#spencer reid comfort | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

444rockstargf · 10 hours

Note

Please write anything with Spencer Reid, hopefully fluff that turns into smut. I love your work 🫶🏻🫶🏻

"whip it into a cream." | spencer reid

taco truck x vb. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: sweet, pretty, and filled with white cream...

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden

female!reader x spencer

word count: 2.0k

contents: fluffy, baking cupcakes with spencer, unprotected p in v, creampie, very cringe-worthy joke at the end

“c’mon, spence! we’ll never get to put these in the oven if you eat all the batter.”

you take the spatula out of his grip as he slathers a small helping of red velvet cake batter on his tongue once again. he shakes his head, smiling as he licked the decadent mixture off his lips. “you’re one tough lady.”

you and spencer had made plans to go to the best restaurant in town tonight, but of course a thunderstorm had to hit the streets with raging lightning and roaring thunder. you were bummed, so much that you had gotten back into your pajamas and slumped down onto the couch, letting the evening waste away. but spencer wouldn’t let this storm rain on your parade. so he had come up with the brilliant idea of making your own sweet treat. he truly was a genius.

he got into flannel-print pajama pants that matched your pants, getting both of you into oversized hoodies as he picked you up and set you on the kitchen counter. he kissed you softly on the nose, staring at you intently with his big brown eyes and promising you the night of your life. then you two got straight to business.

you began carefully pouring the deep red batter into the small cupcake tins that each had a white cupcake wrapper inside of it. spencer stood behind you with a hand on your waist as he watched the oven reach the desired internal temperature, giving you a gentle squeeze as a signal. “let’s get these in the oven, baby.” you filled up the last tin, smearing away a stray drop with your thumb and licking off the residue.

you picked up the tray and spun around, handing it to him. he took it and carefully opened the oven, placing the filled tin inside with great care before shutting the oven. he sighed, putting his hands in the large pocket in the center of the hoodie. “and now we wait.” you looked around the kitchen, pouting slightly.

“we should probably start cleaning up this mess, huh?” spencer groaned softly, wrapping both his arms around you and letting his head nestle in the crook of your neck. “never thought i’d live to see the day that you of all people would want to clean.” you swatted him on the chest with a scoff, earning a laugh out of him. “...besides, we haven’t even gotten started on the icing yet.”

you eyes widened with realization. “right, let’s get to that while the cupcakes are in the oven.” spencer nodded, already two steps ahead of you as he dug into the pantry and pulled out all the ingredients in one trip. he set a jar of icing sugar, a stick of butter and a cup of milk on the counter, starting to combine the ingredients into a large bowl as you watched him in action. there was something so enticing about seeing a man in action, or maybe that was just the effect that spencer had always had on you. you were never able to tell.

you propped your elbows on the cold marble, grinning ever so slightly as you watched a sweet, fluffy cream come to life. he lifted up the coated spatula, holding it in front of you. “this look okay to you?” you squinted as you looked at it, frowning as you shook your head. spencer raises an eyebrow. “what’s wrong with it, baby?”

you pointed at something indistinctable in the icing on the spatula. he brought it centimeters away from his face, trying to find whatever could be wrong. then you pushed his hand upward, getting a white, gooey mess all over his nose. you burst into a laughing fit, spencer fighting back the grin that threatened to spread across his unamused expression.

he set the spatula back into his bowl, only managing to get a little of the frosting off his nose. he shook his head as you giggled profusely, taking you into his arms once again and sweeping you into a kiss, his nose rubbing against yours and distributing some icing in the process. he pulled away, gazing down at you through his eyelashes with a cheeky smile on his face. “well, it looks like we’re both iced now.”

you rolled you eyes, grinning as you got a wet cloth and cleaned the mess off of your face, passing it to him to do the same. he sloppily wiped his nose, only smudging the white cream in the process. you groaned, going on your tiptoes to reach his face. “geez, you just made it even worse, spence.” he picked you up by your thighs, setting your bottom on the counter. “why don’t you help me clean it off then..?” you used your thumbs to get the last bit off his face.

he opened his mouth, licking the frosting off your fingers and humming with approval. you smiled, caressing his face gently with your thumbs as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer. his hands had a gentle grip on your bare thighs as his gaze went slightly hazy, like you were the only thing in the world right now.

your hands snaked around the back of his neck, slowly pulling him down to your level until you connected your lips in a leaden kiss, his jaw opening as his lips moved against yours. he hummed quietly into your mouth, head tilting against yours to get a better taste of you. the atmosphere sucked the both of you in whole, the warmth of the room and the sweet smelling aroma from the oven making your nerves stand on end.

spencer quickly got carried away, his tongue slipping into your mouth and exploring it. you gasped softly as he did so, a familiar tingle ringing in your core. your tongues fought a silent battle as spencer started to move against you, his hips rocking into yours as his heart raced in his chest.

he bit his lip, suppressing a groan that nearly slipped from his mouth. his eyes glanced down, seeing where your two bodies connected and the primal beast that had awakened in his pants. his cheeks immediately flushed red as his gaze ran up to your face, taking in your shiny, parted lips and dilated pupils. you wanted him, badly. and there was no denying the desire he had for you. so the only thing to do now was just go for it.

spencer’s hands travelled downward uptil they reached the maroon drawstring of his pajama pants, his shaky hands barely able to undo the simple bow that he had tied to keep them up. his breathing was heavy and shaky, matching yours as your pressed your legs together to stop the molten-lava that boiled inside of you. you were already soaking through your shorts. not wearing panties was an amateur mistake. who knew that you’d ever find yourself in a situation like this?

as spencer finally undid the know, his cock sprung out with a bead of precum rolling down the tip. you looked down at his manhood, taking in the 8-inches of pleasure that would soon be inside of you. you wrapped your hand around his girth, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as you stroked his slowly, smearing the precum down his length with your thumb.

he rocked his hips up and down, creating a little more speed and friction against his shaft. his eyes were locked on you, drinking you in like you were a drop of water from a precious fountain. his hands found your waist again, slipping underneath the waistband of your shorts, kneading your bare hips as his thumbs worked their way down to your wet core.

you lifted up your hips a little, pulling down your shorts and kicking them off, letting them lay lifeless on the linoleum floor. you ihaled a shaky breath as the cool air hit your wet pussy, your clit throbbing in response to the sensation. spencer was nearly as red and the batter the covered the bowl a few feet away from you.

he spread your leg apart a little further, slowly sinking down onto his knees until he was face to face with your dripping cunt. he looked at your hole, nearly drooling like a starved dog. he brought his mouth close to you, his hot breath warming up your insides. before digging in, he looked up at you, his voice dropping to a raspy octave. “can i..?” you nodded, sealing your eyes shut.

the feeling hit you like a brick. his tongue began to swirl across your wet pearl, his pink tongue slipping through your gooey folds. you were audibly soaked, the sound of his fingers slipping in and out of your tight hole filling the room, apart from your strained moans and whimpers. short grunts came from spencer as he pumped himself, his cock throbbing in response to his severe arousal.

his groans filled your body with waves of vibration, making you shiver as you rolled your hips against his tongue. “that’s it, baby… use me…” he managed to mutter through breathless gasps. you tossed your head back, his fingers hitting the tight bundle of nerves inside of you repeatedly.

spencer took his hand off of his dick, panting heavily as he rose back to his feet, desperately trying to recollect himself. if he had been down there for a second longer, he would’ve came without even getting to the main course yet. he lined up his pulsing rod with your cunt, teasing your entrance with his tip. you bit your lip, feeling more turned on by his teasing than anything else.

he grabbed your hips, starting to push himself in inch by inch at a time. you slurred out moans in unison, holding onto eachother for dear life until he completely stretched you out, your pussy swallowing him whole. he wasted no time thrusting into you, his hips slapping against your and sending recoils throughout your body.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he rubbed messy circles onto your clit, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. he swallowed hard, his cock coming into perfect contact with your cervix with every sloppy thrust. his balls slapped against the base of your hole. the stimulation became two much for you, your muscles twitching as you quickly fell into a state of overstimulation.

“s-spencer..! i-i, i’m gonna cum…” you choked out, your fingernails digging into the plush fabric of his hoodie. he buried his face in your neck, kissing it to hide the whimpers that spilled out from him. he fucked you at lightning speed, your bodies heating up like two stars reaching their supernova.

your nerves glowed as you felt yourself releasing all over him, your core buzzing with pleasure. as you convulsed around him, spencer shot hot ropes of hot cum into you, his muscles spasming as his eyes momentarily welled with tears. he pulled out of you with a gasp, stray drops of cum gathering at his tip.

he pulled you close to him, using you as a foundation as he hastily recollected himself. you hopped off the counter and in the nick of time, the timer dinged, signalling that the cupcakes were done.

you walked over to the oven, not bothering to put your shorts back on since the hoodie was long enough to hide to the cum that dripped down your inner thighs. you opened up the oven, grabbing an oven mitt and pulling out the cupcakes, the tops of them fluffy and rosy. your placed the tray on the counter that you had just been sitting on, spencer inhaling the sweet aroma.

he smiled, grabbing the bowl of icing, finally having the chance to add the finishing touches to the cupckaes. he took one last taste of the icing, now shaking his head with disapproval.

“the icing’s okay, i guess.” he pulled you closer to him, bringing his lips to your ear. “but you, my dear, definitely take the cake.”

author's note: bang bang kiss kiss.

105 notes · View notes

strawbeerossi · 6 months

Text

Taking Calls

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Whenever a man who makes you feel uncomfortable asks for your number, you give him your boyfriend’s number instead. Whenever he texts him all day and finally decides to call, Spencer plans on taking care of it.

Content/Warnings: Minor case details (nothing explicit), creep officer, loving boyfriend Spencer, intimidation mention, kissing, unprotected sex, Spencer answers a phone call in the middle of sex (I didn’t know how to word that so it works lmao.)

Word Count: 1.2K

Anon Request: I had a spicy idea where a creepy cop tries to get readers number for “work purposes” and instead she gives him Spencer’s number and the cop happens to call Spencer and reader while he’s in the middle of fucking reader or the reader is in the middle of giving him a blowjob and the cop sort of hears her in the background? I just thought you’d be the perfect person to write this 😍

Navigation || Criminal Minds Masterlist || Request

🏷️ @kr-1-sta @iluvreid @nervousmoongiver @multifandom-on-the-side @ferrjulie @lov1ngreid @sobbingcryingattsizzles @doriantomybasil @thegluesong @rosiehale23

Spencer had his number given out before due to a prank on Derek’s end that had so many people blowing up his phone. It was something he vowed that he would get the man back for and specifically state that it could never happen again.

The team was on a case in Manhattan, a standard killer who had an awakened blood lust was terrorizing the city. After six victims, the NYPD felt it was best to invite the BAU onto the case, which seemed to be too little too late due to the man going dormant.

Every lead was buried so deep that you’d need an excavator to dig them up, still the team persisted. You were currently on day three, staying back at the police precinct along with Dave to interview the families of the deceased, hoping to dig up any leads.

You had currently stepped out for a brief break, standing by the coffee machine as you were getting one of the disposable cups, filling it to the brim with a healthy mixture of coffee and sugar. “Hey, Y/L/N, correct?” A voice came from behind you, making you turn to look over the person addressing you. Officer Laslow. “Hi, yes. That’s me. How can I help you?” You asked, eyebrows raising.

You didn’t like to judge people, however you had a very uneasy feeling around him. The way he was looking at you was a good enough reason to be uncomfortable, the man seeming to mentally undress you as he stared into your soul. “I was just wondering if your team had any leads? I mean, I’m sure the families know something,” He spoke, making you sigh as your shoulders slumped. “Nothing, unfortunately.” You spoke while sipping from the coffee cup in your hands.

“Nothing? What a shame. I was actually wondering if you and I could exchange numbers? No funny business, I’m just wanting to make sure we can stay in communication throughout this case. You know, share intel.”

He could’ve just asked Aaron for updates. However, in the moment of being uncomfortable and not knowing what to say, you were clearing your throat. “Well. Okay.. Just for intel though.” You murmured, slowly taking the device from his hands to put in Spencer’s number instead of your own. You’d explain things to your boyfriend later. Until then, you were doing the next best option. Spencer could handle this. You were sure of it.

As another day passed and there was no leads, the team was retreating to the hotel for the night to try and get some rest, even if they were overly focused on trying to catch the murderer running around freely. “Honey, I have a question.” Spencer began as he was walking from the bathroom, a pair of flannel pyjama pants and a white t-shirt clinging to his lanky frame. “I’ve just had a lot of texts today. The person is addressing you by name. Wanna talk about who you gave my number to?” He asked softly. He knew it had to be a big deal if you wouldn’t give someone your number.

