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hotchnerobsessed · 1 year

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Expect The Unexpected - Part 1

@kihli this one is for you ♥️

Sarah x Reid + Fem!Reader x Hotch | When your best friend meets a cute guy at the book store, you accompany her to one of his work get-togethers and his boss sparks your interest.

Warnings: 🤭 SO MUCH FLUFF!

Word Count: 8149

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

I don’t usually write stories for Reid, so here’s a little explanation! This is meant to take place in the mid-seasons, approximately 6-8.

**********

It was a typical winter evening in November, the wind whipping up bursts of snow making it next to impossible to see 2 feet in front of you. “Why am I going out in this?” Sarah huffed to herself. She already knew the answer; as much as it meant trekking through the bitter cold, it beat sitting at home alone while you were away visiting family.

You two had moved to Virginia together a few short months earlier, feeling the pull to make a drastic change in your late 20’s and early 30’s. The beautiful hiking trails, the vast job opportunities, the historical value it held, and not to mention the fantastic local food, is what drew you to choose Washington to call home.

Visiting home was something you two always tried your best to do together, but things just hadn’t worked out that way this time. Between work schedules, and family plans, your holiday trips home would have to be made separately this year. You’d felt guilty for deviating from the norm, and leaving without her, but Sarah had been more than understanding, insisting you take the opportunity to travel home while you could.

Aimlessly wandering the aisles of her new favourite book store, Sarah found herself scanning the shelves under large letters that indicated HISTORICAL FICTION. Her fingertips trailed across the spines of the books, skimming the titles hoping something might catch her attention. As luck would have it, something would, but it wasn’t any specific arrangement of letters scrawled across paper.

Always the girl to be hyper-aware of her surroundings, the addition of another person to the previously empty aisle she was standing in caused her to glance over. She felt her breath catch in her chest as she took in the side profile of a young man standing only a few feet away. It only took him a matter of seconds to scan the shelves, pull a book out, and begin skimming the first page.

She hadn’t realized she’d been staring, unable to pull her gaze away from his boyish features. He quickly looked up at her, a soft smile creasing the corners of his mouth, before turning his attention back to the book in hand.

In an attempt to pretend like nothing had happened, and move past any potential awkwardness, Sarah simply reached for the last book her fingertips had made contact with and pulled it off the shelf. Tucking it under her arm momentarily, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and typed out a quick message before focusing back on the book.

A few hundred miles away, you felt your phone buzz on the couch next to you. Picking it up, you saw Sarah’s name on your screen, accompanied by a frantic message.

📲 Cute boy at the bookstore just smiled at me. It was probably just a courtesy smile (I promise I wasn’t staring), but I’d put my money on he felt a deep connection, and we’re going to get married one day.

Giggling softly, you shook your head lovingly as you typed out a response.

Back at the store, Sarah’s eyes trailed across the cover of the book she’d just picked up; War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy. It was one she’d heard talked about, but had never found the time to read herself. Just as she was about to open the front cover and read the synopsis, she felt her phone buzz.

📲 I can hear the wedding bells from here! Ask him for a book recommendation 😉

Letting out a soft laugh, Sarah was about to type out a response of her own when she heard a soft voice beside her, “War and Peace is always the first book of Tolstoy’s to get recognition but I think the true artistry lies in The Prisoner of the Caucasus.”

Not even bothering to open the message and reply, she simply slid her phone back into her pocket as she glanced up at him. She was completely captivated by the warmth in his eyes and the cheeky smile on his face, and before she’d had a chance to respond, he was adding, “Did you know his real name is actually Count Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy?”

Shaking her head, she finally spoke, “oh! No, I didn’t. That’s kind of cool! I love fun facts like that.”

His face lit up; his head was full of fun facts.

As he continued to explain how the Russian author had settled on the name Leo and began his writing career, Sarah listened intently, taking it all in. She was utterly fascinated, not only by the wealth of knowledge, but by the excitement in his voice as he spoke. He was clearly passionate, and she understood that feeling of desperately wanting to share the things that brought her joy with the people closest to her.

“And what are you reading?” she inquired, motioning towards the book in his hands. As he turned the cover of the book slightly so she could see it, he was about to go into detail about the first 20 pages he’d already skimmed, but she cut his train of thought short, “WAIT. Have you already read THAT much?!” Her eyes were trained on how far into the book his finger was holding his place.

The blush that crept onto his face was clear as day, as he mumbled, “oh, yeah I uh, I can read 20,000 words per minute.”

Sarah’s mouth dropped open, “wow! That’s, umm, that’s really impressive!” He blushed yet again, that smile of his growing even wider, and her heart swelled at the breathtaking sight. “So are you some kind of genius, or what?” she asked playfully, a smile plastered across her face as well.

“Well,” he hesitated slightly, not from embarrassment, but from the nerves he felt welling in his chest any time he looked at her, “I do have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, so I’d say that’s an accurate assessment.”

Almost unable to contain the thrill she felt while talking to him, she just had to know his name. “I’m Sarah.” Her voice was quiet but firm, confidence rushing through her veins after the brief interaction.

“Spencer.” His voice was just as smooth and confident, even through the flustered smile on his face.

“Well Spencer, it’s nice to meet you.” The blush in her cheeks matched the one that consumed his at the sound of his name falling off her lips.

Logic told her she should be wary of him. The sad reality of meeting new people, especially men, was that their intentions were never clear. But with him, something just felt right. Like they’d known each other for ages. Like she could sit down with him and talk for hours on end. Like no harm could possibly come her way if he was around.

“Likewise.. Sarah..” He involuntarily hesitated when saying her name, his voice catching in his throat as fireworks lit up every corner of his mind.

She giggled softly, half from the butterflies that came to life in her stomach, and half from the flustered smile on his face.

It wasn’t long before she recalled the message from you, and the fact that he’d mentioned another book earlier. If only she’d actually been paying attention, instead of getting lost in his eyes. Now was her opportunity, and she couldn’t pass it up. “I’m sorry, but the, the other book,” she mumbled, “by Tolstoy, that you said you’d recommend over this one?” She lifted her hand, War and Peace still in her grasp.

