brattyspence

[brattyspence]

you wake up with a penis tomorrow... what's on the agenda

[brattyspence]

toasted cinnamon bagel please <3

order #4 | see my event here

a/n: thank u bby this was fun

tags: pining!spencer, reader marrying a man, angst

There’s a hole the shape of you growing inside of him.

It’s been there for as long as he’s known you, maybe longer. Spencer’s almost certain that you’re written into his code somewhere.

It’s nearing 8 PM on a Friday, and for the first time in a very long time, he hasn’t heard from you in days.

There’s a thread of text messages open on his phone. They are all bits and pieces of the issues, slammed into cut and dry, lifeless remarks. They might be sent from you, but they aren’t you. They are terse, when you’ve never been. They’re mean and you’re not. They have a new tone that takes on the life of someone else, someone new–the man you’re set to marry in the morning.

A new message pops up, and he’s sure it will read just the same. Defensive, hurt, reactive.

When he reads it, he’s surprised to see the opposite.

You: Can I call you?

He doesn’t think twice before picking up the phone. It doesn’t matter to him whether you’re planning on arguing or not. Now, facing the deadline that is your wedding, he’ll gladly take whatever chance he can get to hear your voice before it’s too late.

The dial tone rings twice before you pick-up, and the sound of gentle static fills the line. You’re outside, he can tell, not at home where you should be.

“Hi,” he says. He considers asking the first question, but he doesn’t. He leaves the line open to you instead, expecting your anger and frustration with him to hit him all at once.

It doesn’t.

“Hi,” you reply.

He can hear the worry in that one word. He knows you well enough to know that you've waited too long to do something. This version of you, this strained voice, is a product anxiety left to sit and stew. He can only imagine what this means. It's less than 24 hours before you’re set to walk down the aisle, and you’re calling him, the person you’ve been so upset with.

“What did he do?”

“Nothing.”

He can hear the sounds of cars passing by wherever you’re calling from. It fills the void for a moment as he collects his thoughts.

“Nothing?”

“No,” you reply. The shake in your voice is even more apparent. “And that’s the problem.

He takes a moment to try and piece together the clues to no avail.

“You're upset that he didn't do anything wrong?”

“Yeah.” On the other side of the line, you nod to yourself. The taste of anxiety hits you in the back of the throat as you attempt to figure out what to say.

“I don't understand.”

He can hear you inhale sharply just once, and then there's a pause. Spencer knows this; you're crying.

“I'm upset because… he’s so good to me. And he treats me so well. And he's nice, Spencer. He's a good guy. And my family likes him. And I'm supposed to marry him tomorrow and I can't find one thing wrong with him, but I don't love him.”

Spencer sighs. You're half expecting to hear him voice his frustration with you, that he told you. That he was right. But he doesn't.

“So what do you want to do?” He asks.

“I don't…. I don't know. I can’t call the wedding off. It’s not fair.”

“You can't marry him.”

“I have too,” you hiccup.

“You don't have to do anything,” he replies. “We can figure it out.”

“No. I-I can’t I don't…” he hears you sniffle once more. “I don't know. Maybe I’m overreacting and it's just cold feet.”

“It's not,” he replies. “But… I get it.”

You hold the phone to one ear, trying to stop your tears while silence fills the line again.

“I'm sorry for bothering you.”

“You didn't bother me,” he says. “And I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you sigh, wiping your tears. “Tomorrow.”

You're about to end the call when he says your name once more.

“And by the way… when you’re ready to let him go, just say the word. And I'll come get you.”

