b

im just a girl obsessed with spencer reid // 23

[spencilweidblog]

⋆˙♡ welcome to my blog ⋆˙♡

🧸 hey!!! i’m b!! i made spencilweidblog just to lurk and then ended up being crazy and posting my every thought

🧸 i love love love spencer reid and i love to write stuff about him!!

🧸 link to my most recent fic: romance is not dead (if you keep it just yours)

🧸 requests are open!!! (just be patient w me please)

🧸 send me asks i love to yap

🧸 thanks for stopping by :)

masterlist

[spencilweidblog]

Idk if your reqs are open but if they are I lowkey need a tooth rotting fluffy Spencer proposal fic! Literally all the details are down to you all I ask is that spencer is the one doing the proposing and that it is as fluffy as possible!

Thank youuuuuu

-spencerscardigan

hello thank you for the request!!

i did write this one a while ago where spencer proposes to reader!! i hope this is what you were wanting haha

if not feel free to reach out!!

[spencilweidblog]

this might be controversial but i have been thinking heavy about married!reader having an affair w spencer and i feel like i could make it like a miniseries…..

like i know its SOOO unspencer but like i have a vision trust

would yall support this yes or no

[spencilweidblog]

spencer’s relationship with his mom is actually a VERY sensitive topic for me

[spencilweidblog]

hi! Are the Spencer x nurse reader one-shots considered finished? thank you!

heyyy wait this ask made my heart so happy 🥹

i was going to leave them as is just because i didn’t have any other ideas for what to do with them right now! however i LOOOOVE nurse!reader so if you guys had any ideas/followups you might be interested in i might be down to write some more!!

[spencilweidblog]

can a white girl say something a lil nsfw ab spencer reid

[spencilweidblog]

thinking ab spencer reid fucking the attitude out of you but hear me out. like not mean. not punishing. not “bratting gets corrected.”

i mean him realizing you’re cranky/frustrated/restless and instead of escalating it he gets SO soft and sweet about it. like he’s kissing your neck, rubbing your sides, coaxing you into his lap, talking to you all low and gentle while you slowly melt in his hands.

very “hey, hey… is this what was wrong? you just needed a little attention, huh baby?”

and he’s soooo condescending about it but in the sweetest way possible 😭 like he’s talking to you the way you’d soothe somebody after a bad day while simultaneously absolutely ruining you.

just guiding you to the bedroom all calm and certain like “come here for me,” “that’s better, huh?” “lie back for me, angel, i’ve got you.”

not rough enough to scare you into behaving. just sweet enough to melt the attitude straight out of you

(LIKE OBVIOUSLY CONSENSUAL AND NOT INA. WAY LIKE HES TRYING TO PLACATE YOU WITH SEX. but like he knows thats WHY you’re frustrated so he just. takes care of it)

[spencilweidblog]

can a white girl say something a lil nsfw ab spencer reid

[spencilweidblog]

hiiii im here to place an order :) bau!reader x s2!spence cappuccino with hazelnut drizzle and whipped cream please <3

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆

a/n: this has taken me so long omg im so sorry. i keep feeling like im not doing these reqs justice bc im trying to keep them from being super repetitive but i hope you enjoy my twist on it!! your receipt is at the bottom!!

summary: you and spencer have it bad for each other, unbeknownst to the other. however, after spencer’s kidnapping, he hasn’t been the same, and you want to fix it.

content warnings: s2!spencer reid x bau!reader, lots of talk about tobias hankel/revelations, addiction, drug use, also mentions of alcohol/drinking, elle is here for one(1) line, maybe out of character spence i feel like i don’t write early seasons spence well im sorry

Spencer Reid had never been very good at asking for help.

In all twenty-five years of his life, he had learned to bottle things up. His dad wasn’t around, and his mom was too disoriented half the time to realize if he was there or not. He didn’t really have any friends growing up, trending much younger than his peers.

So, he bottled.

It carried over into his adult life. After being recruited for the BAU, he saw horrible things on a daily basis. He learned not to let it bother him. He learned to swallow it down like a sour lump in his throat and let it eat him from the inside without ever even realizing.

He didn’t need to talk to anyone. Why would he? You all saw these types of things regularly. It was part of the job description.

But twenty-four was awfully young to be exposed to so much tragedy with no outlet.

And twenty-five was even younger to become part of the tragedy.

You liked Spencer. He had followed Gideon back to the BAU almost two years ago now, and he was the most brilliant person you had ever met. His constant fact-spouting, the way he fiddled with his hands, his glasses forever sliding down his nose entranced you beyond belief.

Despite your best attempts, you felt extremely obvious. You leaned into him, laughed too hard at his jokes, listened too intently when he spoke about nothing at all. It had almost killed you when he asked JJ to accompany him to a baseball game.

“Like… just the two of you?” You had tried to respond casually to JJ as she held up the tickets.

“Oh, no. I invited Garcia.” She laughed. Then her face dropped, eyebrows knitting together. “Oh.”

You had huffed a laugh and moved on with your day, trying desperately to stomach the fact he had tried to ask someone else on the team on a date. Clearly, he didn’t share the same interest in you as you did in him.

Except Spencer was, unfortunately, extremely aware of you.

Painfully aware, actually.

Aware enough that he knew the sound of your footsteps apart from anyone else’s. Knew the way you tilted your head when you were thinking. Knew the smell of your favorite perfume.

He also knew he had absolutely no business liking you.

Not when you were so competent and capable and loved by the team, and he couldn’t get out a sentence half the time without stumbling over his words. He missed social cues. He slicked down his hair because he couldn’t figure out how to style his curls. He was awkward, everyone’s nerdy little brother.

So he did what he did best, as usual.

Over the next year, the two of you were painfully obvious to everyone except yourselves.

“So… what’s his deal?” You asked the girls one night as you sat at the bar for post-case drinks.

“What, outside of being the world’s biggest dork?” Elle snorted, sipping her drink.

“Just, you know, is he, like…” You gestured vaguely“…dating anyone?”

“Ooh, I think somebody has a crush!” Garcia grinned.

“What? No.” Your cheeks burned, your eyes fixating on the liquid swirling in your drink. “He’s just… private, is all.”

“Or there’s just nothing to talk about.” JJ shrugged.

You let the subject die as Garcia quickly moved on to another topic of conversation, wistfully watching your ice cubes clink together. Maybe your next one should just come in a bottle.

Well, speaking of bottles.

Spencer was only slightly less obvious about his interest in you. At least, he certainly wasn’t the one to bring it up. It was only about the fifth time that day that Morgan caught him giving you doe eyes behind his glasses that he finally called him on it.

“Reid.” Morgan said, leaning over in his chair.

Spencer startled, blinking rapidly. “Yeah?”

“Dude, why don’t you just ask her out?”

Spencer pursed his lips, eyebrows raised. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Morgan scoffed. “You’re seriously gonna play that game with me right now? You’re practically drooling.”

“Am not.” Spencer replied defensively.

“Face it, pretty boy.” Derek smiled, patting him on the shoulder as he stood. “You’re down bad.”

Spencer frowned as he walked away. Down bad. That was one way to put it.

Derek’s words seemed to linger in his head over the next few weeks. Just ask her out. As if it were that simple.

And maybe he would’ve.

If it wasn’t for Tobias Hankel.

If it wasn’t for the needle in his arm. Or the torture. Or being forced to dig his own grave.

If it wasn’t for Hankel being right about the dilaudid making it better.

It was like all the overwhelming thoughts, statistics, analysis, assessment, anxiety, just… shut up, for a while. It was quiet.

God, it was quiet.

You noticed Spencer was different after Hankel. How could you not? He had been tortured, beaten, drugged, forced to choose who lived and died. That would take a toll on anyone.

You certainly didn’t suspect addiction. Not at first. You thought maybe he was depressed, certainly traumatized.

You felt so terrible for him. He didn’t smile as much anymore, didn’t crack jokes or engage in conversation as vividly as before. His fingernails grew long. The bags under his eyes grew darker. You just wanted him to feel better.

So, one Saturday morning, you found yourself at the door of his apartment with a box of chocolate sprinkle donuts in hand.

He opened the door, rubbing his eyes blearily.

“Hello?” He asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

“Spence, it’s like, ten.” You replied, eyebrows furrowing. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, no, I’m fine. What’s up?”

You sheepishly extended the donuts. “I brought you these. I know chocolate sprinkle is your favorite.”

His mouth twitched into a strange sort of half-frown, half-smile as he accepted the box. “Wow, thanks.”

He glanced over his shoulder into his apartment. You followed his gaze.

It was a wreck. Books scattered everywhere, empty takeout containers piled up by the trash can, clothes strewn about haphazardly.

“Spence…” You tilted your head before finally asking. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He replied quickly.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. You thought about not pushing it. Depression is a hard thing, and you knew that. You didn’t want to press if he didn’t want to tell you.

But, more than anything, he was your friend, maybe even family. And right now, he was drowning silently right in front of you.

“Can I come in?” You asked gently after a moment of silence.

“I don’t—“

“Please?”

That stopped him. He hesitated for a second more before sighing and stepping back, opening the door.

It was worse inside. For a germaphobe like Spencer, it was extremely out of character. You mentally appreciated your years of profiler training that allowed you to keep a straight face.

Spencer gingerly sat the box of donuts down, shoulders tense like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You didn’t say anything at first. Instead, you slowly reached for one of the empty containers and put it in the trash.

“You don’t have to do that.” Spencer said, voice thin.

“I know.” You said softly, continuing on to the next.

After watching you silently for a while, he gingerly moved to join you, putting books away on the shelves, washing dirty dishes.

The two of you moved in a quiet dance for a while until the apartment looked, at the very least, manageable.

He sat down on the couch, eyes distant. You brought the box of donuts over and set them on the coffee table before taking a seat beside him.

You nudged him gently, smiling. “Y’know, statistically, having a clean environment can boost mental health.”

He huffed out a laugh at that, lips hardly curving upward, before settling around a heavy exhale.

And for once, Spencer Reid didn’t bottle it up.

“I…” He paused, eyes shining. “I’m really struggling.”

Your chest constricted at the sound of his voice, thin and unsteady in a way you had never heard before.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” you said softly.

Spencer swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he stared down at his hands. They trembled faintly in his lap, fingers twitching like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I thought I could handle it,” he murmured.

You didn’t interrupt.

“It just…” His voice faltered. He shook his head slightly, like he was frustrated with himself. “It made everything quiet. For a little while.”

Your breath caught.

Oh.

Spencer scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling shakily. “I don’t feel like myself anymore,” he whispered.

His shoulders folded inward, posture collapsing in on itself like he was trying to make himself smaller, less noticeable. A shaky breath left him, uneven and sharp.

You didn’t think. You just reached for him.

The second your hand touched his arm, he let out a quiet, broken sound— something between a breath and a sob, like he had been holding it in for weeks and didn’t know how to stop anymore.