“Oh! Yes!” He was clearly excited that she’d taken an interest in his opinion, and was eager to tell her more about it. Stepping closer to her, she couldn’t help but take note of the fact that he smelled amazing. And she couldn’t help but stare as his long fingers trailed across the spines of the books in front of her, the same way they had when he was picking out his own book. “Here!” With an excited smile, he pulled the book off the shelf and handed it to her.

Thanking him, she replaced the book she’d picked up earlier, and grasped the new one in her hands. Turning it over to the back, she skimming the synopsis. The story, based on the Russian author’s own experiences, was about two soldiers held prisoner by their enemy. Breathing deep, she looked up at him, “sounds intense.”

Spencer nodded, “it is. But the historical accuracy, based on the fact that Tolstoy was writing about his own trials and tribulations, makes it an intriguing read.”

She couldn’t get enough. Of his enthusiasm. Of his smile. Of his warmth. Now would be the natural time in a conversation with a stranger to thank them and bid each other farewell. But the thrill in her chest just wouldn’t allow her to move past it. With what she felt was bravery that could rival a gladiator preparing for battle, she spoke without a second thought, “I’d love to hear more about it, if you’d, maybe, want to join me for coffee?” She gazed over his shoulder in the direction of the small café in the front corner of the bookstore.

The true cause of the expression on his face was hard to read at first, as his mouth dropped open slightly and his eyebrows raised. She worried that she’d been a little too forward, and was trying to prepare herself for the conversation to come to an end.

Meanwhile, Spencer felt like his mind was short-circuiting, because it was so rare to find a person who didn’t try to stop his ramblings. Never mind a beautiful girl who enjoyed hearing him talk so much that she was voluntarily asking him to continue talking.

Just as Sarah was about to speak up, the slight shake in her head a dead giveaway that she was unsure of her request, Spencer broke the silence. “Would I ever! That would be great!” Glancing back up at him, the huge smile spread across his face was infectious, and soon they were walking side by side through the bookstore.

“So,” he inquired, “you didn’t have anywhere better to be on a Friday night?”

Giggling, she teased playfully, “I could ask you the same thing!”

Smiling bashfully, he glanced down at her, “you’ve got me there.”

Deciding he deserved a proper answer, she continued, “but no, not tonight. My best friend is back home visiting family for the holidays. The two of us love spending hours just wandering through bookstores, so I found my way here. I think it makes me feel a little closer to her.”

His warm smile tugged at her heart, “yeah, I get that. I don’t get to see my mom as often as I’d like to, so I’m always looking for things to keep her near me.”

The way his voice trembled slightly told her it was a touchy subject, so she simply nodded in understanding, not wanting to pry and ask for details. That was a conversation for another time, if there was ever going to be another time, and she hoped desperately that there would be.

After ordering their drinks, they made their way to the cozy seating area and chose a table for two. As they sat down across from each other, she couldn’t help but note the ease she felt with him. Any other day, talking to new people made her a little anxious, but there was an air of certainty around him that just made her feel safe.

She would come to find out later that he was thinking the exact same thing in that moment. Not one who usually put himself out there in social situations, there was just something about her, the warmth in her smile, and the comfort he felt in talking to her, that made him want to open up.

Diving straight into the book, he explained everything from Tolstoy’s childhood, to the history of the location where he was held hostage. Through it all she sat and listened intently, even chiming in every once in a while with her own tidbits of knowledge, and asking questions for him to expand on.

It didn’t take long for their conversation to shift to work and personal life. She found out that he worked for the FBI, in their Behavioural Analysis Unit, and that his title was Dr. Spencer Reid. Something about how official that sounded had her mind reeling. It also explained the comfort she felt around him; he made his living helping people, and protecting them from harm.

She filled him in on how it had only been a few months since you two had moved to the city, and how you hadn’t met many new people yet. His face lit up, “I don’t mean to be.. too forward.. but one of my coworkers is hosting a Thanksgiving get-together, and I think it’d be great if you would go. It’d be a good place to get to know more people. My team is amazing.”

Her initial excitement soon turned to hesitation for a couple reasons. She was unsure about meeting a large group of new people, in a new city, without you by her side. But she was grateful enough as it was that he had even asked, that she didn’t want to suggest bringing a plus one and overstepping his invite.

The delay in her response made it clear she was hesitant, and it didn’t take much for Spencer to figure out what the cause was. Speaking up once more, he extended the offer to you as well, “if your friend will be home by then, she’d be more than welcome to join, too!”

Her eyes smiled back at him, clearly surprised at how easily he’d been able to figure out exactly what she was thinking. “Profiler.. right.” she reminded herself; that was going to take some getting used to. “Okay!” She accepted the offer eagerly, “thank you so much, Spencer.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he cooed, that blush spreading across his face yet again.

They sat there and talked for well over an hour, until the speakers throughout the bookstore informed them that it would be closing in a short 10 minutes. Looking back at each other, Sarah was the one to take the first step, “let me give you my number. You can give me more details about that supper.”

Nodding his head excitedly, Spencer pulled out a small notepad and pen from his bag, and slid them across the table. It wasn’t what she’d expected, but the giddy feeling that gripped her chest made her feel like she was on cloud nine. How could anyone be so pure, so innocent, so genuine?

Picking up the pen, she scrawled her name and number across one of the pages, before sliding it back to him. As he glanced down, Spencer smiled wide at the tiny heart she’d added beside her name.

Standing from the table, they slowly made their way to the front doors, as Spencer offered, “can I walk you to your vehicle?”

Laughing softly, she admitted, “oh no, I walked here.” The surprise on his face made her laugh, as he looked from her, out to the still blizzarding weather, then back at her again. “A little snow never hurt no one,” she teased.

Shaking his head, a soft smile finally pulled at his lips at her joke, but he insisted, “well, then let me give you a ride home? I’d feel much better knowing you got home safe.” Not one who typically drove either, rather he avoided it when he could, something inside him earlier had told him that he should drive tonight. He’d never been so thankful for this stormy weather in his life.

Her eyes locked with his, a thrill running through her as they simply gazed at each other for what felt like an eternity. “Okay,” she finally agreed, her voice soft.

