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hopelesslystuc · 3 years

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My Princess

Pairing - Spencer Reid x gn!bau!reader

Summary - Spencer Reid goes trick or treating.

Category - fluff

CW - mentions of alcohol, mentions of food, kissing

WC - 1.7k

Prompt - Person A refers to Person B, who is dressed as a prince/princess, as “your majesty.”

A/N - This is my entry to @imagining-in-the-margins ‘s October Trick or Treat Challenge. Also, I love princess!spencer so here we are. Thanks to @meganskane for finding good inspiration pics that match.

Spencer wasn’t drunk but he definitely wasn’t sober. He was what he would call a solid tipsy. He couldn’t walk in a straight line -although he couldn’t always do that on a normal day- and he wasn’t going to let himself drive. But he had to be at least a little tipsy to do what he was doing now.

He was dubious of the idea of trick or treating at his age, but you had informed him with a smile that no age was too old to go trick or treating. So he agreed, because his unusual childhood had prevented him from going before, and because he wanted to see you smile. Unfortunately, he hadn’t planned a good trick or treating costume, which is where Penelope came in.

She was currently sitting in front of him, half in his lap as she applied a good amount of makeup to his face. She complimented his bone structure as she worked, and he tried to thank her but she pinched him for moving too much. She squinted as she moved her hand in precise motions, placing star eye glitter in a way that matched the eye she’d already done. Morgan often said that Penelope was a Goddess, and at this moment, Spencer found himself agreeing.

“Okay, almost done, Pretty Boy. I just need to do your lips and then we can get you dressed and fix your hair,” she declared, holding out a nude lipstick. “You ready?”

Spencer nodded and Penelope grabbed his chin with her hand, steadying his face as she carefully applied the lipstick, making sure not to go outside the liner she’d already put around his lips. When she finished, she grinned, pulling out her phone and snapping a picture, handing it to Spencer so he could see the results.

He looked down at the picture, eyes widening as he saw the look she’d recreated on his face. It was better than he could have imagined. “Wow, Pen!” he breathed out, feeling tears well up in his eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

“No crying!” she gasped, fanning his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to stop the tears. “You can’t ruin your makeup! It was nothing though, Spencer. I’d do anything for you; you know that, right?”

“I do,” he replied, still looking at the ceiling. “Thank you, Penny.”

“Alright, dresses!” she said, clapping her hands and opening her closet. She went through them at rapid speeds, holding a few out for Spencer to look at. When she held out the one, both of them knew it was perfect. It was burgundy and incredibly poofy in a way that screamed princess. She grabbed some safety pins to keep everything together, and in the end, it looked perfect. “And, to top it all off, this tiara!”

With Spencer’s hair newly brushed and the tiara placed on top, the dress covering the converse he was wearing underneath, he looked, as Penelope proclaimed proudly, “like the prettiest princess she could ever imagine.”

“But do you think they’ll like it?” he whispered, and Penelope nodded without pause.

“They’ll love it!”

“Wait, what if I get the dress dirty when we’re trick or treating?” Spencer asked, eyes widening. “What if it rips? What if-”

“Spencer, darling,” she interrupted. “It’s yours. If it’s destroyed after tonight, that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make to get the two of you idiotic lovebirds together.”

“Hey!” he protested, but she just shook her head.

“Don’t you even try to deny it.”

🍬🍬🍬

Spencer knocked on your door, nerves filling his body. He found himself wishing he was a little more tipsy so his brain could just shut up. What if you had been joking about going trick or treating? What if you hated his costume? What if you didn’t have a costume? What if-

His thoughts were cut short as you opened the door, gasping at Spencer’s outfit. “Oh my God, Spence! You look amazing! I didn’t know your hair could curl like that, wow!”

Spencer blushed and looked at your costume. You were wearing one of his cardigans, a beat up messenger bag slung across your chest, hanging at your side. Spencer furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to figure out what you were dressed as, and you laughed at his struggles.

You placed your hands out in front of you, moving them as you spoke in an impression of what he could tell was supposed to be his voice. “The cool thing about Halloween is that it's a uniquely American holiday. I mean, despite its obvious origins in the Celtic festival of Samhain…,” you began, although you adjusted the pronunciation to be the accurate saa wyn rather than how Spencer had pronounced it. “…and the Christian All Saints' Day, it really is a melting pot of various immigrants' traditions and beliefs. It became a little more commercialized in the 1950s with trick-or-treat, and today it rivals only Christmas in terms of popularity,” you finished, giving him a tight lipped smile and a nod as you finished your infodump.