“Oh, Spence…” you whispered.

And then he was crying. Silent tears slipping down his cheeks, his breathing uneven as his hands curled into fists in his lap like he was embarrassed to even be seen like this.

You shifted closer, wrapping your arms around him gently, pulling him into you.

He melted against you like something inside him had finally given out. His forehead pressed against your shoulder, breath hitching as quiet sobs shook through him.

You had imagined holding Spencer before, in quieter moments, softer daydreams you never let yourself linger in.

But never like this. Never when he was breaking apart in your arms.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmured softly, tears threatening your own eyes.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard, tightening your arms around him.

“You don’t have to be alone in it,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer. Just stayed there, shoulders shaking quietly, breathing unevenly.

But for the first time since he had found himself on Tobias Hankel’s doorstep, he didn’t feel alone. For now, that was enough.

After a while, Spencer’s breathing slowed, though he didn’t pull away from you.

You weren’t sure how much time passed like that— minutes, maybe longer— before he finally spoke again.

“Hey,” he murmured quietly.

You tilted your head slightly. “Yeah?”

There was a long pause, like he was choosing his words very, very carefully.

“Will you…” He hesitated, fingers tightening faintly in your shirt. “Will you stay for a while?”

Your eyes stung. Spencer Reid— stubborn, independent, endlessly private Spencer Reid— had just asked you not to leave.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Of course.”

He nodded weakly against your shoulder, eyes slipping shut again.

And you stayed.

Because somewhere along the way, caring about Spencer Reid had stopped feeling like a passing crush and started feeling like something much deeper. Something steadier.

Something that made your chest ache in the quietest, most terrifying way.

And when his hand shifted, fingers curling loosely around yours like he needed to make sure you were still there, you didn’t pull away.

For the first time in weeks, Spencer Reid fell asleep without fear clawing at the edges of his mind.

And for the first time in just as long, you saw a glimpse of the Spencer you knew before that horrible case.

He was still there. He wanted you to stay.

And you would.

For as long as it took.

———————————————

𝙲𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙴 𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁 #10

𝙸𝚃𝙴𝙼𝚂:

𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚘 ……… 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝙷𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚕𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 ... 𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝙿𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 ..... 𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙴𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙰𝚍𝚍-𝙸𝚗𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 2!𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙱𝚊𝚞!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

———————————————

[shiinata-library]

Love it 🥹

[spencilweidblog]

thank you for the reblog and kind words!!!

[spencilweidblog]

Heyyy, I'd love a latte with hazelnut/coconut drizzle (one or both, whatever you decide) and whipped cream!

Maybe one where reader is Garcia's childhood best friend and they end up traveling near her on a case? And Spencer notices how pretty she is and yadda yadda kissy kissy

Also I did see your most recent post, take your sweet time I'm in absolutely no rush, I'll probably forget about this the second I send it anyway <3

𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅 (𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒕 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔)

a/n: wowwww the way this absolutely wrote itself. I LOVED THIS REQUEST!!! seriously this was the fastest i’ve ever written a fic before. ty for the req i hope you love!! receipt is at the bottom!!

summary: spencer meets garcia’s childhood best friend and promptly forgets how to act like a normal human being. between phone calls and sneaking around, what starts as a crush turns into something a lot harder to keep hidden.

content warnings: spencer reid x fem!reader, lots and lots of smooching, slightly suggestive moments if u squint real real hard, otherwise just disgustingly tooth-rotting fluff

The case wrapped up clean.

The unsub had been apprehended with no further casualties, hostages rescued. The team had made it back to the precinct, packing up their things as they prepared to leave.

“Okay, now that we’ve got the bad guy and all of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad things are over, I have one tiny request.” Garcia announced to the team.

Hotch glanced over his shoulder as he zipped up his go-bag. “What’s that?”

“Could we please stay for dinner?” She asked, eyebrows raised hopefully. “My best friend growing up lives right down the road from here, and I haven’t seen her in ages. I’d love for her to meet all of you.”

Hotch looked around, assessing the reactions of the team. The accomplishment of a job well done seemed to outweigh their tiredness as everyone shrugged and nodded.

Before long, Spencer was trailing behind the group as they strolled up to the restaurant. The air was starting cool as the sky dimmed, and the aroma wafting out the doors was making his mouth water.

“Oh, hi!” He heard Garcia exclaim suddenly. He couldn’t really see through the crowd of people, with the team and the patrons coming and going from the restaurant, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and waited his turn to be introduced.

“It’s so good to see you!” Garcia chattered. “These are the people I’m always telling you about. This is Hotch, and Emily, and Rossi, Derek, JJ, and—“ she paused, peering over everyone’s heads. “Reid! There’s Reid, in the back.”

He turned his head as everyone shuffled aside, creating an opening, and he pulled his hand out of his pocket to wave and then—

Oh. Oh, wow.

“Hi.” You smiled, and it almost knocked him off his feet.

He blinked, hand awkwardly half-raised before he reminded himself to look slightly less like a deer in headlights.

He straightened, clearing his throat. “Hi.”

You were…

For once, his brain actually ran out of words.

Beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. Radiant. Breathtaking. Captivating. Alluring. None of them seemed to truly encapsulate you.

The group was soon ushered inside the restaurant and sat at a table. Conversation began to flow as you and Garcia caught up and you got to know the team.

“Oh, you actually said that?” Your jaw dropped as you looked at Emily.

“Not only did she say it, she said it in front of the entire Sacramento Police Department!” JJ interjected, causing the table to burst into laughter.

Spencer couldn’t help but watch you as you threw your head back, shoulders shaking with laughter. Your laugh was infectious, he thought. He wanted to be the reason you laughed like that.

Wine and chatter flowed around the table as you dicussed JJ’s children, Rossi’s career as an author, Derek’s most recent date.

He was mid-bite when you turned to him. “So, Reid, what about you? I hear you’re the resident genius.”

He nearly dropped his fork, chewing quickly. “Um, well, I guess you could—“ he coughed, trying to swallow before continuing. “I mean, it depends how you classify ‘genius.’ My IQ is statistically above average, I have an eidetic memory, and I read at an average speed of…”

He trailed off, noticing the rest of the table had gone silent. He cleared his throat. “Um, yes.”

You nodded approvingly, eyebrows raised with a slight smile as the group chuckled.

The meal began wrapping up, plates slowly clearing and wine glasses emptying. Spencer watched you still as Garcia turned the conversation back to you, actively reminding himself not to stare.

“So, tell me.” Garcia said, leaning in to you. “Are you dating anyone?”

Spencer felt like a puppy who had just heard the word “treat.” He stared hard at the tablecloth, trying not to seem invested in the answer.

“No, not since that guy from the bank.” You replied, smoothing your shirt.

“Thank God. He was so… average.” Garcia answered. “You could do so much better.”

Someone accidentally nudged his shin under the table. He shifted, heart fluttering at the knowledge you weren’t involved with anyone. Not that he would ever do anything about it, but it was nice for the moment to not have to imagine you with anyone else.

Checks rolled out, everyone paid, and the group made their way to the door.

A chorus of goodbyes echoed across the group outside the restaurant. Garcia pulled you into a tight hug. “Keep in touch.”

“Of course.” You replied as you pulled back, looking to the rest of the group. “It was so great meeting you guys.”

The sentiment was returned and you waved, flashing that brilliant smile one more time. “Have a good flight!”

You turned on your heel, and Spencer felt a pang in his chest at the thought of not seeing you again. Oh, well.

A hand grabbed his arm with a vengeance, and he turned to face the culprit.

“Ow! Garcia, what are you doing?” He pulled his arm from her grip, rubbing at the irritated skin.

“For a genius, you really are acting like an idiot!” She whispered. “Go get her number!”

His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “What?”

“Did you not feel me kick you under the table when she said she was single?” She asked, exasperated. “I’m setting you up! Go ask her for her number! Now!”

She punctuated her demand with a little shove in your direction, and before he knew it, he was calling out.

“Hey!”

You turned around, already about fifteen feet away. “Hey?”

He glanced back over his shoulder briefly before half-jogging over to you.

He swallowed. “Um, I wanted to, uh—“ He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look up at you. “I wanted to ask if I could maybe… get your number.”

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips. “Really?”

His heart dropped. “I mean, only if you want to. I just— I think you are really nice, and pretty, and—“

“You think I’m pretty?” You interrupted softly.

He paused, meeting your shining eyes.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “I do.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, rustling through your bag. Spencer thought, briefly, that there’d never been a time he so badly wanted to watch someone bite their lip like that in slow motion on repeat. He wanted to tattoo the image on the inside of his eyelids.

Chill out. He reprimanded himself as you handed him a napkin with your number scribbled on it.

“You can call me.” That smile turned his brain to static once more as you waved sheepishly, a rose tint coloring your cheeks in the dim light. “Bye, Reid.”

The whole interaction had him heckled mercilessly on the flight home, but he didn’t mind too much. The teasing was all worth it the second his gaze landed on that ink-stained piece of tissue.

He waited about three days to call you. He almost hung up on the fifth ring, convinced you wouldn’t answer, when your voice crackled through the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi, hi. Um, it’s Spencer. Reid. Garcia’s friend?” He sat up straighter, as though you could see him.

“Oh, hey!” He could hear your grin in your voice, and it made him smile reflexively. “How are you? Read any good books lately?”

“Yeah! You know, I just re-read The Count of Monte Cristo in the original French. It’s fascinating.” He replied animatedly, settling back into his couch.

That first phone call lasted nearly forty-five minutes.

The second was nearly an hour.

Before long, he got in a routine of calling you ever other day, and then every day. Eventually, Spencer Reid, ever the technophobe, found himself texting you every chance he could. He even bought a used laptop so he could video chat with you on WhatsApp.

It wasn’t just your physical appearance. Spencer was attracted to so much more than that. Your kindness. Your humor. Your patience. Your laugh. Your intelligence.

You told him about your life, your family, your job. He eventually opened up to you about his mom, some of his trauma. And you listened to every word with heartfelt kindness.

After a few months of this, the man who relied so heavily on statistics felt that it was just dumb luck you actually gave him your number.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” You said one night on a video call.

He raised his eyebrows at the screen. “Yeah?”

“What if I flew out and stayed with Pen for a weekend?” You asked. “You and I could actually… you know, spend some time together. In person.”

Spencer hesitated, turning the idea over in his mind.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you. God, did he want to see you. Three months of only having you over a screen was slowly becoming torture. His dreams were becoming increasingly plagued with the idea of holding you, kissing you…

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” you said jokingly, but he could hear the dejectedness in your tone.

“It’s not a no, it’s just…” He paused. “How are you going to keep it from Garcia if you’re staying with her? Won’t she wonder where you’re going?”

Privacy was very important to Spencer. He loved his teammates like family, but truthfully, he valued keeping your relationship between the two of you, at least for now. He wanted to navigate the idea of you without any outside influence or opinion.