“Some creep on the NYPD team. You should’ve seen the way he looked at me, Spencer. It made me so uncomfortable.” You shivered while looking over at your boyfriend. “I’m sorry that I gave him your number. I didn’t know what else to do.” The feeling of his hand rubbing your shoulder caused your body to relax, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“I’m not upset with you by any means. I just wanted to ask. He didn’t try and touch you or force himself on you, right?” He asked, slowly letting his arm wrap around your shoulders as you shook your head. “No. Nothing like that. He was just twice my size and intimidating. I mean, he could’ve hurt me if I rejected him.” In this job, Spencer saw cases like that far too much, so he believed it.

“Come here.” He spoke while slowly pressing a few kisses against your cheek. “It’ll be okay. I’ll speak with Hotch about it tomorrow. It’ll get taken care of.” He smiled, the back of his knuckle gently caressing your cheek. “How did I get so lucky to be with you?” You asked softly, offering a smile as you leaned against his touch. “I’m the lucky one.” He mused, now moving to press a sweet kiss against your lips.

However, the kiss was only cut short whenever he could hear the ringtone on his phone designated for texts. “This guy is a real piece of work.” Your boyfriend muttered against your lips, opting to ignore the incessant sounds coming from his phone as he carried on your shared kiss. As the kids deepened, his hands were working to push your shirt over your head before his hands were working on your work pants. You hadn’t changed just yet, so he felt like he was definitely helping you out in the grand scheme of things.

Once you were undressed to his liking, it wasn’t long until your own hands were pushing at his clothes to bring him to the same level of unclothed as you were. “Lay down.” Spencer breathed as he broke the kiss, watching you push yourself back in bed before he was crawling on top of you to attach your lips once more. You were both eager, a lot of stress from this case as well as your own yearning for pleasure making things go just a little faster than usual. He used one hand to bring one of your legs around his waist, which prompted you to mirror your actions with your other leg.

Pushing your panties to the side, your boyfriend wasted no time pushing his cock inside of your eager cunt, a low groan leaving his lips as the hand propping him up was gripping the sheets. “Fuck. I love you.” He whispered, pressing a few sweet kisses to your lips. For once today, you felt like you could forget the officer from earlier, to enjoy the moment. Until Spencer was getting a call. “Are you kidding?” He huffed out of frustration, hips still thrusting at a slow pace as he was reaching over to take his cellphone from the bedside table.

“W-we should stop.” You breathed, knowing he had to take the call judging by the look on his face. “No. No, just lay there and take it, pretty girl. I’m gonna settle this once and for all.” He murmured. Before you could object, he was swiping to answer the call. “I don’t appreciate being ignored.” The male on the other end of the phone huffed. Just hearing his slimy voice had Spencer cringing. Using his shoulder to hold the phone up to his ear, he let out a soft breath. His hips thrusted into you at a faster speed, your lip tucked between your teeth as you really did try to keep quiet.

“She’s busy but I can take a message.” Spencer answered as if he wasn’t jackhammering you into the mattress right now, whines and moans slipping from your lips as you couldn’t hold them back anymore. “Who is this?” The officer asked, now his annoyance being clear as day. “Spencer!” You gasped out, answering his question without even being aware of it.

“You heard her. Tell the nice man on the phone who has the pleasure of fucking you.” Spencer grunted, making you red in the face as you gripped his upper arms. “You!”

“My name, baby. Tell him who gets to take you home every night.”

“Spencer!” You panted, head tossed back as he was pounding into your sweet spot.

“Now. If you’ll excuse me, I have important matters to attend to. I hope you get the hint.” He murmured.

#spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid smut #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader smut

3K notes · View notes

actually-safer-to-kiss · 1 year

Text

Dinner Time

Summary: Reader makes Spencer his first homemade dinner after getting out of prison, and they both realize he's got some adjusting to do.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Content warnings: Eating, mentions of weight loss, hurt Spencer, ambiguous ending

Word count: 1k

Spencer sat at the small table in your kitchen. You set it up with funky-patterned napkins, an extra big spoon, and a used candle lit in the middle; the whole shebang. You prepared his serving of your vegetable soup, the meal he requested to celebrate his arrival home. “Are you comfortable?” You ask as you hover over the stove.

He nods and picks up his napkin, observing the pattern and weight. “Where did you get these?”

“Your mom found them when we were shopping. She said they reminded her of your socks. Isn’t that sweet?”

He blew air through his nose before saying “Wow.” He rubbed his thumb along it, following the vivid stripes. You didn’t want to tell him how she teared up when she spotted them. How she held the set close to her chest made you feel sorry that she remembered without help.

“She took it as a sign you were coming home.” Half true. More like you convinced her it was. She asked you to buy them for that reason, to celebrate. “And now here we are.” You beamed as you say the words.

“That’s wonderful.” He looked up at you and smiled. You saw it in your peripheral as you opened a pack of oyster crackers. You knew he wanted to thank you for making time for her. He wanted to, but you insisted the thank yous were enough after he said it the fifth time in 24 hours. You flashed him a brief grin as a muted response, and he appreciated it.

“Alright,” You held the bowl carefully, mistakenly filling it to the brim. Due to the sheer joy of having him home, safe, and innocent (in the eyes of the law), you almost didn’t notice he had lost weight. The first time you saw his spine after getting out of the shower, you didn't even think it was possible for him. “Extra potatoes, per your request, mon amour.” You emphasize your terrible French accent which makes him chuckle.

“Merci, mon amour.” His flawless accent almost ruined the joke.

“Okay, show off, so happy you're home.” You sneered, and his smile was even wider. You grab your own bowl and sit by his side. His elbows somehow naturally find their way to the table, boxing in his soup like he was cornering prey. Spoon in hand, he dipped in the hefty bowl. Then he shoveled in some of those extra potato chunks with some tomato-y broth. Hungry, you thought, as he leaned over the bowl, steam gliding over his rough stubble. He took a second and third bite, despite his mouth being nearly stuffed.

You didn’t say anything at first. You didn’t want to imagine the food he had to eat or meals he might have skipped because of poor quality (or other reasons). As he chewed hastily, for a moment, it gave you hope he'd gain weight quickly.

But then he reached out for his water to drink like he needed to soothe something too spicy.

Or something too hot.

“Honey?”

Bite four, five, and six. He chewed.

“Spencer.”

“Hm?” Bite seven, eight —

You put a hand on his arm and Spencer’s head immediately turned to you. It made you pull back, not touch him. His face was red and his mouth hung open, similar to a dog sticking its tongue out to cool off. “Spencer. You can let it cool.”

He swallowed, not chewing enough, and it pained him. “I can’t. I want to finish before bed.” His tongue barely touched the roof of his mouth as he spoke.

“Are you that tired?”

“No.” His eyebrows furrowed at the question, looking just as confused as you. “We only have 30 minutes for dinn—” And somehow his face of realization was even more upsetting to witness. There's a silence, brief but heavy as his whole face fell and he covered his eyes with one hand. “I’m sorry.” He sniffles.

“It’s not your fault.”

"I'll… take my time." He leans on his elbow and looks down at his meal, staring, waiting for the steam to stop. It was seconds later that his eyes were lined with tears again.

You were afraid to ask the question. “How’s your mouth?”

“It hurts.” He bites his lip as tears trickle.

You drop your spoon and scoot your chair closer to his. You ask him to sit up straight and drink water. Once he’s done that, drinking as much (or as little) as he can tolerate, you gently press his face into your shoulder. Tears collect on your skin, but you keep him close and encourage him to let it out.

And he does. His chest caves with every sob he's locked away for two months. His arms wrap around your waist, the first time he's touched you since he’s been home, apart from the delightfully suffocating hug you trapped each other in when he was released. And for a moment, you’re hit with the reality that the Spencer you’re holding has changed. His survival instincts are still active, you're just now noticing it.

You still hold him as he heaves. You rub his back to let him know you’re still here, but you stare at the blank wall in front of you. Your head is spinning, running through therapists to call and books to read that could help you. To help Spencer. Because that’s what he needs.

Spencer pulls away for a minute to look over his soup.

“It’s still there.” You say, and wipe his tears with your thumbs. “No one’s taking it, I promise.”

“It’s going to get cold.”

“I’ll heat it up again, don’t worry.”

Spencer looks down at you as you hold his face. The dark circles around his reddened eyes were prominent, and you brushed the mess of curls off his forehead. Tiredness isn’t enough. He’s scared. From what he’s seen or become, you don’t know. But his stubble pokes your skin and you realize that you don’t know what to do. As you look at the man you love, you wonder how much you can do to help. You hope you can help.

3K notes · View notes

foxy-eva · 2 months

Text

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Summary: Spencer was the right person at the wrong time, no doubt about it. When you’re finally back in town, you’re ready for a fresh start.

Request: Exes with Feelings, Having an Argument, Finding Comfort in Each Other's Arms

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Category: Fluff, Comfort

Content Warnings: mentions past break-up and fighting, a little misunderstanding, heavy kissing

Word count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins New Beginnings Writing Challenge

Masterlist

Endless hours of late-night phone calls. More time spent on planes than inside each other’s arms. Weekends that were never quite long enough.

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder,” Spencer said.

He was nothing but supportive of your decision to take an internship on the other side of the country. There was no doubt that the two of you could make this work, you were soulmates after all.

“So fond it sometimes starts hurting,” you added.

Neither of you expected that what should have been a temporary arrangement could turn into something more permanent. But when you got offered a full-time position for your dream job, you had to make the most difficult decision of your life.

“You could come with me, you know,” you told him after letting him in on your decision to take the job offer. He only shook his head.

“Why is your job more important than mine?” You hissed, angry that he wasn’t even considering that option. When he didn’t answer, you added, “Why is your job more important than me?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Neither of you wanted to end this relationship but after that argument you knew it was inevitable. Spencer’s stubbornness stood in the way of him begging you to stay, even though you wished for nothing more than one of those cheesy airport scenes from the romcom movies you liked to watch together.

He never showed up, though.

It was hard to believe that all of that happened almost a year ago. The heartache never fully went away and it got worse now that you were back, walking the streets of a city you once called home. Your job made you happy for a while but after months of trying and failing to make new friends, you had to admit to yourself that you missed your old life.

And more than anything, you missed Spencer.

The city still felt familiar as you stepped closer to the apartment building you spent so many days and nights in. It was almost like no time had passed when you walked up the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. The hallway still carried the same scent of old wood and the steps still creaked underneath your feet. Before you had reached his door another memory flooded your mind.

Turning your head, you looked down the hallway and remembered how Spencer spun you around right there in a little impromptu dance when you came home from one of Rossi’s infamous dinner parties. You were happy then - some might even call you naive - and so convinced that you’d spend the rest of your life with the man of your dreams.

The more you got lost in reminiscing about times long gone, the more you could almost feel the warmth Spencer always radiated. Your skin started tingling where he used to press his palms against you, holding your close as if nothing could ever come between the two of you.

You sighed as you let those memories go. There were so many uncertainties as you stepped closer to his door. You weren’t sure if he still lived here and you didn’t know if he had found someone else to keep close since you left. The rational part of your brain knew that you should have called him before showing up, that he might not even want to see you.

But those past months you recognized that you were nothing but a fool when it came to love and romance. He didn’t show up at the airport for you but a part of you still believed he would take you back just like the people in those romcoms always did.

Relief washed over you when you found his name still written on the door of apartment 23.

Three knocks. No answer.

You lingered for a few moments to listen for any movement behind his door but there was none. Spencer wasn’t home and your life really wasn’t some corny movie.

As you walked away from his door you contemplated your options. Maybe you should send him a text or even write him a letter to let him know you’re back in town.

Or maybe you should just let it go.

Just when you reached the last step, a tall curly-haired man entered the building. You recognized him instantly, many moments before he even realized that you were there. He greeted the doorman before turning his head towards the staircase and spotting you.

Spencer’s face was impossible to read and looked nothing like you imagined whenever you dreamed about running into him again. Where you hoped to find a bright smile, only a thin line was visible. He looked as if he wasn’t sure you were real, as if he couldn’t trust his own eyes.

“Hi Spencer,” you broke the silence.

“H..Hi,” he stammered as he stepped closer. “What are you doing here?”

I’m trying to win you back. I came to tell you how much I miss you. I want to start over. I’m still in love with you.

There were many things you could have answered but none of the obvious explanations made it past your lips. Instead you said, “I have a job interview.”

Spencer was confused and raised his eyebrows. “In my building?”

“No, not here of course,” you awkwardly laughed. “I have a job interview here in DC tomorrow. And I thought I’d come by to say hi.”

Spencer just stood there like a doe caught in the headlights. It still seemed like he had a hard time processing what was happening.

