay you dont have to do that" and she's responds "but i am anyways"
it will come back ❀ s. reid x reader
in which spencer reid helps you when you're (very) overwhelmed, and you might need to return the favour.
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
genre: comfort & smut (18+ mdni)
tags: oral (m receiving). praise. established relationship. reader's overwhelmed overstimulated overworked... very enthusiastic head giver!reader. use of honey and angel. they love each other a lot. i love them a lot. i don’t think there’s d/s dynamics but if there are it’s soft dom spencer (nobody’s shocked).
word count: 3.1k
a/n: thank u sooo much for reading my brain ily i need to give spencer reid head asap. new format/layout for requests sort of its the same as my normal post layout... do we like... i sure freaking hope so. as always lmk if u liked this or even if u didn't but preferably if u did!!
You were exhausted. For three weeks straight, you had been working nonstop, with a wondrous total of eight hours in between shifts. You were hardly sleeping, you had hardly had a social life, hell, you never even had time to enjoy the simple pleasures of an everything shower. You felt groggy, and cramped, and everyday felt like an awful repeat of the last. A nightmare that never ended.
Never mind the fact that you hadn't seen your boyfriend.
Always home too late to be with him in the evenings, and up too early to get coffee with him before your days started. Spencer was so patient with you, regardless. He knew it would end eventually, and he would get his girlfriend back. It was just for the month, was what you would text each other whenever the other began feeling particularly lonely. He didn't even like texting, but the time for a simple phone call wasn't available to you anymore.
And your apartment. Every time you stepped into it you swore a new dirty dish materialised in your sink, or a new pile of clothes sat themselves in your bedroom floor. Which was odd, because you had rotated between the same two outfits for the last eighteen days — your work uniform, or your pyjamas.
You were overwhelmed with it all. Even as your hectic work life came to an end, and you were waking up to the sunlight pouring into your room, instead of an alarm clock while the moon was still up. You were acutely aware of the mess of your apartment, and just the thought of it all left you lying motionless in your bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Tears stung your vision as you felt the seconds tick into minutes, and nothing happened. Attempting to will yourself to get up, and yet you simply couldn't. Exhausted beyond belief, with limbs sinking into the mattress and melding to the sheets.
You faintly heard the click of your front door lock, and if you had any more motivation in you, you'd probably get up to double check it was the only other person who had a key to your apartment, and not a burglar. Thankfully, you didn't have to, for Spencer was calling out your name, gently.
Too exhausted to even reply and alert him of where you were, you lay still until he had found you in your bedroom, his bad dropping by the doorway, feet shuffling against the rug.
"Good afternoon," he said, finding a seat on the edge of your bed, hand resting atop your thigh, gentle circles being rubbed into the skin.
"Is it already afternoon?" you asked him, voice quiet.
"Yeah. How long have you been awake in bed?"
"I don't know," you answered, voice awfully small as you felt the thick weight of frustration with yourself blanket over you. "I need to get up. The apartment's a mess."
"It's allowed to be," he said. "You've been doing sixteen hour days."
"Yeah, but I'm not today. I have the day off."
"Your first day off in weeks. I'd be concerned if you'd spent it productively."
You stared at him, unsure if the irritation that settled in your bones was because of his insistence that you not doing a thing was okay, or your exhaustion. Logically, it would be the latter. You did know that, deep down.
Upon seeing your eyes delve into something a little more desperate, he sighed, hand sliding up to your own, gently tugging you up into a seated position. His eyebrows knitted together at your exhausted look, and you could see his brain ticking behind his eyes.
"Do you want to split the tasks?" he finally asked.
"You don't have to," you shrugged your shoulders. "It's my mess."
"Honey, you're already overwhelmed, and all you've done is wake up," he answered, thumb drawing circles on the top of your hand that he still seemed to have clasped within his own. "Let me help."
"It's really gross."
"I've seen mutilated dead bodies."
"I'd argue my kitchen sink is worse."
"Oh would you?" his eyebrows shot up, lips twitching in amusement, that you found solace in, distracting you slightly from your overstimulated mind. "Do you want to have a shower?"
"Yes," you nodded your head, brain ticking over all the personal hygiene tasks you had been neglecting over the past few weeks.
"How about you go shower, I'll start cleaning up, and you come join me when you're feeling better?"
Despite your aversion to anybody but yourself tackling the mess of your apartment, you knew better than to deny Spencer any further — he had set his mind on helping you.
Sighing, you nodded your head in defeat. He had coaxed you up off the bed, gotten you to the bathroom, even found you a fresh set of clothes to wear, and waited with you for the water to warm up. It was really only once he was absolutely sure you had gotten into the shower, did he leave you be, and disappeared from the bathroom.
Eventually, the apartment had been cleaned, with efforts from the both of you getting it to where it now was.
You were a lot less exhausted, and your brain was a lot less fried now that you didn't have a million tasks catalogued within it to get done.
You were lying in your freshly made bed — courtesy of Spencer. Your head on his chest, fidgeting with one of his hands as he used the other to wave around as he rambled about something you were no longer following. It had started as a simple explanation for why you had been so overwhelmed in the first place. Which you had asked as a rhetoric, but didn't have the heart to stop him when he began explaining.
"You're not listening, are you?" he asked, free hand poking your side and emitting an involuntary laugh from you at the feeling.
"I am, I am! I'm just not following anymore."
"Sorry."
"It's okay," you replied, turning and poking your head up to be level with his. "I like hearing you speak, anyways. Doesn't matter if I don't understand."
He only hummed as a response, and the two of you stared at each other for a beat, before you were breaking out into a smile.
"Hi," you chirped.
"Hello," he answered, perhaps a little too amused by your sudden energy. "Would you like something?"
"A kiss?"
"After all that labour I just put in for you?" he mused, but he was already lifting his head to brush his lips against yours, and was most certainly not pulling away when you eagerly connected them properly.
You pulled back after a few moments, searching his face. "Do you want something for all that labour?"
His hand trailed up your spine, fingertips triggering a shiver to run up your back. "What do you have in mind?"
"I could give you the best head of your life."
He was clearly not expecting that as an offer, perhaps because you never had offered such a thing before. It wasn't even something you had talked about, which was bizarre (in your mind), considering he was quite enthusiastic about using his mouth on you.
"You don't need to do that," he shook his head, but with how close your faces were, you could see the instant dilation in his pupils.
"What if I want to?"
"Then that's very nice of you, but my point still stands," he replied.
"Spencer, let me do something in return," your voice was nothing short of a whine, and if he was any less turned on, maybe it wouldn't have made his firm footed denial falter. Maybe you knew that.
"You could do anything but that."
"So a handjob?"
"Or that."
"You're such an awful liar," you huffed. "I can see your pupils dilating. I know you're turned on by the thought of it."
"It could just be because I'm looking at you," he answered, voice hoarse, no doubt from the arousal he was attempting to deny was there. "Romantic attraction triggers the same response in our hormones."
"But it's not."
He fell silent for a few moments, before he allowed his resolve to slip, shaking his head in agreement with you. "No. It's not."
"See! It's okay if you want it. I'm quite literally offering myself to you," you spouted.
His eyes fluttered shut, and he exhaled through his nose, words coming out through almost gritted teeth. "That's not a sentence you should be saying."
"Why not?"
His only response was to say your name chidingly, and when he reopened his eyes, he was met with the shit-eating grin on your face.