He’d had that conversation with you early on, given your relationship with Garcia, and you had been fine with it.

“I can make something up, give her a fake reason I’m in town.” You shrugged. “I just really want to see you, Spencer.”

He felt a strange swell of pride in his chest at the thought. “I really want to see you, too.” He replied softly.

A mischievous grin crossed your face. “Besides, it might be kinda fun. Sneaking around.”

He fought a smile at the idea. “Yeah? When would you fly out?”

And so the plan was set in motion.

You texted Garcia not long after, saying you needed a place to stay for a weekend for your great-grandmother’s funeral. She agreed, albeit her excitement dying a little at the addition of your need to spend time with family members in town, but you assured her you would reserve some time for her, too.

Sure, you felt a little bad about the lie, but it would have to do for now.

Two weeks later, Spencer was checking his phone every five minutes for a text signifying you’d landed.

Buzz.

He scrambled for it so quickly it was almost comical.

“in your city :)”

He bit back a smile at the message before quickly typing his reply:

“See you soon.”

When four p.m. rolled around, Spencer found himself walking up to the park.

There you were.

Sitting on a wooden bench, people-watching. The afternoon sun was beating down on the world, but around you, it looked like a halo.

You. Real. Not on a screen for the first time in months. And this time, not as a stranger.

Your head turned at the sound of his footsteps, and you broke into another one of those steal-his-heart smiles.

“Hi.” You said, looking up.

“Hi,” he echoed, a little breathless.

He stepped closer as you stood, and then you were both right there.

You hesitated. He paused. Should he hug you? Was that too much too soon? He hadn’t had any sort of physical contact with you before, outside of your fingers brushing his when you gave him your number.

A small, nervous laugh from you. “I didn’t know if we were, um—“ you gestured.

“Yeah, me neither.” He huffed out a laugh. He took you in for another moment before asking, quietly, “Can I hug you?”

“Yes. Please.” Your answer was immediate.

His arms enveloped you, and then you melted into him.

He exhaled slowly against the top of your head, nerves and tension melting away as he held you. Real and warm and solid against him, not just a memory and a voice through a speaker.

You pulled back just a bit, hand staying on his arm.

“I missed you,” you breathed.

His eyes flicked down to your mouth before he could stop himself. “Yeah, I— me too.”

You gazed up at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. “You can.”

“I can what?” He asked.

“Kiss me.”

“Oh.” He mentally chastised himself for being so obvious.

Then immediately mentally high-fived himself the second his lips touched yours.

The kiss was soft, and new. His hands came up to cradle your face, a little clumsily.

But somewhere, distantly, in the static that was currently filling his brain, he thought this must be nirvana. A state of perfect peace, liberation, and completion. This must be the glorious thing and the pinnacle that everyone dreams of acheiving.

He doesn’t know how long he stood by that bench, kissing you, but he knew that he would spend every waking second waiting for the next one.

The rest of the weekend felt… unreal.

He took you to his favorite local coffee place. You perused the shelves of his frequented bookstore, fingers laced together. He showed you his apartment, which all too quickly felt like your little corner of home in an unfamiliar city.

And every once in a while, another kiss.

Maybe it was more often than that.

He absolutely committed himself to relishing every single moment you were there. You spent nearly all day Saturday at his apartment before you finally convinced him you had to spend some time with Garcia, or she would get suspicious.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow before I have to leave.” You said, toeing your shoes on by the door.

He swallowed, the notion weighing heavy on him. “Sounds good.”

You stopped. “Oh, hey. I still have your sweater on.”

He shrugged, looking down at you. “It looks good on you. Keep it.”

You flushed, eyes dropping shyly to the floor. “Thank you.”

He kissed you one more time, really breathing you in, before he opened the door for you and watched you walk away with a wave.

Sunday had arrived all too quickly.

You were outside his door, bags in hand. You handed his folded sweater back to him gently.

“I did wear it all night.” You smiled half-heartedly. “But you can have it for now. I need a reason to come back and steal it again.”

Spencer pursed his lips, fighting back the emotions threatening to rise up in him.

“It was… really good to see you.” You said softly, gazing up at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “It was.”

There was a pause.

“You’ll text me when you land?” He asked.

“Obviously.”

Another pause. You looked at each other for a moment.

He was very appreciative for his eidetic memory in this moment, because he couldn’t forget you standing here in his apartment.

“We should do this again sometime.” Your voice was watery through your joking tone. “I really liked sneaking around with you.”

Spencer didn’t answer you. He just leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss. Warm and sweet and over all too soon.

A thin laugh from you as you parted, eyes brimming with tears.

“I’ll see you.” He said softly.

You nodded, brows crinkling. “Bye, Spence.”

And you were gone.

On Monday, Spencer wore the sweater to work. You really must’ve worn it all night, because it smelled just like your perfume, bringing him a small amount of comfort knowing this weekend hadn’t been a fever dream.

He tried to work, his focus drifting between thoughts of you and the occasional buzz in his pocket.

“How was your weekend?” He overheard Emily ask Garcia as she walked in.

“Oh, it was great. I really love getting to see her, but she was super in and out the whole time. Lots of visiting to do, she said.” Garcia replied.

Her footsteps faltered by his desk.

“Reid?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you get that sweater?”

He froze, risking a glance up. Garcia’s face was twisted in confusion.

“This? It’s mine.” He replied, trying to keep his voice smooth. Casual.

“No.”

“What do you mean? It’s mine.”

“No, I saw…” she trailed off. Spencer swore he could see her eyes light up, growing wide as it clicked.

Uh oh.

She gasped. “Oh my gosh!”

“Wait—“ Spencer started.

“Oh my gosh!” She repeated, louder this time. “You! You dirty dog!”

“It wasn’t—“ He leaned in, trying to do damage control. “It wasn’t like that. We’ve been… long distance.”

“I knew it!” she shouted, spinning in a circle. “I knew something was weird when she wouldn’t tell me where she kept disappearing to!”

Spencer winced. “We didn’t want to—”

“You lied to me,” she gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh my gosh, you’re in love with her.”

His cheeks were on fire. “I— what? No, I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to,” she said, grinning. “You’re wearing the sweater.”

He blinked. “It’s my sweater.”

“Exactly.”

And later, when his phone buzzed again in his pocket, he didn’t even try to hide it.

“miss you already :(”

“Miss you more.”

“Call you tonight?”

Across the room, Garcia watched him with a knowing grin.

And for once, Spencer didn’t mind being figured out.

———————————————

𝙲𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙴 𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁 #11

𝙸𝚃𝙴𝙼𝚂:

𝙻𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎 ……… 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝙷𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚕𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 ... 𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝙿𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝙲𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 …. 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 ..... 𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙴𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙰𝚍𝚍-𝙸𝚗𝚜: 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚊'𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚊 𝚢𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚢

———————————————

[orionmystar]

LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS SO MUCH THANK YOU

This is my dream fic scenario and you've written it so well, I was giggling and kicking my feet reading it

[spencilweidblog]

ahhh TYSM!!! and thank you for the request seriously it was sooo good i knocked this fic out in like 5 hours bc i was so inspired by it. im so glad i was able to do it justice!!!

[spencilweidblog]

Heyyy, I'd love a latte with hazelnut/coconut drizzle (one or both, whatever you decide) and whipped cream!

Maybe one where reader is Garcia's childhood best friend and they end up traveling near her on a case? And Spencer notices how pretty she is and yadda yadda kissy kissy

Also I did see your most recent post, take your sweet time I'm in absolutely no rush, I'll probably forget about this the second I send it anyway <3

𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅 (𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒕 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔)

a/n: wowwww the way this absolutely wrote itself. I LOVED THIS REQUEST!!! seriously this was the fastest i’ve ever written a fic before. ty for the req i hope you love!! receipt is at the bottom!!

summary: spencer meets garcia’s childhood best friend and promptly forgets how to act like a normal human being. between phone calls and sneaking around, what starts as a crush turns into something a lot harder to keep hidden.

content warnings: spencer reid x fem!reader, lots and lots of smooching, slightly suggestive moments if u squint real real hard, otherwise just disgustingly tooth-rotting fluff

The case wrapped up clean.

The unsub had been apprehended with no further casualties, hostages rescued. The team had made it back to the precinct, packing up their things as they prepared to leave.

“Okay, now that we’ve got the bad guy and all of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad things are over, I have one tiny request.” Garcia announced to the team.

Hotch glanced over his shoulder as he zipped up his go-bag. “What’s that?”

“Could we please stay for dinner?” She asked, eyebrows raised hopefully. “My best friend growing up lives right down the road from here, and I haven’t seen her in ages. I’d love for her to meet all of you.”

Hotch looked around, assessing the reactions of the team. The accomplishment of a job well done seemed to outweigh their tiredness as everyone shrugged and nodded.

Before long, Spencer was trailing behind the group as they strolled up to the restaurant. The air was starting cool as the sky dimmed, and the aroma wafting out the doors was making his mouth water.

“Oh, hi!” He heard Garcia exclaim suddenly. He couldn’t really see through the crowd of people, with the team and the patrons coming and going from the restaurant, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and waited his turn to be introduced.

“It’s so good to see you!” Garcia chattered. “These are the people I’m always telling you about. This is Hotch, and Emily, and Rossi, Derek, JJ, and—“ she paused, peering over everyone’s heads. “Reid! There’s Reid, in the back.”

He turned his head as everyone shuffled aside, creating an opening, and he pulled his hand out of his pocket to wave and then—

Oh. Oh, wow.

“Hi.” You smiled, and it almost knocked him off his feet.

He blinked, hand awkwardly half-raised before he reminded himself to look slightly less like a deer in headlights.

He straightened, clearing his throat. “Hi.”

You were…

For once, his brain actually ran out of words.

Beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. Radiant. Breathtaking. Captivating. Alluring. None of them seemed to truly encapsulate you.

The group was soon ushered inside the restaurant and sat at a table. Conversation began to flow as you and Garcia caught up and you got to know the team.

“Oh, you actually said that?” Your jaw dropped as you looked at Emily.

“Not only did she say it, she said it in front of the entire Sacramento Police Department!” JJ interjected, causing the table to burst into laughter.

Spencer couldn’t help but watch you as you threw your head back, shoulders shaking with laughter. Your laugh was infectious, he thought. He wanted to be the reason you laughed like that.

Wine and chatter flowed around the table as you dicussed JJ’s children, Rossi’s career as an author, Derek’s most recent date.

He was mid-bite when you turned to him. “So, Reid, what about you? I hear you’re the resident genius.”

He nearly dropped his fork, chewing quickly. “Um, well, I guess you could—“ he coughed, trying to swallow before continuing. “I mean, it depends how you classify ‘genius.’ My IQ is statistically above average, I have an eidetic memory, and I read at an average speed of…”

He trailed off, noticing the rest of the table had gone silent. He cleared his throat. “Um, yes.”