Right when he wanted to open his mouth, a raven-haired woman entered the building behind him. She was almost as tall as him and absolutely gorgeous.

“Hey, are you ready to leave?” She asked when Spencer turned around to look at her.

“I’ll be there in a second,” he answered before finding your eyes again. “I’m sorry but now is not a good time. Can I call you later?”

Of course he had found someone else.

You were too late.

“Don't worry about it!” You said and quickly walked away from the most awkward situation you had ever been in.

When you were almost around the corner, you heard Spencer call out your name, followed by, “Please wait!”

Turning around, you found him running towards you. He slowed down the closer he got, coming to a halt about an arm-length away from you. He looked back and you followed his sight, spotting the woman getting into a car. She didn't drive away, instead it seemed like she was waiting for him.

It was as if you were struck by lightning when you suddenly felt Spencer's arms wrapping around you. A hug was the last thing you had expected in that moment. It took you a moment to reciprocate the gesture, your arms closing around his body as if no time had passed since you last got a chance to do that.

Never before had an embrace felt so healing. Like two lost puzzle pieces finally finding their way back to each other. You instantly felt the warmth he radiated entering your body and flooding through you.

For a few seconds it was nice to pretend that no time had passed but once you remembered her, reality came crashing down on you. You wanted him to be happy more than anything but you couldn't deny that you still wished it could be you who he’d find happiness with.

You were the first to let go, slowly stepping back to find his eyes. “I’m glad you found someone. She seems lovely,” you said while attempting to smile.

“What..? Oh you mean Tara?” He turned his head to look back at her car for a second. “She’s my new coworker. I’m actually on the job right now, it’s a local case. I was just stopping by the apartment to grab some books I needed.”

Oh.

“I really gotta get back to Quantico now. Where are you staying?”

You mentioned the name of the friend you were staying with and told him, “I’m sorry I came by unannounced. You usually have Sundays off so I thought I’d give it a try.”

Spencer smiled at you and said, “No, I’m glad you did. It might be late when I get back tonight but I would really like to talk more.”

“I’m still a night owl,” you snickered. “Just call me when you're on your way home.”

Several hours passed until your phone finally rang. The call was short, just a simple agreement you’d meet him at his place in about thirty minutes.

When you stood in front of his door this time, you almost didn't have the courage to knock. After taking a deep breath, you did it anyway.

As if he had been waiting right at the other side of the door, he opened immediately and let you step inside.

“I like the way you wear your hair now. It looks great,” he complimented you.

You noticed that he looked different, too. His hair was longer but his curls still seemed unruly. Just like they used to when you still had the chance to let your fingers brush through them.

You smiled at him. “You look good, too.”

It seemed like time had stood still inside his apartment. A few more books were scattered around and it looked a little more messy than what you were used to, but all in all it was still very familiar. Muscle memory led you to the same spot on his couch you always liked to sit in.

Spencer followed you, taking his seat beside you. It was hard to find the right words when you looked into his eyes. The color of his irises reminded you of wild honey, so warm and alluring you couldn't get enough of looking at them.

Before you got too lost, Spencer decided to start the conversation.

“So, you have a job interview tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I do,” you confirmed. “I want to move back here. I miss DC.”

I miss you, was what you really wanted to say.

“What about your job in Seattle?”

You just shrugged and mumbled, “I’m ready for something new, I guess. Seattle never felt like home.” After a moment of uncomfortable silence you added, “I never should have left.”

Spencer shook his head. “Eventually, you would have regretted not taking that chance. And you probably would have resented me for that.”

“I never thought I would be someone who chose career over love,” you confessed.

“It’s not that simple,” he disagreed. “I was just too stubborn and hurt to see it back then. It took several months until I could understand that I was trying to hold you back from starting a promising career. That wasn’t fair. I could have easily transferred to the Seattle field office or maybe start teaching at a university there. At the time you didn't have the same opportunities here in DC.”

His words surprised you. It was an admission you never thought you’d hear from him.

“You wanted to choose love and career by asking me to come with you,” he continued, his tone laced with pain. “I was the one who chose his career over love. And I really regret that.”

“Spencer,” you whispered as you moved closer to him. “I missed you so much.”

He reached out his hand to touch yours. “I missed you, too.”

His touch let something snap inside you, suddenly you were not able to hold back any longer. Without a warning your lips found his, feverishly kissing him as if you could somehow make up for lost time.

He didn't seem surprised about your display of affection. Instead he reciprocated the kiss with a similar amount of enthusiasm. It was not enough though, there was still too much space between you.

It was obvious that Spencer felt the same way, his hands pressing against your body until you had found your way into his lap. Between heavy breaths and lips brushing against one another, you started to forget your surroundings.

Your chest was pushed flush against his, your racing heart sensing its counterpart inside his ribcage and skipping several beats.

“Please, Spencer,” you whimpered against his lips, unable to let everything in your mind spill from your mouth.

I’m sorry for leaving you. Please give me another chance. I love you.

There was no need for those words to be spoken. Spencer understood anyway.

“I’m yours,” he cooed between more kisses. “I have always been yours.”

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @luredwithpretzels @castiels-majestic-wings @super-nerd22 @pleasantwitchgarden @yeonalie @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie @meyaareads

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff

881 notes · View notes

daydreamingqueen1 · 6 months

Text

Sweets thief

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Warnings/Content: none. pure fluff, a wee bit of bullying to spence (totally harmless and friendly though), crushes, unhealthy amount of candy ingestion lol, no y/n, gn!reader too

Summary: You've been stealing sweets from your resident genius.

Word count: 1.2k

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆

It wasn't unusual for the BAU members to carry snacks with them.

The job was hard, stressful and, most importantly, it had unpredictable hours. So finding time to eat a proper meal wasn't always a viable option.

Nevertheless, eating is a basic human need and even if it's not completely healthy, the agents often found themselves battling their hunger with quick snacks.

As a relatively new member of the BAU, buying said vital snacks wasn't yet ingrained in your mind, resulting in you continually forgetting to buy something to munch on during cases.

Stealing was always an option though.

After several months with your coworkers, you are proud to say that you have managed to eat at the expense of all of their pockets, for experts in human behavior, they don't hide their treats so well.

However, after several months, you have come to know their go-to snacks and, subsequently, you have become picky.

Morgan eats some kind of high-protein bars with an awfully bright neon wrapper.

Emily loves those salt and vinegar chips every station has on their vending machines.

JJ, ever the healthy mom of the group, always has a few packages of oatmeal raisin cookies on hand.

Rossi carries eucalyptus and mint gummies like the old man he is.

And Hotch buys the most bland granola bars known to mankind.

With all of that said, the conclusion was obvious.

Spencer has the best snacks.

It is not only that he always has sweets but that he's the only one that manages for variety instead of a fixed thing. A bit ironic considering he is the most prone to sticking to a rigid routine. Well, you aren't complaining though, especially not this month.

You realized quickly that Halloween was a big thing for the resident genius, seeming to make the grown man regress to the mentality of an overly eager seven-year-old. It's lucky for you because that means that he chooses to try a new candy every single day of October.

It also means that you had begun stealing exclusively from him and, being surrounded by profilers, it wasn't long until you were discovered as the culprit.

A shadow had eclipsed your desk suddenly, making you look up to a squinting Dr. Reid. “Did you take my last Peanut Butter Cup?”

You shook your head, “No...”

Derek snorted on the desk nearby, “You've still got chocolate on your face, kid,”

Cleaning your mouth with the back of your hand, you smiled up at Spencer sweetly.

His converse sounded hard against the floor as he stumped away.

Apparently, you weren't that discreet. He ended up catching you many more times after that.

"Hey!" Spencer swatted your hand when you grabbed yet another handful of his M&Ms.

You shrugged, feigning innocence, “Hey to you too Reid, but we've been in the same room for a while.”

He huffed, inching the box slightly out of your reach.

Many more times.

Your hand was literally inside the familiar size bag of Starburst candy when Spencer came back from the bathroom.

“Oh come on!” he groaned, taking the bag out of your grasp, “Buy your own.”

You went back to the local police station office, giggling to yourself like a child with your hands full of candy.

At this point hunger had become a secondary motive to your stealing. The number one reason being how adorable Spencer's reactions were when he caught you.

In all honesty, you harbored a bit of a crush on the man. You didn't have the courage to tell him upfront, making your silly brain manifest your feelings like a preschooler pulling on the pigtails of their crush. Oh, but teasing him was so fun, and it got you free candy so it was even better.

Then, yesterday, there was an incident.

The team was on the jet, another kidnapped girl had been safely returned to her parents, fairly quickly this time too. Spirits were high at wrapping up a case with such a positive outcome, making most of the agents mingle and play games on the usually quiet ride home.

You were perched on one of the individual seats, scrolling away in your phone and absentmindedly eating some candy (you had bought your own for once).

You jolted a bit when a hand dived into your candy bag. When you looked up, you found a smirking Spencer standing right in front of you, looking fairly smug and popping a piece into his mouth. He thought he was finally getting back at you for eating all of his sweets.

His joy lasted for about three seconds before he realized his mistake.

See, to the untrained eye, he had just eaten a couple of innocent looking bear gummies. Except, these were not regular gummies, they were your favorite kind, the most sour kind.

Spencer's face scrunched up with disgust, the sour effect of the gummy doubled at taking him by surprise, the acidic taste completely taking over his taste buds.

You couldn't help it, you bent over your belly with laughter, inadvertently drawing attention to Spencer's predicament.

The whole team snickered as they watched him rush back and forth on the narrow hall of the jet until he got hold of a tissue to spit the offending candy.

“What the hell is that?” he turned around to confront you.

You gave him an apologetic smile, “Sour candy?”

More laughs filled the space and Spencer had sat down on the furthest chair from yours, pouting with his arms crossed over his chest.

Back to today, you feel actually kind of guilty about what happened. You have been munching on all of Spencer's treats for weeks and the one time he does it to you, the whole team ends up making fun of him. A bit of teasing was fine but you don't want the man to actually feel bad.

So when you see him stand up from his desk and walk into the kitchen, you quickly jump out of your chair and grab something from your bag, trailing right behind him through the bullpen.

He's making himself an exaggeratedly sweet cup of coffee when you corner him.

“Spencer,” you call, making him turn around. Your hands are inconspicuously behind your back, “Trick or treat?”

His eyebrows furrow suspiciously, “Neither if you're going to give me one of those monstrosities you like.”

You huff out a laugh, “No, no, I promise it's not that. Come on, trick or treat? ”

After measuring up how much he trusts your statement, he relents, “Treat.”

“Ta-dah!” you sing, revealing a single Hershey’s Kiss in your palm.

Spencer's eyes light up.

“I know it doesn't make up for everything I ate but it's an offer of peace.”

He gives you a small smile, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

As his hand extends to grab the chocolate, your brain has an impulsive thought.

You lean forward and peck his lips.

It lasts barely a second but it's enough to make your heart beat wildly against your chest.

Spencer stares at you frozen in place, a crimson color spreading all over his face.

“A kiss for a kiss,” you mumble dumbly, like saying that makes it better somehow.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ You think to yourself, your feet are prepared to flee the scene when he unexpectedly grabs your wrist.

“I– I...” he stammers, his cheeks turning impossibly redder, “I wouldn't mind if you stole more of those.”

A shy smile spreads on your face. Perhaps you won't start buying your own snacks soon.

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆

it's a bit silly but I was feeling halloween-y and craving sour candy

leave me a prompt or idea you'd like me to write!

♡, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

hope ya liked it, byebye

My masterlist

2K notes · View notes

gtgbabie0 · 10 months

Text

‘I love you’

{Spencer can’t sleep without saying I love you, no matter how mad you are with each other}

Hope you enjoy as always my lovelies! 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You both shouldn’t have gotten so mad over such a trivial thing, though you suppose it’s been building up for a while now, the lack of communication, the missed dates and whatnot. In all honesty, you couldn’t even remember why you were initially mad at him and now that you’re laying in bed with a tear-stained pillow beneath you, it seems all so pointless.

Arguments are bound to happen in relationships. Two people aren’t always going to see eye to eye, but knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. A part of you is expecting him to apologise and the other half of you is trying to come up with an apology yourself, but nothing happens. Spencer stays in the living room to give you some space and you’re left to simmer with your thoughts.

He was late again tonight, it seemed like your schedules did nothing but clash for weeks and the distance was slowly eating at you until you finally snapped. You’d also blame your own work stress for the anger that pinches at your skin, the same anger that only fuelled tonight’s argument.

Spencer hates it, hates the silence that comes afterwards, albeit arguments between you two were few and far between it still had the same effect on him, the odd sinking feeling that hits his stomach.

