#CRIMINAL MINDS

[darkmatilda]

𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your boyfriend decides he’s going to start calling you a cute pet name, but the problem is, none of them seem to suit you perfectly

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: glasses reid x baumember!female reader, so sweet you'll puke, case in the background, unsub is abducting elderly people, text messages, reader is kinda clingy, use of y/n because i had to

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by @trulymadlydarling <33 sorry if it ended up a bit too long again, but im starting to suspect that im physically incapable of writing a drabble lmao

"I'm tired. When will this week be over?"

"It's 9:13 on Monday."

With a groan, you leaned back against the seat in the corner of the jet, feeling the caffeine craving slowly take control of your body. 

"Just the thought of going to sleep sends intense shivers through me, caused by a heart-wrenching longing, and heavy tears slowly start gathering in my eyes," you complained, resting your head to the side.

Slightly turned, so you could look at Spencer sitting right next to you. His eyes, behind his glasses, also seemed a little tired, though he didn't manifest it as loudly. When you sat down next to him, he partially closed the book he was reading and rested it against the edge of the table in front of him.

"When you're sleep-deprived, you tend to get a bit dramatic," he pointed out in an analyzing tone, though you could catch a slight twitch at the corners of his lips.

"It's not drama, silly. It's the personification of pure exhaustion speaking through my lips."

"I love it when you try to argue with me and end up agreeing with me."

"You just love being right, don't you, smarty?" you huffed. "You love me too, but that's just a side note."

"Oh, now you're teasing. That's good. Means the sleepiness is wearing off," he diagnosed.

Sometimes you were genuinely amazed by how well he knew you, despite being together for such a short time—though maybe you shouldn’t have been. He was a profiler, just like you. Both of you were exceptionally good at reading each other, picking up on moods and small, everyday habits. You used to worry a little that this might make your relationship boring, stripped of surprises. But you quickly realized there’s nothing more captivating than another mind that matches your own and deeply understands its struggles. And sometimes, that feeling itself was a pleasant surprise.

"Next weekend, we're not going anywhere, okay?" you asked in a dreamy tone. The day before, you’d gotten back way too late, which was mostly to blame for your sleepiness. "Not even out of bed."

A look crossed Reid's face, somewhere between eagerness and a grimace.

"I’d love to," he assured with a genuine sigh, but then quickly added, "But I’m afraid I’ve already got something planned."

You tried to keep up the facade of your role, not showing too much excitement. You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"I'm starting to suspect you have plans for every weekend for the rest of our lives."

"Actually, just for the next fourteen weeks," he admitted with a slight shrug, as if it wasn’t anything to be impressed by.

You weren’t sure if he was joking, and you didn’t get the chance to find out.

"Hey, lovebirds," Morgan called from the other end of the jet, where the whole team was gathered around a small table, ready to start discussing the case. "We're waiting for you."

For a while, you kept it a secret from them that you were starting to expect, but eventually, you had to come clean. Especially when Penelope, who knew everything, started taking every chance to send you suggestive glances or drop not-so-subtle comments. The rest of the team’s reaction wasn’t particularly emotional. They didn’t start screaming in surprise or jumping up and down in disbelief. They were profilers—they had figured it out. But they had enough decency to wait until you told them yourselves. No hard feelings, sweet Penelope.

You took the empty seat next to Gideon, right across from your boss and JJ. Reid settled into a chair on the side, where Morgan immediately poked him with his elbow.

"So, how’s it going in love land today?" Morgan asked, smirking. "Are puppies falling from the sky, and is it going to rain hearts this afternoon?"

You’d gotten so used to these kinds of jabs that, in perfect sync, you both rolled your eyes and opened your mouths to defend yourselves. It wasn’t like you two were constantly all lovey-dovey, exchanging kisses and holding hands at every chance! Morgan just loved to tease you, knowing how much it irked both of you when someone accused you of being unprofessional.

“Take it easy, it’s just the honeymoon phase," Gideon warned, not even looking at you as he adjusted his small square glasses, focusing instead on the folder in front of him. "You grow out of it."

On the laptop screen, Garcia’s face appeared, complete with an orange rose headband in her blonde hair.

"Well, hello there, babygirl," Derek greeted her, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"Hello, you charming, sweet, handsome thing…

Hotch exchanged a knowing look with Gideon.

“As you can see, not always," he muttered under his breath so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. JJ, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, briefly lowered her amused gaze, trying to hold back a smile. "Shall we get started?"

The atmosphere shifted instantly, as if with the snap of fingers, when you began discussing the case. This time, it was a series of murders targeting men around the age of seventy-four.