You nodded approvingly, eyebrows raised with a slight smile as the group chuckled.

The meal began wrapping up, plates slowly clearing and wine glasses emptying. Spencer watched you still as Garcia turned the conversation back to you, actively reminding himself not to stare.

“So, tell me.” Garcia said, leaning in to you. “Are you dating anyone?”

Spencer felt like a puppy who had just heard the word “treat.” He stared hard at the tablecloth, trying not to seem invested in the answer.

“No, not since that guy from the bank.” You replied, smoothing your shirt.

“Thank God. He was so… average.” Garcia answered. “You could do so much better.”

Someone accidentally nudged his shin under the table. He shifted, heart fluttering at the knowledge you weren’t involved with anyone. Not that he would ever do anything about it, but it was nice for the moment to not have to imagine you with anyone else.

Checks rolled out, everyone paid, and the group made their way to the door.

A chorus of goodbyes echoed across the group outside the restaurant. Garcia pulled you into a tight hug. “Keep in touch.”

“Of course.” You replied as you pulled back, looking to the rest of the group. “It was so great meeting you guys.”

The sentiment was returned and you waved, flashing that brilliant smile one more time. “Have a good flight!”

You turned on your heel, and Spencer felt a pang in his chest at the thought of not seeing you again. Oh, well.

A hand grabbed his arm with a vengeance, and he turned to face the culprit.

“Ow! Garcia, what are you doing?” He pulled his arm from her grip, rubbing at the irritated skin.

“For a genius, you really are acting like an idiot!” She whispered. “Go get her number!”

His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “What?”

“Did you not feel me kick you under the table when she said she was single?” She asked, exasperated. “I’m setting you up! Go ask her for her number! Now!”

She punctuated her demand with a little shove in your direction, and before he knew it, he was calling out.

“Hey!”

You turned around, already about fifteen feet away. “Hey?”

He glanced back over his shoulder briefly before half-jogging over to you.

He swallowed. “Um, I wanted to, uh—“ He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look up at you. “I wanted to ask if I could maybe… get your number.”

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips. “Really?”

His heart dropped. “I mean, only if you want to. I just— I think you are really nice, and pretty, and—“

“You think I’m pretty?” You interrupted softly.

He paused, meeting your shining eyes.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “I do.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, rustling through your bag. Spencer thought, briefly, that there’d never been a time he so badly wanted to watch someone bite their lip like that in slow motion on repeat. He wanted to tattoo the image on the inside of his eyelids.

Chill out. He reprimanded himself as you handed him a napkin with your number scribbled on it.

“You can call me.” That smile turned his brain to static once more as you waved sheepishly, a rose tint coloring your cheeks in the dim light. “Bye, Reid.”

The whole interaction had him heckled mercilessly on the flight home, but he didn’t mind too much. The teasing was all worth it the second his gaze landed on that ink-stained piece of tissue.

He waited about three days to call you. He almost hung up on the fifth ring, convinced you wouldn’t answer, when your voice crackled through the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi, hi. Um, it’s Spencer. Reid. Garcia’s friend?” He sat up straighter, as though you could see him.

“Oh, hey!” He could hear your grin in your voice, and it made him smile reflexively. “How are you? Read any good books lately?”

“Yeah! You know, I just re-read The Count of Monte Cristo in the original French. It’s fascinating.” He replied animatedly, settling back into his couch.

That first phone call lasted nearly forty-five minutes.

The second was nearly an hour.

Before long, he got in a routine of calling you ever other day, and then every day. Eventually, Spencer Reid, ever the technophobe, found himself texting you every chance he could. He even bought a used laptop so he could video chat with you on WhatsApp.

It wasn’t just your physical appearance. Spencer was attracted to so much more than that. Your kindness. Your humor. Your patience. Your laugh. Your intelligence.

You told him about your life, your family, your job. He eventually opened up to you about his mom, some of his trauma. And you listened to every word with heartfelt kindness.

After a few months of this, the man who relied so heavily on statistics felt that it was just dumb luck you actually gave him your number.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” You said one night on a video call.

He raised his eyebrows at the screen. “Yeah?”

“What if I flew out and stayed with Pen for a weekend?” You asked. “You and I could actually… you know, spend some time together. In person.”

Spencer hesitated, turning the idea over in his mind.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you. God, did he want to see you. Three months of only having you over a screen was slowly becoming torture. His dreams were becoming increasingly plagued with the idea of holding you, kissing you…

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” you said jokingly, but he could hear the dejectedness in your tone.

“It’s not a no, it’s just…” He paused. “How are you going to keep it from Garcia if you’re staying with her? Won’t she wonder where you’re going?”

Privacy was very important to Spencer. He loved his teammates like family, but truthfully, he valued keeping your relationship between the two of you, at least for now. He wanted to navigate the idea of you without any outside influence or opinion.

He’d had that conversation with you early on, given your relationship with Garcia, and you had been fine with it.

“I can make something up, give her a fake reason I’m in town.” You shrugged. “I just really want to see you, Spencer.”

He felt a strange swell of pride in his chest at the thought. “I really want to see you, too.” He replied softly.

A mischievous grin crossed your face. “Besides, it might be kinda fun. Sneaking around.”

He fought a smile at the idea. “Yeah? When would you fly out?”

And so the plan was set in motion.

You texted Garcia not long after, saying you needed a place to stay for a weekend for your great-grandmother’s funeral. She agreed, albeit her excitement dying a little at the addition of your need to spend time with family members in town, but you assured her you would reserve some time for her, too.

Sure, you felt a little bad about the lie, but it would have to do for now.

Two weeks later, Spencer was checking his phone every five minutes for a text signifying you’d landed.

Buzz.

He scrambled for it so quickly it was almost comical.

“in your city :)”

He bit back a smile at the message before quickly typing his reply:

“See you soon.”

When four p.m. rolled around, Spencer found himself walking up to the park.

There you were.

Sitting on a wooden bench, people-watching. The afternoon sun was beating down on the world, but around you, it looked like a halo.

You. Real. Not on a screen for the first time in months. And this time, not as a stranger.

Your head turned at the sound of his footsteps, and you broke into another one of those steal-his-heart smiles.

“Hi.” You said, looking up.

“Hi,” he echoed, a little breathless.

He stepped closer as you stood, and then you were both right there.

You hesitated. He paused. Should he hug you? Was that too much too soon? He hadn’t had any sort of physical contact with you before, outside of your fingers brushing his when you gave him your number.

A small, nervous laugh from you. “I didn’t know if we were, um—“ you gestured.

“Yeah, me neither.” He huffed out a laugh. He took you in for another moment before asking, quietly, “Can I hug you?”

“Yes. Please.” Your answer was immediate.

His arms enveloped you, and then you melted into him.

He exhaled slowly against the top of your head, nerves and tension melting away as he held you. Real and warm and solid against him, not just a memory and a voice through a speaker.

You pulled back just a bit, hand staying on his arm.

“I missed you,” you breathed.

His eyes flicked down to your mouth before he could stop himself. “Yeah, I— me too.”

You gazed up at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. “You can.”

“I can what?” He asked.

“Kiss me.”

“Oh.” He mentally chastised himself for being so obvious.

Then immediately mentally high-fived himself the second his lips touched yours.

The kiss was soft, and new. His hands came up to cradle your face, a little clumsily.

But somewhere, distantly, in the static that was currently filling his brain, he thought this must be nirvana. A state of perfect peace, liberation, and completion. This must be the glorious thing and the pinnacle that everyone dreams of acheiving.

He doesn’t know how long he stood by that bench, kissing you, but he knew that he would spend every waking second waiting for the next one.

The rest of the weekend felt… unreal.

He took you to his favorite local coffee place. You perused the shelves of his frequented bookstore, fingers laced together. He showed you his apartment, which all too quickly felt like your little corner of home in an unfamiliar city.

And every once in a while, another kiss.

Maybe it was more often than that.

He absolutely committed himself to relishing every single moment you were there. You spent nearly all day Saturday at his apartment before you finally convinced him you had to spend some time with Garcia, or she would get suspicious.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow before I have to leave.” You said, toeing your shoes on by the door.

He swallowed, the notion weighing heavy on him. “Sounds good.”

You stopped. “Oh, hey. I still have your sweater on.”

He shrugged, looking down at you. “It looks good on you. Keep it.”

You flushed, eyes dropping shyly to the floor. “Thank you.”

He kissed you one more time, really breathing you in, before he opened the door for you and watched you walk away with a wave.

Sunday had arrived all too quickly.

You were outside his door, bags in hand. You handed his folded sweater back to him gently.

“I did wear it all night.” You smiled half-heartedly. “But you can have it for now. I need a reason to come back and steal it again.”

Spencer pursed his lips, fighting back the emotions threatening to rise up in him.

“It was… really good to see you.” You said softly, gazing up at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “It was.”

There was a pause.

“You’ll text me when you land?” He asked.

“Obviously.”

Another pause. You looked at each other for a moment.

He was very appreciative for his eidetic memory in this moment, because he couldn’t forget you standing here in his apartment.

“We should do this again sometime.” Your voice was watery through your joking tone. “I really liked sneaking around with you.”

Spencer didn’t answer you. He just leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss. Warm and sweet and over all too soon.

A thin laugh from you as you parted, eyes brimming with tears.

“I’ll see you.” He said softly.

You nodded, brows crinkling. “Bye, Spence.”

And you were gone.

On Monday, Spencer wore the sweater to work. You really must’ve worn it all night, because it smelled just like your perfume, bringing him a small amount of comfort knowing this weekend hadn’t been a fever dream.

He tried to work, his focus drifting between thoughts of you and the occasional buzz in his pocket.

“How was your weekend?” He overheard Emily ask Garcia as she walked in.

“Oh, it was great. I really love getting to see her, but she was super in and out the whole time. Lots of visiting to do, she said.” Garcia replied.

Her footsteps faltered by his desk.

“Reid?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you get that sweater?”

He froze, risking a glance up. Garcia’s face was twisted in confusion.

“This? It’s mine.” He replied, trying to keep his voice smooth. Casual.

“No.”

“What do you mean? It’s mine.”

“No, I saw…” she trailed off. Spencer swore he could see her eyes light up, growing wide as it clicked.

Uh oh.

She gasped. “Oh my gosh!”

“Wait—“ Spencer started.

“Oh my gosh!” She repeated, louder this time. “You! You dirty dog!”

“It wasn’t—“ He leaned in, trying to do damage control. “It wasn’t like that. We’ve been… long distance.”

“I knew it!” she shouted, spinning in a circle. “I knew something was weird when she wouldn’t tell me where she kept disappearing to!”

Spencer winced. “We didn’t want to—”

“You lied to me,” she gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh my gosh, you’re in love with her.”

His cheeks were on fire. “I— what? No, I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to,” she said, grinning. “You’re wearing the sweater.”

He blinked. “It’s my sweater.”