You both should just apologise and talk about it like adults, but yet you’re both stubborn in your own rights, and so neither of you do. Instead, you fall asleep alone with a heavy heart, and Spencer creeps into the room hours after with an ache in his chest.

He notices the dampness on your pillow from your tears and it only makes that dull ache in his chest hurt all the more, he gently pushes your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear as he sighs at the tear stains that paint your face, even in sleep you look sad.

You wake up as he climbs into bed, and you make no effort to let him know, in fact, you’re pretty sure he knows you’re awake when he starts drawing patterns on your back with his finger.

You frown softly as you try to figure out what he’s doing. You're about to turn around and complain, and then you feel it. He gently traces the words ‘I love you’ into your skin, fingers grazing along your spine. You feel him shuffle closer to you, and his lips press gently onto your shoulder, then the soft words, “I’m sorry” leave his lips, and you can feel the guilt drown you.

You turn around, noticing how the tears in his eyes glisten under the warm light of the lamp and you don’t think twice before reaching out and wiping them away, he sighs at your touch.

“You don’t have to apologise, I blew things way out of proportion” you admit. Spencer shakes his head, noticing how you don’t make eye contact with him, and so he holds your hand, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles.

“You had every right to be mad, and we both blew things way out of proportion” he reasons, not liking the sigh that leaves your lips as if you didn’t believe his words. His eyebrows furrow slightly watching the tears collect in your eyes.

The root of your sudden argument was really because were both so tired and missed each other’s touch, which in retrospect should’ve had the opposite effect of what happened tonight, but emotions are a tricky thing,

So that’s why you don’t pull away when Spencer opens his arms out to you, pulling the blanket over the pair of you as you settle against him. “I’m sorry,” you say, his chin resting gently on top of your head as his hand soothes your back.

He presses a kiss to your hairline as you mumble, “And, I love you too” He smiles when your hands dip underneath his shirt, a desperate need of his warmth, you just needed to feel him.

“I love you more” he smiles, his arms squeezing you just a little tighter against him, tight enough to make you giggle, a sound Spencer swears could cure all of his ills.

There's a silence that drapes over the pair of you, and it's not like before it's different Spencer thinks, much more comfortable as he listens to your breathing.

You look up at him, and he catches onto the exhaustion that stains your face, before you can say anything he's already speaking, "You're tired. Get some sleep and we'll talk tomorrow, over breakfast, yeah?" he smiles leaning down to press one last gentle kiss to your forehead, and you would be lying if you said the idea of breakfast with Spencer didn't make you feel a little giddy.

So you whisper a quiet 'Okay' before drifting off in his arms. and you both make a silent promise to talk about it tomorrow, like adults.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

2K notes · View notes

evsstolenhearts · 3 months

Text

Summary: you got kidnapped

Implied Spencer Reid x BAU!gn!reader | 1.4k | no y/n |

Warning: kidnapping, drugging, blood, ect. Cannon typical violence

A/N: I wrote this at like, 2am on a Monday I think. Its.... unique. R and spence are not really considered as dating, more just mutual feelings that are not discussed at this time ig?

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆

The cold tiles have gone warm from your body heat hours ago. Wrists are sore and bloody from the rope on them, ankles and knees in similar condition.

The window in the old, nearly abandoned-looking kitchen once showed the sun, but now the moon is shining through it. That's the only thing telling you it's no longer day.

Earlier this week, you and the rest of the BAU was called onto a case in Cincinnati, Ohio. Some guy decided he wanted to get people drunk, kidnap them, and torture them before disposing the bodies.

Luckily, you had a lead on a Tyler Mixins, and went to check this out. Unluckily, he got mad, knocked out Rossi, who was with you, and kidnapped you.

So now you sit in an old kitchen, next to a missing girl who has been unconscious since you got here, in a house in the middle of nowhere. It's hard to tell how long it's been because he keeps getting you high. From what you can tell, it's probably high doses of benzodiazepines. Keeping your muscles and mind pliant.

The few times you have been conscious enough to fight back, he's thrown you back into the wall so hard that you definitely have a horrible concussion. From what you can tell, there's also blood coming from somewhere on your head, having moved down to the side of your face and dried there.

Faintly, you hear heavy footsteps coming towards the kitchen. Tyler walks in, hands shaky as he forcefully ties a rope around your head and between your teeth, keeping you from talking, before he grabs your wrists and drags you through the house. Despite wanting to struggle, the drugs in your system keep you from doing so.

He takes you to a separate room, one that seems like it was once a bedroom with a bathroom connected to it. He sets you onto a old vanity chair, tying your middle to the back of the chair.

Your eyes start to droop from lack of energy, brain slightly fuzzy. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see him grab an ax that rests against the wall. Your heart feels like it's going to fly right out of your chest.

Tyler walks closer, standing in front of you, ax in hand. Just as he prepares to swing it, the front door to the house is busted down, and rapidly moving footsteps enter. Vaguely, you can hear shots of commands as Tyler quickly grabs a syringe off a metal medical table, making quick work of uncaring the needle and rushing to inject it into your neck.

With the last of your energy, you try to scream through the gag, clearly being loud enough, as footsteps rapidly approach the room. Prentiss appears in the doorway, a gun pointed at the man in front of you.

"You don't want to do this, Tyler." Emily keeps her voice calm, taking cautious steps into the room.

He quickly goes behind you, syringe horrifyingly close to our neck, yet he remains silent. His silence doesn't seem to surprise Emily; some form of information they got while you were here probably told her why he's so silent. Too bad you didn't get to sit in an only slightly uncomfortable precinct chair while learning more information about this guy.

"Put down the syringe." Emily stops moving closer, with the chance of him snapping and injecting whatever is in the syringe into your body. "We can talk this out; you don't want to hurt them. You'll be in even more trouble for killing an FBI agent."

For the first time since you've been here, Tyler speaks, his voice rough and clearly not very used, "I'll get a lot of respect in prison for killing a fed."

There are footsteps behind you now, who you can only assume is someone else from your team. They probably snuck through a window in the bathroom. Tyler seems to pick up on this as well, as you register his grip on the syringe tightening.

From what you can tell, he does stab that syringe into your neck; there's distant yelling and footsteps. Tyler falls to the ground before all the liquid is administered into your veins, and someone else quickly rips it out. The same hands make quick work to untie all the ropes from your body; everything seems barely there. Like everything you are experiencing is memories from a dream, going in and out of consciousness.

The only thing you can know for sure is the soft, repetitive beeping slowly surrounding you. The last thing you can remember is being untied from the chair after the unsub injected you with something. You probably knocked out. And you know, you're probably in a hospital right now. But it feels like you are underwater. Like you're at peace for now. It's quite the comfortable place you've made in your mind. Feeling weightless and soft. Mind blurry and warm.

But soon you register more than just the beeping in the room. There is a soft-spoken voice. A familiar one. And suddenly, the place in your mind isn't as comfortable. The softness becomes too soft, nearly prickly. Feeling unease as you leave this place in your mind. Slowly, you blink open your eyes.

You were correct. The familiar look and smell of the hospital fills your senses. The lights seem to have been mostly turned off; lights from the hallways shine through the door, unlike the night sky shining through the window. There are flowers on a table next to you, but the most notable thing is the voice.

Next to you, is Spencer. Sat slightly awkward as he reads aloud, though, not very loudly, a book.

"Spence...?" Your voice is rough and sore, turning your head to look at him

He stops reading from his book, looking up, slightly startled. He stands up, setting his book down and walking over to you. "Hey... how are you feeling? Does your head hurt? Any other forms of pain?"

"I don't think so, my memory is really fuzzy though, and I feel drowsy."

"That's to be expected. The doctor said you had an extreme concussion as well as a wound to the left side of your head. There weren't any fractions or broken bones, but the unsub did inject you with high doses of benzodiazepine." Spencer talks quickly, giving you a once-over as he recites what your doctor said. "How much do you remember?"

You recount your memories for a moment, trying to put them into words. "I remember being tied up in a kitchen, as well as the unsub giving me pills; there was a girl here too-" The quick realization of another person being in danger courses through you: "Oh my god, was she okay? Did you guys get her?"

"We did get her, and she is being treated a few rooms over. I'll debrief you on her condition after you finish telling me what you remember." Spencer's voice remains as calm as he can keep it.

"Okay, I don't remember how much time passed, but he took me to a room, I think it was a bedroom, and tied me to a chair in there. Around that time I think Emily and someone else came I to the room, but everything else is pretty blurry."

Spencer nods as you talk, taking in the information. "The other person was Derek; the window to the connected bathroom was opened, so he climbed through that while scouting the outside perimeter. You did get injected with more benzodiazepine, which seemed to knock you out. Prentiss and Morgan got you into an ambulance, and I drove with you to the hospital. You have only been out for a day, which is expected with your injuries."

A small smile overtakes your features. "You joined me in the ambulance?"

Spencer quickly trying to change the subject as you save his heart. "You have a change of clothes, would you like to change into them?"

"Oh God, yes." You laugh as you sit up, excited to change out of the hospital gown and to spend more time with Spencer, now awake. Even though, this experience will probably leave a lasting scar.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x gn!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #spencer reid angst

610 notes · View notes

imagining-in-the-margins · 1 year

Text

Clean Shaven (S.R.)

Summary: Reader helps Spencer shave after prison. Request: reader comforts spencer shaving for the 1st time after prison? maybe he gets triggered w a knife near his face? Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Comfort Content Warning: Razors, shaving, PTSD generally Word Count: 1k

MASTERLIST

Spencer’s bathroom is more sterile than it’s ever been before. The scent of bleach is both calming and terrifying. He breathes it in, anyway. He stares down at his hands that are holding onto the counter like he might be able to break through the granite.

“Spencer?” you call.

He looks up and into the mirror. He doesn’t see you, though, because his eyes capture his full attention. They are still sunken, still bruised. It’s been two weeks, but it feels like yesterday. He knows how long it’s been because half of his face is covered by stubble.

The reflection feels alien. He runs a hand over his face to remind himself that it is real, only to find that it feels foreign, too.

“I can’t do it,” he whispers.

You know he’s talking about more than shaving.

There are no magic words to make these moments better. You have already exhausted every iteration of beautiful cliches, and you were left with the same broken heart.

You watch as your boyfriend paws and pulls at his skin while he scrutinizes his appearance in the mirror. You know there is a risk that he will slip away too quickly to stop himself.

There is a risk that he will forget where he is, but you have faith in him. So, you wrap your arms around his waist and hold him. Your hands settle over his heart that is beating quicker from the shock of kindness.

“You don’t have to do it,” you tell him.

He releases a shaky breath but holds back tears.

“But if you want to, you don’t have to do it alone.”

Spencer sits in the quiet, clean atmosphere. He breathes in the smell of bleach now mixed with your perfume. He closes his eyes. The world feels brighter without the light. Behind the thin skin of his eyelids, there is only the happiest versions of you and him.

This is exactly how he made it through.

This is exactly how you did it, too.

“Will you help me?” he says. His voice is small, and his hands are shaking when they rest over yours.

“Of course,” you assure him.

He lets out a breath with more force. The first thing you do is turn him away from the mirror. You can see his eyes moving quickly behind the lids, always searching for the origin of new sounds.

When the faucet turns on, he opens his eyes. His hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. His grip loosens almost immediately when you smile. Eventually, his hand falls back into his lap.

You are careful as ever when you bring the warm washcloth to his face.

It feels too much like fabric filled with rocks.

He flinches. You wait.

“It’s just a washcloth,” you whisper.

Spencer is breathing heavily through his nose. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are strained to stay fixated on the fabric in your hand.

You touch him again. He accepts it begrudgingly at first. After a few moments, however, it feels familiar. Although the minutes dragged on and the cloth turned lukewarm, you are more than happy to wait. You would wait at each step until he was nuzzling against your hand or smiling through shaving cream.

The second part doesn’t take nearly as long. The airy fluff feels nothing like anything sharp. It is smooth and soft, and it reminds him of you. You rinse off your hands but do not pick up the razor just yet. Instead, you use freshly washed hands to push back his hair.

Spencer looks up at you with the most pitiful stare. His eyes are wide and filled with longing for something he feels unequipped to provide.

You know he wants to kiss you, but the lower half of his face is out of commission.

You kiss his forehead instead. You do this to make him happy because you know as soon as you pick up the razor, things will change.

They do.

“Wait,” he says.

You set the razor back down.

“We don’t have to do this,” you remind him. With a lopsided smile and a chuckle, you run your hands through his hair once more. “I love you just as much when you’re scruffy.”

“I know,” he replies, and you are surprised to see it’s also through a smile.

Even more to your surprise, Spencer is the one to pick up the razor.

“I want to do it, though,” he decides. “I want to do it myself.”