[brattyspence]

hi anon this is very sweet thank u for investing in me and trusting the process!

this also marks the final submission for my event!! thank you to everyone who joined. so excited to get everything up. ☺️

[brattyspence]

if u squint between the lines you will see me violently throwing up and crying

build a bear date with spencer where you go make animals for each other (he's the green frog yours is an axolotl) down to the outfits and accessories and you both opt for the option to record a message for inside the bear and spencer records the story of his favorite constellation (the one seen above you on the day you were born) and you record the story his mother used to read to him all the time growing up and when you’re apart because he’s on cases you cuddle up with the bear on his bed and its doused in his cologne but little do you know he's doing the same thing with his little bunny doused in your perfume in some random hotel halfway across the country. bonus when you're both home and you're cleaning the house the bed gets made and the two stuffies sit next to each other on the made bed and spencer makes sure they're holding hands

[brattyspence]

these requests r so juicy omg!!!!!!! i think ill upload one a day so we should have abt two weeks of new content 🤧❤️❤️

[brattyspence]

closing submissions TOMORROW! :)

✿ welcome to brattyspence's cafe! ✿

i'm celebrating 6 months on tumblr with my first event, one that combines my two favorite things-- coffee and bagels. i tried to add a bagel for every version of spencer i have written!

special thank you to @beenreidingaboutyou for helping me with a theme + graphics and everything else love yewww baby

how to participate:

⤑ select a bagel or a drink from the list below, and submit your order in my asks! guidelines apply.*

⤑ you are welcome to stay anonymous or claim an emoji.

⤑ please limit each order to one bagel or one drink, but feel free to submit multiple orders! submissions will close one week from today, on April 6th, and then completed works will be shared. (keep in mind that i work a 9-5 and a 5-9 so be patient!)

the menu:

bagels

⤑ plain: send me a song and i'll make you a drabble.

⤑ everything: send me a line of dialogue and i'll make you a drabble

⤑ bagel sandwich: situationship!spencer + your idea

⤑ blueberry: dad!spencer

⤑ rainbow: early seasons!spencer

⤑ sesame: post prison!spencer

⤑ cinnamon: pining!spencer

add-ons

toasted: add angst

untoasted: add fluff

add cream cheese: add your own idea

add butter: ill take your idea and surprise you!

coffee

⤑ hot latte: headcannons; send me a scenario!*

⤑ iced latte: fuck, marry, kill - don’t forget to include characters!

⤑ iced mocha: this or that

⤑ vanilla oatmilk iced latte: other general q + a :)

*NSFW requests OPEN for hot lattes :)

note to add: thank you all for making my last 6 months so amazing!! we have such a great community here and i genuinely am so thankful for every little interaction i have. i am so greatful for all of u and i tear up and cry thinking abt this.

[brattyspence]

this is so sexy what do u mean

[brattyspence]

leaving this meme here and goodnight

[brattyspence]

submitting an order for the cafe! plain bagel + Would You Love Me Again from the Epic Musical with reader seeing Spencer for the first time after being released from prison? thank you in advance <33

order #3 | join my event and submit an order here

a/n: this song is insane i've never heard it before but the lyrics are sooooo post prison spencer thank you for letting this into my life anon! this got lengthy and i rlly wanted to write even more but i have 16 requests lmfaooo

tags: post-prison!spencer, marital strain, uuuggghh

Spencer has never been one to hesitate with you.

He’s loud about love, weirdly. He has no problem being outward about it, not when it means telling the world that he's lucky enough to have you, especially as his wife.

The entirely of his three months in prison felt like decades. You had grown used to a constant love, one that was always reassuring and consistent. Spencer was available to you at any given moment, just a call away, but the sudden change was even harder than you assumed it would have been.

He had seemingly stopped to connect. Daily phone calls began to grow further and further apart, until they stopped suddenly. Nothing had happened, no fighting or upset, but the weight of situation had finally caused something to give.

Now, standing in the office on wobbly feet, you couldn't help but worry about why. What had gone so wrong that he could no longer turn to you for anything? Or worse, was there even hope for your marriage after the months of strain?

When the door to the office finally opens, you're not met with the same man you once loved. He's different. He's leaned out, stress wears on his face, and his eyes tell a story that you're not sure you're ready to be faced with. You can tell someone put effort into attempting to piece him back together, as he's wearing his own clothes. As much as it hurts to know that the person who showed up for him first wasn't you, you can't be bothered by it. Not when he's here, standing within reach, for the first time.