"Are we sure this is the work of a serial killer?" Derek asked, his earlier light tone replaced with focus and seriousness. "I mean, looking at it, these guys don’t have much in common aside from their age."

“They’re all from the same area,” you noted, flipping through the victims' files. “But yeah, they don’t have much else in common. Different jobs, some married, some not…you think age is the reason the unsub picked them?”

“Looks that way,” Hotch said.

“About two weeks ago, his granddaughter reported him missing,” JJ informed you, pointing to a photo of an older man. “Ben Murphy, seventy-six years old. He’s from the same area, and all signs point to him being the unsub’s next victim. Each of the victims was held for an estimated three weeks, so there’s a good… a good chance he’s still alive.”

A brief silence settled over the room, heavy with the pressure of time.

“But why keep them alive for that long?” Spencer muttered, his brow furrowed in thought. “None of the bodies show signs of physical torture. They were killed with a lethal dose of insulin. If he chose that method, it doesn’t seem like he wanted to hurt them directly. The motive…the motive is unclear.”

The rest of the discussion revolved around trying to find connections and similarities to other crimes you were all familiar with, but you didn’t come up with anything groundbreaking that would significantly push the investigation forward. However, this didn’t stress you. You were just heading to the place where everything had taken place; you hadn't yet spoken to the victims' families, which often turned out to be crucial.

Just before the jet landed, you found yourself next to Reid, resting your elbow on his shoulder like it was some kind of convenient armrest while you pondered which card to discard from the ones laid out by JJ. This position made it much easier for him to sneak peeks at your cards, which he took full advantage of whenever he thought you weren’t looking (you were looking), so you had to hold them in a very awkward way to prevent him from seeing.

“C’mon,” JJ urged, as the time you were taking to think started to drag on.

You bit your lip.

“Easy for you to say. You’re winning,” you huffed, to which she flashed you a confident smile. “Great minds need time to come up with a solution. Right, Spence?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes…”

"Ugh, I wanted you to defend me, you silly..."

“Guys, do you know what I’ve been thinking?” Morgan appeared above you, pulling his headphones off his head.

“Scientists haven’t figured out a way to peek into other people’s thoughts yet,” Reid answered him, staring at the card you had just discarded and raising an eyebrow. Seriously? You shrugged. You knew it was a pitifully bad move. “So no, we don’t, Morgan.”

“I went over the case files again…” Derek continued, completely ignoring the ironic comment from his friend. “Mr. Murphy went missing right after a date with his wife…”

“...And may I ask why you’re sharing this incredibly sad fact with us?” you interjected.

“They went to the botanical garden,” Derek continued.  Everyone stopped, staring at him with completely baffled expressions. “Then they hit up the American Revolution Museum. And I couldn’t help but think of you two. Sounds like the perfect date for you, right?”

You were the first to react, rolling your eyes dramatically. You placed your cards face down in front of you, then rested both hands on Reid's shoulder, leaning your chin on them. You let out a long sigh.

"Can we get just one day without fighting off the nerd allegations?"

"Hey, I'm not mocking you," Morgan said, raising both hands in the air. "Just pointing it out. So, what did you two get up to over the weekend?"

Reid turned his face slightly toward you, exchanging a look. Given how you were positioned, the frame of his glasses lightly brushed your forehead. Well, if you answered your teammate's question honestly, you’d be proving him absolutely right. Before you could manage to turn the question back on him, you were preempted.

"We went up to the hill to try and watch the meteor shower," Reid answered, sticking to the truth. Morgan tilted his head, staring at both of you with interest. "But the sky ended up being too cloudy, so we ended up finding a night exhibit at the museum about space..."

You could see the victorious expression slowly spreading across Derek's face.

"You’re sinking us, silly," you muttered into your boyfriend's arm.

"She's right, silly," Morgan echoed the nickname with exaggerated emphasis. "Anyway, I won’t bother you any longer. Enjoy your game. Oh, and by the way, JJ peeked at your cards when you weren’t looking…"

 "JJ!"

 "That’s a lie—"

"Did he really come over here just to compare us to a pair of retirees?" Reid wondered, watching Derek walk away.

"And to expose a cheater," you added, shooting a look at your friend across the table. You’d lifted your chin from Reid’s shoulder, but your hand still rested there, your fingertips lightly brushing against him—not that you even noticed. Did that even count as touching?

You pointed at JJ with determination. "We’re starting over."

"We’re about to land," she noted, placing her cards on the table and revealing her hand. "So I’ll let it go. But you’re getting your rematch, trust me."

 "Oh, I can’t wait."

She walked off, leaving the two of you alone in the corner of the jet. You noticed Reid had been watching you for a while, his expression unreadable. When you finally caught on and raised an inquisitive eyebrow, he just shrugged and gathered the cards from the table. His fingers shuffled them with effortless precision, the motion smooth and almost hypnotic.