“Exactly.”

And later, when his phone buzzed again in his pocket, he didn’t even try to hide it.

“miss you already :(”

“Miss you more.”

“Call you tonight?”

Across the room, Garcia watched him with a knowing grin.

And for once, Spencer didn’t mind being figured out.

———————————————

𝙲𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙴 𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁 #11

𝙸𝚃𝙴𝙼𝚂:

𝙻𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎 ……… 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝙷𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚕𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 ... 𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝙿𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝙲𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 …. 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 ..... 𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙴𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙰𝚍𝚍-𝙸𝚗𝚜: 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚊'𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚊 𝚢𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚢

———————————————

[spencilweidblog]

Heyyy, I'd love a latte with hazelnut/coconut drizzle (one or both, whatever you decide) and whipped cream!

Maybe one where reader is Garcia's childhood best friend and they end up traveling near her on a case? And Spencer notices how pretty she is and yadda yadda kissy kissy

Also I did see your most recent post, take your sweet time I'm in absolutely no rush, I'll probably forget about this the second I send it anyway <3

𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅 (𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒕 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔)

a/n: wowwww the way this absolutely wrote itself. I LOVED THIS REQUEST!!! seriously this was the fastest i’ve ever written a fic before. ty for the req i hope you love!! receipt is at the bottom!!

summary: spencer meets garcia’s childhood best friend and promptly forgets how to act like a normal human being. between phone calls and sneaking around, what starts as a crush turns into something a lot harder to keep hidden.

content warnings: spencer reid x fem!reader, lots and lots of smooching, slightly suggestive moments if u squint real real hard, otherwise just disgustingly tooth-rotting fluff

The case wrapped up clean.

The unsub had been apprehended with no further casualties, hostages rescued. The team had made it back to the precinct, packing up their things as they prepared to leave.

“Okay, now that we’ve got the bad guy and all of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad things are over, I have one tiny request.” Garcia announced to the team.

Hotch glanced over his shoulder as he zipped up his go-bag. “What’s that?”

“Could we please stay for dinner?” She asked, eyebrows raised hopefully. “My best friend growing up lives right down the road from here, and I haven’t seen her in ages. I’d love for her to meet all of you.”

Hotch looked around, assessing the reactions of the team. The accomplishment of a job well done seemed to outweigh their tiredness as everyone shrugged and nodded.

Before long, Spencer was trailing behind the group as they strolled up to the restaurant. The air was starting cool as the sky dimmed, and the aroma wafting out the doors was making his mouth water.

“Oh, hi!” He heard Garcia exclaim suddenly. He couldn’t really see through the crowd of people, with the team and the patrons coming and going from the restaurant, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and waited his turn to be introduced.

“It’s so good to see you!” Garcia chattered. “These are the people I’m always telling you about. This is Hotch, and Emily, and Rossi, Derek, JJ, and—“ she paused, peering over everyone’s heads. “Reid! There’s Reid, in the back.”

He turned his head as everyone shuffled aside, creating an opening, and he pulled his hand out of his pocket to wave and then—

Oh. Oh, wow.

“Hi.” You smiled, and it almost knocked him off his feet.

He blinked, hand awkwardly half-raised before he reminded himself to look slightly less like a deer in headlights.

He straightened, clearing his throat. “Hi.”

You were…

For once, his brain actually ran out of words.

Beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. Radiant. Breathtaking. Captivating. Alluring. None of them seemed to truly encapsulate you.

The group was soon ushered inside the restaurant and sat at a table. Conversation began to flow as you and Garcia caught up and you got to know the team.

“Oh, you actually said that?” Your jaw dropped as you looked at Emily.

“Not only did she say it, she said it in front of the entire Sacramento Police Department!” JJ interjected, causing the table to burst into laughter.

Spencer couldn’t help but watch you as you threw your head back, shoulders shaking with laughter. Your laugh was infectious, he thought. He wanted to be the reason you laughed like that.

Wine and chatter flowed around the table as you dicussed JJ’s children, Rossi’s career as an author, Derek’s most recent date.

He was mid-bite when you turned to him. “So, Reid, what about you? I hear you’re the resident genius.”

He nearly dropped his fork, chewing quickly. “Um, well, I guess you could—“ he coughed, trying to swallow before continuing. “I mean, it depends how you classify ‘genius.’ My IQ is statistically above average, I have an eidetic memory, and I read at an average speed of…”

He trailed off, noticing the rest of the table had gone silent. He cleared his throat. “Um, yes.”

You nodded approvingly, eyebrows raised with a slight smile as the group chuckled.

The meal began wrapping up, plates slowly clearing and wine glasses emptying. Spencer watched you still as Garcia turned the conversation back to you, actively reminding himself not to stare.

“So, tell me.” Garcia said, leaning in to you. “Are you dating anyone?”

Spencer felt like a puppy who had just heard the word “treat.” He stared hard at the tablecloth, trying not to seem invested in the answer.

“No, not since that guy from the bank.” You replied, smoothing your shirt.

“Thank God. He was so… average.” Garcia answered. “You could do so much better.”

Someone accidentally nudged his shin under the table. He shifted, heart fluttering at the knowledge you weren’t involved with anyone. Not that he would ever do anything about it, but it was nice for the moment to not have to imagine you with anyone else.

Checks rolled out, everyone paid, and the group made their way to the door.

A chorus of goodbyes echoed across the group outside the restaurant. Garcia pulled you into a tight hug. “Keep in touch.”

“Of course.” You replied as you pulled back, looking to the rest of the group. “It was so great meeting you guys.”

The sentiment was returned and you waved, flashing that brilliant smile one more time. “Have a good flight!”

You turned on your heel, and Spencer felt a pang in his chest at the thought of not seeing you again. Oh, well.

A hand grabbed his arm with a vengeance, and he turned to face the culprit.

“Ow! Garcia, what are you doing?” He pulled his arm from her grip, rubbing at the irritated skin.

“For a genius, you really are acting like an idiot!” She whispered. “Go get her number!”

His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “What?”

“Did you not feel me kick you under the table when she said she was single?” She asked, exasperated. “I’m setting you up! Go ask her for her number! Now!”

She punctuated her demand with a little shove in your direction, and before he knew it, he was calling out.

“Hey!”

You turned around, already about fifteen feet away. “Hey?”

He glanced back over his shoulder briefly before half-jogging over to you.

He swallowed. “Um, I wanted to, uh—“ He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look up at you. “I wanted to ask if I could maybe… get your number.”

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips. “Really?”

His heart dropped. “I mean, only if you want to. I just— I think you are really nice, and pretty, and—“

“You think I’m pretty?” You interrupted softly.

He paused, meeting your shining eyes.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “I do.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, rustling through your bag. Spencer thought, briefly, that there’d never been a time he so badly wanted to watch someone bite their lip like that in slow motion on repeat. He wanted to tattoo the image on the inside of his eyelids.

Chill out. He reprimanded himself as you handed him a napkin with your number scribbled on it.

“You can call me.” That smile turned his brain to static once more as you waved sheepishly, a rose tint coloring your cheeks in the dim light. “Bye, Reid.”

The whole interaction had him heckled mercilessly on the flight home, but he didn’t mind too much. The teasing was all worth it the second his gaze landed on that ink-stained piece of tissue.

He waited about three days to call you. He almost hung up on the fifth ring, convinced you wouldn’t answer, when your voice crackled through the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi, hi. Um, it’s Spencer. Reid. Garcia’s friend?” He sat up straighter, as though you could see him.

“Oh, hey!” He could hear your grin in your voice, and it made him smile reflexively. “How are you? Read any good books lately?”

“Yeah! You know, I just re-read The Count of Monte Cristo in the original French. It’s fascinating.” He replied animatedly, settling back into his couch.

That first phone call lasted nearly forty-five minutes.

The second was nearly an hour.

Before long, he got in a routine of calling you ever other day, and then every day. Eventually, Spencer Reid, ever the technophobe, found himself texting you every chance he could. He even bought a used laptop so he could video chat with you on WhatsApp.

It wasn’t just your physical appearance. Spencer was attracted to so much more than that. Your kindness. Your humor. Your patience. Your laugh. Your intelligence.

You told him about your life, your family, your job. He eventually opened up to you about his mom, some of his trauma. And you listened to every word with heartfelt kindness.

After a few months of this, the man who relied so heavily on statistics felt that it was just dumb luck you actually gave him your number.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” You said one night on a video call.

He raised his eyebrows at the screen. “Yeah?”

“What if I flew out and stayed with Pen for a weekend?” You asked. “You and I could actually… you know, spend some time together. In person.”

Spencer hesitated, turning the idea over in his mind.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you. God, did he want to see you. Three months of only having you over a screen was slowly becoming torture. His dreams were becoming increasingly plagued with the idea of holding you, kissing you…

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” you said jokingly, but he could hear the dejectedness in your tone.

“It’s not a no, it’s just…” He paused. “How are you going to keep it from Garcia if you’re staying with her? Won’t she wonder where you’re going?”

Privacy was very important to Spencer. He loved his teammates like family, but truthfully, he valued keeping your relationship between the two of you, at least for now. He wanted to navigate the idea of you without any outside influence or opinion.

He’d had that conversation with you early on, given your relationship with Garcia, and you had been fine with it.

“I can make something up, give her a fake reason I’m in town.” You shrugged. “I just really want to see you, Spencer.”

He felt a strange swell of pride in his chest at the thought. “I really want to see you, too.” He replied softly.

A mischievous grin crossed your face. “Besides, it might be kinda fun. Sneaking around.”

He fought a smile at the idea. “Yeah? When would you fly out?”

And so the plan was set in motion.

You texted Garcia not long after, saying you needed a place to stay for a weekend for your great-grandmother’s funeral. She agreed, albeit her excitement dying a little at the addition of your need to spend time with family members in town, but you assured her you would reserve some time for her, too.

Sure, you felt a little bad about the lie, but it would have to do for now.

Two weeks later, Spencer was checking his phone every five minutes for a text signifying you’d landed.

Buzz.

He scrambled for it so quickly it was almost comical.

“in your city :)”

He bit back a smile at the message before quickly typing his reply:

“See you soon.”

When four p.m. rolled around, Spencer found himself walking up to the park.

There you were.

Sitting on a wooden bench, people-watching. The afternoon sun was beating down on the world, but around you, it looked like a halo.

You. Real. Not on a screen for the first time in months. And this time, not as a stranger.

Your head turned at the sound of his footsteps, and you broke into another one of those steal-his-heart smiles.

“Hi.” You said, looking up.

“Hi,” he echoed, a little breathless.

He stepped closer as you stood, and then you were both right there.

You hesitated. He paused. Should he hug you? Was that too much too soon? He hadn’t had any sort of physical contact with you before, outside of your fingers brushing his when you gave him your number.

A small, nervous laugh from you. “I didn’t know if we were, um—“ you gestured.

