1mnshw

[1mnshw]

because i liked a boy - spencer reid x fem!reader

somehow a reporter finds out about reader's relationship with none other than her coworker, dr spencer reid and shames her for it during a press conference

genre: flangst wc: 1355 warnings: medialiaison!reader established relationship, slut-shaming, feminism talk, upset spencer, morgan mention, mentioned case involving children

"This is a rough composite sketch of the UnSub. If anyone sees him, please call us using the number on the screen. Any questions?" you speak clearly, eyebrows raised and back straight.

It's a tough case this time, not that any are easy. The ones involving children–like this one–are the worst. You know that. It’s yet to hit you this hard, though. You're used to being in front of a camera all fake smiles and airbrushed to look porcelain but you're struggling to hold it together today. It’s never been easy to see grieving parents begging for their kid’s life on national television.

It also doesn't help that you haven't seen Spencer much these past two days. Ever since HR found out about you two, he’s been trying to keep his distance for professionalism’s sake. You appreciate it, of course, but you wish everything could be normal again. You miss working alongside him, sneaking tiny waist pinches every little while. Maybe you’re codependent.

One of the male reporters holding a microphone asks plainly, like it isn’t rude, “how do you expect this case to go to trial with your ongoing relationship within your team? Isn’t that some sort of conflict of interest?”

Now, how did they find out about that?

Luckily, Hotch steps in before you need to form a response. You’re left flushed and out of sorts, needing some water or something. It’s not like you’ve never had a bad press experience but nothing that came after you specifically. Why do they even care in the first place? Are you really that interesting? Is your love life really that interesting? His mustn’t be.

To Hotch, he spits, “it’s a valid question, Agent, you can’t expect no one to comment on one of your unit’s members sleeping her way to the top or… sleeping her way to getting a case dismissed.”

You want to stay, fight, cry, maybe even guilt him into apologizing, but, to your dismay, you’re pulled away by Morgan who looks just as upset as you do. If there weren’t a room full of people stopping him, you’re sure he would’ve hurt the guy. You don’t want to be dragged away by the action figure that is Derek Morgan so you try to pour your feelings into words. “The conference– the case–!”

Morgan stares at you in a way that very clearly says are you done? And, yes, you guess you are. You sigh, nodding reluctantly.

“Hotch will figure it out,” he assures softly but firmly.

You’re escorted to the break room where you watch the television only to see that very same reporter, spewing his nonsense again. Low and behold, he’s still stuck on the topic of you.

“An anonymous source discloses the identities of two FBI agents with the Behavioural Analysis Unit that are in a relationship of hidden rendezvous.”

The pitter-patter of your heart is louder than usual as he reads out your names along with the loving message, “I guess this proves that women really can’t be trained. What a shame, she’s certainly got–”

With that, you shut off the disgusting noises coming from someone claiming to be a man. You’ve never been good at taking insults but this was something else entirely. Your chest burns. You’re being perceived as a person you’re not. Everything you’ve tried so hard to build could all come crashing down at this very moment if you let it.

All because you liked a boy?

It feels ridiculous, like a step in the wrong direction for all womankind. That’s dramatic, you’re sure, but this is so twenty years ago. What happened to feminism, for fuck’s sakes? You wouldn’t give Spencer up for anything less than solving world hunger, but you wish this whole ordeal could’ve never happened. What if you lose your job? What if you lose this case because you’re too sensitive to male attention for your own good? Unfortunate circumstances led here and you wish it could be simple. It’s a tall order, but you wish UnSubs and all the people who enjoy pinning others down would simply cease to exist. You wish Spencer was here.

As if reading you all the way from canvassing the neighborhood, he’s suddenly visible, walking towards the doorway with quick Converse-sounding steps, Morgan’s hand on his shoulder. He looks worried. What worries you, though, is that he looks guilty. That hurts.

Familiar arms wrap around you as he kneels on the floor in front of the couch. “Hey, I heard what happened. Are you okay?” Spencer whispers, lips pressed into the fabric covering your shoulder.

You ponder the question for a moment before nodding. You’re not quite sure how you feel, if you’re being completely truthful. Criticism was never something you’ve taken well. Not ever. Maybe you deserve it, though. After all, you are sleeping with a coworker. You’re an agent, it’s not appropriate of you in the least. You should’ve kept to yourself, been the good girl the world wanted you to be. Female agents in the big bad FBI are already seen a certain way. You just happened to worsen it with wide-eyed affection.