"Brat," he mumbled, lips seeking yours once again.
"Who gives really good head," you hummed against his mouth. "And would really love to show you."
"If you're insisting—"
"Which I am," you quickly interjected, staring back at him as yet another amused smile stretched across his lips. Then, he was nodding his head, and you were quite cheerfully kissing him all over again.
It wasn't that you kissed him with much fever at all — in fact, you were melting into his lips with a gentle hum. It was simply that he was kissing you back with a desperation you should be accustomed to. You weren't.
Every kiss you received from him always felt like he was chipping away at your soul, claiming a piece of it. Maybe he was.
You mewled when his teeth nipped at your lower lip, and he was quick to take the opportunity of slipping his tongue into your mouth. Though, alerted by his sudden control over the situation between you two, you reluctantly pulled your face away from his before it could go much further.
"Excuse me," he breathed out, scoldingly, only to be met with your hundredth grin of the day as you descended down his body. He'd take it — you smiling, albeit cockily, was much more rewarding than the concerned look you had been sporting for the majority of the afternoon.
"I don't do this very often," you told him as you lifted your gaze to his, absentmindedly tugging his pants down his legs.
"I hope not. You've never done it for me, and we've been together for quite a while."
"You know what I mean," you grumbled, and he was forced to poke his tongue into the inside of his cheek to keep the smile off his face.
"Is this comfortable for you?" he then asked, having noticed your constant adjustments of your positioning between his legs. From nerves or comfortability, he didn't know.
"Um. I guess so," you replied. "I've never done it lying down."
"We can do it however you prefer to do it, angel."
"Oh. Okay. Cool," you mumbled, sitting up straight and grabbing his hands within your own, tugging him over towards the edge of the bed.
You sank to your knees on the rug, tapping his knees with your hands to part them so you could situate yourself comfortably between them.
You were a vision if he'd ever seen one, and you weren't even doing anything. Perhaps you had noticed the effect you had on him, or maybe you were just largely enthusiastic about doing something for him, and only him.
Your tongue darted out to lick your lips, eyes flickering up to meet his face, and if this was the last sight he saw before he died, he would have no complaints.
"Have you ever gotten head before?" you mumbled, eyes fixated on him as your hands trailed up the sides of his thighs, resting at the waistband of his boxers.
"Yes."
"Okay," you whispered, quietly, tapping his hips so he could lift them, and you rolled his boxers down his skin.
"Okay?" he parroted.
"Okay," you confirmed with a nod of your head. "I just wanted to know if this is going to be completely new for you or not."
As you spoke, your fingertips dragged along his inner thighs, lips following soon after, kissing up the skin.
"I don't think that's going to matter, honey," he answered, voice breathless.
You smiled, not needing to ask what he meant. You lifted your head back up, studying his face. He gave you a nod, a silent confirmation to allow you to go further, and you took a beat to compose yourself. It's not like he would be mad at you if it sucked, but you had had a far too awful day to not do something good.
You hadn't done this in a while, it was true. So your hesitance came more from your brain figuring out what it actually needed to do, than your insecurities (they were there too).
Insecurities that melted away within an instant, for Spencer's thighs tensed beneath your hands that were now holding them apart the second your lips made contact with his cock, and through your lashes you could see his head tipping back.
Your cheeks warmed at how easy it was to get him to respond, and you wondered if the satisfaction settled in your chest was anything similar to how he felt when he did this to you.
You started hesitant. Gentle kitten licks at his tip that probably shouldn't have been garnering such a large reaction from him. But it was, and you had to preoccupy your mouth to keep the smug smile off of it.
Wrapping your lips around the head, he lets out the breathiest moan you think you've ever heard come from him, and your mind goes hazy. Newfound blind confidence wills you to take more of him in your mouth, and it's a quiet 'Fuck' that compels you even further.
In hindsight, he knew he'd enjoy it. It was you after all. He knew from the world shattering arousal that the simple sight of you on your knees was. He had, in a few short seconds, mentally prepared to enjoy this.
But not this much, and certainly not this quickly.
"I've been too selfless," he muttered as you lifted your head back up, tongue licking a stripe up the underside of him as you did. When you met his gaze in question, he added, "I mean never asking you for this. I should've."
You hummed as a response (it was all you really could do), and the gentle vibrations shot heat throughout his body. A shuddering moan rocked through his body, and if not for your quick response time in pushing his hips down, they would've knocked against your face when he bucked them up.
You hollowed your cheeks, lowering your head back down, and emitting the loveliest of moans from Spencer, whose hand found its way to your hair. Upon the lack of your protests, he made a loose ponytail with his fist, gently tugging on it upwards so you could lift your head.
You flattened your tongue on your ascend, successfully making his already weak grip on your hair go slack, within only seconds of him having grabbed it. Swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, his hips bucked up again, and you flinched.
"Jesus—fuck, sorry, honey," he rasped, though his guilt was quick to dissipate as he saw your thumbs up against his thigh. Your movements weren't hesitant, anymore. Just slow. Tortuously slow. "Can I..." he trailed off, seemingly becoming unsure of what it was he was asking of you within seconds, but the retightening of his hand in your hair gave you all you needed to know.
You nodded your head the best you could, and he mumbled a quiet 'thank you', allowing you to set a base pace, before taking over.
"So good. Jesus Christ, angel. Where did you learn this? Don't answer that. Don't tell me. Shit."
His rambling was sharp sentences, that didn't really sound like they belonged together, and certainly didn't sound like they should be coming out of his mouth. They weren't the most articulately structured phrases he's ever come up with. A thought that comforted you, because you were doing that to him.
"Fuck," he breathed out, once more, and you came to the mental conclusion you've never heard him swear so much in his life. The thought made your stomach flip.
Fingers dug into your scalp, though not too harshly to hurt. In fact, you were letting out a quiet moan of your own at the feeling, hips wiggling. Even in his state, Spencer noticed, and he smiled.
"You—ah—okay, angel?" he asked you, and you relished in the fact that he couldn't get out sentences without moaning.
Your response was yet another hum, and he was bucking his hips. Again.
You knew he was close for a multitude of reasons; the fact that he had quickened his gentle-turned-firm guidance of your head, his fingers tugging on your hair a little harsher than before, and the ever so lovely, "Jesus Christ—please—oh," leaving his lips, breathlessly.
It was a few more moments of that, before the fingers in your hair went impossibly tight, and the muscles in his thighs locked beneath your hands.
The fact you had never discussed doing this, meant neither of you knew the other's stance on what to do. Thankfully, Spencer was rendered so frenzied that he couldn't do anything.
It was a sickeningly lovely sight; you pulling back and swallowing, some of his come painting your bottom lip. His fingers twitched, before they dropped back to the mattress on either side of his body, his chest heaving just as much as your own.
Lightheaded, you slowly brought yourself back up to your feet, and Spencer's arms were quick to wrap around the backs of your thighs, pulling you into him.
"Best head of your life?" you asked, lowering your lips to brush against his.
"By a mile," he replied.
"Just one mile?"
"Maybe two."
Shooting him a glare, you huffed, and he laughed. "You're never getting head again, then."
He nipped your lower lip. "Okay."
"I'm putting my foot down," you retorted, disliking his lack of belief in your words. "Never again."
"I believe that."
"You should."
"Oh, I do," he hummed, sarcasm in his words making you frown. "Are your knees okay?"