“Okay,” he repeated, equally as flustered.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

That night, after Spencer had dropped Sarah off at home, you two had spent an hour or more on a video call discussing everything that had happened. The thrill in your chest knowing your best friend had not only met a cute guy, but things had easily clicked, had your mind racing; you couldn’t contain the joy you felt for her.

“Yes!!” she squealed excitedly, “I could hardly believe it myself!! But he wants me, US, to go!!”

“The second I get home we’re planning our outfits,” you admitted.

“Oh don’t you worry, I’ve already got ideas. SO many ideas. It’s going to be difficult to pick just one,” she joked.

You laughed, “why does that not surprise me?"

Time flew by, and before you knew it you were back home and at your apartment, wrapping Sarah in a big hug. “I missed you!”

She squeezed you even tighter, “I missed you, too!”

As you filled her in on your eventful thanksgiving with your family, you both dug through your closets in an attempt to piece together outfits to impress. Sarah wanted something to catch Spencer’s eye, draw him in even more than she already had. And you just wanted something that you felt comfortable in; no ulterior motives in mind, but simply wanting to feel good in your body.

The couple outfit choices Sarah’d had in mind weren’t quite working out the way she’d envisioned, so you chimed in with a suggestion of, “maybe we’ll have better luck at the mall?”

She smiled wide at that, and in a matter of minutes you were browsing the aisles of the various stores. Each of you had a few options thrown over your arms and were making your way towards the change rooms when Sarah saw it; it was a simple dress really, the spaghetti straps sewn into the shimmery silver material that glittered beautifully under the display lights. Typically you’d have thought that dress might be too formal for a thanksgiving dinner, but Spencer had informed Sarah that it was semi-formal attire, and the home it was being hosted at was “a mansion.”

“A mansion?!” You could remember being shocked by that detail of the invite. That’s what ultimately lead you both to the mall, rather than choosing something you already owned; nothing felt right for that setting.

“Ooo you definitely have to try that on!” you encouraged.

She didn’t need to be asked twice, flipping through to find her size and adding it to her pile. Too excited to wait, it was the first thing she tried on, and the second she stepped out of the change room, your jaw dropped to the floor. “YES. That’s the one!!”

“You think so?” You could tell she was a little uncertain, the dress was tighter than ones she typically wore, and barely reached her knees. She wasn’t sure if it was too much.

Nodding your head profusely, you repeated, “yes! Absolutely.” With your hands on either side of her arms, you stepped behind her to look at her in the mirror, “you look stunning! Spencer won’t know what hit him.”

That finally got a smile out of her, and she nodded her head in shy agreement. “Okay.. Now it’s your turn!”

You laughed softly before slipping into a change room of your own. You went through a couple different combinations of the things you’d picked out until you found the perfect set. “I think this might be it,” you stated, somewhat nervously, as you stepped out from behind the curtain.

Sarah’s face lit up as she took in the way the maroon bodysuit-style top, patterned with subtle lacy flowers, was complimented perfectly by the high-waisted black pants. “1000% YES. It’s totally you!!”

Turning slightly, you glanced in that same mirror and couldn’t help the pride you felt at how you looked. You’d never been the kind of girl who got excited dressing up and going out somewhere, but something about this felt different. You felt hopeful, like maybe if you put yourself out there, especially knowing you’d have your best friend by your side, things might finally start looking up.

“Besides,” she added cheekily, “Spencer can’t be the only cutie the FBI employs. Maybe stepping out of your comfort zone will catch the attention of one of his friends.” She nudged your arm slightly, causing heat to rise in your face, and hope to swell in your chest.

Making your way to the front of the store, new outfits in hand, you made your purchases and walked arm-in-arm back to your vehicle. The excitement both of you felt at getting all dolled up and going for a fancy dinner was overwhelming, and you both willed time to move faster.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Before you knew it, the day had arrived. It was a brisk, but sunny day, and neither of you could contain your excitement. As luck would have it, you’d both had the opportunity to leave your jobs early, so you took full advantage of it, racing home to get ready.

After helping each other with the final touches on your outfits, assisting with the taming of a stray hair, or straightening out of eyeliner, or choosing between two sets of jewelry, you were finally ready to take on the evening. Glancing at yourselves in the mirror once more, you couldn’t help the smiles that creased your eyes, confidence rushing through your veins. You felt like no matter what, you could take on the world, as long as you had each other.

Pulling up in front of the address Spencer had sent to Sarah, both of your eyes grew wide, and as you looked at each other, laughter erupted inside the vehicle. You couldn’t believe just how gorgeous the house was.

“And suddenly I feel very under-dressed,” you teased, watching a couple walking hand-in-hand up to the front door, dressed to the nines.

“Hey, we look hot, okay?” she encouraged.

Nodding your head, you smiled, “you’re right.”

With that, you both hooked your arms in each others like you always did, and made your way up the front steps, and through the massive doors of the stunning home. You’d been told to just let yourself in, and as you stepped into the large entry way, you both looked around in awe, your arms dropping to your sides. Glancing at each other, you couldn’t hide the smiles that spread across your faces.

While you were busy taking in your breathtaking surroundings, you were completely oblivious to the fact that you’d caught the attention of a man in the next room. His dark hair was styled simply, pushed back from his face with a small amount of styling gel and his fingers. The button up shirt he’d tucked into his dress pants hugged his chest flawlessly, and the tie that hung around his neck pulled everything together.

Aaron hadn’t been invested in the conversation happening around him, as his eyes travelled across the room. That’s when you’d walked in, and immediately captivated him. The wonder and awe on your face brought a smile to his, and he couldn’t quite pull his eyes away from you. The way your hair fell across your shoulders, the way your shirt accentuated your curves, and the way your smile lit up the room.

He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to know your name. But he was unsure of how to approach you. He’d never seen you at any of these gatherings before, and he didn’t think he recognized your friend either. “Who is she? Where did she come from? Where has she been hiding all this time?” These questions plagued his mind; he needed to find a way to introduce himself.

He watched intently as Morgan made his way up to both of you. It didn’t take a profiler to see that he’d never met either of you before, but he was making his interest known. It wasn’t until Spencer made his way through the crowd towards you, his interest in your friend clear as day, that Aaron knew he’d found his way in.