“That was an exact quote from me,” Spencer said, eyes wide in shock.

“Mmhmm! I’m you!” you declared, grabbing two baskets and wrapping your arm around his. “Are you ready to go trick or treating, Your Majesty?”

Spencer was silent as you walked him away from your apartment, stopping only when he stopped moving behind you. “You’re me,” he said, trying to ignore the tears in his eyes.

“Woah, hey! Spence, don’t cry, you’ll mess up your makeup,” you said, waving your hands in front of his face to dry his eyes.

Spencer chuckled at the action, making you the confused one now. “Sorry, it’s just- Penelope did the same thing earlier when I almost cried. Maybe my emotions are enhanced by the alcohol.”

“Alcohol?” you asked, continuing your previous goal of leading him to a nearby rich neighborhood.

“Only a little,” he said, although his words were contradicted by his immediate stumble. “Sorry.”

You laughed and removed your arm from his, instead wrapping it around his waist. “Be careful, my Princess, you mustn’t hurt that pretty face of yours.”

Spencer flushed, leaning into your touch as you approached the first house. You rang the doorbell and a woman opened it, gasping at the sight of the two of you.

“Oh, such a sweet couple! Ted, come see!” she called, looking behind her. Spencer nearly corrected her, but you were smiling, so he didn’t. A man, presumably Ted, walked up next to her, smiling at the two of them as well. “Makes you miss when we were their age, doesn’t it?” she asked, and the man nodded. “Here, take some extra candy,” she declared, handing each of you two full sized candy bars, and waving as you left.

As you walked away, you clicked your tongue. Spencer began to lean away, thinking he’d made you uncomfortable somehow, but he relaxed as soon as you spoke. “We forgot to say trick or treat!”

“Oh,” he said, chuckling a little. “We can do it at the next house.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” you teased.

Spencer followed your lead as you brought him to the houses with lights on, ringing bells and saying trick or treat with a smile on your face. He matched your enthusiasm without difficulty; you were happy, thus he was happy. Your baskets were getting full and the butterflies in Spencer’s stomach were increasing in population, but his heart dropped when both of your phones buzzed. Work. Of course.

You must have noticed that Spencer was disappointed, because you turned to face him, taking his hands in yours. “It’s okay, we got a good amount of candy,” you said. “And I had a good time. Did you?”

“I always have a good time when I’m with you,” Spencer replied without thinking. Your eyes widened and he tried to backtrack, his mind blanking when he most needed it to work. “I- I just mean that you make me happy. Or, um… I like spending time with you? I- I mean, I-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, pulling away before he could react. “Sorry, I just- I was getting a vibe and I’m sorry if I was misreading things, but-”

This time, Spencer cut you off, cradling your face with his hands and trying to convey just how much love he felt for you in this one kiss. It seemed he had succeeded, because when he pulled away, you were grinning, and you didn’t stop even as the two of you made your way to the jet.

🍬🍬🍬

“Pretty Boy!” Derek called, letting out a whoop as you and Spencer boarded the plane. “Finally getting some?”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and you laughed, handing him a makeup wipe and gesturing to his mouth. His eyes widened as he realized that his lipstick must have gotten smudged, and he wiped it off as quickly as he could.

“I um… I didn’t get a chance to change out of my costume,” he told Hotch as he sat down, but Hotch just smiled at him. Actually smiled.

“I know you don’t want to be working right now, but the local police department in Bentonville, Arkansas called us in on a serial murder,” Hotch began, reading over the file with the team.

When he finished, you looked at Spencer, emptying your basket of candy onto the small table. He followed your lead and looked at you for further instruction. “We didn’t get to trade our candy,” you said, and he smiled.

You explained that the goal of trading candy was that both of you end up with the candies you like. Spencer didn’t mind giving up good candy for bad candy as long as you were happy with the trade. He found himself more often giving you the trades you wanted than initiating trades that benefited him, but he did take all your gummies so you wouldn’t get too suspicious of his motivation. When both of you were happy with your piles, you held out a hand, and Spencer placed his in yours, not quite knowing if it was what you were looking for.

“Will you be my princess?” you whispered, the corners of your mouth lifting as you held back a smile.

“I’d love to.”