How he always does, he mutters an explanation, “people like that don’t have anything going for them, you know. They report on others because their own life is insignificant.”

It’s wildly the wrong time to laugh but you do, flushed cheeks plumping from a happy smile. He pulls away and your hands find his face like they always seem to do. “I know.”

He nods. He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

He’s so unbelievably pretty that it almost makes you want to cry. Those same somber eyes that you’re sure mirror yours stare deep.

“It just sucks… you know?” you say so very quietly.

Nodding, he chews on his lip. “I know.”

“It’s like… I thought slut-shaming was over,” you laugh bitterly.

You can tell he feels bad. It’s not like this is his fault. You know he believes it is, anyways.

“It should be. It’s ridiculous. This isn’t your fault. That useless guy should be spending the night in a cell for harassing an agent not on the ten o’clock news airing out our personal matters.”

It’s really not often you see him like this, upset and wielding pain-filled threats. It never fails to amuse you. You’re not sure why. Something about the juxtaposition of his usual sweet demeanor and this annoyed ranting one, you suppose.

“It’s kind of funny.”

“Funny?”

You smile and nod, your thumb tracing his lower lip. “A little. We’re the most enthralling news in all of small-town-Colorado.”

While Spencer doesn’t find it quite as giggle-inducing, he mimics the pull of your mouth’s corners and shows his reluctant agreement with a bob of his head. “That is… silly, I guess.”

“We’re basically stars,” you shrug.

In honest disbelief and certainly awe for your ability to brush off the event with humour, he shakes his head, curls falling out of place. Your fingers rush to correct it. The golden eyes you love stay stubbornly put on your own. Breaths mix together in the close proximity despite you not recalling how you got so close. It’s proven difficult to care when his plush lips find yours. Carefully and with love, he kisses you. With no intent, no desire other than to make you feel better. It breaks stickily, the shimmer that once was on your lips now ghosting around his mouth. You grin.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Spencer tenderly mutters.

Gently, you answer, “I’m sure. I mean, we didn’t do anything wrong.”

You believe yourself. You’d never doubt your relationship with Spencer. It just sucks that they had to poke holes in your safe place. That safe place being Spencer. Your home. You know because of your profiler-by-association background that he was right about the reporter being not fulfilled enough in his own life that he had to insert himself into yours. That didn’t make it drastically better, anyway. Perhaps your personal life should be kept away from work.

But it’s not your fault that work happens to include Dr. Spencer Reid.

[1mnshw]

hi team dropping in for my weekly tumblr log in. you are all still queens, all of your fics remain consistently perfect, and reid is still the sexiest man alive. thank you and goodnight

[1mnshw]

WHATS THE UNABOMBER DOING HERE

[1mnshw]

RRRRRROOOOOOOAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

where’d my pants go 😦🧍🏼‍♀️ .

like srsly .

[1mnshw]

miss you guys :(

working on my spiderman fic whenever i have time and energy. its so fun to do but i'm purely writing it to keep myself sane bc I'm so damn busy and i need to disappear into my fantasy world sometimes. don't expect it anytime soon but she'll be there eventually!

another day another dollar guys! (experiencing severe burnout)

[1mnshw]

being drafted rn. get hype!!!!!!!!!!!!!

wanna write a reid as spiderman x reader or fem oc so bad. like shes his partner in crime and they're both in the bau and are covering their tracks. is this crazy

[1mnshw]

LOVE

Cold!reader who defends Spencer when’s someone’s making fun of his autistic traits, and the teams like “what?????”

STAGNANT — SPENCER REID!

why would someone ask spencer a question if they didn’t want to hear the answer?

spencer reid x cold!reader | 1.2k | fluff? | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — the cold!reader roster i have atm has me kicking my feet and twirling my hair, stay tuned

You step into the cramped precinct in a town that barely makes the map, the smell of stale coffee and old paper immediately hitting you.

The air hums with tension—murder cases tend to have that effect on a room. Your team disperses, each member diving into their respective tasks like clockwork.

You stay near Spencer, keeping an eye on the board he’s already scouring, his sharp mind undoubtedly miles ahead of everyone else’s.

It doesn’t take long for the local officers to start asking questions. You’ve seen it before: their curiosity morphing into disbelief as they’re confronted with Spencer Reid in full form.