Across the room, you and Sarah stood side by side, as a handsome man with a flashy smile walked up beside you. “Well hello ladies! I don’t think we’ve met. I know I would remember those beautiful faces.”

You were almost flattered, but you could both tell by the bravado in his voice, and the confidence in his words, that he’d probably used that exact line on other girls who’d arrived before you, and you were sure you wouldn’t be the last.

“I don’t think we have, no,” Sarah was the first to respond, reaching her hand out. “I’m Sarah.”

You extended your hand in greeting, “and I’m Y/N.”

Shaking both of your hands, he asked, “so what brings you here this evening?”

Before either of you could answer, Spencer appeared and Sarah’s eyes locked with his. “Sarah! I’m so glad you made it!” There was no ignoring the smile that spread like wildfire across her face at his greeting.

The excitement in his voice made your heart swell. Sarah had told you all about him, but actually seeing him in person, hearing how he spoke to her, and seeing the way he looked at her, solidified your approval of him.

Morgan snapped his head in Reid’s direction, eyes wide; of all the reasons he expected you two to be there, Spencer was nowhere near the top of that list. But it didn’t take long for the shock on his face to shift to one of pride. “Play on, player,” he teased, slapping his hand against Spencer’s shoulder. “Sarah, it’s been lovely meeting you.” He shook her hand once more. “And Y/N, maybe I’ll see you around later,” he added with a wink.

As Morgan stepped away, Spencer’s face was scrunched up with embarrassment, “I’m sorry about him.”

You both laughed, “he seems harmless,” Sarah admitted.

“That’s a level of confidence I wish I had,” you teased, causing both of them to laugh along with you. “You must be Spencer,” you turned your focus back to him, before adding cheekily, “Sarah has told me a lot about you.” Glancing over at her quickly, you noticed the slight blush in her cheeks.

You saw the way his eyes focused on her, a soft pink rising in his cheeks as well, before taking in the stunning dress she had on. He finally looked back up at you, “likewise, Y/N.”

You laughed at that, “only the good things I hope.”

Nodding his head enthusiastically, not quite picking up on your joke, he looked back and forth between you frantically, “oh yes! It’s all been good!”

Sarah’s smile grew, his boyish innocence made her feel all giddy inside. Laughing softly, she nudged you with her elbow, “she’s just teasing, you can ignore her.”

The relief on his face was evident, finally understanding it was your attempt at making a playful remark, and not purposefully trying to make things awkward.

“Well then,” Spencer spoke once more, reaching out his arm to Sarah, “let me show you two around, I’ll introduce you to the team.”

Graciously accepting his offer, Sarah tucked her arm under his. As they took a step forward, she turned her head back to look at you momentarily and you shared a knowing look; one that effortlessly conveyed her excitement, and in return showed her how impressed you were with his kind and gentle nature. Smiling at each other one last time, she finally turned her attention back to where he was leading her, and you followed close behind.

It wasn’t long before you’d seen the entire first floor of the house, and most importantly the kitchen, where rows of warming trays were set up, and would soon be filled with delicious catered food. You’d also been introduced to just about everyone on the team. Morgan said hello again, this time with Garcia glued to his side; you could tell she brought so much light to any room she was in. Rossi graciously welcomed you to his home, and Prentiss and JJ immediately made you feel at home in their BAU family.

“The only person I haven’t introduced you to yet is our Unit Chief, Hotch,” Spencer stated as he glanced around the large living room, “he’s got to be around here somewhere, he’s hard to miss.”

You and Sarah began glancing around the room as well, even though neither of you knew exactly who you were looking for. In your efforts, a tall man with dark features caught your eye. The way he smiled as he chatted with the person he was talking to made your breath catch in your chest; he was so handsome. Just as you were about to look away, he glanced over at you, and it was almost as if he knew you were there, as if he’d looked over specifically at you. A flustered smile graced your lips, but you were soon pulled from your daydream by Spencer’s voice, “there he is!”

When you looked back at the two of them, Spencer was completely unaware of the moment you’d just shared with the handsome stranger, but Sarah had seen it all play out. “That was some intense eye contact,” she whispered.

Raising your eyebrows at her in agreement, you both glanced up at Spencer who spoke regretfully, “he looks like he’s busy right now, maybe I can introduce you a bit a later.”

Sarah caught on before you did, so she asked her next question not-so-innocently, in an attempt to nudge you in the right direction. “Which one is he?”

Before Spencer could answer, she glanced from you, to the man you’d just been caught staring at, then back at you. Your eyes grew wide with realization, just as Spencer confirmed, “the tall one with the blue tie, and dark hair.”

“Noted,” was all you could muster.

This time, Spencer caught on to your flustered mannerisms. “Or we could go say hi right now, if you’d like.”

You shook your head in an attempt to brush it off, “oh no, no it’s okay. I’m sure we’ll run into him later.”

Spencer and Sarah glanced at each other knowingly, before agreeing to leave it alone, and for that you were thankful.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

As the evening went on, you mingled some more, meeting new people every few minutes in the large crowd. At one point in time, after the meal had been served and everyone had filled up on the phenomenal food, Sarah and Spencer had made their way to a quiet corner in the back of the house. You’d encouraged it, knowing she was there to get to know him better, and you weren’t about to stand in her way.

Thankfully, you’d bumped into a few now-familiar faces in your travels. Garcia had such a warmth about her, and you immediately felt yourself drawn towards her. She welcomed you with open arms and you found yourself spending most of the evening with her. At one point in time, she’d been talking to Morgan and JJ, when Morgan asked, “has anyone seen the boss man tonight? He’s got to be here somewhere.”

You waited, hoping someone who actually knew him would chime in, but no one did. Your voice was quiet as you spoke, “I.. I think Spencer said he’d seen him in the front room earlier.”

Everyone’s eyes were trained on you, and you immediately felt your face flush. You were sure you hadn’t said too much, after all it was Spencer who had pointed him out, and yet you still felt as if the gaze you’d shared with the handsome man earlier was written across your forehead.

Morgan spoke up again, “ohhh so you’ve met Mr. Large And In Charge have you?”

You were starting to get the sense that he loved saying things just to get a reaction out of people, and judging by the look on everyone’s faces, you were right. Apparently being new to the group didn't mean you were free and clear of his playful remarks.