“Yeah, me neither.” He huffed out a laugh. He took you in for another moment before asking, quietly, “Can I hug you?”

“Yes. Please.” Your answer was immediate.

His arms enveloped you, and then you melted into him.

He exhaled slowly against the top of your head, nerves and tension melting away as he held you. Real and warm and solid against him, not just a memory and a voice through a speaker.

You pulled back just a bit, hand staying on his arm.

“I missed you,” you breathed.

His eyes flicked down to your mouth before he could stop himself. “Yeah, I— me too.”

You gazed up at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. “You can.”

“I can what?” He asked.

“Kiss me.”

“Oh.” He mentally chastised himself for being so obvious.

Then immediately mentally high-fived himself the second his lips touched yours.

The kiss was soft, and new. His hands came up to cradle your face, a little clumsily.

But somewhere, distantly, in the static that was currently filling his brain, he thought this must be nirvana. A state of perfect peace, liberation, and completion. This must be the glorious thing and the pinnacle that everyone dreams of acheiving.

He doesn’t know how long he stood by that bench, kissing you, but he knew that he would spend every waking second waiting for the next one.

The rest of the weekend felt… unreal.

He took you to his favorite local coffee place. You perused the shelves of his frequented bookstore, fingers laced together. He showed you his apartment, which all too quickly felt like your little corner of home in an unfamiliar city.

And every once in a while, another kiss.

Maybe it was more often than that.

He absolutely committed himself to relishing every single moment you were there. You spent nearly all day Saturday at his apartment before you finally convinced him you had to spend some time with Garcia, or she would get suspicious.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow before I have to leave.” You said, toeing your shoes on by the door.

He swallowed, the notion weighing heavy on him. “Sounds good.”

You stopped. “Oh, hey. I still have your sweater on.”

He shrugged, looking down at you. “It looks good on you. Keep it.”

You flushed, eyes dropping shyly to the floor. “Thank you.”

He kissed you one more time, really breathing you in, before he opened the door for you and watched you walk away with a wave.

Sunday had arrived all too quickly.

You were outside his door, bags in hand. You handed his folded sweater back to him gently.

“I did wear it all night.” You smiled half-heartedly. “But you can have it for now. I need a reason to come back and steal it again.”

Spencer pursed his lips, fighting back the emotions threatening to rise up in him.

“It was… really good to see you.” You said softly, gazing up at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “It was.”

There was a pause.

“You’ll text me when you land?” He asked.

“Obviously.”

Another pause. You looked at each other for a moment.

He was very appreciative for his eidetic memory in this moment, because he couldn’t forget you standing here in his apartment.

“We should do this again sometime.” Your voice was watery through your joking tone. “I really liked sneaking around with you.”

Spencer didn’t answer you. He just leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss. Warm and sweet and over all too soon.

A thin laugh from you as you parted, eyes brimming with tears.

“I’ll see you.” He said softly.

You nodded, brows crinkling. “Bye, Spence.”

And you were gone.

On Monday, Spencer wore the sweater to work. You really must’ve worn it all night, because it smelled just like your perfume, bringing him a small amount of comfort knowing this weekend hadn’t been a fever dream.

He tried to work, his focus drifting between thoughts of you and the occasional buzz in his pocket.

“How was your weekend?” He overheard Emily ask Garcia as she walked in.

“Oh, it was great. I really love getting to see her, but she was super in and out the whole time. Lots of visiting to do, she said.” Garcia replied.

Her footsteps faltered by his desk.

“Reid?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you get that sweater?”

He froze, risking a glance up. Garcia’s face was twisted in confusion.

“This? It’s mine.” He replied, trying to keep his voice smooth. Casual.

“No.”

“What do you mean? It’s mine.”

“No, I saw…” she trailed off. Spencer swore he could see her eyes light up, growing wide as it clicked.

Uh oh.

She gasped. “Oh my gosh!”

“Wait—“ Spencer started.

“Oh my gosh!” She repeated, louder this time. “You! You dirty dog!”

“It wasn’t—“ He leaned in, trying to do damage control. “It wasn’t like that. We’ve been… long distance.”

“I knew it!” she shouted, spinning in a circle. “I knew something was weird when she wouldn’t tell me where she kept disappearing to!”

Spencer winced. “We didn’t want to—”

“You lied to me,” she gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh my gosh, you’re in love with her.”

His cheeks were on fire. “I— what? No, I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to,” she said, grinning. “You’re wearing the sweater.”

He blinked. “It’s my sweater.”

“Exactly.”

And later, when his phone buzzed again in his pocket, he didn’t even try to hide it.

“miss you already :(”

“Miss you more.”

“Call you tonight?”

Across the room, Garcia watched him with a knowing grin.

And for once, Spencer didn’t mind being figured out.

———————————————

𝙲𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙴 𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁 #11

𝙸𝚃𝙴𝙼𝚂:

𝙻𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎 ……… 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝙷𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚕𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 ... 𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝙿𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝙲𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 …. 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 ..... 𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙴𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙰𝚍𝚍-𝙸𝚗𝚜: 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚊'𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚊 𝚢𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚢

———————————————

[thefantasywench]

this is so cute 🥹

[spencilweidblog]

Heyyy, I'd love a latte with hazelnut/coconut drizzle (one or both, whatever you decide) and whipped cream!

Maybe one where reader is Garcia's childhood best friend and they end up traveling near her on a case? And Spencer notices how pretty she is and yadda yadda kissy kissy

Also I did see your most recent post, take your sweet time I'm in absolutely no rush, I'll probably forget about this the second I send it anyway <3

𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅 (𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒕 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔)

a/n: wowwww the way this absolutely wrote itself. I LOVED THIS REQUEST!!! seriously this was the fastest i’ve ever written a fic before. ty for the req i hope you love!! receipt is at the bottom!!

summary: spencer meets garcia’s childhood best friend and promptly forgets how to act like a normal human being. between phone calls and sneaking around, what starts as a crush turns into something a lot harder to keep hidden.

content warnings: spencer reid x fem!reader, lots and lots of smooching, slightly suggestive moments if u squint real real hard, otherwise just disgustingly tooth-rotting fluff

The case wrapped up clean.

The unsub had been apprehended with no further casualties, hostages rescued. The team had made it back to the precinct, packing up their things as they prepared to leave.

“Okay, now that we’ve got the bad guy and all of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad things are over, I have one tiny request.” Garcia announced to the team.

Hotch glanced over his shoulder as he zipped up his go-bag. “What’s that?”

“Could we please stay for dinner?” She asked, eyebrows raised hopefully. “My best friend growing up lives right down the road from here, and I haven’t seen her in ages. I’d love for her to meet all of you.”

Hotch looked around, assessing the reactions of the team. The accomplishment of a job well done seemed to outweigh their tiredness as everyone shrugged and nodded.

Before long, Spencer was trailing behind the group as they strolled up to the restaurant. The air was starting cool as the sky dimmed, and the aroma wafting out the doors was making his mouth water.

“Oh, hi!” He heard Garcia exclaim suddenly. He couldn’t really see through the crowd of people, with the team and the patrons coming and going from the restaurant, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and waited his turn to be introduced.

“It’s so good to see you!” Garcia chattered. “These are the people I’m always telling you about. This is Hotch, and Emily, and Rossi, Derek, JJ, and—“ she paused, peering over everyone’s heads. “Reid! There’s Reid, in the back.”

He turned his head as everyone shuffled aside, creating an opening, and he pulled his hand out of his pocket to wave and then—

Oh. Oh, wow.

“Hi.” You smiled, and it almost knocked him off his feet.

He blinked, hand awkwardly half-raised before he reminded himself to look slightly less like a deer in headlights.

He straightened, clearing his throat. “Hi.”

You were…

For once, his brain actually ran out of words.

Beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. Radiant. Breathtaking. Captivating. Alluring. None of them seemed to truly encapsulate you.

The group was soon ushered inside the restaurant and sat at a table. Conversation began to flow as you and Garcia caught up and you got to know the team.

“Oh, you actually said that?” Your jaw dropped as you looked at Emily.

“Not only did she say it, she said it in front of the entire Sacramento Police Department!” JJ interjected, causing the table to burst into laughter.

Spencer couldn’t help but watch you as you threw your head back, shoulders shaking with laughter. Your laugh was infectious, he thought. He wanted to be the reason you laughed like that.

Wine and chatter flowed around the table as you dicussed JJ’s children, Rossi’s career as an author, Derek’s most recent date.

He was mid-bite when you turned to him. “So, Reid, what about you? I hear you’re the resident genius.”

He nearly dropped his fork, chewing quickly. “Um, well, I guess you could—“ he coughed, trying to swallow before continuing. “I mean, it depends how you classify ‘genius.’ My IQ is statistically above average, I have an eidetic memory, and I read at an average speed of…”

He trailed off, noticing the rest of the table had gone silent. He cleared his throat. “Um, yes.”

You nodded approvingly, eyebrows raised with a slight smile as the group chuckled.

The meal began wrapping up, plates slowly clearing and wine glasses emptying. Spencer watched you still as Garcia turned the conversation back to you, actively reminding himself not to stare.

“So, tell me.” Garcia said, leaning in to you. “Are you dating anyone?”

Spencer felt like a puppy who had just heard the word “treat.” He stared hard at the tablecloth, trying not to seem invested in the answer.

“No, not since that guy from the bank.” You replied, smoothing your shirt.

“Thank God. He was so… average.” Garcia answered. “You could do so much better.”

Someone accidentally nudged his shin under the table. He shifted, heart fluttering at the knowledge you weren’t involved with anyone. Not that he would ever do anything about it, but it was nice for the moment to not have to imagine you with anyone else.

Checks rolled out, everyone paid, and the group made their way to the door.

A chorus of goodbyes echoed across the group outside the restaurant. Garcia pulled you into a tight hug. “Keep in touch.”

“Of course.” You replied as you pulled back, looking to the rest of the group. “It was so great meeting you guys.”

The sentiment was returned and you waved, flashing that brilliant smile one more time. “Have a good flight!”

You turned on your heel, and Spencer felt a pang in his chest at the thought of not seeing you again. Oh, well.

A hand grabbed his arm with a vengeance, and he turned to face the culprit.

“Ow! Garcia, what are you doing?” He pulled his arm from her grip, rubbing at the irritated skin.

“For a genius, you really are acting like an idiot!” She whispered. “Go get her number!”

His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “What?”

“Did you not feel me kick you under the table when she said she was single?” She asked, exasperated. “I’m setting you up! Go ask her for her number! Now!”

She punctuated her demand with a little shove in your direction, and before he knew it, he was calling out.

“Hey!”

You turned around, already about fifteen feet away. “Hey?”

He glanced back over his shoulder briefly before half-jogging over to you.

He swallowed. “Um, I wanted to, uh—“ He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look up at you. “I wanted to ask if I could maybe… get your number.”

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips. “Really?”