There is no handbook for how to manage a situation like this. The only logical thing you can think of is to hold him to confirm his existence. So you do.

You can hear the slight hitch of his breath as you close the gap between you, your arms finding his body like everything is normal. You can feel every little change in him like this; the tension in his shoulders and the hesitation in his touch.

It doesn't cross your mind that your embrace is unwelcome, but you can't seem to care.

“Hi,” you whisper. The sound is muffled by layers of fabric and skin and collarbones, but it's there. It reaches him without the barrier of a phone.

“Hi,” he replies. “I’m sorry.”

The words are weighty. You're not sure what to do with them, but they don't mean any less because of it.

“It's okay,” you nod. “It doesn't matter. We can just… go home.”

He pulls away, and you finally get a good look at him again, every detail coming back to you like he never left. You can see the words forming in his mind.

“What?” You ask.

When you make an attempt to reach out again, this time with a hand to his face, you're swiftly denied contact. He captures your hand in his, instead holding it somewhere in mid air before letting it go.

“I don't…” he shakes his head. “I didn't call. I wasn't good to you.”

“It's okay. You had good reason.”

“But I didn't,” he protests. “It wasn't right. That's not… what I promised you.”

“Spencer,” you sigh. “It's over. I don't care.”

“But I do,” he sighs.

“I know who you are,” you reply. “It's okay. We had a rough few months. But things will get back to normal.”

He holds your gaze, as you hold his.

“I'm not sure we can.”

“Why wouldn't we?”

He opens his mouth, hesitating to explain.

“I just… I'm not the person you married.”

“Spencer.”

“Don't,” he huffs. “I did things that… weren't right. Weren't me.”

“And that's expected under the circumstances,” you say. “But I married you. In all forms and conditions. No matter what the cost was.”

He swallows thickly. This time, when you reach for him, he doesn't immediately resist. He allows you to take his face in your hands hesitantly, narrowed eyes still searching for doubt.

“Okay,” he nods.

“Good. Now come home,” you sigh.

The only response you get this time is the warmth of his hands on your sides, finally allowing himself to pull you back in once again.

[brattyspence]

oh my goooodddddd

'the reid effect' - spencer reid x gn!reader

spencer meets reader's dog for the first time

genre: fluff warnings: boyfriend!spencer, rottweiler named cujo a/n: request! i decided to make it just a little blurb:)

“Listen… I know you said you’re not a dog person but she’s really sweet! Give her a treat and she’s all yours! I promise,” you promise your (newly appointed) boyfriend who has yet to come to your house.

Spencer nods and tucks a rogue strand of hair behind his ear.

Cautiously, you open the door to your rottweiler, Cujo. Okay, maybe the name doesn’t help Spencer’s preconceived notion of dogs, but you’re sure the bows in Cujo’s hair and the way she simply spins in excited circles upon your return does.

Especially because he’s smiling.

Cujo politely walks toward your boyfriend and sniffs his messenger bag. Her nose finds his hands, forcing him to pet her. Not so intimidating.

“Did you know that dogs have the ability to smell certain diseases?”

“I did, actually.”

Your dog, happy as ever, sits in front of Spencer, cocking her head curiously.

“Certain studies show that humans can start looking like their dogs due to mimicking facial expressions and behaviour.”

“Are you saying I look like a dog?” you tease, your head cocked.

In utter defense, his eyes widen and he quickly attempts a correction, “no! No, I just meant scientifically–!”

Cujo barks.

Spencer jumps back and you giggle. “You just scared her. She doesn’t like loud noises.”

“Right… right.”

It’s that night, when you’re watching a show on the couch, that he asks, “do you think your dog likes me?”

[brattyspence]

Jess babes!