He turns his back to you. Almost immediately, he glances back to ensure you’re still there.

“You’ve got this!” you chirp happily with both hands raised triumphantly.

He laughs. When he looks in the mirror, he sees you. Between each swipe of the razor, he returns to find your smile.

His motions are imprecise and hurried. There are a few moments where he stops to catch his breath again. In those more difficult moments, he finds relief in the shape of your hand on his back. It is difficult, but it is not insurmountable anymore.

As the last bit of hair is rinsed from his face, he lifts his head once last time. You are waiting behind him, with a dry fluffy towel in hand to catch whatever droplets might remain—whether they be saline or tap water.

He is quick to turn to you. The razor clambers to the floor and his hands find their place on each of your cheeks.

You try to catch his damp face with the towel, but he pushes past your hands until your lips touch, instead.

He kisses you and there is no scratching of stubble.

There is one fewer sign of the torment on his body.

You kiss him back and drop the towel in favor of him.

He is made warm enough to melt into your embrace before he lets out a final breath of relief.

He smiles with clean cheeks, and he is as beautiful as he’s always been.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

Looking for more to read? Check out my Masterlist here!

Reid Taglist (Everything Reid): @mrs-dr-reid , @dreatine , @hopefulfangirl24 , @laurakirsten0502 , @dontcallmekittens , @rintheemolion , @andreasworlsboring101 , @imsuperawkward , @wentz2005 , @lovejules888 , @dashneydanger , @materialisthicc , @violetspoetic , @mslowlife

Complete Taglist (All Works): @cynbx , @emsma11 , @mediocre-writer , @fightingdragonswithwho , @andiebeaword , @jayyeahthatsme

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic

1K notes · View notes

lefty-scribes · 1 year

Text

sunflower

Summary: After coming home late from a stressful day at work, Spencer needs nothing more than to be in your arms in order to feel like himself again. You offer your touch to him in more ways than one.

melodramatic handjob :>

Word Count: 3423

Songs: ‘cry’ by cigarettes after sex may fit !!

Pairing: softdomme!reader x sub!spencer

Warnings: smut (18+ please), choking (m receiving), spencer cries xoxo, fully consensual but his reactions are described as ‘involuntary’ sometimes, sudden tense switch at the end bc it felt right idk, 65% buildup, 15% action, 20% orgasm LOL

a/n: guys the transition from comfort to seggsy just happened out of nowhere and the pacing is aggressively slow, prob making this hard to get off to. i’m sorry. also if you don’t think you should be reading this (🔞) you’re probably right ?? but please don’t tell me about it. do comment anything else though if you're feeling up to it :3

With a twist of his hand on the doorknob and a step through the door, Spencer took his long awaited whiff of home. It smelled of cedarwood and floral candles and you, and the tension released from his shoulders completely for the first time today.

He walked straight to the bedroom where he knew you’d still be up waiting for him, door open with a lit bedside light to welcome him despite his insistence that your sleep is more important. The urge didn’t even come up to wash his hands, disinfect his phone, or sanitize his work bag, being replaced instead by his desire to be in your presence.

As he’d suspected, there you were, sitting up on the bed you shared, eyes fighting to stay open as they flitted through the pages of a book. The comforter covered your legs, and only a thin sleep shirt separated your back from the headboard you leaned against, the shape of your nipples hardly poking through. Spencer hesitated to walk in and ruin the pretty picture.

When you noticed him, a fond smile grew on your face and you dropped your book to open your arms wide for him. He slowly walked over to you, stomach twisting just a little at the fear of being a bother, and started to position himself as he did whenever he needed a bit of extra comfort. He gave you a quick peck and settled down so his head rested on your lap, lying down on his side with his arm hugging your bare thighs. His long frame curled sideways by your legs under the blanket. He said nothing when you combed your fingers through his hair—just held you a bit tighter; nuzzled his cheek impossibly closer.

You broke the silence, absentmindedly separating small locks of his hair now with your fingers. “Want to talk about it?” you asked, to which he shook his head, movement still restricted by your thighs on his cheek, hating that he didn’t have more to say. Hated to have to make you pry just to hear about his day, but all the more in awe of how attuned you were to his emotions—even more than he was sometimes. Hated being moody and uncommunicative, but his brain was betraying him.

Your thumb now stroked his eyebrow, smoothing it out. Every part of him that your fingers touched relaxed in its wake, coupled with the scent of your lotion and laundry into his breaths. He finally spoke up, voice slightly muddled from his cheek against your leg; perhaps he sounded like his handwriting would sound, though he hoped he was more understandable than that.

“Per hour of sleep we lose, human blood pressure tends to increase by 3 to 5 millimeters of mercury, so you waiting up for me this late probably already caused an increase of 10 mmHg. Cortisol levels can also increase by up to 80% when sleep deprived, and your reaction time can slow by up to 500 milliseconds, which will make it more unsafe for you to drive tomorrow.” I appreciate you so much, baby, but you shouldn’t have waited up, is what he wanted to say. It never came out that way. I love when you greet me. Don’t put your health at risk for me. I’m sorry I’m late. But it always came out instead as numbers and statistics because that’s all he knows how to do, and it’s the only way his voice knows how to love, but you get it. He wants to add more.

You get him. “Stop worrying, Spence. I need to see you just as much as you need to see me. Can’t sleep otherwise,” you assured him. Goosebumps rose on his skin as you rubbed slow, pressured circles onto his forehead, massaging him properly now. Maybe your words were supposed to make him feel better, but he couldn’t shake the guilt in his gut. His burden complex weighed heavier today.

“My Spencer,” you breathed. Heat rose onto his cheeks. Your Spencer. “What do you need from me?”

He laid still on your lap, face now turned upward to memorize your own, pondering on the question. Always too scared to ask, though he knew what he needed. “Anything you’ll give me,” he whispered.

Now freshly dried from his shower, Spencer walked toward where you stayed sitting on the bed just as you had been when he arrived. He stood completely bare before you, an unlikely mix of both self-consciousness and pride filling him as you looked him up and down. The implied power imbalance of your clothed decency juxtaposed with his nude vulnerability has just occurred to him; he felt a rush in his stomach.

You pulled the covers off and spread your legs apart, then patted the space in between. Spencer crawled onto the bed as carefully as he could, trying not to shake it too much, now unsure of how long he could last. He found a seat between your thighs, the outer edge of his legs lining the inner side of your own, his back flush against your torso.

Goosebumps rose on his skin when your hands trailed up his neck, grazing his ears, then his cheekbones, to comb themselves through his soft hair. He shivered, just once. His mouth parted slightly in a shaky exhale and his head lolled back toward you, as a cat would, until it rested gently on your shoulder, full trust in you to support him. His eyelashes fluttered to a close as you slowly but firmly squeezed your fingers into a closed fist against his scalp, hair tangled within your grasp, letting the leverage of your palms against his head do the tugging. Despite the tightness of the skin around his temples, his facial muscles only continued to relax as he silently handed you all control of him. He released a shallow gasp as you gave your wrists a slow twist before releasing his hair entirely.

You slid your fingers down to his nipples, running your thumbs over them each for not long enough. He let out a sigh that must’ve released more air than his lungs had the capacity to carry in the first place. The stresses of the day began to leave with it, Spencer being overcome instead by the relief of being back in the comfort of his own home—in the arms of his beloved. Your hand was cool against his humid skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Ears ringing, he hardly heard his own voice releasing a shaky, dragged out, sh— shhhit, between gritted teeth.

Your hands trailed down even further toward his soft stomach which was scrunched into a bean-like mound from his position against you, grazing down his happy trail before ignoring his painful erection and inching toward his thighs instead. Your nails dragged gently over his inner thighs and he pried them open for you; all for you.

He whined under his breath and his legs flexed under your touch, only the duration of a single twitch, lifting his hips up subconsciously to contact your hands where he needed them most. You gently pushed him back down, wordlessly insisting on giving attention to his soft thighs, asserting that it was your pace being followed. And he couldn’t object. He didn’t want to. Always so patient with him, he longed for you to be proud of his obedience. His thighs were yours to touch, after all, and so was what rested now painfully hard between them.

His head still laying against your shoulder, you gently swiped your tongue against his ear lobe, getting his attention. You whispered to him, and he was so receptive to you. “Do you think you’re ready?”

He didn’t need to see it to know, but he glanced down anyway, his cheeks burning up to a colour he imagined matched his throbbing penis. He ached to be touched there, swallowing at the thought.

He hummed lazily in response, already lightheaded from the rush in his head. He tilted his head in slow roll to place clumsy kisses all over your face, whatever part of it he could reach, nodding continuously to please touch me, I’m ready. He thought his lips had caught your nose, cheekbones, ear, jaw… but at that point he’d already been intoxicated by your touch and couldn’t tell the difference; only wanted to taste the saltiness of your supple skin.

“Words, Spence.” With his head still turned to you, you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and nipped at it until it puffed up, drawing a light whimper from him. He arched his neck sideways to grant you access to the rest of him that your lips and teeth could reach. More of him now exposed to you, he quietly pleaded as you lightly sucked on sensitive points behind his jaw. A lone tear slipped out of his eye closest to you, and you lapped it up as it hung from his jaw.

“Ready. Always ready for you,” he choked, voice already hoarse. Your ability to take him to the clouds far before touching the most sensitive part of him only turned him on further, as well as the nurturing and patient but complete control you exerted. He was undeserving and yet eternally grateful. Swore to himself he’d spend the rest of his days trying to love you as completely as you did him.

Upon squeezing out some lubricant from the bottle in your bedside drawer, you grasped his erection in your slick hand, your other hand exploring the rest of his body, and he gasped with an unintentional jolt. From this position you two were in, it allowed the ridges of your curled palm and fingers, as well as the coolness of your wedding ring, to make full contact with the sensitive vein along the underside of his cock.

You played him like an instrument, and the sounds he made proved nothing less. You’d glide your sharp knuckles over him, barely making contact with him, much to his protest; your hand would run along the thin, elastic stretch of skin connecting his head to the underside of his cock. Or you’d bunch your delicate fingertips together at his tip, letting the widening of his cock separate them as you pushed down toward his balls. He almost wished, as the pads of your fingers trailed his length, that your fingerprints could be ingrained in his skin, if only to be claimed by you even more. His breaths grew laboured and he slowly lost the shame in his whimpers.

Your other hand moved to his lips, muffling his sounds slightly. Your breath tickled his ears, and he threw an arm back to grasp your hair or neck or whatever he could grab, trying fruitlessly to get closer for you to ground him.

He whined helplessly against your now vibrating hand, though it did nothing to quiet his volume as you so creatively played with his cock, fidgeting with him and using him like nothing. Tension was prominent between his eyebrows sewn together, and surely his forehead carried a few creases as well.

You gently ran your thumb against his bottom lip, and he instinctively pulled it into his mouth. Your thumb pushed degradingly against the inside of his cheek, forcing his mouth to open slightly. His tongue circled your thumb out of habit, and the slightest bit of spit dribbled out the corner of his lips.

The room started to smell and feel like sweat, though he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was experiencing everything and nothing all at once, sensations heightened yet brain numbed. Rare were the occasions that he couldn’t explain everything, and the times where he couldn’t think straight, but he revelled in it. Nowhere else was Spencer able to be completely defenseless and equally safe but in your arms—or hands, in this case. His guard wholeheartedly down, he cherished the privilege of being worriless and thoughtless.

His brain’s unusual absence of words and knowledge—two things which he so dutifully guarded just to feel competent—was welcomed because you were around to protect his vulnerability in the meantime.

By now, from the sweat or his own sheer lack of control, Spencer had slid down slightly so his shoulder blades were flush with your breasts; your hard nipples pressed against him through the soft silk of your nightshirt and it reminded him how eager he was to return the favour. He was leaning back a bit more, hardly noticing the ache from his weight resting on his tailbone.

The position gave you access to move your working hand even lower, gentle fingers starting to toy with his balls before moving down toward the sensitive patch of skin right beneath. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth when you hit it, hums and groans gradually increasing in pitch. Against his own will, he clenched around nothing, causing his perineum to shift against your fingers. He choked out another embarrassingly loud sound, mouth shamelessly open now, and then did it again.

You kissed his jaw. “How do you feel?” you whispered. You gave more attention to the pink head now, fingers tickling his smooth tip, thumb pressing down periodically on the ridges. Your other hand played with hair.

“You treat me so well,” he breathed, as earnestly as he could, turning his head to give a sloppy kiss to your wrist, drunk on your touch, your warmth, and you. “Love you so much,"—he swallowed—"ah— oh, f— fuck— Love what you do to me.”

“You deserve it all.”

His moans got more high pitched as you worked, and his breaths came in faster than his chest could keep up with. His hands grasped at your thighs to steady himself, blunt nails digging in.