If his goal was to distract you, he succeeded, for your eyes were instantly dropping to your knees, indents from the threads of the rug evident.
"They're okay," you confirmed, squirming as his thumbs rubbed circles into the skin on your thighs.
"Tell me if they're not," he instructed, and you nodded. He stood up, hands sliding up to your waist. "Shower?"
"Shower," you confirmed with a nod, despite the fact that you had showered only a few hours prior. "Can we watch a movie after?"
Summary: Having forgotten your dinner date, Spencer comforts his usually sunshine girlfriend
Trope:Fluff & Comfort
w.c: 1.2k
a/n: been very overwhelmed with responsibilities and wants lately that I just needed to write a self-indulgent fic. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗
masterlist
Spencer’s knock on your apartment door was met with silence. It was a starry Friday night and he had arranged a dinner reservation with you, his girlfriend for a year and a half, to the newly opened French restaurant along the main street. With a certain spring in his step, he settled with Hotch, and by extension the team, that he couldn’t be disturbed unless an emergency case comes in—something he silently wished not to happen. He had also picked up a bouquet of your favorites from the local florist. An array of whites that reminded him of the dress he first saw you wearing at the park.
He knocked again, ears straining to hear anything behind the dark wooden door. There was nothing. He balanced the bouquet on one hand and reached for the phone inside his satchel. It was quite unlike you to not answer the door.
The number you dialed is either unattended—
“Strange,” he muttered under his breath. During his morning phone call with you, a much needed routine to tide him through the macabre of his job, you sounded so excited about the dinner he’d planned and had even promised to wear the same white dress that had plagued his eidetic memory. He chuckled in reply before asking any plans for the day. There was a slight pause on your end, no doubt thinking of ways to pass time before night winds down, and you answer—
The studio, he remembered. You mentioned passing by your art studio to occupy time. He sighed in relief as he enters his vintage blue car parked on the the sidewalk, bouquet placed securely on the passenger seat. The clock on the dashboard tells him there’s still time to make it to the reservation, granted he wasn’t sure if you were ready to go.
A non-descriptive tune played from the radio as he turned left to enter the designated parking space of your studio building. It was a mixture of soft piano keys that sounded like spring and sunshine, both adjectives he loved to use to describe you.
When he finally found the courage to fumble his way in asking for your number, the smile that flashed on your face was blinding. It was as if he stared directly into the sun with little to no protection for his vision.
Over the course of multiple dates, he found himself waxing prose about you in his head. The pinking of your cheeks reminded him of strawberries ripening, so tempting to touch with his own pair of lips. The twinkle in your eyes, full of adoration and trust, made him feel strong and protective—like he was some kind of crow guarding his loot of sparkling treasure. And the bounce in your step wherever you’d go had him envisioning a sprig of wildflowers growing from each footprint, the nymph of his very own Spring.
He let himself in the studio, grateful you’ve trusted him with a spare key. “Sunshine,” he called out.
The light inside the four cornered room was on, windows all open for the paint fumes to escape, and there you were, hunched over an easel, furiously painting without any care of your surroundings.
He called your name, softer this time, as if to slowly ease you out of the artistic trance. The timber of his voice and his sudden presence led you to squeak in surprise, paintbrush dropping on the wooden streaked floor.
“It’s me, sunshine,” he raised his hands in front of him in surrender. “It’s me.”
Your nose scrunched up in question, a streak of blue dried paint on your cheek, adorable. How adorable you were in his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” you bent down to grab the brush before resuming your old position.
“It’s 7:50, love.”
You swiveled to face him, eyes wide in distress. Hands promptly reaching to turn over the faced down phone. “No, no—oh my god, I am so sorry!”
“It’s alright,” he tries to placate you but his words of comfort seem to fall on deaf ears. “Really, it’s alright. It happens to everyone.”
Tears were starting to build up in your eyes. Your hands were wrangling with the apron tied around your waist as you mutter a series of apologies again and again. “I’m sorry. So sorry—we can’t make it to our reservation now, can’t we? Spence, I’m so so sorry. I—I forgot,” a sob escaped from your throat. “I don’t know what to do.”
He puts down the flowers on the nearest available space, your stool, and steps into your space. Filling it with his perfume and warmth meant to comfort you. He could see how distressed you were—rocking on your heels, hands unable to stay put, and lower lip sandwiched in between your pearly teeth.
The tears come rushing down, staining your flushed cheeks with its tracks. “It’s not—how could I forget?”
“Sunshine, it’s okay. It happens to all of us and I know you’re quite busy, it’s understandable.”
You burrow into his chest some more, afraid of separating from him and the haven he brings.
He continued on. “I also know you’re overwhelmed, the exhibit is just around the corner and I know how important it is to you, I understand.”
Laying your cheek near his beating heart, you mutter a reply. “It’s really not—I don’t want you to think you’re not important to me too.”
His hands cupped your face to stare into your saddened eyes. Spencer couldn’t see the warmth and brightness that was always present in his sunshine. There was a cloud of rain and doubt covering its’ greatness. He understood no one could always be happy all the time but it bothered him to see you breaking down from stress.
“Shouldn’t I be the one worried about that?” he lightly joked. “I’ve cancelled on dates so many times and did those ever make you feel less important to me?”
“No. Never,” you sniffled.
“Then what makes you say I’d think that, sunshine? I would never, I promise.”
The corners of your lips lifted up to a small smile. There it was, the rays of sun peeking behind the clouds, bringing warmth back to the dark crevices of his being.
“I’m sorry about your shirt,” your lower lip jutting out in a pout. The air of anxiety slowly dissipating around you.
Spencer laughed, noting the tear stained marks littered on his purple button down. “That’s alright. Why don’t we order from your favorite Indian place down the block? We can get your favorites and have our dinner date here instead?”
“You’d be okay with that?”
He leaned in to kiss your temples, taking in the twinkle back in your eyes framed by your wet long lashes and the flush on your cheeks from emotion—good and bad.
For Spencer, you had never looked more beautiful. The reason behind of your breakdown was raw, intimate, and it made him see you in a new light. Heat bloomed in his chest, like a series of red roses, filled with love for you.
Summary: It’s Spencer’s 30th birthday and you seem to be the only one who remembers. You drop off your present to him but when you get home you realize you gave him the wrong box. You gave him the one filled with love letters.
Disclaimer/s: none! pure fluff <3
A/N: This one is for my bsf, I love you enny, happy belated 17th 💌
Taking a few deep breaths, you finally bring yourself to knock on the green door in front of you. Nerves wracked your body, as they did every time you were around Spencer. Sure, he was one of your closest friends, but he was also so much more than that, to you at least.
Hearing the sounds of feet shuffling behind the door, you brace yourself by clutching the box in your hands tighter. You should’ve noticed how much lighter it was when you set it down on your bed versus how it felt now.
The door cracks open and you can hear the lock being unchained before the tall figure that was Spencer Reid loomed before you, a confused expression on his face.
“Hey?” He speaks slowly. Then his eyes fall from your face to the box in your hands. “Oh!”
“Happy birthday!” You smile, nervous jitters wracking your body the longer you stand in his entrance. “The big Three-zero!” You add, instantly embarrassed with how evident you being flustered was.
Then Spencer lets out the most beautiful noise, his laugh. “Thank you! I didn’t think anyone remembered!” Handing the present to him, your fingers graze against his, sending tingles all up your back.