This particular case involves a peculiar type of soil found on the victim’s shoes, and when one officer, a grizzled man named Officer Moore, offhandedly asks about its significance, Spencer lights up.

“It’s fascinating, actually,” he begins, his voice picking up with enthusiasm. “The soil contains traces of montmorillonite clay, which is common in areas with volcanic ash deposits. This specific type is unique to the western side of the county, and based on the composition—” He gestures to the samples bagged on the table, oblivious to the officer’s quickly fading interest.

Spencer continues, lost in his explanation, his words flowing like water over smooth stones. You watch the officer shift uncomfortably, his expression hardening into impatience. The moment Spencer pauses to breathe, Moore cuts in, looking at you with a smirk.

“Is he like this all the time? Never shuts up, huh?”

You freeze. The room, bustling moments ago, seems quieter now. Your team is too far off to hear, but you’re right here. Close enough to feel the sting of the comment.

Spencer doesn’t notice. Or maybe he pretends not to. Either way, it doesn’t sit right with you. The dismissive tone, the condescension dripping from the officer’s words—it sparks a heat under your skin that you don’t bother to hide.

“Are you stupid?” Your voice is sharp, like a knife scraping metal. Moore’s smug expression falters.

“Excuse me-?”

“You heard me,” you continue, stepping closer, your gaze fixed on him. “If you can’t keep up with what Dr. Reid is saying, that’s your problem. He’s giving you answers—solutions—that you clearly wouldn’t find on your own. So maybe try listening instead of running your mouth.”

Moore blinks, taken aback. His hand hovers near the cup of coffee on the table, forgotten. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, you did.” you interrupt, crossing your arms. “And for the record, if he’s too much for you to handle, then stay out of his way, you’ll murk his IQ into single digits.”

The room is quiet now, the subtle hum of computers and distant voices the only sound. Spencer finally looks up, his expression unreadable. There’s a hint of surprise in his eyes, but mostly he just seems... confused.

Moore mutters something under his breath and stalks off, clearly not willing to press the issue further. Good. You watch him go, your blood still simmering.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Spencer says softly, his voice carrying a note of uncertainty.

“Yes, I did,” you reply without hesitation. “He was being a jerk.”

Spencer tilts his head, studying you. “People say things like that all the time.”

“Well, they shouldn’t,” you counter, your tone firm. “And if you wont put your foot down about it then I will.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, as if trying to decipher some hidden code in your words. Then, unexpectedly, he smiles—small and fleeting, but genuine. It feels like a victory, however minor.

—

Later, when the team regroups, the tension in the precinct has eased, though you can still feel a few lingering stares from the local officers.

Hotch gives you all the rundown of the next steps, his voice steady and commanding as always. You nod along, but your focus drifts to Spencer, who’s scribbling something in his notebook, seemingly unbothered by the earlier incident.

As the team breaks off to get to work, Emily sidles up beside you, her dark eyes alight with curiosity. “So,” she begins, drawing out the word. “What was that about?”

“What was what about?” you reply, feigning ignorance.

“That little showdown with Officer Grumpy Pants earlier,” she says, smirking. “Word has it you tore him a new one,”

You shrug. “He was being disrespectful.”

Emily raises an eyebrow. “To Reid?”

“To all of us, honestly,” you say. “But yeah, mostly Reid. He didn’t deserve that.”

Emily studies you for a moment, her smirk softening into something more thoughtful. “Awe how sweet,”

“Don’t start,” you warn, but there’s no real bite to your words. Emily laughs, raising her hands in mock surrender.

“Hey, no judgment,” she says. “It’s just... very human of you.”

“I’m not a robot.”

She gestures vaguely toward you. “Oh hush you know what I mean,”

You roll your eyes but don’t bother arguing. Instead, you glance across the room at Spencer, who’s now deep in conversation with JJ and Rossi. The earlier exchange seems to have rolled off him, as if it never happened.

But you know better. You’ve seen the way comments like that stick, the way they fester in that moment f hesitation before he speaks. You’re not sure why it matters so much to you—why he matters so much—but you don’t dwell on it.

—

The case drags on into the evening, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. By the time the unsub is in custody and the team is preparing to head back to the jet, exhaustion hangs heavy in the air.

As you gather your things, Morgan claps a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, Ice Queen,” he says, his tone teasing. “You did good.”

“Thank you? I was doing my job.” you reply, shooting him a bemused look.

He chuckles. “Not with the case, sweetness. Word is you went full gladiator on one of the locals earlier.”