Taglist: @reidslibrarybook @reidsbookclub @averyhotchner @spencerreidat3am @measure-in-pain

Masterlist

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hopelesslystuc · 3 years

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Be Lonely With Me

RCH 3K Celebration

Based on the song “This Side of Paradise” by Coyote Theory

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUfem!Reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort (fluffy ending)

TW: cursing, Reader is kind of emotionally abusive to herself, mentions of Maeve’s death (spoiler alerts for that)

Hello again! I was so excited to get to use this song - I think this is the ultimate Spencer Reid song and I was so excited to write it. This is based a bit on my own experience with attempting online dating. I absolutely hate online dating and the few times I’ve tried it, I’ve just always fallen back into feeling even lonelier and emptier and more depressed than before. It’s the one trait about myself that I think is really old-fashioned (I say that and I already know that @homoose could immediately list several more old-fashioned qualities), but I dream of meeting someone, becoming their friend, and then falling in love with them, and I think that’s how Spencer Reid would feel in the current dating culture. If anything, this is basically of diary entry story of me working out my feelings around modern dating culture. Thank you to the anon that sent this request - I hope you like it and it’s not too intense! xx

Ask me why my heart’s inside my throat I’ve never been in love, I’ve been alone Feel like I’ve been living life asleep Love so strong it makes me feel so weak

482 days, 16 hours, and 32 minutes.

That’s how long Spencer’s heart had, he believed, sat dormant inside his chest. Watching the first love of your life - a girlfriend you’d never gotten to see, let alone meet - could do that to a person.

At first, once the grief had settled, he hadn’t really minded the dormancy. It had a numbing, almost comforting quality. It allowed him to exist in a reality where caring as much as he once had wasn’t required. It was almost nice. Almost.

But there was something lacking, something that couldn’t be ignored…a loneliness. An odd loneliness, at that. Like a loneliness within himself. He felt resigned to it, as though it could never be fixed.

And then you’d appeared. You’d joined the team, fresh from a well-received stint in the FBI’s counter-terrorism unit. It almost felt cosmic, like a twist of fate to meet you rather than some banal bureaucratic shuffling. It couldn’t be only that. Because your presence in Spencer’s life was so much more than that, so much more monumental.

Keep reading

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hopelesslystuc · 3 years

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bath time, spencer reid x fem!reader blurb

“taking a bubble bath with spencer and he holds me the whole time like very romantic” – thanks for the request @matthewgraygublerwife , I hope you like it!!

wc: 968 ; tw: vague case trauma, no specifics, bathing together/allusions to nudity

blurb masterlist, or request a blurb here!

The case had been brutal to say the least. Two draining weeks in the swampy wetlands of the south had taken their toll on everyone, but Spencer could sense the way the case had shattered your heart. With a new victim day after day and no answers in sight, Spencer could see the dark circles grow under your eyes, he could see the tension you carried in your shoulders, and he felt you tossing and turning in the night in the hotel room bed Hotch let you share.

He felt the way you tensed at every touch, even from him, and felt the trembles and shakes of your body while holding your hand. The whole team was running on police station coffee and adrenaline, but by the end, the case had worn you down to the bone. He hoped you would sleep on the jet ride home, but your head laid stiff on his shoulder and your breathing was erratic and shallow, like you were on the verge of tears you wouldn’t let fall. He decided not to sleep either, hating the idea of leaving you alone in any sense, so on the flight back, he sat alone with you in the dark and silence of the night, hoping that you could feel the way his heart pained for yours, and hoping that you didn’t feel alone.

When the door shut behind the two of you, the dam broke and your body shook with sobs. Despite your eyes pressed shut and flooded with days worth of tears, you found your way to him, clinging onto his chest and inhaling his scent as if you thought he would evaporate at any moment.

“Oh sweetheart,” Spencer cooed, holding you just as closely in his arms, “I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t respond, you just gripped his tighter and be begun to sway the two of you back and forth in the foyer of your apartment. “Let it out, sweetheart. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He rocked you back and forth slowly and soon enough, your body calmed from his touch. Sometimes it scared you, the power he had to sooth your heart and your mind with a single touch. Harkening back to the advice Spencer always gave you during these times, you focused on the things you could feel. 1, the pools of warm tears on his shirt where your eyes must have been; 2, his arms wrapped tightly down your back and around your waist; 3, his stray curls across your face, adorning your cheeks like vines; 4, his warm breath on your neck; 5, his heart beating in time with yours where you were pressed chest to chest. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but to feel lucky.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice as tired as your body. “Thank you everything.”