“What?” You frown, it was nearly 8 PM, had nobody told him happy birthday? Your question was answered the second you noticed the slight change in his smile, its corners twitching slightly. “Oh, i’m sorry—“
“Don’t be!” He waves it off, trying to hide how little it may have bothered him, “uhm, do you want to come in? I have coffee brewing.”
As much as you wished you could say yes, you knew you had lots to do at home before the weekend ended. “I wish I could, but I have to get home.. maybe next weekend?”
Hiding how disappointed he felt, Spencer nods in understanding. “Of course.” He nods, “and thank you, again.”
“You’re welcome, Spence. I hope you had a good day.. I’ll see you around the office tomorrow?” You ask, not knowing why you tried to keep conversation when you knew you had to go.
Spencer nods, his curls falling across his face as he does so. Lifting a hand to brush them back, the awkward man gives you one last smile. “For sure, see you around.”
And with that, you two say your ‘goodnight’s’. You leave with the same feeling you’d arrived with. Something was.. off.
Twenty minutes later, you arrive back to your apartment, ready to go over the last of the paperwork you needed to get done. Deciding to change into a pair of pajamas first, you walk into your bedroom, your whole body frozen the second your eyes land on the brown box sitting on your fresh white comforter.
Oh… oh hell no.
Hesitantly reaching out, you flip the lid off. There was Spencers actual present. The three books and a box of his favorite tea laying neatly within it. Fuck.
Nervously wracking your brain, you try to think of ways to get the original box back before he could open it. You knew it was a lost cause. Knowing Spencer, he’d opened it the second you left.
Anxiously grabbing your phone, you debate on whether to text him or not. If you ignored it, you’d still have to face him in the office tomorrow, but if you faces it head on… you’d still have to see him every day.
This was definitely a lose-lose situation.
You must’ve zoned out because the next thing you knew, there was three loud knocks at the front of your door, snapping you back to reality.
Hesitantly making your way toward the door to your apartment, you check the peep hole first, a habit you’d picked up as many of your co workers had.. experiences with intruders to put it lightly.
Chest contracting at the nervous face that came into vision, “hey.” He speaks softly, eyes refusing to look into yours.
You glance down at the box in his hands, your face flushing a vibrant red. “Listen—I can explain.”
“You—you don’t have to.” He stumbles you, shaking his head vigorously, “why didn’t you, uhm, why didn’t you tell me?”
Knowing there was no way out of this, your shoulders slump. “Because, there was no sense in ruining a friendship over something like.. that.” You motion toward the box.
Spencer’s eyebrows pull together, his head tilting to the side. “Why not?” His voice cracks, causing your eyes to snap to his. “I mean—it’s not like it wasn’t requited.”
“Spencer.” You sigh, drawling out his name. “Don’t do this to me right now. Please.” Don’t give me hope.
“Why not?!” He’s doing the thing where his voice raises an octave, which had to be one of his most adorable traits. His face pulled downwards, as if you just told him you were dying.
“Because..” Licking your lips, you turn your head to the side. You couldn’t look at him when you said this. “I don’t need false hope.”
There’s a long excruciating silence, in which Spencer stares at you in disbelief before getting his act together. He straightens his posture a little and whispers your name, “please look at me.”
Not being able to resist, your eyes flicker toward his. They are soft, the kind of shape that made it feel like you were staring into a doe’s eyes. His eyebrows scrunched up, every emotion written clearly in his face in such simple ways. Ways only you ever seemed to notice.
“I—“ you start, but are cut off instantly by Spencer.
“Would you like to get coffee together sometime?” He stumbles over his words, his lip twitching into an awkward, nervous smile.
Your heart hammering in your chest, you nod. You nod and you nod until you force yourself to stop. “Yes!” You smile, stomach full of butterflies.
“If we don’t have a case this weekend, would Saturday work? Anywhere you want to go.” He adds the last part quickly, shifting from one foot to the other as he waited for your reply.
“You choose the place and i’ll be there.”
Who knew in a million years, that it would take one simple mistake to get what you’ve wanted for years.
in which lightning and thunder is a little less scary with spencer reid.
pairing: spencer reid x reader
genre: fluff (comfort)
tags: thunderstorm. established relationship.
word count: 1k
a/n: we r going into storm season in aus. obviously that means obligatory spencer reid fanfic?? sry this is me headcanoning that you have a fear of storms :/ if you don't just pretend. this is sooo simple and not revolutionary LOL hope u enjoy anyways!! as always talk to me if u did!!
You were ninety-nine percent sure the creaking your ears were picking up came from the window frames bending from the sheer force of the wind. And you were mostly certain that the prickle on your skin was from an unexpected leak in the ceiling after a tree had fallen into the building. Not your imagination.
Neither could be true. For the windows were not bending even slightly, and there is no tree tall enough to have fallen through the apartment above you.
That didn't really soothe your fear.
You were curled up on the couch under a blanket, a silent film playing — Nosferatu, ironically so — that you weren't really paying attention to. Your eyes were instead fixated on the only source of light the room had — a warm glowing lamp in the corner by the bookcase adorning too many books to count.
Spencer was not home yet.
He was on his way. You knew that much. The first crack of thunder had ripped through the sky and you were calling him almost immediately. Then... hanging up by the first ring, feeling pathetic for calling your — very busy — boyfriend, just because you were scared.
He had called you back immediately, and because he knew you so well, he was asking if you needed him home because of the storm. Your heart had swelled, and you had mumbled a thousand yes's into the phone, until he was promising he'd be on his way as soon as he finished the case report he was working on.
Despite the slight comfort him being on his way brought you, you were still shaking, your heart was still thumping uncomfortably in your chest, and your knuckles were still white from your petulant clutching of the blanket around you.
You could only faintly hear the click of the front door lock over the deafening rain, but you turned regardless, eyes softening at the sight of your boyfriend entering the apartment. His hair stuck to his forehead; clothes to his body. He was soaking wet, but you were standing on wobbly legs and heading towards him for solace regardless.
He placed his messenger bag down by the door, opting to deal with the damp leather later. His eyebrows had furrowed when you had opened your arms.
"I'm drenched," he said, side stepping away from your attempt of a hug. "You do not want to hug me right now, honey."
"I do," you protested, voice wavering from the tightness in your throat.
"Let me go dry off, then you can hug me forever and never let me go, okay?" he offered instead, watching you come to terms with his idea, and nod your head.
So, he did just that. Allowing you to follow him around like a lost puppy the entire time, blanket dragging along the flooring of your apartment as you kept it wrapped firmly around your shoulders.
You sat in the middle of your bed, watching him almost too carefully as he picked out his towel from your ensuite, starting with drying his hair in a way that had your face scrunching up.
When he caught the look, he asked, "What?" in a sort of amused, laughing way.
"You're ruining your curls," you said.
"The rain already ruined them," he replied. "I'll fix them when the storm passes and I can shower."
"This is why I hate storms."
"Because it ruins my hair?"
"No, but that's definitely going on the list," you huffed, folding your arms across your chest — he laughed at that. "You literally can't do anything! You can't shower, you can't cook, the power goes out, it's loud, you can't go outside because what if you get struck by lightning? And also the rain. Which is cold, by the way... where are you going?"
"To get clothes," he explained, then being completely unsurprised by the fact that you were leaving your safe haven atop the bed to trail after him. "I was coming back."