Cinnamon bagel with butter and a vanilla oat milk latte

For the latte: funniest childhood memory 😘

order #2 | join my event and place an order here

a/n: (latte at the end) thank u pau ilyyy

tags: pining!spencer

He's never been good with words.

He's clunky and uncoordinated in physicality and in speech. He lacks grace in more ways than one, and he's spent his life certain that it gets in the way of love. It was never a big issue; at least not until you came into the picture.

So instead he started small. Little things, personal gestures that couldn't be seen as anything other than kind. Coffee orders remembered, despite your ever changing taste; orders for rainy days or sunny days or Fridays. He knows that you like sitting on the right side of the round table, and he guards your spot with an odd amount of hostility.

Somehow, you had never seemed to pick up on his hints, and he had grown used to that.

Until today.

The soft knock on the hotel door interrupts his focus. He abandons his book on the bed, making his way to the door with haste.

He's more than surprised to find you on the other side.

“Were you busy?” You ask, just as the door opens enough for you to blurt it out.

“No,” he shakes his head. A hint of confusion crosses his expression, but he quickly pulls it back in. “Why?”

“Good,” you sigh, letting yourself into the room.

You settle on the edge of his bed like it's normal to you, feet tucked up under yourself, postured like you're waiting for something, him, specifically, to join you.

“I know you're probably used to this by now, but… we just spent more than 8 hours staring at pictures of bodies and evidence and it's just…”

“It's a lot.”

“It is a lot,” you nod. “And I don't want to think about it right now. So… tell me about something else.”

“Something else?” He asks, finally sitting in the opposite edge of the bed. He has the same anxious energy that he always does, but it's concentrated tonight.

“Yeah,” you nod. You take a brief glace around the room, hoping for something to spark your attention. “What weird book are you re-reading?”

“It's not weird,” he huffs. “It's Love in the Time of Cholera. It's like… a classic.”

“You’re reading romance?” You smile.

“I wouldn't call it romance, per se. It's kind of tragic. Not your thing.”

“What is my thing?”

You're not exactly expecting an answer to your half hearted tease. Not one as thorough as he offers, at least.

“You seem to do better with happy endings. Hope. Humor. The books you read are a lot lighter, usually.”

“I didn't know you paid that much attention to what I read.”

“I do,” he replies. “I pay attention to a lot of things about you.”

There's a momentary lull. It's not awkward, really, just time for you to digest. Before you can find your words, he's already backpedaling.

“That sounded weird. I just- I meant that I pay attention in a normal way. Because I care.”

“You didn't need to take it back, Spencer,” you laugh. “I think I already knew.”

[brattyspence]

oh god and he uses pretty like it's a noun. it's not "you're so pretty" or "pretty girl"... it's "hi, Pretty." he's "how was your day, pretty?" and I'm sad

oh my god spencer calls u angel like he's been waiting his whole life to use the term. he calls u angel like its your legal government name and no other term makes sense. he calls u angel like there's a gun to his head asking for a single descriptive word to refer to you as. it's compulsive and it's not a term of endearment it's a Way of Life

[brattyspence]

oh my god spencer calls u angel like he's been waiting his whole life to use the term. he calls u angel like its your legal government name and no other term makes sense. he calls u angel like there's a gun to his head asking for a single descriptive word to refer to you as. it's compulsive and it's not a term of endearment it's a Way of Life

[brattyspence]

pining Spencer coming tn everybody say aaaayyy

[brattyspence]

starting an event during tax season when i work at a tax office part time is like.... criminal.... what do u mean u need me to pick up more hours i have SMUT TO WRITE

[brattyspence]

four more days to join my event! orders already going up :)

✿ welcome to brattyspence's cafe! ✿

i'm celebrating 6 months on tumblr with my first event, one that combines my two favorite things-- coffee and bagels. i tried to add a bagel for every version of spencer i have written!

special thank you to @beenreidingaboutyou for helping me with a theme + graphics and everything else love yewww baby

how to participate:

⤑ select a bagel or a drink from the list below, and submit your order in my asks! guidelines apply.*

⤑ you are welcome to stay anonymous or claim an emoji.