“Word travels way too fast in this team,” you mutter.

Morgan grins. “What can I say? We’re a nosy bunch. But it’s nice to know you haven’t lost your bite now you’re saddled up to boy wonder.”

He gestures with his head towards where Spencer was sleeping on the jet’s couch, wrapped in a cheap blanket like baby.

You fight back the urge to smile.

“I never changed,” you say dryly.

Morgan laughs, but there’s a glimmer of respect in his eyes. “Sure you did,”

“No I didn’t,”

He nudges your shoulder, a whisper of “You’ll admit it one day,” before he walks off.

[1mnshw]

let's keep it tame now guys one of my real life bffs follows my tumblr

[1mnshw]

wanna write a reid as spiderman x reader or fem oc so bad. like shes his partner in crime and they're both in the bau and are covering their tracks. is this crazy

[1mnshw]

i miss having the time to be on tumblr and write and talk to all of my awesome cool perfect internet buddies but i legit have NO TIME between work and college and rehearsals. it makes me so sad. know i am thinking of u all always even when i'm not active.

[1mnshw]

hi! can we be moots :)

you don't even have to ask gf

[1mnshw]

hot take but smut about real people is weird! like spencer? YES. all day. mgg? not for me!

maybe i'm just crazy idk what do u guys think

[1mnshw]

WAITTTT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO THINK OF A PART TWO TO THIS.....

out with lanterns | s.r.

wc: 1.3k

category: angst

spencer reid x reader

content: breakup, no happy ending, reader hates themselves, i project on reader

this kind of sucks a little but i wanted to write something before i went to sleep! enjoy it or don't! love you nonetheless.

-----

"I am out with lanterns / looking for myself" - Emily Dickinson

-----

The afternoon sun spilled through the windows, striking his brown eyes and turning them into molten pools of honey that seemed to seep into your very soul, warming every corner of your being. The way his button-up shirt clung to his broad shoulders, perfectly tailored as though it had been made for him, sent a pang through your chest—a reminder of all the ways you wished you could hold him instead. His scent lingered in the air, a warm mixture of faded cologne, old pages of treasured books, and something ineffable—something so uniquely Spencer that it left you breathless.

These details—these little, inconsequential details—were carved into your memory like ancient scripture, as though he were the only thing you'd ever truly seen.

He was perfect. Perfect in ways that made your chest ache. You told him as much during the quiet moments you shared, wrapped in the cocoon of his apartment walls. When the soft glow of his bedside lamp traced his jaw like a lover, and you felt the whisper of his eyelashes brushing yours as he leaned in, lips soft and searching, you often wondered how the universe had granted you the privilege of him.

But you didn’t deserve him. Not really.

You were a mess, and you knew it. Everyone knew it. Spencer deserved someone better—someone unbroken, someone who wouldn’t weigh him down with their chaos. Someone who could love him without reservation or fear.

This was why you had to leave, no matter how much it hurt. You were doing this for him—because you loved him. So fully. So completely.

But God, it was so damn hard to force the words past your lips with him standing in front of you, that familiar crooked smile on his face—the smile that made your heart stutter every time.

“Spencer, I’m sorry. But I don’t, um…” Your voice wavered, and his face shifted, his smile falling as your meaning began to take shape. You looked down, unable to bear the confusion darkening his honeyed gaze. “I don’t think I can be with you anymore.”

Your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat quickly, desperate to make this as painless as possible. A clean break—a shot instead of a stab. But the moment his brows furrowed, and he took a hesitant step closer, you knew it would never be that simple.

“What?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I—did I do something?”

He sounded as if you’d ripped the breath from his lungs, and his eyes searched yours with a desperation that made your resolve quiver.

Spencer loved you unfathomably, with a depth that scared you. You were his solace, his refuge, his everything. More than books, more than reason, more than life itself. He loved you in ways that made the air feel heavier between you now.

And he couldn’t understand—why were you doing this?

You cleared your throat, swallowing the lump threatening to choke you. You had to hold yourself together.

“It’s not you, Spencer. It’s nothing you did—I swear.” Your voice trembled as you spoke, your fingers instinctively brushing away the hot tear slipping down your cheek. Spencer moved as though to reach for you, his hand stuttering midair before retreating, the hesitation breaking your heart all over again.