"Two seconds is all it takes for a storm to take me out," you said. "Then you'll feel really bad."
"The storm is not going to take you out," he replied within a sigh, peeling his wet button up off his body.
"It could."
"The main cause of death during storms is drowning. The apartment is not flooded. Neither is the street," he was almost nurturing with his tone, unfazed by your locked in stare on the towel he was drying his body with — you weren't really staring at him, simply zoning out on whatever was in front of you as he spoke. "The second is debris flying from the wind, which is nowhere near harsh enough for anything to be flying around. Let alone at this height. The third is a lightning strike, which is impossible when you're indoors because this building has lightning protection."
He spent the time he took debunking all the possible death scenarios to finish drying himself off and changing, and by the time he had stopped speaking he was standing in front of you. Still seemingly unconvinced due to your inner anxieties, your face was painted with a disagreeing frown, that his shoulders slumped at the sight of.
"They're still scary," you mumbled, and he nodded his head, arms looping around your body and pulling you into him. His skin was still cold, but it was a welcome comfort nonetheless.
"I know they are," he decided to say, instead of attempting to deny all your worries with logic again. The two of you stood there, in your closet, for minutes. His hand found your hair, entangling within it, chin resting on your shoulder. With his face buried into the crook of your neck, he mumbled, "There's ice cream in the freezer. Movie?"
Hesitantly, you nodded your head, so he broke the hug with a step back, lips tugging into a smile at the now less worried expression on your face.
"But we have to eat with wooden spoons," you said as he led you out, hand clasped firmly in yours for your own peace of mind.
"Why?"
"Metal attracts lightning," you mumbled, watching his shoulders shake with more laughter.
in which you come home to find spencer in peak girl dad form
who? spencer reid x fem!reader
category: fluff
content warnings: mom!reader, girldad!spencer, nail polish, this is technically the family from cryptic, but you don't need to read cryptic to know what's going on
word count: 578
a/n: this is for the anon who asked for dad!spencer! i always have some dad!spencer on retainer for when the people are in need! it's nothing crazy, but i was cleaning up my desk and found a sticky note that said spencer would definitely let his daughter paint his nails.
A little voice carries itself from down the hallway, and you follow the sound of it. The carefully chosen words of your four-year-old daughter make you wonder who she could possibly be speaking to. Slowly, you walk down the hallway, trying not to alert anyone to your presence.
On your way, you peek into the nursery, your younger daughter sleeping soundly in her crib as you pass her, finally ending up at the doorway of Eleanor’s room, “Do you like the color?” She asks gently, holding her father’s hand in hers and inspecting his fingers.
“I love the color, thank you,” Spencer says politely, “You know, purple is my favorite color.”
The smile that blooms on her face is so bright, it makes you wish you’d never left the house in the first place. “Mommy told me!”
Nothing in all of the parenting books you’ve read prepared you for your firstborn to stop calling you mama. The switch had caught you off-guard, and you found yourself mourning the little girl she had been while simultaneously prideful of the personality that she was developing.
You’d have to keep better track of it with Olivia, though you and Spencer hadn’t come to a consensus on whether or not you were done after two kids. The sight in front of you might just be enough to convince you to go for a third.
Her princess tiara slides forward on her head as she focuses on painting Spencer’s nails, your husband sitting in a chair that’s comically small for him as her small hands deftly apply the lacquer.
Catching sight of you in his periphery, Spencer gives a soft smile in greeting, not wanting to alarm Eleanor of your appearance. “You’re really good at painting nails,” he observes, reaching his free hand up to adjust her crown.
“I wanna do it forever and ever,” she responds giddily, putting the brush back into the bottle. You notice the way Spencer reached over to seal the nail polish bottle, preventing a tragedy before it strikes.
Spencer hums in response, “If that’s what you want, lovebug.”
She smiles, spinning around in her PJs until she sees you, “Mommy!” She squeaks excitedly, running over to you and giggling when you pick her up.
“Hello, Princess Nellie,” you greet her, hugging her tightly before setting her back down. Listening to see if the ruckus woke up the baby, you walk further into the bedroom when you hear no stirring from the room next door.
She smiled, pointing at Spencer with a proud look on her face, “I painted daddy’s nails.”
“I see that,” you took in the sight before you, Spencer’s nails had indeed been painted, along with all of the skin surrounding them. “They look great honey,” you tell her, sitting down on the edge of her bed.
Nellie looks up at you expectantly, “Daddy said I can’t paint Livvy’s nails.”
You smile slightly at the pout on her face, “That’s right, she’s too little to have her nails painted.” Though you have to admit, you’ve been imagining mini spa nights with your daughters from the moment you found out you were having another girl.
Her eyes go wide as saucers, “Oh! Then it’s a good thing I have daddy.” She beams over at her father, and he looks at her with an equal amount of adoration in his eyes.
Grinning over at Spencer, you nod in agreement with her, “Yeah, it is a good thing.”
summary; when yours and spencer's schedules begin to clash making it hard to see each other - even while living together, a silent act of affection in the shape of a post it note helps make all better.
warnings; fem reader, reader has a job that needs her to wake up early, literally no angst really at all, this is pure fluff, the fluffest fluff ever, established relationships, this was gonna be a no dialogue fic, but there is dialogue and its the sweetest ever. spencer is clingy, spencer is SOO in love.
an; this is the fluffiest shit ive ever written, also i finally figured out how to make custom colours on this silly thing. 2k words yay.
It was a month since Spencer had asked you to move in with him when it all started. You wanted to be able to see each other more, since it was difficult to do so when he was being called out to cases constantly. While you would see each other when he got back, see each other whenever you could, between your work, and his, it made it difficult. You already had clothes at his house. The first time you had ever come over, he had given you a drawer in his dresser, dedicated to whatever you wanted to put into it.
That drawer grew to your necklaces and rings being left on his side table, a version of your perfume next to his cologne on top of his dresser, a toothbrush next to his in the white mug he used as a makeshift toothbrush holder, a pair of your shoes by the door, a few of your coats hanging up next to his by the entrance, your favourite snacks and drinks stocked in his pantry and fridge, you basically already lived there – because Spencer wanted you to be comfortable in the place of his house whenever you were there
So you moving in was a no brainer.
Unfortunately, it seemed the issue wasn’t such an easy fix. While you got comfortable in his home, and saw him somewhat more than before, new issues occurred. He didn’t get home most nights till you were already fast asleep, curled up on the side of the bed dedicated to you, he would shower and change as quietly as possible not to wake you, then he would slip into bed and pull you into his arms. You would shuffle and ease into his touch, he would fall asleep holding you, you would remain asleep in his arms.
Then, in the morning you would wake up before him to leave for work. You hated that, having to unwrap his arms from you and watch him shuffle uncomfortably before finding a replacement to your warmth in the thick covers. You would get ready quietly, before you would spend a moment sitting on the edge of the bed, making sure he was comfortable as you brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead, admiring his peaceful features, placing a kiss on his forehead before you left for the day.
When you did see each other, properly, consciously. Everything was fine, it was great. It was mostly when Spencer got to finish work earlier, being able to be home for dinner when you made it. Sometimes he would call you and ask you to hold off making dinner till he got home, just so he could make it with you. You always would. Those evenings the two of you would spend in the kitchen making dinner with each other, he would wrap his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back as he leant down to rest his chin on your forehead. You’d sway softly together to whatever music you had been playing quietly in the background while he mumbled gently whispers of love into your ear.