“My Spencer baby, you look oh so beautiful,” you praised, voice dripping in sheer adoration. His eyes drew open and his gaze rolled back, then lazily toward you. Another tear slowly escaped the corner of his eye, and he wished he weren’t tearing up if only to see your pretty face more clearly. His eyebrows were still tense under the nearness of his undoing, tilted in a pleading pout.

“Please, please-please-please-please-plea— mmngh…” He pleaded and begged for release, no longer making sense of what was coming out of his mouth, eyes ever-downturned and watering once again.

He was helplessly putty in your hands, his body no longer his own, but rather a shell of just euphoria and feeling. He was floating and completely at your mercy, just as he loves to be.

“I love you, please, I—” His sentences grew choppy and more and more incoherent, his speech being mixed with unintelligible throaty noises. His chest rose and fell significantly faster than it had earlier, lips hardly separating as he mumbled a yesyesyesyes keep going yes just like that please, and his hips thrusted up to move his length further into your hand.

His desperate hands sought purchase from whatever they could grab, now tightly squeezing and scratching at your thighs. He readjusted his sweat-slicked palms as they slipped down your skin.

Your hand in his hair slid down roughly to grab his jaw in utter possessiveness, twisting it up toward you to plant a sloppy kiss on his lips. He did the best he could to return it. “Go ahead, baby,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He whimpered into the kiss, with no more capacity to spare you an audible ‘thank you’ as usual. You squeezed your working hand just the slightest bit tighter around his cock, working your way back up to his ever-sensitive pink head.

“Shitshitshitshit, fuck, oh, God. I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so—ah—” How naughty he felt. Maybe you’d tease him later about the junk coming out of his mouth, flustering him with the thought of what the neighbours would think. But as a sunflower proved its affinity to the sun and its warmth, all he could do now was gaze at you mindlessly, his neck aching at the effort. Under the dim yellow lamp lighting up the room, he embodied the sunflower’s golden glow. Its face would follow the bright star by nature and so would Spencer's, happily compelled by some force of nature to show you his authentic self as he held on so close to his orgasm. You smiled at him.

The bed squeaked under his shaking legs. Lone tears made their way down his face, free-falling now, and he made no move to wipe them. As he neared his peak, you kept your hand on his cock, hand wrapped snugly around his tip, angling it toward his chest.

You grabbed his throat with the other, fingers squeezing inward toward the two valleys around his neck that carried his precious arteries, and he felt the first spurt of cum burst through with a loud wail of surprise.

“Baby—“ he tried breathlessly, eyes still attempting to meet yours to please understand what I’m saying, please be proud of me, “baby, I’m coming, I’m fucking coming, I’m…” His muscles spasmed and sharply leaned him forward, causing your hand to obstruct his throat just a bit more, and he was thankful for it if only to ground his shaking to a minimum.

His head was pounding and his vision grew spotty as he basked in the feeling of his life, and his penis, in your hands, and the purpose with which you handled him as he prayed for this state of euphoria to not simply kill him. Though that wouldn’t be a terrible way to go.

He fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, yet still saw only white. He was burning up and held no sense of himself as his muscles twitched in waves, knees buckling, though you were there to hold him through it all. His mouth opened in a silent scream as you continued moving your hand along his sensitive length.

His panting gradually became less breathy and more audible, now backed by a throaty groan with every breath he released. Your name became the only thought in his mind, and he let it shakily slip out of his mouth, not caring how absolutely brainless he sounded. With each spurt of his release onto his chest, each involuntary clenching and thrust of his hips, he repeated it. Whether a cry of pleading, gratitude, or adoration, he wasn’t certain—but it all centred around you.

You talked him through the final stages of his orgasm with gentle murmurs of praise, pushing his hips down to forcefully guide him through it. Good boy, Spencer. Keep going. I’m right here. You got it. You’re doing great. Almost done. I love you. You’re so safe here. Your ministrations on his sensitive penis didn’t slow as you patiently waited for him, though he had to rest his hand on your wrist to slow you down, eyes finally falling closed; you obliged. His body offered you one final tremor of overwhelming pleasure.

The horrors of the day seemed to have been released with his release. But with the way you were now atop him, cleaning up the mess on his chest with your tongue, then crawling back up to his own mouth to offer him a taste, he felt his once-against stiffening cock asking for more where that came from. His aftercare be damned. No longer overwhelmed by his need for solace, this new rise of arousal was geared toward you—thanking you, loving you, cherishing you, pleasuring you in the way his words so often failed to do.

He would do for you what you had so generously done for him, and more, if you’d let him. He could give you his tongue, his length, his fingers, a toy—or whatever you wanted. Offer himself to be used and taken however you pleased. Longed to give you everything he could. He was yours, after all.

Spencer told himself that there would be time for all that, though he always worried otherwise. Keeps it in his head, but he pleads every day that you wouldn’t end up like those he sought justice for at work, or be the body that haunted him until he arrived home to you, or the victim of a target aimed at him. Pleads every day that there would be more time.

But in the meantime, with not much else he can do, just as a sunflower would, he swears to turn his back to everything else dark about the world and follow his sun as long as he is able.

1K notes · View notes

chronicially-parker · 2 months

Note

me again :3

I've thought of another prompt ! spencer reid x gn!reader, as always :3 !

(idk how original it might be,,, but I thought I might as well just request it anyway)

so imagine BAU!reader running late for work and in their haste they've put on one of Spencer Reid's cardigan (maybe reader is also a cardigan wearer and didn't notice until they get to work maybe it takes them a second to remember/realize)

but the BAU notice (especially Reid) (that man is a blushing mess seeing his SO in *HIS* cardigan in front of the *BAU* /hj /lh) (bc the cardigan is a larger size than what reader would wear,, but it is Reid's size)

and so this is how the BAU realized they are dating :3

Thank you for reading and considering my ask !

yes yes yes!!! this is AMAZING!! i had so much fun writing this!! ♡

authors note: hi! this has been sitting in my drafts for far too long, so sorry if it isnt too good! i tried my best ❤️

you woke up to a call from your lovely boyfriend, spencer reid.

"hey baby, are you on your way to work yet?" spencer whispered softly through your phone

you had picked up a call from your boyfriend of 2 years at what you thought was early in the morning but had turned out to be nearly the time you were expected to arrive to work at the bau

"what-? ah shit!" you gasp, coming to the realisation that you had somehow slept through your alarms

"i'll take that as a no then," he chuckles "I'll see you soon, love you!"

"love you too!" you yell into the phone as you jump out of bed, sprinting to your closet grabbing the first things you see

"morning! sorry im late hotch!" you pant as you rush through the doors of the BAU to everyone staring at you, their eyes fixated on your current attire.

"ok i get im like really late but whats up with the staring guys?" you wheeze through breaths in a desperate attempt to regain your energy from running through the entire bau building

"loving the cardigan pretty girl" morgan snickers

thats when you noticed it, the purple cardigan you had draped over your shoulders in your desperate attempt to get out the door this morning

"oh my gosh! r/n is that spencers cardigan!!" your lovely friend penelope squealed, drawing the attention of just about everyone in a 50 ft radius

"everything ok?" spencer asks, coffee in hand after hearing penelopes excited squeals

"anything you want to tell us reid?" emily chuckles, eyeing the poor boy

"my girlfriends wearing my cardigan?"

THIS SPENCER YESYESYES

#autistic!reader #neurodivergent #adhd writer #autistic writer #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid fluff #adhd #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid scenario

270 notes · View notes

creativeuser101 · 8 months

Text

the way he just looks disappointed when hotch taps his arm 😭😭

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds fanart #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid fanfiction #agent hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner

408 notes · View notes

multifandomlover01 · 4 months

Text

Spencer Reid Anxiety Comfort

Established Relationship

WC: ~1.3k

Disclaimer: Based on my own anxiety so I’m sorry if it’s not exactly everyone’s experience with it but I think I made it vague enough

Warning: depictions of anxiety (chest tightness), and anxiety attacks (crying, shallow breathing) but it’s not too graphic or detailed

Note: reader is a child behavior specialist (expert on children victims, perpetrators and witnesses; debriefs kids after they’ve been through a trauma) bc that’s how I view/write myself in the CM universal.

Gif credit: once-upon-an-imagine

—

Spencer and you were relaxing at home after a week long stressful case. The children were saved but there was a point where they very well might not have been. As the child expert, there was a lot of stress on you in particular, especially as you dealt with the parents and debriefed the kids.

As you were lying there on the couch in Spencer’s arms, you started to realize that your chest was tight. It was a very uncomfortable feeling. Spencer seemed to notice a shift in your body language.

“You ok?” He asked softly, a hint of concern in his voice.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You say but you are indeed uncomfortable.

And he could tell by your tone of voice and body language that you were not quite relaxed.

“Is it the case?” He begins to caress your arm lightly. “Got you all wound up, did it?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s wrong? Can you tell me?”

“Chest is tight.”

“Yeah? Want me to help you relax? Do some deep breathing exercises with you?”

“Please.” You nod, your chest tightness getting more uncomfortable.

“Of course, hon. Just relax…let yourself fall back into me like this.” He caressed your arms more and pulls you back into him. Your back is against his chest. “Comfortable? At least as much as you can be?”

“Mhm.”

“Ok…I want you to take a slow deep breath and hold it while I count. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” He wraps his arms around you.

“Yes.”

“Good. Now I want you breathe in for me and hold it, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Nice and deep, alright? Here we go. Taking a deep breath in for 1, 2, 3.” He whispers softly and takes a deep breath along with you. “Holding it for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…and letting it go for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.” He lets it go with you.

“Deep breath in for 1, 2, 3. Holding it for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Letting go for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. “

He repeats this and does it with you for several minutes as he holds you with just the right amount of pressure to assure you that he’s there with you. It’s not too much so as to not overwhelm you. The chest tightness slowly diminishes.

“Feeling better?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” He kisses your head.

—

“Y/N?” He knocked on the bathroom door.

You didn’t answer right away but he could hear your shallow breathing.

“Y/N/N? You ok?”

“Y-yeah.” You call out, your voice wavering slightly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” You tried to say in a clearer voice.

“Can I come in?”

He heard a sniffle. He didn’t get a response and didn’t wait for one. He opens the door and enters the bathroom. His heart breaks when he sees your flushed face and red eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He says softly as he takes a step closer to you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were crying?”

You avert your gaze to the floor and don’t respond and he takes another step closer to you.

“May I touch you?” He asks.

He just wants to help. He hates seeing you like this. You know this. You look back up at him and nod.

“Ok…I’m going to touch your shoulder, ok?”

“Ok.” You nod and smile.

He puts an arm on your shoulder and caressed it. “Can you tell me what you’re feeling right now, hon? Chest tightness, chest pain, shortness of breath? What’s got you all worked up, hmm?”

“I…got really anxious about all of the reports I have to fill out. There were just so many and I wasn’t getting them done fast enough. And if I tried to work faster, the integrity and accuracy would go down and then I’d get in trouble for it and have to redo the reports. I’m nowhere near as fast and efficient as you are. I’m surprised Hotch hasn’t made me take courses to improve my efficiency.”

He listened to you intently. You had his full, undivided attention. He didn’t cut you off. He waited until you were finished talking.

“I can help you with your reports if you’d like.”

“I think I’m really supposed to be the one to do them.”

“We don’t have to tell Hotch.” He shrugs, trying to lighten the mood a little.

You chuckle lightly. “I think Hotch has our writing styles down pretty well. I think he’d be able to tell.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.” You nod.

“You sure I haven’t studied your writing style well enough to fool him?”

“I don’t know…have you studied my writing style?” I asked curiously.

“A little, yes.”

“And you think you could convince Hotch that you’re not writing the report…of a debrief that I gave that you weren’t there for?”

“I’ve been studying you and your behavior pretty closely for years at this point. I think I’d be able to do a pretty good job.” He has a smug grin on his face.

“Ok Dr. Smarty Pants…care to put that to the test?”

“Are you saying you’ll let me?” He asks, hopeful.

“I’m saying I wanna see you try to write like me. And then we’ll see how it goes.”

“You won’t regret it, I promise.” He squeezed your arm. “Are you feeling any better? You’re not crying anymore.”

“No.” You chuckled. “That’s true. I’m not.”

“Distraction is a very efficient method of calming anxiety. So is deep breathing. Do you need me to take some deep breaths with you?”

“No. I think I’ve calmed down enough. Thank you, though.”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for. You wanna go see if I can forge your writing style, then?”

You chuckled. “Sure. Why not?”

“I’m hopeful I can do it.”

“I’m sure you are.”