“There’s no need,” he whispered back, kissing your cheek. “I’m happy to always help you feel better.”

“You always do,” you kiss the part of his neck where your face is nestled and it makes him laugh lightly. “Can we take a bath?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he leads you by your hands to your bathroom where he sits you on top of the toilet and himself on the edge of the bath while he runs it, adding your favorite bubbles, scents, and things. The floral scents and steam release the tension in your face almost as much as his kisses do as he helps you slowly undress. There’s nothing sexual about it, but you do like to look at him as he climbs into the tub, pulling you into behind him and nestling you between his lanky legs. His arms, warm from the water, wrap around you and you lay your head back on his chest, inhaling deeply and feeling a sense of steadiness you haven’t in weeks.

There’s no needs for words between the two of you, you share a closeness you had once only been able to dream of. You arms come to find his and you intertwined your fingers with his as he lets out a soft hum.

“Is there anything else you need?” He asks quietly, kissing the side of your head. “I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

“I just feel like it takes a piece of me everytime. And what if I run out of pieces to give?”

He’s quiet. You know he has the same worries about himself. “I don’t know,” he replies solemnly. “But if you ever want to walk away from it, I’m with you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either. I’m just tired,” you reply and he hums, kissing your cheek again before turning you around to find your lips with his own. You warm hands cup his face, his beautiful face, and the sight of him makes you smile again for the first time in days. Looking into his eyes, you still do not know what the future holds or what is best plan is for going ahead. You don’t know who you would be without the job, or what you would do without it. You don’t know when the two of you might get called up on a whirlwinds case again, and you don’t know how long you’ll have to rest and be together. You don’t know if this life is ever enough to give you peace, or allow you to be the peace that Spencer deserves. However, when his lips find yours again and again and his hands feel like healing magic on your skin, there’s one thing you do know.

“I love you,” you whisper simply, and it’s enough.

“I love you too,” he replies sweetly. “I’ll always be here, I promise.” He means it, and so do you. That’s something to count on.

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hopelesslystuc · 3 years

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Summary: Spencer and Reader welcome a new addition to their family

Author's Note: Cat Daddy Spencer ™️ is my type in men & this is (hopefully) going get me out of my writing funk :) and loosely inspired by this ask/tik tok with @reidslibrarybook

Word Count: 1.4K

Spencer's arms rest over your waist, pulling you in close. His chest rises and falls steadily in time with the rain just outside the window. He wears a very old college shirt that rode up in the middle of the night so his soft skin peaks through. The apartment is so quiet, with only the soft sounds of his snoring and the honking cars below. Spencer looks peaceful and relaxed as he rests. His slightly curly hair is spread out on his pillow case, begging to be touched.

"You're staring," Spencer whispers, his groggy voice pulling your lips into a smile.

"Is it staring or is it admiring?" you say, straining your head to kiss his cheek. He smiles as you kiss him on his flushed cheeks.

"Stalking is more like it," he teases, catching your hand and bringing it up to his lips. He kisses your knuckles as he holds your hand in his gently, "But I'm not gonna pretend like I don't watch you sleep either," he jokes.

Mornings like this, when you both don't have work or other commitments have slowly become your favorite. Spencer's warm skin welcomes your as you sneak your hands up his shirt. He smiles at the intrusion, enjoying the feel of your hands against his torso.

"What do you want to do today?" Spencer asks, whispering into your ear, despite the not being a need to whisper. It's only the two of you in the bedroom, "It's finally a cool fall day,"

"We can take a walk downtown?" You suggest, "Go to that used bookstore you like, maybe get some coffee and croissants,"

"Sounds like a plan," Spencer says, sliding his hands up and downing your back as he kisses your forehead. Resting on his chest, this beating heart threatens to lull you back to sleep.

"Maybe another hour or two of sleeping, please," you debate, knowing that he'll never deny late morning naps.

"Of course," Spencer says, turning over so he faces you. His legs are intertwined in yours and his arms lay over your upper half, keeping you grounded to the bed, and safe in his arms.

***

The autumn leaves fall perfectly into the street, even though the colors are varying degrees of gray-brown, reds, yellows, oranges.