On the mornings you didn’t have to work as early, you’d sleep in, Spencer would wake up earlier those days to spend the morning with you before he had to leave for work. He would pull you closer so you were basically laying on his chest, he would pepper your face with kisses as you let out a string of sweet laugher that made his chest swell. It was the same routine, he would lean in for a kiss, you’d complain about morning breath and then kiss him anyways before you brushed your teeth together making sweet jokes.
The sweet evenings and giddy mornings made those nights and mornings you didn’t get to properly spend time together a little easier to cope with.
The idea came to you one night while you were cleaning up before bed. Spencer had called you a few hours ago to let you know that he was going to be there a little later. He always lets you know. He didn’t want to leave you hanging, and he never did. You understood the demands of his job, you’d never blame him for that. You two were handling the difficulties the best you could. However as you cleaned the kitchen your mind drifted.
Moments later you were digging through the drawers in his home office, pulling out a pile of dulled out pink post it notes (ones he had started using rather than yellow ones because you said you liked them.) You grabbed a pen from the collection he had laid out, neatly organised on the side of his desk, and wrote a soft ‘I love you’ on the top note, before pulling it away from the rest of the collection, placing the rest back in his draw and putting his pen back, exactly how it was, before you stood and paddered through the house.
You stuck it to the door where you knew he would see it. You didn’t have to worry about him missing it. Spencer spent time making sure the doors and windows were locked, not only because he knew the dangers of otherwise, but he had taken that small routine so much more seriously since you had moved in. You knew he would notice it. That's all you wanted. Sure, you could’ve just sent it as a text, but chances are Spencer would see it as soon as you sent it. That wasn’t what you wanted. The nights you weren’t up to see him when he got home, you weren’t able to mumble the soft reminder to him before you fell asleep, give him any sort of affection later in the night. It was a small thing, but you hoped he found it sweet.
The next morning you woke up tangled in Spencer’s arms. He was fast asleep, eyebrows furrowed in comfort, lips slightly parted as soft breaths left his lips. Your heart pulled as you untangled yourself from his arms and left the bed. You watched for a moment as his brows furrowed further, arms reaching out for your body in his sleep and your stomach flipped. That moment you looked away, knowing if you didn’t you would end up back in his arms and not at work. You moved around the room quietly, getting yourself ready trying your best not to wake him.
“Come back” You heard his voice and your head spun to see he had shifted to sit up a little bit more, watching as you moved around the room. His eyes were lidded with sleep and he was clearly unimpressed by your absence. This was why you tried to be so quiet in the mornings. He had said numerous times you could wake him up before you left, but then the one time you did, it ended in you both calling in sick to work and staying in bed for way too many hours.
“Good morning” You replied as you pulled on your jacket before you walked over to him. Not giving into his request despite how much you wanted to. You hand reached out to brush strands of messy hair away from his forehead, then getting distracted and running your hand gently through the soft strands of hair. His hand caught your wrist softly, pulling your hand to interlace his fingers with yours before he pressed his lips against your knuckles softly, your chest warmed.
“Hi angel,” he mumbled back, looking up at you. His hand gently tugged on yours trying to silently plead you back into his arms. It took a lot of self control not to give in and bury yourself into the place next to him, forget about work and any responsibilities and lose to him.
But you had a moment, and if Spencer was awake, you would spend it with him.
“How was work?” You asked, a lot of the time the question came the day after. Not hearing about his day immediately didn’t make you any less interested in hearing about it. You allowed yourself to shuffle closer to him, your forearm resting gently against his chest as he continued to press his lips against your knuckles softly.
He huffed out a warm breath of air against the skin of your fingers, “Fine, I missed you” he said gently. You were sure every time he said something your heart doubled in size, because although you had heard the words from him maybe a million times, it didn’t change how sweet he sounded saying them. The rest of the time you had before needing to leave for work was a mix between getting ready, and trying to deny Spencer’s soft plea’s for you to stay just a few minutes more before he finally gave in to letting you leave for the day, not without a few soft kisses to your lips, and your loving complaint about morning breath.
When you left the bedroom, ready, you made your way to the kitchen to make coffee like every other morning. You and Spencer liked two different types of coffee beans, he always made sure to keep them both stocked. You got the travel cup ready before making your way over to the pantry to get out your coffee beans, your heart swelled almost painfully at the sight when you opened the door.
The post it note you had stuck to the door, was placed on your bag of coffee beans. You had almost forgotten about it, but with the silent acknowledgement that he had seen it, you couldn’t help the smile on your face. The fact he could have just smiled and binned it, but instead moved it to a place he knew you would see it, like you had for him. It was the silent act of love and affection that made the nights and mornings you didn’t get to spend time together so much easier.
When you got home, before you went to bed you moved the post it note to his desk in his home office, when you woke up to leave for work, he had moved it to your work bag. From that point on it became a silent game between the two of you. Neither of you vocally acknowledged it, you didn’t need to. Each night before you went to bed you would move it for him to find when he got home, each morning you would find it in a new place. It became something you looked forward to everyday, finding out where he had placed it.
It had been a year since it started, the same post it note was used every time, the same one that you had placed on the door the first time. You both kept up with it, there wasn’t a single day either of you skipped moving it around, even the days you had off, or the days Spencer finished early. Whoever woke up first would move it, and whoever went to bed last would move it again.
You were wrapped in Spencer’s arms, one of the nights he was able to finish early. You were pretty sure he had already moved the post it note since he had pressed kisses against your forehead before telling you to stay in bed, before he left the room for a few minutes, then returned with a giddy smile.
He was half asleep when he murmured out your name, your head resting on his chest as his arms remained tightly wrapped around you. You had let out a soft hum in response, the tiredness affecting you just as much as him. He had leant down and nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo before pressing a soft kiss against the top of your head.
“When I propose, I'm gonna do it with a thousand post it notes” He spoke so gently, voice laced with sleep. Your breath hitched slightly even in the tired state, your mind fogged and your chest aches – in the best way at the mention of him proposing. The vocal mention of the game you two had been playing for the last year of your relationship, the fact the silent ache was so insanely important to him, just like it was to you.
“Yeah?” you whispered back. You felt him nod into your hair as his fingers came to slowly brush through the strands.
how you talk so sweet when you’re doing bad things | s.r.
A/N: this is literally prn with no plot i’m sorry. i just really love thinking about spencer on his knees sue me! this was supposed to be longer but then i decided to save it for when i write for juno heheh
cw: smut 18+ minors dni, softdom!spencer AND munch!spencer look at that a 2-for-1!, fingering fem receiving, brief condescending!spence if you blink, many many pet names, spencer says good girl that’s a warning on its own, afab!reader
summary: you and spencer come home from a night out and he knows exactly what to say to get you wrapped around his finger (literally!)
wc: 1.4k
_______________________________________________
You stumble through the door with Spencer trailing not too far behind you. You’d both been out with the team getting drinks and as the night progressed Spencer found himself getting especially touchy with you, so much that you could still feel the imprint of his hand on your inner thigh.
The drinks of the night had long faded leaving you in a haze as you both entered your apartment, Spencer’s solid frame coming up behind you to hold your waist.
“Good thing I’m here to make sure you don’t fall.” He chuckles softly.