Spencer’s hand fell to his side, his fingers curling into a trembling fist as though trying to anchor himself in a reality that was slipping away. His eyes, wide and brimming with a tempest of confusion and hurt, held yours with a desperation that pierced straight through you.

“You can’t just say that and expect me to understand,” he said, his voice rough and uneven. “What do you mean, you can’t do this anymore? You—we—” He paused, his breath hitching, as though even forming the words was a betrayal of the time you’d spent together. “I thought we were happy. I thought you were happy.”

Your chest tightened painfully, each word striking like a blow. “I thought I was too,” you whispered, forcing yourself to look away. If you met his eyes any longer, you’d break entirely. “But I’m not, Spencer. I can’t—I’m not the person you think I am. I’m not someone who can give you what you need.”

His laugh came sharp and bitter, so unlike him that it startled you. “You don’t get to decide what I need,” he said, taking a step closer. “And you’re wrong, you know. I do know you. I know how you push people away when they get too close—how you think you’re protecting them from something. From you.”

Your breath hitched, his words cutting through you like a blade.

“You think I don’t see it?” he continued, his voice softening but losing none of its weight. “Every time you start to believe someone might actually stay, you convince yourself it’s only a matter of time before they leave, so you push them away first. But I’m not going anywhere. I love you. I’m here. Why can’t you just let me stay?”

Tears blurred your vision as you shook your head, the weight of his words crashing over you like a wave. “It’s not that simple,” you choked out. “You deserve someone who isn’t—who isn’t a mess. Someone who isn’t broken like me.”

“You’re not broken,” he said, his voice trembling with urgency. “And even if you were, I’d love every broken piece of you. I do love every piece of you. Don’t you see that? I don’t want perfect. I just want you.”

You shut your eyes against the tenderness in his words, against the tears welling up in his eyes, against the unbearable truth of his love for you. The dam inside you threatened to give way, but you couldn’t let it. Not now. Not here.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” you said, your voice breaking like fragile glass as you stepped back, putting the final distance between you. “But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be what you need.”

“Don’t do this,” he begged, his voice splintering into shards that cut through the silence. A single tear broke free, sliding down his cheek, and he didn’t bother to wipe it away. “Please. Don’t walk away. Please, Y/N.”

But you had to.

If you stayed, he would tether himself to you, never letting go, even as the weight of your brokenness pulled him under. He would give himself over to your pain, let it consume him, and you couldn’t let that happen. Not to him. Not to Spencer.

Your hand found the doorknob, your grip faltering as you hesitated, a war raging in your chest. You turned your head slightly, not enough to see him but enough for the words to escape like a prayer you didn’t believe in.

“I’ll always love you, Spencer,” you said, the confession splintering under the weight of your voice. “But this is goodbye.”

The door clicked shut behind you, a sound so soft and final it felt like the end of the world.

Inside, Spencer stood frozen, staring at the door as if sheer force of will could make it swing open again. The silence was deafening, the space around him cavernous and empty, echoing with the ghost of your absence. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the floor, his head falling into his hands as sobs ripped through him, raw and unrelenting.

Outside, each step away from him felt like tearing yourself apart piece by piece. The stairwell stretched endlessly before you, the weight of the air pressing down on your chest. By the time you reached the street, your tears fell freely, hot trails cutting through the cold sting of the wind.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

But Spencer did. For hours, he sat by the door, his gaze fixed on it, waiting, hoping, silently pleading with the universe to send you back.

But the universe didn’t listen.

And in the quiet of his apartment, where your scent still lingered like a ghost and the memories of your touch haunted the air, he felt himself unravel.

You were gone.

And for Spencer, the world didn’t end in fire or ice. It ended in silence, in a love too heavy to hold and too beautiful to forget, and in the hollow echo of a goodbye that would never stop reverberating in his soul.

[1mnshw]

SHORT HAIR REID. AWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

My mood right now !!!

[1mnshw]

just ladies hiding their tumblr accounts

@lillaberry @darkmatilda @notlongtolove @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat @penelopegarciaismygf @floraisunwell

[1mnshw]

my best internet friends ever!!!!!

GUESS WHO HAS TWO FREAKING THUMBS AND JUST SECURED A FULL RIDE TO COLLEGE WITH A THEATRE SCHOLARSHIP????????? IIIIIII DID. IIIIIIIII. FREAKING. DID.

[1mnshw]

i always wonder where your username came from and how you read it???

i read it as "one man show" and i took it from one of my fav clairo songs, blouse!!!!