His heart dropped. “I mean, only if you want to. I just— I think you are really nice, and pretty, and—“

“You think I’m pretty?” You interrupted softly.

He paused, meeting your shining eyes.

“Yeah.” He breathed. “I do.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, rustling through your bag. Spencer thought, briefly, that there’d never been a time he so badly wanted to watch someone bite their lip like that in slow motion on repeat. He wanted to tattoo the image on the inside of his eyelids.

Chill out. He reprimanded himself as you handed him a napkin with your number scribbled on it.

“You can call me.” That smile turned his brain to static once more as you waved sheepishly, a rose tint coloring your cheeks in the dim light. “Bye, Reid.”

The whole interaction had him heckled mercilessly on the flight home, but he didn’t mind too much. The teasing was all worth it the second his gaze landed on that ink-stained piece of tissue.

He waited about three days to call you. He almost hung up on the fifth ring, convinced you wouldn’t answer, when your voice crackled through the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi, hi. Um, it’s Spencer. Reid. Garcia’s friend?” He sat up straighter, as though you could see him.

“Oh, hey!” He could hear your grin in your voice, and it made him smile reflexively. “How are you? Read any good books lately?”

“Yeah! You know, I just re-read The Count of Monte Cristo in the original French. It’s fascinating.” He replied animatedly, settling back into his couch.

That first phone call lasted nearly forty-five minutes.

The second was nearly an hour.

Before long, he got in a routine of calling you ever other day, and then every day. Eventually, Spencer Reid, ever the technophobe, found himself texting you every chance he could. He even bought a used laptop so he could video chat with you on WhatsApp.

It wasn’t just your physical appearance. Spencer was attracted to so much more than that. Your kindness. Your humor. Your patience. Your laugh. Your intelligence.

You told him about your life, your family, your job. He eventually opened up to you about his mom, some of his trauma. And you listened to every word with heartfelt kindness.

After a few months of this, the man who relied so heavily on statistics felt that it was just dumb luck you actually gave him your number.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” You said one night on a video call.

He raised his eyebrows at the screen. “Yeah?”

“What if I flew out and stayed with Pen for a weekend?” You asked. “You and I could actually… you know, spend some time together. In person.”

Spencer hesitated, turning the idea over in his mind.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you. God, did he want to see you. Three months of only having you over a screen was slowly becoming torture. His dreams were becoming increasingly plagued with the idea of holding you, kissing you…

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” you said jokingly, but he could hear the dejectedness in your tone.

“It’s not a no, it’s just…” He paused. “How are you going to keep it from Garcia if you’re staying with her? Won’t she wonder where you’re going?”

Privacy was very important to Spencer. He loved his teammates like family, but truthfully, he valued keeping your relationship between the two of you, at least for now. He wanted to navigate the idea of you without any outside influence or opinion.

He’d had that conversation with you early on, given your relationship with Garcia, and you had been fine with it.

“I can make something up, give her a fake reason I’m in town.” You shrugged. “I just really want to see you, Spencer.”

He felt a strange swell of pride in his chest at the thought. “I really want to see you, too.” He replied softly.

A mischievous grin crossed your face. “Besides, it might be kinda fun. Sneaking around.”

He fought a smile at the idea. “Yeah? When would you fly out?”

And so the plan was set in motion.

You texted Garcia not long after, saying you needed a place to stay for a weekend for your great-grandmother’s funeral. She agreed, albeit her excitement dying a little at the addition of your need to spend time with family members in town, but you assured her you would reserve some time for her, too.

Sure, you felt a little bad about the lie, but it would have to do for now.

Two weeks later, Spencer was checking his phone every five minutes for a text signifying you’d landed.

Buzz.

He scrambled for it so quickly it was almost comical.

“in your city :)”

He bit back a smile at the message before quickly typing his reply:

“See you soon.”

When four p.m. rolled around, Spencer found himself walking up to the park.

There you were.

Sitting on a wooden bench, people-watching. The afternoon sun was beating down on the world, but around you, it looked like a halo.

You. Real. Not on a screen for the first time in months. And this time, not as a stranger.

Your head turned at the sound of his footsteps, and you broke into another one of those steal-his-heart smiles.

“Hi.” You said, looking up.

“Hi,” he echoed, a little breathless.

He stepped closer as you stood, and then you were both right there.

You hesitated. He paused. Should he hug you? Was that too much too soon? He hadn’t had any sort of physical contact with you before, outside of your fingers brushing his when you gave him your number.

A small, nervous laugh from you. “I didn’t know if we were, um—“ you gestured.

“Yeah, me neither.” He huffed out a laugh. He took you in for another moment before asking, quietly, “Can I hug you?”

“Yes. Please.” Your answer was immediate.

His arms enveloped you, and then you melted into him.

He exhaled slowly against the top of your head, nerves and tension melting away as he held you. Real and warm and solid against him, not just a memory and a voice through a speaker.

You pulled back just a bit, hand staying on his arm.

“I missed you,” you breathed.

His eyes flicked down to your mouth before he could stop himself. “Yeah, I— me too.”

You gazed up at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. “You can.”

“I can what?” He asked.

“Kiss me.”

“Oh.” He mentally chastised himself for being so obvious.

Then immediately mentally high-fived himself the second his lips touched yours.

The kiss was soft, and new. His hands came up to cradle your face, a little clumsily.

But somewhere, distantly, in the static that was currently filling his brain, he thought this must be nirvana. A state of perfect peace, liberation, and completion. This must be the glorious thing and the pinnacle that everyone dreams of acheiving.

He doesn’t know how long he stood by that bench, kissing you, but he knew that he would spend every waking second waiting for the next one.

The rest of the weekend felt… unreal.

He took you to his favorite local coffee place. You perused the shelves of his frequented bookstore, fingers laced together. He showed you his apartment, which all too quickly felt like your little corner of home in an unfamiliar city.

And every once in a while, another kiss.

Maybe it was more often than that.

He absolutely committed himself to relishing every single moment you were there. You spent nearly all day Saturday at his apartment before you finally convinced him you had to spend some time with Garcia, or she would get suspicious.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow before I have to leave.” You said, toeing your shoes on by the door.

He swallowed, the notion weighing heavy on him. “Sounds good.”

You stopped. “Oh, hey. I still have your sweater on.”

He shrugged, looking down at you. “It looks good on you. Keep it.”

You flushed, eyes dropping shyly to the floor. “Thank you.”

He kissed you one more time, really breathing you in, before he opened the door for you and watched you walk away with a wave.

Sunday had arrived all too quickly.

You were outside his door, bags in hand. You handed his folded sweater back to him gently.

“I did wear it all night.” You smiled half-heartedly. “But you can have it for now. I need a reason to come back and steal it again.”

Spencer pursed his lips, fighting back the emotions threatening to rise up in him.

“It was… really good to see you.” You said softly, gazing up at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “It was.”

There was a pause.

“You’ll text me when you land?” He asked.

“Obviously.”

Another pause. You looked at each other for a moment.

He was very appreciative for his eidetic memory in this moment, because he couldn’t forget you standing here in his apartment.

“We should do this again sometime.” Your voice was watery through your joking tone. “I really liked sneaking around with you.”

Spencer didn’t answer you. He just leaned forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss. Warm and sweet and over all too soon.

A thin laugh from you as you parted, eyes brimming with tears.

“I’ll see you.” He said softly.

You nodded, brows crinkling. “Bye, Spence.”

And you were gone.

On Monday, Spencer wore the sweater to work. You really must’ve worn it all night, because it smelled just like your perfume, bringing him a small amount of comfort knowing this weekend hadn’t been a fever dream.

He tried to work, his focus drifting between thoughts of you and the occasional buzz in his pocket.

“How was your weekend?” He overheard Emily ask Garcia as she walked in.

“Oh, it was great. I really love getting to see her, but she was super in and out the whole time. Lots of visiting to do, she said.” Garcia replied.

Her footsteps faltered by his desk.

“Reid?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you get that sweater?”

He froze, risking a glance up. Garcia’s face was twisted in confusion.

“This? It’s mine.” He replied, trying to keep his voice smooth. Casual.

“No.”

“What do you mean? It’s mine.”

“No, I saw…” she trailed off. Spencer swore he could see her eyes light up, growing wide as it clicked.

Uh oh.

She gasped. “Oh my gosh!”

“Wait—“ Spencer started.

“Oh my gosh!” She repeated, louder this time. “You! You dirty dog!”

“It wasn’t—“ He leaned in, trying to do damage control. “It wasn’t like that. We’ve been… long distance.”

“I knew it!” she shouted, spinning in a circle. “I knew something was weird when she wouldn’t tell me where she kept disappearing to!”

Spencer winced. “We didn’t want to—”

“You lied to me,” she gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh my gosh, you’re in love with her.”

His cheeks were on fire. “I— what? No, I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to,” she said, grinning. “You’re wearing the sweater.”

He blinked. “It’s my sweater.”

“Exactly.”

And later, when his phone buzzed again in his pocket, he didn’t even try to hide it.

“miss you already :(”

“Miss you more.”

“Call you tonight?”

Across the room, Garcia watched him with a knowing grin.

And for once, Spencer didn’t mind being figured out.

———————————————

𝙲𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙴 𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁 #11

𝙸𝚃𝙴𝙼𝚂:

𝙻𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎 ……… 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝙷𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚕𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 ... 𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝙿𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝙲𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 …. 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 ..... 𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙴𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙰𝚍𝚍-𝙸𝚗𝚜: 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚊'𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚊 𝚢𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚢

———————————————

[spencilweidblog]

btw i have a fic scheduled to post at 8 am tomorrow and I AM SO EXCITED it is the most excited i have been writing one in a WHILE

[spencilweidblog]

hiiii im here to place an order :) bau!reader x s2!spence cappuccino with hazelnut drizzle and whipped cream please <3

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆

a/n: this has taken me so long omg im so sorry. i keep feeling like im not doing these reqs justice bc im trying to keep them from being super repetitive but i hope you enjoy my twist on it!! your receipt is at the bottom!!

summary: you and spencer have it bad for each other, unbeknownst to the other. however, after spencer’s kidnapping, he hasn’t been the same, and you want to fix it.

content warnings: s2!spencer reid x bau!reader, lots of talk about tobias hankel/revelations, addiction, drug use, also mentions of alcohol/drinking, elle is here for one(1) line, maybe out of character spence i feel like i don’t write early seasons spence well im sorry

Spencer Reid had never been very good at asking for help.

In all twenty-five years of his life, he had learned to bottle things up. His dad wasn’t around, and his mom was too disoriented half the time to realize if he was there or not. He didn’t really have any friends growing up, trending much younger than his peers.

So, he bottled.

It carried over into his adult life. After being recruited for the BAU, he saw horrible things on a daily basis. He learned not to let it bother him. He learned to swallow it down like a sour lump in his throat and let it eat him from the inside without ever even realizing.

He didn’t need to talk to anyone. Why would he? You all saw these types of things regularly. It was part of the job description.