He slowly turns you around and gently pushes you against the wall. You give him a lazy smile as your hand reaches up to trace the outline of his jaw, “You’re pretty.”
“If I’m pretty, what does that make you?”
“Lucky.”
Spencer blushes and smiles softly, “That was good,” He bends down to press a kiss to the spot behind your ear, slowly trailing down to the sweet spot at the base of your neck. His fingers press into the sides of your hips, “You okay? Still feeling it?”
You shake your head no pointedly, “Just fuzzy.”
“Fuzzy is good,” He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, “You’re nicer when you’re fuzzy.”
“I’m nice all the time!” You feign offense.
He chuckles back, “Okay, you are nice all the time. I think I meant more…compliant.”
You grin up at him, “What, you don’t like me in control?”
“No I do, trust me, I do. But, you deserve to be taken care of. And I really like it when I get to take care of you. It’s easier for me to do that when you’re all…fuzzy.”
Another lazy smiles adorns you and Spencer can’t help but lean in and kiss your nose.
“Well, we aren’t doing anything until these devil shoes come off.” You mutter softly.
Spencer laughs and kisses you one last time before smoothing his hands down your side as he sinks to his knees, gesturing you to lift your foot up and perch it on his shoulder, allowing perfect access to your heel.
You lean back against the wall attempting to flatten your back to ease the aching of it. Through hooded eyes you look down to meet Spencer’s hazel ones staring right back at yours, as his fingers ghost over the straps of your heels.
“Feet hurt?” He asks as he presses the pads of his fingers into the flesh of your calf, gently massaging the skin as he works his way down the buckle of your heel.
“In these? Always.” You laugh back.
“Oh, poor baby.” He mumbles back with a pout, leaning forward to kiss the base of your ankle. Your eyes widen slightly in entice as you watch him leave kisses up your leg, hands following their path and caressing the skin it touches. He gently places your bare foot on the ground and picks up the other heeled one, placing it on his shoulder and repeating the same motions.
The intimacy of the moment strikes you as you watch his long fingers toy with the buckles and straps of your heels before sliding them off. Your hand subconsciously reaches for his hair and cards through it gently, pushing it away from his eyes.
“Hi.” you whisper.
He looks up to meet your gaze, “Hi, honey.”
“You look pretty down there.”
A chuckle escapes him, “Do I?”
You nod, “Are you going to stay down there or…?”
His fingers dance around your calves slowly inching upwards, “What do you want me to do?”
Humming softly at the touch, you lean your head back against the wall, “I want…whatever you want.”
Spencer laughs again, “See? My compliant, pretty girl.” His fingers reach the hem of your dress, slowly inching further up, “I think I’ll stay down here for a little bit…if that’s okay with you.”
“Yeah, that’s o—okay.” Your breath hitches as he toys with the outer edges of your panties. His fingers trace the outline out to in, just missing contact with where you want him.
You whine softly as he continues to evade the one spot you need him, squirming against the wall for any friction you can find. He lightly chastises you, “So needy…you’re acting like you haven’t been touched in weeks.”
“Spence…”
He hums, “But that’s not true, right?” One finger strokes the front of your panties, tracing a path from the wet patch up to your clothed clit.
“N—No.” You half moan.
His finger lays more pressure, “I take really good care of you, right angel?”
A curse slips from you as he strokes you over your panties.
Spencer smirks as he hooks his index fingers on either side of your panties and slowly starts to drag it down, not missing how the fabric sticks to your slick like honey. “You know why, I take such good care of you?”
You’re too caught up in the anticipation to respond, but that’s not enough for Spencer when he stops his motions and taps your leg, “I asked you a question.”
You look down at him and shake your head exasperatedly, hoping the silent answer was enough for him to continue since you’re nearly on the ledge from the way his hands are moving.
His finger trails back up your leg and ghosts over your exposed cunt, teasing you endlessly, “I take care of you…because you’re a good girl. Isn’t that right?”
“Spencer…please…” You’re not sure how much longer you can take this, your body squirming for any contact.
“Say it.” He pulls back so he can look you directly in the eyes, a single digit sliding through your folds.
“Jesus, fuck,” you let out breathlessly, “Okay, okay I’m a good girl, I’m your good girl, just please…” You can’t even bring yourself to care at how desperate you sound, you would start begging like a sinner in church if he didn’t do anything soon.
He smirks, “That’s my girl,” he taps your thigh, “Over my shoulder.” You quickly abide and raise your leg over his shoulder and rest your thigh on it. Spencer leans in and dives into your folds like a man starved, your hands moving to tangle in his hair and in an effort to stabilize yourself. His tongue motions like he’s making a painting and you definitely think you deserve to be hung in the Louvre after this.
You feel him add a finger in and you’re a goner.
“Spence…I’m—fuck oh my god, please don’t stop.” You whine.
His lips detach from you while he adds another fingers and continues his motions and he mumbles, “You gonna come for me, angel? Been like, what a few minutes and you’re already about to make a mess on my fingers…so needy.” he teases.
He returns back to your core, licking long and thick stripes up and down, his fingers not slowing down as he brings you closer to the edge. The peak begins to build in your gut and the climax overtakes you, a mixture of expletives and Spencer’s name leaving your mouth like a twisted spell.
You release your death grip on his hair as he sits back to catch his breath. You slump down the wall to sit in front of him, your leg still swung over his shoulder. He smiles fondly at you and holds the ankle next to his head, leaning in to press a kiss, “You okay, baby?”
“Mhm…” You hazily say, “Peachy, even.”
His eyes narrow slightly, “…Because they’re fuzzy?” you giggle and nod feeling super proud of your pun. He can’t help but laugh with endearment with you as he gently helps your leg off his shoulder and places it on the ground before standing up himself and reaching his hands out for you to grab it, “Let’s go to bed, I’m not done with you yet.”
You place your hands in his and allow him to pull you up, once you’re on your feet you register his words, “Wait, huh?”
He slowly spins you around so his chest is to your back and starts guiding you down the hallway, “Oh baby, did you think we were stopping at one?” he whispers sultrily in your ear. A shudder runs down your spine and he laughs feeling you shake in his arms.
getting strapped up to a lie detector as part of a bet wasn’t exactly in your plans, nor was exposing your deepest secret to spencer reid.
pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader
warnings :: fluff! confessions, coworkers to lovers, cheesiness overload
word count :: 1.6k
author’s note :: three weeks since i last posted a fic?? absolutely unacceptable *presses post button*
accompanying song :: more than friends by aidan bissett
“there’s a reason why that thing’s admissible in court,” you murmur to derek, watching as the officer packs the polygraph back into a cabinet.
derek chuckles.
“you think you can beat it?”
“i know i can beat it.”
you cross your arms and look up with a challenging smirk.
“there’s actually a lot of skepticism surrounding the validity and accuracy of polygraph testing, especially since it’s only an instrument that measures physiological changes like heart activity and perspiration. people often mistakenly assume they’re trying to deceive a machine, when really it’s all about the polygrapher, who oversees and administers the examination.”
you don’t even have to turn your head to know it’s spencer who’s just made his way into the room, derek’s lifted brow a confirmation of his presence.
“ah, look who’s finally found us. i was starting to miss you a little, kid.”
“what are you guys up to?” spencer asks in return, his gaze shifting from you to derek, before slowly making way back to you.
“l/n thinks she’ll pass the test with flying colors.” derek points at the cabinet and looks at you with a winsome grin.