“Derek..” JJ warned.

“What??” he feigned innocence, “you know he’s single, right?”

“Very subtle,” you thought to yourself, as a flustered laugh escaped, “and why are you telling me this?”

JJ stepped in again, elbowing Morgan in the side as she spoke, “no reason. Derek needs to learn to stop meddling in other people’s personal lives. Especially someone he's JUST met.”

You smiled at her in thanks. You weren’t overly bothered by his teasing, but it was a little awkward when you took into consideration the fact that you hardly knew these people. Not to mention the fact that you hadn’t even officially met him yet. But you decided not to let it bother you. If anything, it made you want to find him and get to know him even more.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Meanwhile, in a quiet corner at the back of the house, Sarah and Spencer had found a spot where they could simply enjoy each other's company. As he'd lead her through the crowd, her arm still tucked under his, he slowly lowered his hand and she followed his lead. In a matter of seconds, their palms were pressed together, fingers intertwined effortlessly.

The seconds their hands connected, Spencer’s mind went blank. Quiet. Calm. The most at peace he’d felt in years. There were no more nagging anxieties. No more fears of being seen for who he truly was. No more worries about whether he was too much, and yet not enough at the same time.

Sarah felt it, too. She immediately knew she’d never feel alone again. She’d no longer have to worry about past what-ifs, because none of them mattered anymore. None of them would ever be able to hold a candle to the safety and security she felt with him.

But was it too soon to feel this way? If you’d asked either of them mere weeks earlier, they would have told you you were crazy. Love at first sight wasn’t real. That was a thing of fairytales and Hollywood movies. Yet here they were, both feeling as if they held the entire world in the palm of their hand, and not being afraid to take that leap.

Standing next to the patio windows, the brilliant moon shining through the sheer curtains, her hand never left his. With their fingers intertwined, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “I’m glad you came tonight.”

Looking up into his kind eyes, a flustered smile pulled at the corner of her lips, as she admitted, “I’m glad you asked.”

Sharing a soft smile, unable to pull their eyes away from each other, time seemed to stand still. Knowing the evening would be coming to an end soon, Spencer knew he couldn’t just let her walk away; he couldn’t stand the thought of pushing his feelings down the way he usually did, risking another man sweeping her off her feet before he built up the nerves to. With his mind clear, he knew what he needed to do.

Gazing back at him, she wasn’t sure if she was afraid her emotions were written across her face too clearly, or if she was afraid it wouldn’t be clear enough. The fact that she felt such a deep pull towards him this soon was terrifying, but it was strangely refreshing. She felt like her mind and body were finally awake, after having hidden herself away from the world, in the bustle of moving to a new place and attempting to get settled.

Uncertain of whether anyone was watching, but uncaring if they were, Spencer slowly lifted his free hand to the side of her face. Gently brushing his knuckles against her cheek, he tucked her hair behind her ear, before gazing down at her parted lips. His eyes lingered momentarily, before he finally looked her in the eyes once again.

The slight nod of her head, combined with the fact that she’d moved her free hand to his waist, fingers grasping the soft material of his cardigan, was all the confirmation he needed. Slowly, patiently, he leaned down, anticipation building with every second that passed. With one final tug on his shirt, he finally connected his lips to hers, tender, and soft.

The first to deepen the kiss, Sarah let go of his hand, wrapping both of her arms around his waist and pulling him close. His hands both found their way to her cheeks, cradling her face gently, as he pressed his lips against hers with even more passion.

Spencer hardly recognized himself, how bold and confident he had been all evening, and now in this moment. She brought out the best in him, made him feel unafraid of being seen or judged; she made him feel alive.

Finally pulling away, not wanting to get too carried away to the point of being unable to stop, he exhaled deep, their lips only inches apart. He placed one more kiss against her lips, then one on the tip of her nose, and one last one against her forehead.

Sarah couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips. As their surroundings slowly faded back in, she gazed up at him through a bashful grin, wondering if anyone had witnessed their exchange, but ultimately being unfazed by the thought.

She spoke softly once more, “I’m really glad you asked..”

That caused a laugh to rumble in Spencer’s chest as well, as they gleefully pulled each other into their warm embrace, his chin resting flawlessly on top of her head.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Across the house, you stood alone not far from the entryway. You’d excused yourself from the conversation earlier, although thankful to be included, you didn’t want to intrude on the bond they all had with each other. You’d made your way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, your mouth was strangely dry after your nerves had got the better of you.

Glass in hand, you took small sips as you made your way towards the back of the house. Your eyes immediately recognized the sparkle of Sarah’s dress through the sea of people, and you couldn’t help but smile as you came to realize you’d caught the tail end of what was surely their first kiss. Your heart swelled as you saw him kiss her nose, then her forehead, before pulling her into his chest.

The joy you felt for your best friend left you with a strange mix of emotions swirling through your mind. You felt guilty for seeing their happiness and secretly yearning for your own. As you stood there alone, heart full of both happiness and longing, you were unaware of the man approaching you.

It was a strong, yet gentle voice that pulled you out of your daydream. “So you’re a friend of Spencer’s?”

Glancing up to the side, you were shocked to find the tall man with dark hair and blue tie standing next to you; the infamous Unit Chief of the FBI’s BAU. You’d needed a second to collect your thoughts, but you responded through a light laugh, “oh, uhm, well technically he invited me, but I don’t really know him that well. The invite was more for my friend.” You spoke as you motioned in their direction.

He nodded his head in understanding, “ahh I see. So how long have you two known each other?”

Smiling softly, you glanced from him back at Sarah and Reid deep in conversation. “It’s been, oh, 12 years now? But it feels like forever. She’s my person.”

A smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he followed your line of sight to where they stood. “It’s pretty clear Spencer sees something in her. She must be a great girl.”

Nodding your head proudly, your smile grew, “she is.” Turning your attention back to him, you inquired, “and him?”

A content sigh hugged Aaron's chest as he spoke, “he’s as genuine as they get. A little quirky, but it’s endearing.”

“I think we’re all a little quirky in our own way,” you added playfully.