"You know," Spencer says, "If we really wanted to see bright colored leaves, we'd have to go to Upstate New York. Peak time for the most pleasing autumn foliage is usually from late September to the third week in October,"

"What about our area?" You asks, holding Spencer's hand as you walk through the cobblestone streets. Your hands swing as you walk, trying to keep up with his long strides, "All our leaves seem to be this gray-brown color,"

"Pollution can cause leaves to bleach or to turn brown prior to the traditional peak foliage date," Spencer says, stopping as you approach a window that catches your eye, "But historically speaking, peak foliage in the DMV area is around the second week of October to the first week of November —"

You hate doing that to Spencer, but sometimes there are just more important things that catch your attention. Important things like an entire litter of Calico kittens that are just begging to be adopted. Spencer, noticing that you stopped paying attention to him, stops talking to join you at the window.

"Y/N—"

"Spencer," you say, cutting him off as you look at him with a look not unlike a begging puppy, "Come on, you know how much I love cats. And look how sweet they are. Please, Spencer?" you beg, hoping to convince him to allow a kitten into your shared apartment.

"I've never had a kitten," Spencer starts, "I don't know the first thing about taking care of cats," he fights, trying to come up with an argument, but knowing that it's futile.

"Let's just look, Goose," you say, knowing well that Spencer melts every time you use that particular nickname, "Maybe I'll let you name the kitty?"

"Fine, but only if we can name him Spock," Spencer argues, following you into the shelter.

The noise of meowing and scratching at cages fills your eyes. Spencer hangs back behind you as you talk to the woman at the counter.

"Hi," you say, beaming at the thought of taking home a little kitten, "We're looking to adopt a cat today, any of them, really," you tell her, feeling excited.

"We've gotten a lot of kittens," the woman says, walking out from behind the counter, "but we have an senior cat, Marigold, who's really needing a home," she says, pointing at the pen holding an elderly cat with peppery gray fur. Her blue eyes look up at you, begging you to scoop her up and take her home. With one glance at Spencer, you see him playing with a toy and a very energetic orange kitten.

"I'll take her," you tell Sherry, the woman. She smiles, glad that someone is finally able to give her a good life.

"Here," she tells you, opening up the pen and picking Marigold and putting her in your arms, "I'll draw up your paperwork and let you to get acquainted,"

"Hey Marigold," you whisper, petting her soft fur behind her ear, "Let's go meet your daddy,"

You walk over to Spencer, who's crouched down on the floor, playing with a very small kitten that jumps to reach his fingers.

"Spencer," you say, voice full of trepidation as you approach this conversation, "I, uh. Well, this is Marigold and we're adopting her. She's 13 years old and needs a good home," you say, hoping to seal the deal with Spencer, "She's so sweet, Goose,"

He looks up at you, with a sheepish look on his face and a mysterious smirk that you can't read.

"Joules is really sweet to," Spencer whispers, "I think she needs a good home too. And orange kittens are so cute,"

"Joules," you repeat, "I didn't think they named the kittens this young," you ask, smiling as Marigold purrs in your arms.

"I named her," Spencer explains, "She has so much energy so I thought that Joules would be fitting," he tells you, looking up at you as the orange kitten attacks the feather toy he holds.

"So two cats?" you asks, smiling as Spencer stands up, "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist them,"

"It's actually you I can't resist," Spencer says, kissing you on the cheek and blushing as Sherry returns to with two sets of paperwork, "But Joules is really cute too,"

Ten minutes later, you and Spencer walk out the shelter with two cats, four cat beds, four bowls, and countless amounts of cat toys.

***

Mornings, now that your household has been doubled, are a little different. As it turns out, the cats' favorite person is Spencer. And you have to agree. Marigold is spread out by your feet, snoozing in the sunlight. Joules, who from the moment that Spencer held her, has been attached at his hip. She sleeps contently on his chest, purring when Spencer's hands pet her. She'll usually nuzzle in his neck, seeking the warmth of his body heat.

Laying flat on his back, Spencer's other hand wraps around your shoulders keeping you close. Despite Joules' energy, she's quiet the sleeper, something that Marigold enjoys.

"I'm thinking about taking a week off," Spencer says, talking low as to not wake up the cats, "Maybe we can get an AirBnB to Upsate New York for the New Year, just the two of us," he says, placing a kiss on your temple.

"A whole week," you say, not getting ahead of yourself, "What if we get a place where all four of us can go,"

"Sounds like a plan," Spencer says, scooting in closer and closing his eyes, feeling at peace with the two cats and you by his side.

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