“i won’t even have to try.” you shrug, placing your hands on your hips confidently.
“wanna bet on it?”
“loser pays for dinner. reid, you in?”
“i uh, i think i’ll just watch,” spencer politely declines, his hands nervously burrowing deep into his pockets.
derek bursts into laughter. “oh come on, kid, it’s free dinner for the both of us.”
spencer chuckles quietly. “we’ll see.”
you make your way over to the cabinet, kneeling to retrieve the bulky device, and set it down on the table behind you.
taking a seat, you lift your arms to secure the straps above and below your chest, and attach the blood pressure cuffs to your right arm.
“nuh-uh.”
you hear derek tut a sequence of disapproving clicks.
“hey kid, check to see if it’s around her securely.” derek tilts his head at spencer before nodding in your direction, adding, “don’t want you deceiving us in other ways.”
you roll your eyes before raising your arms in surrender. “go ahead, i’ve got nothing to hide.”
spencer slowly approaches you, hesitant steps overtaking his stride as he moves to stand in front of you. positioning a hand on your back for support, spencer sticks a finger between the gaps of the sides of your chest and the straps.
the straps tighten ever so slightly, causing your breath to hitch in the back of your throat. almost like an unconscious reflex, you release a breathy exhale.
“is that too tight?”
it’s barely a whisper, and he’s close, so close — his lips hover practically right beside your ear that you can feel his breath tickle the hairs on your neck.
“no,” you let out, “it’s good.”
your heart’s pounding now, and you’re thankful that you’re not hooked up to the monitor rate, at least not yet.
“just slide your finger into the clamp,” spencer instructs, his hand guiding yours into the plate where the electrodes lightly pinch your fingertips.
“is that comfortable?” spencer asks once again, his furrowed brows an indicator of marked concern as he searches for any signs of discomfort.
“yup.”
you bite your bottom lip as spencer hooks the cords to the monitor. his attentive eyes gloss over your strapped arm and flick downwards, stopping once they take note of your bouncing legs. you still your legs almost immediately.
“alright l/n, here’s a tester.” derek approaches you and lays his hands on the table, leaning forward. “have you ever lied to get out of trouble?”
you don’t even need to think twice. with a daring grin, you respond, “yes.”
“it’s stable,” spencer nods.
a mischievous smirk plays on derek’s lips.
“have you ever lied to hotch before?”
you huff an amused chuckle, one laced with throaty disbelief. “no.”
derek rolls his eyes, but spencer nods in your direction. “steady.”
“oh come on, not even once?”
you raise an eyebrow as if to challenge him. “why… have you?”
“this is about you, remember?” derek wiggles a finger disapprovingly. “next one… have you ever had any romantic feelings for anyone on our team?”
it's a question you were most definitely not expecting.
it’s only a brief pause, but it’s long enough to have you doubting – are your eyes widening? are your parting lips betraying you? is it actual sweat that’s starting to coat the tips of your fingers or are you imagining it?
“no, i have not.”
you feel heat start to creep into your cheeks, but try your best to remain unfazed as you await spencer’s judgment.
“give me… one second.”
the air suddenly feels ten times heavier.
a nervous chuckle escapes from your lips as you glance around.
“try not to bounce your leg up and down,” spencer finally calls back, and you have to physically restrain yourself from sighing in relief.
“alright, let’s try again,” derek announces as he finally takes a seat across from you. “have you ever had feelings for… doctor spencer reid?”
your instantaneous scoff overlaps with spencer’s. before you can respond, however, spencer chirps up first.
“y/n, don’t – don’t answer that.”
you, too, try to dodge the question with a dismissive wave. “come on, derek.”
thankfully, he rests the question aside. “fine. have you ever passed your files to someone else without them knowing?”
“yes.”
“to who?”
“to you, actually,” you boldly assert, leaning back into your chair.
“oh, she’s a rebel,” derek slyly retorts back, his gaze unflinching as spencer affirms your claim.
“did you, at any point, lie during this test?”
“no.”
“alright,” derek continues, “last question.”
“bring it.”
“do you currently have any romantic feelings for spencer reid?”
“seriously?” you swivel your head back and forth between derek and spencer, your eyes widening in disbelief at the fact that he’s repeating a previous question, merely adjusting a couple words.
it’s a question that you can’t answer. no, that you shouldn’t answer.
but this time, spencer’s quiet.
“you’re kidding me,” you laugh, “we are not being for real right now.”
“oh i’m being very real right now.”
your heart thumps like a wild drumbeat, your pulse echoing through the veins marking the side of your neck.
you start to lace your fingers together nervously as a thin layer of sweat covers your palms. the more you think about your moist hands, though, the more you start to sweat. it’s a constant feedback loop, feeding off of your deeply-buried secret.
slowly, you take off the straps and set the electrode in front of you, on the table.
radio silence falls over the air disturbingly, like the entire room’s tuned to the wrong frequency.
then, “reid, did you get that?”
it takes another five seconds for sound to fill the room once again, but the gravity of the silence is almost too heavy for you to register – your wordless confession strikes the back of your mind like an unpleasant storm, raining down on your thoughts with regret and humiliation.
“y/n, um, there’s a lot of environmental factors that can impact physiological response-”
there’s no going back anymore.
if you don't say it now, it'll linger in the depths of your mind forever.
“i do like you.”
when there’s no response, you decide to fully commit to your confession. “you said so yourself, this isn’t about fooling the device, it’s all about the polygrapher. so, spencer, what’s your judgment?”
you swear you can hear your own pulse drumming against you and shaking your body. with the faintest whisper, spencer utters, “i think you’re telling the truth.”
after hearing his response, you shove your hands into your pockets and prepare to leave, but not without throwing a glance at derek, who’s guiltily tracing the edges of his beard.
as you approach the door, however, a hand hooks around your elbow, stopping you dead in your tracks.
spencer’s hand.
“that’s it? you’re not going to hear my response?”
you don’t look up. “no, i… fine, tell me.”
if only you knew about the collective swarm of thoughts swimming in his brain, the thoughts that are denaturing all his senses of rationality and self-control. he has so much to tell you, words that he’d spill almost instantly if he’d been better prepared.
his hand moves down to envelop your own.
you do nothing to stop him.
slowly, he drags your hand upwards, until it rests against his chest.
against his speeding heart.
“spencer?”
the glow in his eyes is unmistakable – his dewy orbs gaze into yours lovingly, the exchange almost a confession in itself.
“i don’t think that either of us can beat the test,” spencer softly murmurs, his breathy chuckle sounding like music to your ears.
you don’t know how to describe it – it’s a bittersweet concoction of emotions that continues to spread throughout your body the more spencer nuzzles up against you.
“no,” you voice after a pause, “i don’t think we can.”
“very cute guys, but i’m waiting on my victory dinner, so if you two can-”
“oh shush, derek, you’re ruining the moment,” you say as you break into laughter, and bury your head against spencer’s chest when you fail to recover your composure.
“and you’re gonna have to pay me extra if you want me to keep my mouth shut in front of all the others,” derek retaliates, his smug grin causing you to roll your eyes.
“i think i can wrap the straps around his mouth if you hold him against the door,” you start while looking up into spencer’s eyes, speaking loud enough to draw derek’s attention.
spencer returns with a wide smile, one that tugs at your throat to release another hearty laugh.