You both exited the bathroom. You went over to your mountain of paperwork on your desk. He sat down in your desk chair. He looked over the report that you had stopped in the middle of and studied it for a few minutes. Then he picked your pen up and began finishing the report (which was already about halfway done). In a few minutes, he’d finished the report. He gave it to you to review.

“Read that and tell me you didn’t finish that report.”

You looked over what he had written. Your handwriting was replicated. Your choice of words was replicated. It was indeed impossible for someone who wasn’t he or you to know that you hadn’t written this whole report.

“See? I told you I could mimic your writing.” He says and smirks as he sees your reaction.

“I have to admit…this is pretty good.”

“Hotch will never know. Read all of them after I’m done to check if you must but for goodness sake, love, please let me take half of your load.”

“Alright, alright, fine, fine.” You relent.

“Thank you! You won’t regret this, I promise.”

You continued to get through your reports (he had already finished all of his. He’d been so engrossed in his that he hadn’t noticed you had been absent until he had finished and looked up from them to check on your progress). You eventually finished all of your reports.

“See? All done. And with time to cuddle…unless you’re too tired. If you are, that’s ok. I understand. Anxiety attacks and emotional release can take a lot out of a person.”

“I would love to cuddle.” You say as you get up from your chair.

“Don’t you want to look at the reports I wrote?”

“No. I trust you not to have written them as if a preschooler had. Come on, couch time.” You smile as you extend your hand to him.

He smiles and takes your hand. “Couch time indeed.”

You both go over to the couch. He sits down and pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapped around you. He nuzzled your neck.

“You’re ok. We’re ok.”

“Yes. I am. We are. Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid fluff #Spencer Reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #fluff #comfort

189 notes · View notes

actually-safer-to-kiss · 5 months

Text

Girlfriend Interrupted

Summary: Reader had a bad day at work and Spencer's complaints are not the best timing.

Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader

Category: Hurt/comfort

Content warnings: Mentions of food, hunger, and prolonged time without eating

Word count: 887

The bus rumbles across the old asphalt and bricked crosswalks while hissing at stops. All you could do was lay your head against the window and try not to fall asleep or accidentally smash it into the glass after hitting a precarious pothole. You were three stops away from home and all you wanted to do was lock yourself in the apartment and gorge on the least healthy meal you could find.

You had a healthy meal planned for lunch today actually; a salad filled to the nines (the nines being roasted chicken, nuts, pomegranate, and honeydew). It was perfect. So perfect in fact that someone stole it from the fridge when you were in the middle of beating a deadline. And even after being successful in that, your boss still found time to yell at you for something another co-worker did. You weren’t sure which one, but it wasn’t you. You’ve been nibbling on a granola bar on the ride, but your mind is occupied by the leftover lasagna in the fridge.

And you find it there, waiting for you under the stark refrigerator light. You yank it from the bottom shelf and don’t even consider looking at the microwave. You barely looked at the dishes you left in the sink after breakfast this morning and remember how behind you were when getting ready for work, telling yourself you’d put them in the dishwasher before Spencer got home. You did say you’d do that. And Spencer doesn’t like dishes in the sink.

Instead, you grab the blanket from the back of the couch and settle in the dark, pulling up a YouTube video you’ve been meaning to watch. You rest your phone against the book spines Spencer had specifically picked out to be displayed for their guests (mainly your parents during the holidays and his co-workers). Most of them are about astronomy, nothing you’ve cared to pick up. They’re detailed enough to keep Spencer entertained and sturdy enough to keep your phone upright while you slurped up tomato sauce and ricotta cheese. And so you snuggled in like a kid watching Saturday cartoons, sugary cereal at the ready.

And it’s when you think of your boyfriend again that the door behind you opens with a creak. The thud of his cane echoes across the wood floor as that same door clicks as he shuts it. You manage to say “Hey, Spence” through your glorious mouthful of a rushed dinner. But Spencer says nothing back. He’s been struggling not just with his knee acting up again after his previous surgery, but with being unable to travel with his team. The thud of Spencer’s cane trails from the entryway to the kitchen. It was a tough day for both of you, no doubt.

Your sympathies started to wane though when Spencer interrupted your video.

“Ugh, Y/N. I told you I don’t like dishes in the sink.”

“I know.” You tried to say without a mouthful. “And I’m sorry. I was running late for work and needed to get going before—”

“And you left the fridge door open, too. We talked about needing to cut back before our lease renewal. The National Weather Service expects an uptick in accumulation by late December.”

You pause your video and turn in your seat. “Sorry, I was going to do it when I got home, but I needed to eat because someone stole—”

“And you’re eating the lasagna from the tray? We have clean bowls. You could easily grab one from—”

“Let me talk!” You ended up shouting. It was sudden for both of you. You’re never one to raise your voice and Spencer has never been one to fuck up bad enough to witness it. It forces Spencer to freeze in place, like that accumulation he talked about just rushed through the apartment on your command. It would be funny if it was some sort of command if you already weren’t teetering on the edge of tears. The sting in your nose already started traveling to your eyes. They welled up and Spencer quickly became a blur as you started to sob, the trials of a bad day finally getting to you. You let your chest heave and tears streak down your cheeks, hoping at least a portion of the stress will subside afterward.

You didn’t expect Spencer to be right next to you. You didn’t hear his cane once on the floor. It was against the arm of the couch. And he was on the floor, resting on his knees. Of course, you’re too distressed to point out that is the last thing he should be doing if he wants to avoid more surgery so badly. Plus he’s busy with taking the meal off of your lap. “Come here,” he tells you. He’s holding your hands. His hands are just as frigid as the lasagna. But he pulls you up as he tries to stand, meeting you on (somewhat) equal footing to bring you into a hug. It’s warm, obviously. All of his hugs are warm. He wears cotton-only cardigans and wears layers of clothes even at the peak of summer. “I’m sorry.” He says. “Just let it out. I’m here.”

“Spence. Your knee.”

“It’s fine.”

“You need to—”

“Be here. Which I am.” And he holds you tighter.

2K notes · View notes

foxy-eva · 4 days

Text

Rite of Passage

Summary: Spencer is home alone with his daughter when she gets her period for the first time

Request: Spencer and Reader are married. They have a teenage daughter who gets her period for the first time (initially requested to @imagining-in-the-margins)

Pairing: Technically Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader but it’s mostly about Spencer and his daughter!

Category: Comfort, Fluff

Content Warnings: mentions blood, menstruation, period hygiene, cramps, female anatomy and biology, crying, food

Author's Note: I wrote this for @/imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic Writing Challenge!

Masterlist

Sunday mornings always brought a certain calmness with them. Spencer was still half asleep when you kissed him goodbye, leaving for a little day trip with your friends when the sun was barely up.

Spencer mumbled something that should have sounded like I love you before he closed his eyes once more, looking forward to some father-daughter quality time with your wonderful kid Marie.

That was until he was awoken by shrill screams coming from her room.

You were long gone when Spencer jumped out of bed, all of his years working with the FBI having him expect the worst. He rushed into his daughter’s room, finding her sitting in her bed, a look of horror spread across her face.

“Are you okay!?” Spencer almost yelled when he reached her bedside.

His daughter slowly shook her head while pulling back the blanket, revealing small blood stains on her pajama pants and the sheets. It only took Spencer a split second to realize what was happening. His facial features softened instantly.

He thought he still had a few more months, maybe even another year, until this would happen. He had also hoped that you would be home for this occasion, certainly handling this a lot better than he ever could.

“Oh sweetie,” he cooed while sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I think you got your period.”

Instead of saying anything, Marie just buried her face in her hands and started wailing. Spencer wasn’t sure if she was still in shock or if the general discomfort made her cry.

“It’s okay. It just means you’re becoming a woman.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could have taken them back. He hated the thought that his little girl was actually growing up more than anything. And it certainly didn't help in this moment.

Without thinking about it, he did what he was most comfortable with and started rambling, “We talked about this, do you remember? It means that your uterine lining is shedding which results in the discharge of blood through your–”

“Dad!” She cried. “Please stop talking about my… you know! It’s weird!”

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”

His little girl wiped away some tears from her cheeks before muttering, “Where’s mom? I wanna talk to her.”

Spencer sighed. He would have liked nothing more than to be able to let you take over right then. “She already left for her day trip. She won’t be home until six.”

This explanation only led to more crying. Spencer reached out his hand to offer comfort with a gentle touch on her arm but Marie shied away from him.

“I feel gross,” she whined.

“Why don’t you hop in the shower to get clean and then change into fresh clothes?”

It seemed like he finally said something helpful. Her sobs simmered down as she got up from her bed to walk over to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Spencer quickly changed the sheets and put out some clean clothes for his daughter before disappearing in his bedroom.

He let out a loud breath as he reached for his phone to call you. Before you could say anything, he blurted out, “She got her period and won’t stop crying and I don’t know what to do!”

“Oh my poor girl! Is she with you right now?” You wanted to know.

“She’s in the shower. Can you please come home?”

You knew that he wasn’t being serious. A quiet laugh escaped our mouth before you said, “Don't be so dramatic, Spencer. I’m sure you're very capable of handling this.”

“I told her that her uterine lining was shedding. It was not helpful,” he sighed.

“Yeah, maybe hold off on the biology lesson for now. You know where my pads are, right?”

“Oh yeah, right. She's gonna need them.” Spencer paused for a second. “Oh god, what if she wants to use a tampon? I can’t explain that to her. That conversation will make the both of us cry.”

“Give her a pad for now, those are self-explanatory. I can talk to her about tampons later if she wants.”

“Okay, okay, yeah. She just turned off the shower, I gotta go!”

“Good luck! And stop panicking!”

That was easier said than done. Spencer almost jumped when he heard Marie knocking on the bedroom door.

“You can come in!”

His daughter, tightly wrapped in a bathrobe, stepped into the room. She had stopped crying but still seemed upset. Spencer’s heart always broke a little when he saw his little girl in discomfort.

“I’m still uhm…bleeding,” she whispered.

“Yes, that's gonna last a couple of days,” Spencer replied with a soft voice. He disappeared in the master bathroom for a second to get a pack of pads. “Here. Do you know how to use them?”

“I’m not an idiot, dad,” she snubbed.

The tone of her voice gave away how irritated she was. Usually Spencer would remind her to be more respectful but decided to let it slide this time.

“I know, Mimi. I just wanted to make sure,” he said instead.

The use of this nickname for his daughter was yet another reminder of a time that seemed so long gone right then. Marie had trouble pronouncing her own name as a toddler so she’d say Mimi instead. Spencer loved it so much that he stuck with it ever since.

Without saying another word, she disappeared in her room. Spencer rubbed his temples for a moment before getting ready for the day himself. He decided to give his daughter some space and prepare breakfast in the meantime.

He was focussed on not burning the chocolate chip pancakes he was making when Marie stepped into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she mumbled.

Spencer turned his head to smile at his daughter. “It's okay, sweetie. I know you aren’t feeling well.”

She placed her hands on her lower stomach and muttered, “It hurts.”

“Here,” Spencer said as he reached for the hot water bottle he had already prepared. “Heat has a proven effect on relieving period cramps.”

“Thank you.”

A timid smile appeared on her face when she realized her father was preparing her favorite breakfast. She stepped closer to catch a glimpse of the pan while chirping, “Chocolate chip pancakes?”

“You know I’d do anything to make you feel better, Mimi,” Spencer spoke in a soft voice while offering his daughter a hug.

This time she accepted, tightly wrapping her arms around him. Spencer was relieved that he didn’t mess up yet another thing. Marie was very bright and realized something Spencer had thought about earlier, too.

“Wait,” she said as she stepped back. “You always make mom her favorite meal when she’s in a bad mood.”

“You have a lot in common with your mother, “ he explained. “I figured I should try what works for her.”

“Now you’ll have to deal with two cranky girls in the house,” Marie laughed while taking out two plates.

“I really don't mind,” he sincerely replied. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to have all kinds of uncomfortable side effects during your period. Taking care of your mom – and now you – is the least I could do.”

After a moment of silence she said, “Earlier you said that I’m becoming a woman now. I thought about that when I was in the shower… What if I don't wanna grow up yet?”

“I don’t know if that helps, but… You’ll always be my little girl,” Spencer responded while filling both plates with pancakes.

“So you’ll still watch Disney movies with me?”

A wide smile spread over Spencer’s face as he took the plates to walk over to the couch. “I was hoping you'd ask!”

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

422 notes · View notes

daydreamingqueen1 · 5 months

Note

spencer gifting reader w lingerie for the first time and being all flustered giving it to her???

Lingerie

hi, love, thank you so much for the request, sorry it took so longg <3 Congrats on being my first request btw

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, suggestive, reader in her underwear, nothing explicit, no y/n.

Word count: 1.3k

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆

"It's creepy right? Who does this? Why did I buy it?!"