Smiling down at you, his eyes scanned your face, and you couldn’t help the feeling that welled up inside you. That same eye contact you'd shared earlier was back, only this time you felt it in your bones, the proximity of your body to his making it hard to deny your attraction to him any longer. You could tell he was thinking the same thing, as his eyes lingered on yours a moment longer before he admitted, “you’ve got a point there.”

You couldn’t help the curiosity you felt towards him. The couple people you’d talked to said he was a great boss, but he was stern, and joked that he didn’t smile. You’d already seen him smile twice within a matter of minutes. Maybe these people just hadn’t taken the time to get to know him outside of work.

“So, Spencer said your name was.. Hotch?” you hesitated, unsure if you’d remembered correctly.

He laughed softly, “Hotchner, that’s my last name. But everyone just calls me Hotch.”

“Ahhh,” you sighed, “makes sense. No one ever calls you by your first name?!”

He could hear the surprise in your voice, but also detected the hint of curiosity in the way your pupils dilated as you asked the question. “Not often, no,” he laughed softly. “Let’s try this introduction again,” he spoke as he reached a hand out to you, “hi, I’m Aaron.”

A flustered grin spread across your face as you grasped his hand in yours. You felt electricity rush through your veins from the point of contact, as it coursed all the way through your body. His warm palm against yours, his fingers wrapped firmly around your hand, and his eyes trained on you, made you weak in the knees.

“Y/N..” you spoke softly, “it’s nice to meet you, Aaron.”

He couldn’t deny the thrill he felt at hearing his name fall off your lips. He was already so far in the deep end there was no use in even trying to swim back to safety. With his eyes locked on yours, he finally let go of your hand as he repeated, "Y/N.." his voice trailing off slightly, "well I hope my team has treated you well this evening."

A comforting feeling washed over you as you recalled the interactions you'd had. Yes, even the ones with Derek. "Everyone has been very welcoming."

"Good, that's good," he stumbled over his words slightly, and you could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he was holding himself back. He wanted to tell you that he thought you were stunning; effortlessly captivating. That he'd noticed you the second you walked through the door. That no one in the room compared to the beauty and grace you radiated.

Just as you were about to speak again, you were interrupted by the addition of two people to your conversation, “I see you’ve finally met Hotch!” Spencer’s voice rang in your ears.

Glancing over, you immediately made eye contact with Sarah, the smile on her face clear as day as she looked from you, up at him, then back at you. Biting your bottom lip to hide a smile of your own, you gave her a look of “not now..” and she rolled her eyes playfully.

The interaction between you wasn’t lost on the two men, as they both shared a knowing glance. That’s when you finally spoke up, “yeah, yes, I’ve officially met your whole team now.” You’d referenced the rest of the team in an attempt to not draw any more attention to the heat rushing through your veins.

“I can’t say the same quite yet,” Sarah added, reaching her hand out to Hotch, “I’m Sarah.”

Shaking her hand graciously, he nodded as he spoke through a smile, “pleasure to meet you.”

You all stood there and talked for what felt like an eternity, with the comfort of people who had known each other for years. You took note of how right it felt to be standing there, just the 4 of you, talking about life. It was all very natural, like fate had brought you together. Younger you would have laughed at such a preposterous thought, but you couldn’t ignore that the gut feeling you’d had in that store a week earlier, the one that told you to put yourself out there, had maybe been right.

As the conversation slowly died down, Sarah finally admitted, “I think we should maybe get going, don’t you think Y/N? I know you have to work early in the morning.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall that you’d been oblivious to until now, you were thankful Sarah had been paying attention. “You’re right, it is getting a bit late.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed that the evening was coming to an end; you’d truly enjoyed meeting new people in a city you were still growing into. You could only hope that this wasn’t the last time you would see everyone, and the way Spencer rested his hand on the small of Sarah’s back as you all made your way towards the door washed those worries away. This was only the beginning.

“Well thank you, Spencer, for inviting us to join you all tonight. We had a wonderful time.” Sarah glanced at you, and you nodded in agreement, before she looked back up at the boyish grin that creased his features.

“Thank you for coming! Both of you!” The excitement in his voice was clear as day.

Smiling at Spencer once more, you finally turned your attention back to Aaron, who had joined in the venture towards the front door. The way he looked at you told you that the connection you’d felt wasn’t one sided, and the thought made your stomach jump into your throat. You found yourself unable to speak, so he did first, “it was great meeting you.”

Your voice was shaky as you responded with a simple, “you too.”

Only a couple feet away, Spencer had both of Sarah’s hands held tight in his grasp, “you have my number. Please let me know when you get home safe.”

A soft, “I will,” was all she could muster.

With one final look shared between them, Spencer brought one of her hands up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss against her knuckles. You and Aaron, who had both caught the tender moment out of the corner of your eyes, smiled wide.

With your final goodbyes being shared, Spencer gave both of you a little wave, before you turned and pushed open one of the large doors, immediately linking your arms together. What neither of you had seen before the door closed, was the look that Spencer and Aaron shared; pride welling in Aaron’s chest at the confidence Spencer was finally showing, and Spencer smiling slyly at the sight of his strong, private, boss all flustered.

“Soooo..” you prompted, “how was the kiss?!”

Sarah blushed immediately, “oh my God, you saw that?!”

You laughed, “you were in the middle of a crowded room! Lots of people saw it.”

Bringing her hand up to cover her face, she let out a tiny shriek of excitement, “I might almost be embarrassed, except it was SO GOOD.”

Grasping her hand that was tucked around your arm, you squeezed it tight, “better than you imagined?”

Groaning dramatically, she admitted, “SO much better.”

You giggled along with her, the excitement you felt for her consuming your mind. “Good!! I’m so happy for you!!”

You’d reached your vehicle by now, and as you both climbed into your seats and you started the engine, Sarah turned to face you. She leaned on the center console eagerly, “and..” she teased, “you and Hotch?” a cheeky grin plastered across her face.

Heat rose in your cheeks as you thought back to the interaction. Swallowing around the tightness in your throat, you informed her, “Aaron..”

“WAIT. You got his first name?!” she squealed.

All you could do was nod, still unsure if you were ready to let yourself dive deep into this new crush.