But twenty-four was awfully young to be exposed to so much tragedy with no outlet.

And twenty-five was even younger to become part of the tragedy.

You liked Spencer. He had followed Gideon back to the BAU almost two years ago now, and he was the most brilliant person you had ever met. His constant fact-spouting, the way he fiddled with his hands, his glasses forever sliding down his nose entranced you beyond belief.

Despite your best attempts, you felt extremely obvious. You leaned into him, laughed too hard at his jokes, listened too intently when he spoke about nothing at all. It had almost killed you when he asked JJ to accompany him to a baseball game.

“Like… just the two of you?” You had tried to respond casually to JJ as she held up the tickets.

“Oh, no. I invited Garcia.” She laughed. Then her face dropped, eyebrows knitting together. “Oh.”

You had huffed a laugh and moved on with your day, trying desperately to stomach the fact he had tried to ask someone else on the team on a date. Clearly, he didn’t share the same interest in you as you did in him.

Except Spencer was, unfortunately, extremely aware of you.

Painfully aware, actually.

Aware enough that he knew the sound of your footsteps apart from anyone else’s. Knew the way you tilted your head when you were thinking. Knew the smell of your favorite perfume.

He also knew he had absolutely no business liking you.

Not when you were so competent and capable and loved by the team, and he couldn’t get out a sentence half the time without stumbling over his words. He missed social cues. He slicked down his hair because he couldn’t figure out how to style his curls. He was awkward, everyone’s nerdy little brother.

So he did what he did best, as usual.

Over the next year, the two of you were painfully obvious to everyone except yourselves.

“So… what’s his deal?” You asked the girls one night as you sat at the bar for post-case drinks.

“What, outside of being the world’s biggest dork?” Elle snorted, sipping her drink.

“Just, you know, is he, like…” You gestured vaguely“…dating anyone?”

“Ooh, I think somebody has a crush!” Garcia grinned.

“What? No.” Your cheeks burned, your eyes fixating on the liquid swirling in your drink. “He’s just… private, is all.”

“Or there’s just nothing to talk about.” JJ shrugged.

You let the subject die as Garcia quickly moved on to another topic of conversation, wistfully watching your ice cubes clink together. Maybe your next one should just come in a bottle.

Well, speaking of bottles.

Spencer was only slightly less obvious about his interest in you. At least, he certainly wasn’t the one to bring it up. It was only about the fifth time that day that Morgan caught him giving you doe eyes behind his glasses that he finally called him on it.

“Reid.” Morgan said, leaning over in his chair.

Spencer startled, blinking rapidly. “Yeah?”

“Dude, why don’t you just ask her out?”

Spencer pursed his lips, eyebrows raised. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Morgan scoffed. “You’re seriously gonna play that game with me right now? You’re practically drooling.”

“Am not.” Spencer replied defensively.

“Face it, pretty boy.” Derek smiled, patting him on the shoulder as he stood. “You’re down bad.”

Spencer frowned as he walked away. Down bad. That was one way to put it.

Derek’s words seemed to linger in his head over the next few weeks. Just ask her out. As if it were that simple.

And maybe he would’ve.

If it wasn’t for Tobias Hankel.

If it wasn’t for the needle in his arm. Or the torture. Or being forced to dig his own grave.

If it wasn’t for Hankel being right about the dilaudid making it better.

It was like all the overwhelming thoughts, statistics, analysis, assessment, anxiety, just… shut up, for a while. It was quiet.

God, it was quiet.

You noticed Spencer was different after Hankel. How could you not? He had been tortured, beaten, drugged, forced to choose who lived and died. That would take a toll on anyone.

You certainly didn’t suspect addiction. Not at first. You thought maybe he was depressed, certainly traumatized.

You felt so terrible for him. He didn’t smile as much anymore, didn’t crack jokes or engage in conversation as vividly as before. His fingernails grew long. The bags under his eyes grew darker. You just wanted him to feel better.

So, one Saturday morning, you found yourself at the door of his apartment with a box of chocolate sprinkle donuts in hand.

He opened the door, rubbing his eyes blearily.

“Hello?” He asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

“Spence, it’s like, ten.” You replied, eyebrows furrowing. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, no, I’m fine. What’s up?”

You sheepishly extended the donuts. “I brought you these. I know chocolate sprinkle is your favorite.”

His mouth twitched into a strange sort of half-frown, half-smile as he accepted the box. “Wow, thanks.”

He glanced over his shoulder into his apartment. You followed his gaze.

It was a wreck. Books scattered everywhere, empty takeout containers piled up by the trash can, clothes strewn about haphazardly.

“Spence…” You tilted your head before finally asking. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He replied quickly.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. You thought about not pushing it. Depression is a hard thing, and you knew that. You didn’t want to press if he didn’t want to tell you.

But, more than anything, he was your friend, maybe even family. And right now, he was drowning silently right in front of you.

“Can I come in?” You asked gently after a moment of silence.

“I don’t—“

“Please?”

That stopped him. He hesitated for a second more before sighing and stepping back, opening the door.

It was worse inside. For a germaphobe like Spencer, it was extremely out of character. You mentally appreciated your years of profiler training that allowed you to keep a straight face.

Spencer gingerly sat the box of donuts down, shoulders tense like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You didn’t say anything at first. Instead, you slowly reached for one of the empty containers and put it in the trash.

“You don’t have to do that.” Spencer said, voice thin.

“I know.” You said softly, continuing on to the next.

After watching you silently for a while, he gingerly moved to join you, putting books away on the shelves, washing dirty dishes.

The two of you moved in a quiet dance for a while until the apartment looked, at the very least, manageable.

He sat down on the couch, eyes distant. You brought the box of donuts over and set them on the coffee table before taking a seat beside him.

You nudged him gently, smiling. “Y’know, statistically, having a clean environment can boost mental health.”

He huffed out a laugh at that, lips hardly curving upward, before settling around a heavy exhale.

And for once, Spencer Reid didn’t bottle it up.

“I…” He paused, eyes shining. “I’m really struggling.”

Your chest constricted at the sound of his voice, thin and unsteady in a way you had never heard before.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” you said softly.

Spencer swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he stared down at his hands. They trembled faintly in his lap, fingers twitching like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I thought I could handle it,” he murmured.

You didn’t interrupt.

“It just…” His voice faltered. He shook his head slightly, like he was frustrated with himself. “It made everything quiet. For a little while.”

Your breath caught.

Oh.

Spencer scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling shakily. “I don’t feel like myself anymore,” he whispered.

His shoulders folded inward, posture collapsing in on itself like he was trying to make himself smaller, less noticeable. A shaky breath left him, uneven and sharp.

You didn’t think. You just reached for him.

The second your hand touched his arm, he let out a quiet, broken sound— something between a breath and a sob, like he had been holding it in for weeks and didn’t know how to stop anymore.

“Oh, Spence…” you whispered.

And then he was crying. Silent tears slipping down his cheeks, his breathing uneven as his hands curled into fists in his lap like he was embarrassed to even be seen like this.

You shifted closer, wrapping your arms around him gently, pulling him into you.

He melted against you like something inside him had finally given out. His forehead pressed against your shoulder, breath hitching as quiet sobs shook through him.

You had imagined holding Spencer before, in quieter moments, softer daydreams you never let yourself linger in.

But never like this. Never when he was breaking apart in your arms.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmured softly, tears threatening your own eyes.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard, tightening your arms around him.

“You don’t have to be alone in it,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer. Just stayed there, shoulders shaking quietly, breathing unevenly.

But for the first time since he had found himself on Tobias Hankel’s doorstep, he didn’t feel alone. For now, that was enough.

After a while, Spencer’s breathing slowed, though he didn’t pull away from you.

You weren’t sure how much time passed like that— minutes, maybe longer— before he finally spoke again.

“Hey,” he murmured quietly.

You tilted your head slightly. “Yeah?”

There was a long pause, like he was choosing his words very, very carefully.

“Will you…” He hesitated, fingers tightening faintly in your shirt. “Will you stay for a while?”

Your eyes stung. Spencer Reid— stubborn, independent, endlessly private Spencer Reid— had just asked you not to leave.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Of course.”

He nodded weakly against your shoulder, eyes slipping shut again.

And you stayed.

Because somewhere along the way, caring about Spencer Reid had stopped feeling like a passing crush and started feeling like something much deeper. Something steadier.

Something that made your chest ache in the quietest, most terrifying way.

And when his hand shifted, fingers curling loosely around yours like he needed to make sure you were still there, you didn’t pull away.

For the first time in weeks, Spencer Reid fell asleep without fear clawing at the edges of his mind.

And for the first time in just as long, you saw a glimpse of the Spencer you knew before that horrible case.

He was still there. He wanted you to stay.

And you would.

For as long as it took.

———————————————

𝙲𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙴 𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁 #10

𝙸𝚃𝙴𝙼𝚂:

𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚘 ……… 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝙷𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚕𝚗𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎 ... 𝙼𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝙿𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚃𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 ..... 𝙷𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙴𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙰𝚍𝚍-𝙸𝚗𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 2!𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙱𝚊𝚞!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

———————————————

[spencilweidblog]

sigh feeling so uninspired to write these days

and so guilty ab the requests sitting in my inbox </3

[spencilweidblog]

guys i seriously dont know if i can handle watching mgg with another love interest when einstein comes out

[mango-lovrr]

hey jas!!! i’ve been following your blog for a bit bc i feel like you are obsessed w spencer and little details to the level i am lmao and i love seeinf your takes on things.

i did just see your post where you talked about feeling like they leave out details on him in later seasons (where you reblogged about his nokia phone) and another one i noticed was he really doesn’t drink alcohol for the majority of the show. like even in season 14 at rossi’s wedding he just gets soda water to sip on.

i know a lot of people also lament that the show seemingly forgets about his addiction storyline, but this to me is always a subtle way they reference it since previous addicts typically don’t indulge in other addictive substances, and we know he used to drink as can be seen in season 1 when they are all at the bar!!

idk rlly what the point of the ask is but i just thought i’d point it out bc again… i am obsessed with the details lol

HI HI HI!!! Im so so obsessed with tiny details about him too yes yes yes!! Ive always adored this detail about him and im so glad you brought it up!! From what i can remember the last time we saw him drink alcohol was when he had a scotch at Ethan’s bar (aka his addiction at its worst). I can’t help but wonder if, beyond wanting to maintain sobriety in all forms, the thought of drinking again reminds him of that night in particular. The night where his addiction was addressed and then swiftly swept under the rug because ‘he’s smart and he’ll figure it out’. We know he drinks in the early seasons but to be honest I can’t see him doing it unless it’s for a social event. I think it was always just a social crutch for him / a way to blend in. Maybe the thought of drinking with the team just reminds him too much of his own desperate attempts to fit in and their own coldness to him when they all first met as well as their betrayal by not helping him during his addiction. Welcome to the reading too much into it club im the president!!!