Spencer had been home for about fifteen minutes before he went and hid inside the bedroom. It took you another twenty before you ventured into the hallway quietly and heard him talking to himself in progressively more panicked whispers.

This was not normal but maybe it had been a bad case. However, when that happened, he was usually inclined to cling to you in silence until everything felt a bit less, not hide away.

This is not it.

"God, I'm a pervert!"

Okay, that's enough. You need to intervene. You give a few overtly loud steps to warn him of your presence.

Spencer is pacing the room back and forth, a black bag in his hand. He flies to hide the bag behind his back the moment you walk in, a blush spreading through his cheeks.

"Spencer? What's going on?" You ask cautiously.

He gives you a reassuring smile, a poor attempt at one at least, "Nothing! Nothing, everything is completely fine."

You arch your eyebrow, "Really?"

Spencer presses his lips together in a line and nods way too quickly.

You sigh, torn between amusement and slight concern, "You know you are the profiler of the two of us, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Then you shouldn't be this bad at hiding something, Spencer." Your deadpan look only manages to turn him redder.

Staring back at you guiltily, he gulps. "I– I'm sorry, sweetheart."

You give a few tentative steps closer to him, your expression turning more worried by the second, "What's wrong, Spence? Did something happen?"

He's quick to shake his head and reassure you, "No, no, nothing like that, everyone's fine."

You exhale a relieved breath.

"It's just... silly." Spencer finishes, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

Closing the distance between you two, your hand comes to rest over his chest, "It's okay, you deal with my silly all the time," you give him a small encouraging smile, "What does the pretty doctor have in between hands?"

"I–" he hesitates again before sighing and mumbling like a child, "I bought you something."

"Oh?" you truly didn't expect that answer, surprise flooding your features, "Why are you so flustered then? Can I see it?"

The crimson color returns to his cheek and you think he's a second away from bolting out from the room. He hangs his head in defeat and finally relents, revealing the mysterious black bag from behind his back.

Giving him a quizzical look, you take it in your hands. You're almost apprehensive as you pull out the silk paper from the top and discover a small nondescript box inside. The cardboard feels expensive against your hands, you shoot your nervous boyfriend another glance before finally opening it.

"Oh."

Silence fills the room for the next few seconds. You're about to open your mouth when—

"I'm sorry!" Spencer's nervous energy snaps and he starts babbling out an apology, "You don't have to wear it. I shouldn't have bought it without asking you first. I– I can't return it but we can just toss it and forget about it. I'm sorry, really, please don't think that I'm a creep."

You can't help it, you laugh at his frantic response, "Calm down, Spencer, you're not a creep. I love it."

Spencer seems about to go off into another lengthy apology before your words register on his brain.

"...What?"

"I love it." You smile genuinely at him before looking down at the contents of the box. Inside rests a set of lovely purple lace lingerie. Your hand reaches for the material and your smile widens even more at the luxurious feel of the fabric.

You launch yourself to hug him, "Thank you!"

"You're not mad?" He asks as if he was expecting you would slap him rather than hug him. You feel the heat of his flushed cheeks against you.

"Why would I?" You take the garments between your fingers and appreciate them closely. Taking pity on his nerves, you give his shoulder a comforting squeeze, "You're allowed to buy sexy underwear you want to see your girlfriend in, Spencer."

"Am I?" he says incredulously.

"Yes," You respond, chuckling and then grinning excitedly, "I'll go try it on!"

His eyes widen comically and before he can say anything else you run with your new set to lock yourself inside the bathroom.

You shed your clothes and put on the lacey bra and matching panties, critically observing your reflection on the mirror. It's a really pretty set. The lace feels soft and expensive against your skin, Spencer must have spent a considerable amount on it.

The lingerie set it's not even that risqué to have put Spencer at the edge of a panic attack, you think to yourself with amusement, you've seen more provocative stuff in department stores.

Trutfully, it's perfect. The bra hugs your breasts, pushing them up and leaving the top prettily displayed, the panties frame your bum flatteringly and cinch around your hips perfectly. Plus the color contrasts nicely with your skin tone, though you suspect that's not the reason why he chose it.

Giving one last appreciative glance to your figure, you fluff your hair before exiting the bathroom.

You find Spencer sitting on the side of the bed, playing with his hands like he always does whenever he's nervous. His head immediately snaps up at the creek of the door.

Gathering all your courage, you put on a show, walking through your room with an enticing sway of your hips, your eyes staring directly at him.

Humming the tune of that one sexy song, you give a slow and playful turn to let him take you all in. You stop when you are facing him again, your hands resting on your hips and your eyebrow raising expectantly, "Well? How do I look?"

Spencer is too stunned to speak, his mouth parted in a dumb expression of wonder. It gives you an incredible rush.

"Sweet heavens," he exhales, you don't think he knows he's saying it out loud.

Under his admiring gaze, you become suddenly shy, your hands crossing over your middle, not knowing how to deal with so much of his undivided attention. "Oh, um... it fits."

"It certainly does," Spencer whispers in that airy tone again, his fingers stretching towards you and delicately tracing the edge of the lace panties. Goosebumps erupt all over you.

"Didn't think you'd know my bra size," you comment, desperately trying to stop your heart from wildly beating inside your ribcage.

"I didn't," He pulls you closer and you fall onto his lap, your arms instinctively closing around his neck, "I calculated it based on my memories."

"So you've thought about me naked while you were buying it," you say, regaining some of your confidence.

That seems to pull him out of his indulgent trance, his ears turning a bit pink, "Well... yeah, but just because they said I couldn't return underwear and–"

You stop him before he flusters himself again, "I'm just teasing you, Spence. You are also allowed to think of your girlfriend naked."

He looks up at your face and his lips curl in an uncharacteristically smug smirk.

"Not now!" You exclaim chuckling and slapping his shoulder playfully, "I guess that eidetic memory can serve naughtier purposes."

Spencer huffs out a laugh and closes his arms around your waist, pecking your lips sweetly, "You liked your present then, sweetheart?"

"I do, it's lovely," You pretend to go for another kiss but instead push his chest, making him fall back on the mattress.

“Hey,” he protests weakly, looking up at you with adoring eyes.

You lean forward, caging his head between your arms, a coy smile forming on your face, “Let's give that wonderful brain of yours a fresh memory to relive, eh?”

Let's just say the lingerie set doesn't stay on for much longer after that.

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆

I'm shamelessly peaking my head in here again, sorry for taking so long without posting, life has been having fun kicking my ass but luckily I'm on vacation now so I'll be more active yaaay

♡, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

Requests are open!!

hope ya liked it, byebye

my masterlist

#spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid cm #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid comfort #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #daydreaming requests

442 notes · View notes

gtgbabie0 · 11 months

Note

ugh the lego spencer fic got me giggling like a little middle schooler with a crush. i need more please 😭😭😭

Total geek

{After Spencer has a tough week you surprise him with the Millennium falcon lego set and he geeks out}

Ack! He’s just the cutest <3 Hope you enjoy lovely!! 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Spencer’s job was nothing short of stressful, every aspect of it was just so taxing. Sure sometimes it could be very rewarding, helping people, bringing justice and whatnot. But for the past week something seemed to sit heavy on his chest, a feeling he couldn’t quite shake.

You could tell that it was bothering him more than usual from the obvious crease that haunts the space between his brows, or how he would stay up late into the night studying cases. He became distant, and it hurt to see how much it was troubling him.

Spencer returned home early tonight, on the order of Hotch. He’d made a silly mistake today, which caused him to mess up on the geographical profile of the unsub. It was eating him alive because Spencer Reid doesn’t make mistakes. He couldn’t get his head around it, why and how had he messed up so bad?

He huffs dropping his brown shoulder bag on the floor after slamming the door shut. A flurry of emotions bubbled around in his chest and he wasn’t quite sure if it was the embarrassment or the frustration that was making him want to cry, perhaps it was both.

He walks further into the apartment, his fingers raking through his wind-tussled hair. “Hey sweetie, you’re home early,” you say, walking over to where he was sitting at the breakfast bar.

He clears his throat, trying to ignore the stinging sensation that’s prominent in the back of his throat. “Yeah, Hotch sent me home,” he tells you, wincing slightly at the memory, and you don’t miss the way his voice quivers with emotion.

You inch closer to him until you're standing in between his thighs and he smiles at the closeness. Leaning into your touch as you tuck his hair behind his ears. His heart swells with love, he hasn’t been this close to you in a while.

“I’m sure it came from a place of caring,” you tell him, sighing as his eyes fill with tears. He rests his head against your chest with a shaky sigh. Your hands soothe against his back.

You were right, even if it didn’t feel like it, you were right. Hotch cared, of course, he did, but that didn’t stop the embarrassment that still pinches at his heart. The team more often than not relied on Spencer and his ‘wonderfully scary brain’ as they put it, so for him to mess up was a big deal, he felt like he’d failed them.

He sniffles slightly, “I made a mistake on the geographical profile, no one got hurt, but I just-” he winces at how small his voice was, “It was embarrassing” he admits, nuzzling his nose further into your shoulder as if he was trying to hide away from the whole situation.

He shouldn’t be so hard on himself, he’s had a horrible week so, in reality, it was only a matter of time before he made a mistake, he was only human after all.

“Hey, look at me” you whisper, your hands cupping either side of his face as looks up at you with a strained smile, “You’ve had an awful week, it’s okay Spence” you reassure him and you can tell by the way he lets out a little ‘mhm’ that he doesn’t believe you.

“You’re only human sweetheart, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” you tell him, and he sighs once again resting his head back against your shoulder.

You smile, excitement tingling through your chest as you think back to yesterday when you brought him another Lego set to add to his growing collection, the Millennium Falcon. You wanted to brighten up his week, so what better way than to buy him a gift?

“Okay, no more work talk” you declare, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he looks up at you with a thankful smile, “I’ve got you something, stay here” his expression changes to a more curious look as his eyebrows slightly knit together.

He doesn’t have time to question you before you’re making your way to the bedroom, reappearing with a huge box in your arms, poorly wrapped in old Christmas wrapping paper. His mouth opens slightly, what on earth have you brought?

He walks into the living room, sitting down next to you on the sofa, the mystery gift separating the two of you. “Okay open it!” You smile, and he’s at a complete loss for words as he starts ripping the paper.

You can’t help but giggle at the way his eyes light up, and the sight warms your heart. He lets out a little gasp, “Baby, you- you didn’t have to” he says, his heart hammering against his ribcage as he scrunches up the remaining wrapping paper into a ball, eyes fixed on the Lego set.

“I wanted to” you whisper, watching the way his eyes brim with tears.

“This- this thing is huge, where are we even going to put it?” He asks, looking around the apartment as he tries to figure something out. You grab his hand bringing his attention back to you.

“We’ll figure something out” you promise as he nods whispering a small ‘Yeah’

He places the box carefully on the floor before wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer to him in a sweet hug. He presses a kiss to your cheek, “Thank you so much” he smiles, his chest bursting with happiness.

“Of course, anything to see you smile” you wink, with a teasing smile as he shakes his head with a laugh.

He sits down on the floor, patting the space beside him for you to sit next to him, and you gladly do so, as he opens the box with an excited smile.

“You know the Millennium Falcon was actually built in several different sizes,” he says, looking over at you with a smile, he watches as your eyebrows lift slightly with surprise as you turn to him.

“Really?” You ask, watching as he nods enthusiastically, pulling out the instruction manual.

“Yeah, the complete models of the Falcon ranged from very small, small enough to fit in the palm of your hand-” he pauses, a warmth blooming in his chest when he realises you’re still listening, waiting for him to carry on, “To- to over four feet and an almost full-size replica of the exterior of the ship, that was made for the empire strikes back, is measured almost sixty feet long,” he says, sorting all the Lego blocks into their correct spaces.

He continues to ramble off facts about the spaceship as you listen intently before a comfortable silence falls on the pair of you, soft music from the radio playing in the background as you both continue to build the Lego set. The minutes soon turn into hours.

“This is going to take weeks” he mumbles, his elbow resting against his knee as his chin sits in the palm of his hand.

You look over at the clock, dinner time. “Yep,” you say popping the ‘p’. He watches as you stretch your arms upwards, letting out a little groan. “I’m gonna order dinner, do you want Thai?” You ask as he nods, continuing to snap the Lego pieces together.

“Yes please, I’ll get the usual” he says as you nod. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth before handing him his glasses that were sitting on the coffee table, noticing the way he was starting to rub at his eyes, he whispers a small ‘thanks’ as you stand up to grab your phone.

“Don’t lose any pieces this time!” You shout, giggling at the way he replies with a sarcastic laugh and a ‘Yeah yeah’

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

1K notes · View notes