“I told you,” she added, “the FBI was bound to have a cutie for you, too.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Tag List: @ssamorganhotchner ; @ccristata ; @anlin2058 ; @sannunah28 ; @hotchgirlsummer ; @red-red-rogue ; @chibsytelford ; @hannahufflepuff ; @mrs-ssa-hotch ; @ivyflowers13 ; @rousethemouse ; @emobabeyy

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ladygenius · 1 year

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Crimson Nights & Predators | Part III

Content: in their fairytale surrounding finally, Spencer tells y/n what’s bothering him about the evening

Wordcount: 1300

Category: fluffiest confession fluff🫶🏼

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, bullying, verbal abuse

“By the way”, she clearly had to urge the rest of the mysterious booze down her throat, “Obviously, I’ve been planning to share this exquisite finding with my favorite bookworm anyway”, she darted her eyes back up at him.

“Mr. Braggy and his wingman just offered the first opportunity for a little getaway. Whoops.”

She rolled her eyes before facing one of the huge shelves, clearly with a plan in mind. “Alright. This devil’s stuff better made me forget about my vertigo. Hey, what do you think, Spence? Bet I’m gonna find, say, at least an original Twain or Whitman up there.”

Bravely, she climbed the first few steps of the ladder, a little wobbly on her heels maybe but still as gracefully as ever. That was until she leaned over a little too far and just as she reached for a particularly fancy-looking book the wheel mechanism of the ladder set in, catching y/n off guard.

This time, it really was her frightened squeaking as she clung to the shelf and Spencer reacted just in time to stop the ladder before she would have eventually flopped to the ground - ungracefully.

After a moment of shock that lasted longer than it would have with sober brain cells, they both burst out into ringing laughter.

So while Spencer was holding onto the ladder from the start this time as a safety measure, y/n continued her quest for the most ancient-looking copies. He urged himself to look in every direction but ahead of him – y/n’s legs centimeters away from his face - nervous at the sight of their soft skin and perfect shape, he desperately tried to find something to talk about. But it was her voice that made the decision for him.

“Spence.. Can I ask you a question?" his face instinctively tilted upwards, only to shyly dart down again, realizing he didn't want her to think he was trying to get a glimpse up the skirt of her alluring dress. "Do you think I’m being kind of a bitch to Andersson?” The question alone set off an alarm inside him.

“I mean, it’s actually kinda mean… running away from someone like a kid on a playground. But you know, I’ve told him like a gazillion times that I have no interest in going out with him.”

Spencer’s thoughts immediately catapulted him back to the bar. The two men’s degrading comments about y/n and Andersson’s plan to take advantage of her potentially intoxicated self once the evening had come to an end. And yet, here she was feeling sorry for him. It made his heart ache. But fortunately, from where she was standing, she couldn’t see the honest pain plastered on his face.

"Spence, did I say something wrong?" "Oh.. no, y/n. Not at all" She descended carefully, Spencer steadying her with a gentle hand on her back.

"You know.." she hesitated, suddenly their difference in height making her seem so vulnerable and timid again. "I didn't want you to think of me this way but I feared somehow this was reminding you of how you were treated once.. you know, back in high school. I don't want you to think of me as that kind of woman.. you know, leading guys on only to prank them in some demeaning way for everyone to see."

"What, woah, y/n. This isn't even in the slightest comparable. I mean it. Hey, look at me. I would never think of you like that, Okay?" He was incapable of even beginning to explain how far his genuine thoughts about her varied from her assumption.

She nodded doubtfully, her gaze resting on his hand on her shoulder which he immediately pulled back upon noticing.

"It's just.. I feel like you're somehow - angry about something? I don't know. Maybe I'm just reading into it too much but I was afraid we weren't okay.. Cause we are, right?" Her orbs studied him and widened hopefully, as his heart was melting once again at how well she knew him.

"No. You're right.. obviously", he sighed, y/n's chest puffing out anxiously, her brows frowning. "I just can't keep a secret from you, can I?" His timid smile clearly made y/n already feel a little more at ease. "It's those jerks." "What? Andersson and his idiotic wingman? How could simple creatures like them cause brilliant Dr. Reid any trouble?"

"I. I just can't stand how they're treating you.. you know." Y/n seemed baffled for a second. "Oh.. well, yeah, I mean, they're obvious douches and it's annoying Andersson won't ever accept a simple no. But other than staring and asking me to dance he really hasn't done anything I could blame him for. It's sweet of you, though, that you're being different. You actually sense how I'm feeling, you know. You always can."

Her hands settled on the hem of his jacket, where they had already rested earlier this evening, causing nothing but blissful feelings inside him. But now it felt all wrong.

Her eyes searched for his. But he couldn't face her, it hurt too much. Just like he had thought - sooner or later, the fairytale was bound to end.

"Please don't defend them". His lips uttered barely inaudible. "Those pricks sure as hell don't deserve that." Slightly startled by the unlike-him choice of words and the stern sound of his voice, y/n sensed that she must be clueless about the situation.

"What happened, Spence"? She softly tilted up his chin to reveal his hazel eyes meeting hers all blurry.

"They said things about you.. earlier. I overheard them. Disgusting stuff you don't deserve. No one does. I don't even wanna repeat it.. I just can't stand the thought of you being talked about this way y/n. And yet you're the one to worry about treating them fairly. They're nowhere good enough for you anyway. And I know, neither am I, but I would never treat you like that." This last part slipped out unintentionally. And y/n noticed.

It’s over, he thought to himself standing here almost crying, she must think him to be completely embarrassing.

But she just stepped even closer to Spencer, hesitating briefly before decidedly taking his hands inside her own. Finally.

"I know you never would.. That's why I love you." That, too, slipped out somewhat suddenly but not quite as unintentionally. She sensed how loaded this topic was for Spencer, how much she meant to him. She has been suspecting this for a while now, but she was always just too scared to take the leap. And now she couldn't help it. In this perfect location with his protectiveness about her.

His eyes fixated on her own for almost an eternity. Both barely blinked. Whatever happened, it wouldn't be half bad, y/n thought. After all, he finally knew. God, how he deserved to know he was loved like that.