⤑ please limit each order to one bagel or one drink, but feel free to submit multiple orders! submissions will close one week from today, on April 6th, and then completed works will be shared. (keep in mind that i work a 9-5 and a 5-9 so be patient!)

the menu:

bagels

⤑ plain: send me a song and i'll make you a drabble.

⤑ everything: send me a line of dialogue and i'll make you a drabble

⤑ bagel sandwich: situationship!spencer + your idea

⤑ blueberry: dad!spencer

⤑ rainbow: early seasons!spencer

⤑ sesame: post prison!spencer

⤑ cinnamon: pining!spencer

add-ons

toasted: add angst

untoasted: add fluff

add cream cheese: add your own idea

add butter: ill take your idea and surprise you!

coffee

⤑ hot latte: headcannons; send me a scenario!*

⤑ iced latte: fuck, marry, kill - don’t forget to include characters!

⤑ iced mocha: this or that

⤑ vanilla oatmilk iced latte: other general q + a :)

*NSFW requests OPEN for hot lattes :)

note to add: thank you all for making my last 6 months so amazing!! we have such a great community here and i genuinely am so thankful for every little interaction i have. i am so greatful for all of u and i tear up and cry thinking abt this.

[brattyspence]

plain: "don't wanna break up again" by ariana grande <3

order #1 | join my event & place an order here

a/n: i have never heard this song so we r going off the lyrics alone. lmfaoo. i hope this doesn't suck

tags: situationship, nail biting, unedited

There’s a strange air that lives between you both. Maybe it's the awkward distance between you, maybe the weight of things left unsaid, fueled by whatever on earth this has become.

It's late; well past midnight on a work night. You shouldn't be here anyway. There's truly nothing here for you, nothing to claim, nothing to gain but to he stomach ache that always comes from anxiety left on high and a lack of sleep.

“Can you stop?” He asks. His voice cuts through the silent, stale air, nearly making you jump. You thought he was already asleep by now.

“Stop what?”

“Biting your nails.”

You weren't even aware you were doing it. When he softly bats away your hand from your mouth, you're left only with guilt of knowing that his concern actually means something, and nothing to distract yourself.

“Sorry,” you hum. The covers slide up over your bare shoulders as you roll over, and you wait for the impending interrogation.

Spencer. Observant and knowing and worried about you, always, despite all the ways that this current situation doesn't make sense in the context.

“What’s wrong?”

You could say so many things.

“Nothing,” and he'd call your bluff. “Tired,” and he'll tell you to go to bed. Tell him the truth, and suddenly you need to talk about it, which you don't feel like doing.

He takes your silence as an answer, which you can only be grateful for right now. In the darkness of his room, drowned in his things and his sheets and him, you don't particularly care to have the actual conversation right now anyway.

Sheets are ruffled and things and moved around until he's there, suddenly, with hands that guide you closer. His eyes, still heavy with sleep are fighting to stay on yours.

“You're being weird.”

“‘M not being weird.”

“You are,” he says. It's like he's given up trying to drag answers out of you. He's disappointed, worried, too. You can hear it in his tone as he flops back down against the mattress, shoulder to shoulder. “It's okay. We don't… need to talk about it right now.”

More silence swells around you. It's an admission in itself–it's an acknowledgment that there is a problem here, but no one is willing to admit it.

It's deceitful, the way you so easily give in, placing your head against his shoulder like you're searching for comfort. It's just one of the many false notions you give him. The false idea that this is okay, things are fine, and you're not having any doubts.

“We’re okay, though?” He asks. “Right now?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

You're thankful for the darkness now, as it hides the tears in your eyes from his gaze. They only seem to grow as you roll into him, submitting to his affection for just one more night.

It's wrong. This is all wrong. You're wrong for him and you know it, but you just don't want to break up with him again.