"But.. y/n. Why would you ever, I mean. You're so much more than I am-"

"You are everything to me, Spencer. It doesn't get much bigger than that, I guess. I mean, of course, if you insisted, I could go with the whole universe too.. but the point is, you've always been more than enough because you're you-"

And suddenly it was he who cut y/n short unexpectedly. His lips met hers with the most delicate urgency imaginable. Finally, he could pull her closer without their bodies colliding meaning mere accidental contact.

Her hands around his neck tangled into his soft curls and it still felt like once they let go of each other - it might all be over again. The Fairytale a silly fantasy and reality ready to separate them cruelly.

But as they opened their eyes, everything remained the same. "I love you too, y/n."

Except for the fact that everything was different now.

Spencer's eyes were still blurry from overwhelm, but this time for a better reason as he stared deeply into hers. He cleared his throat, "By the way.. did you end up finding any good first prints up there?" Y/n let out an embarrassed laugh.

"Honest to God.. I don't remember anymore."

~~~~~~~~

What are you doing? Catch up: Part I | Part II

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thatboisus · 3 months

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“english isn’t my first langua—“ say no more.

17K notes · View notes

luveline · 3 months

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𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky.

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely.

Total quiet.

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?”

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?”

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?”

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…”

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?”

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.”

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.”

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh.

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated.

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry.

“Spencer?” you ask quietly.

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?”

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?”

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups.

“Where are you?”

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him.

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.”

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?”

“Where was I?”

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed.

“Still where?”

“Did you hit your head?”

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.”

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk.

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.”

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.”

“…What?”

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.”

“I annoy people.”

“You don’t annoy me.”

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here.

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?”

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection.

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?”

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly.

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?”

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.”

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says.

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room.

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark.

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly.

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!”

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer.

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask.

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again.

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.”

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath.

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers.

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year.

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.”

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.”

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.”

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!”

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity.

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek.

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.”

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly.

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says.

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway.

“I don’t want to be alone forever.”

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates?

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess.

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.”

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol.

“She kind of looked like you.”

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.”

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.”

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Is that why you make all your jokes?”

“What jokes, babe?”

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.”

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?”

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.”

“Spencer, you remember everything.”

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.”

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him.

You’re happy to.

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled.

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse.

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully.

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally.

“Can I come home with you?” he asks.

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.”

— —

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.”

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.”

“So you want three?”

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.”

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time.

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?”

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him.

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory.

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that.

The avocado is making him feel sick.

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?”

“I think I'm gonna throw up.”

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes.

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button.

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.”

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.”

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.”

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now.

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said.

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say.

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again.

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.”

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do.

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask.

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know��️

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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reidiot · 10 months

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don't fucking interrupt me when i'm reading my x reader fics it's rude

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street-smarts00 · 1 month

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Clingy

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WC: 3.7k

Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited.

Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort

A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.

You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you.

After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love.

At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.

Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically.

It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders.

Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope.

You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact.

When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs.

Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm.

He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind.

You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane.

He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk.

“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started.

He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk.

“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”

“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.

“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair.

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it.

“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen.

His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face.

“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.”

“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.”

“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.”

“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked.

Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.”

Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive.

Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.”

“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships.

“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.”

Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.”

Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought.

He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him.

The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings.

Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name.

He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him.

Something about you.

His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to.

Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home.

The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.

Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door.

“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath.

“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.

He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly.

“Oh.”

“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips.

You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled.

“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was.

The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms.

You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head.

He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need.

He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache.

“You feel tired,” he almost whispered.

“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck.

“Do you wanna lie down?”

You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute

“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.”

His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend.

“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile.

You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him.

You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …”

“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers.

You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had.

He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg.

So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm.

He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did.

He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms.

“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice.

“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you.

You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured.

This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold.

“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?”

He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“

“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.”

You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response.

“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze.

He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.

“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.”

You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank.

“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch.

“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were.”

“Y/N please,” he begged.

“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.”

He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it.

“I was freaking out,” he blurted.

“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now.

“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable”

You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good.

“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?”

He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Here we go. Flood gates.

“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ”

“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence.

The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach.

“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”

He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss.

Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning.

He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him.

When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears.

Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.”

The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”

“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased.

“That too,” he chuckles.

After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes.

“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,”

Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.

“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added.

He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”

His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh.

There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours.

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Tag Requests: @nomajdetective

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months

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do you believe me now?

in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)

part two

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!

“You’re so pretty.”

It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues.

“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”

You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong.

His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“…I do.”

It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs.

“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”

The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface.

Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”

Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.

“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”

That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more.

“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”

“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”

Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment.

“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”

“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable.

“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness.

“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”

His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak.

“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”

A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you.

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”

“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”

He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down.

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”

“Sex?”

You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!”

He laughs again, a little less reserved this time.

“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”

“No! Too scary!”

Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder.

“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

“That’s impossible.”

Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.”

His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could.

“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”

The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs.

“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”

When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips.

“I sleep with my eyes open.”

“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”

You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”

“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”

“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”

———————————————

Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade.

Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt.

“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin.

“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.

“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“

“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”

Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh.

“I did not get all weird.”

“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”

He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”

Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles.

“Now you’re getting brave?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders.

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements.

“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg.

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly.

“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”

A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs.

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”

“Is that what happened?” he teases.

“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents.

Almost.

“Slow down.”

He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed.

“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”

His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention.

“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him.

Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm.

“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”

His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him.

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back.

Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”

Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them.

“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again.

“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”

You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—

“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”

Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”

It works for him.

When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good.

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs.

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips.

“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice.

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“S—sometimes.”

He hums contemplatively.

“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”

You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum.

“About what?”

“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn you first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine.

The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.

“You.”

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”

Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.

“Really?”

“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?”

You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”

“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again.

His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you.

A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away.

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet.

“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes.

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it.

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message.

Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky.

“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”

It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort.

Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh.

“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly.

His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile.

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily.

“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”

Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly.

“Then we both did it right.”

“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”

Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”

The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy.

“Because I can’t have you all the time.”

“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids.

He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin.

“You’re shockingly precocious.”

You hum.

“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you.

He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;

I love you

I love you.

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