You shook your head, tearing your gaze away from the cards and focusing on his face again.

“What thoughts are you hiding in that brilliant mind of yours, smarty?”

“Those exactly,” he replied almost immediately. He fell silent for a moment as he tucked the cards back into the box. You watched him closely, curiosity piqued, waiting to hear what he’d say next because you didn’t fully understand his response.

“You always call me something,” he added after a pause. “You know…”

“Pet name,” you supplied the term he was missing.

He nodded, and you stayed quiet for a brief moment, wondering if you really used them that often. You’d never given it much thought—they just slipped out naturally when you were teasing him. He’d never reacted to them before, and it had never even crossed your mind that it might cause him any discomfort.

Your expression grew a bit more serious as you shifted in your seat to face him directly.

“Does…does it bother you? Because, you know, if it does…”

“No!” he denied quickly, a faint hint of embarrassment flashing across his face, as if wondering whether he’d been too eager. He shifted into a calmer expression, letting out a small sigh. “No, that’s really not it. Actually…I like them. I like when you use them.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as he admitted it. But the question still lingered in your mind—if that wasn’t it, then what was?

"I just realized…" he continued slowly, with a hint of hesitation. You noticed that both of you had lowered your voices compared to the lively chatter during the card game. It was as if, unintentionally, you'd created a small bubble, separating this moment from the rest of the team.

You liked his whisper. Sometimes, it felt stronger than his regular voice, mostly because whenever he lowered it, it was usually tied to some genuine emotion.

"That I never use them myself. I mean, I don’t call you anything other than your name."

"I don’t…I don’t expect that from you."

"I know. I know, it’s not like I thought you were expecting it. I just started wondering if maybe you'd like me to... to start doing it too. I admit, it’s not something I’m used to—"

"If you’re comfortable with it," you interrupted him without meaning to, feeling the need to emphasize it. Until now, it hadn’t mattered how he addressed you; it didn’t bother you when it was just your name. After all, hey, it’s not really the most important thing in a relationship. But when he suggested it, you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach. "I’m serious, Spence. Don’t force yourself if it feels unnatural," you added, slowing down a bit, feeling the slight tremor in the corner of your lips. You noticed how his brow furrowed slightly when he caught that movement. Usually, it meant there was an idea forming in your head, and this time, it was no different. "But if you really want to…you should know I have some requirements in this area."

"Requirements?" he repeated, sounding confused, as if he thought he misheard. "Sorry, but what kind of requirements could you possibly have when it comes to pet names?"

“Oh, you have no idea how many,” you scoffed, leaning slightly toward him with a mischievous gleam in your eye. Reid blinked, clearly both curious and a bit apprehensive. “I know you, your mind... so I guess you shouldn’t be surprised that I’m expecting you to be creative. I mean no babe. No honey. 

Spencer stared at you for a moment, a look of disbelief crossing his face, before he let out a soft laugh.

"Alright, I’ve got it. No babe, no honey. Anything else to add to your list of demands?"

"Hmm, let me think," you murmured, to which he rolled his eyes. You didn't actually have anything else in mind; you just wanted to keep him in that state of uncertainty. But then, an additional thought occurred to you. "Oh, I know. It has to really fit with me. And with you. I want using it to come as naturally to you as possible. And I don't want you complaining to Penelope later, saying I forced you into it."

"Seriously, do you think I'd complain about you to Penelope behind your back?" he asked, pretending to be offended. He shook his head as if disappointed. "It's obvious I go straight to Morgan with stuff like this..."

You lightly tapped his arm.

"Is everything clear?" you made sure to ask, keeping your hand on his shoulder.

He glanced at your hand briefly before nodding.

"As clear as the sun. Has to be original and fit," he recited the two demands in their briefest form. He left his mouth slightly open, as if he wanted to add something, as if he was about to come up with the perfect nickname, but clearly, he hadn’t thought of one yet. He let out a short sigh of surrender. "This...this might take a while."

"Take your time, babe."

"Hey, you said we're not using that..."

"I only said you’re not using that”

"So what’s the point of giving me all these demands when..."

You both fell silent only when the jet neared its landing.

*

Working on the case had put a bit of distance between you. Well, it wasn’t unusual—there were often plenty of witnesses to interview, multiple locations to visit or search, and the team simply had to split up. Whenever Hotch assigned you somewhere, he always paired you up in the most complementary way possible, ensuring that your skills and experience balanced each other out. As the youngest members, relying more on brains than brawn, you and Reid rarely ended up partnered together.

And this time was no different.

You sat in the front seat of the car beside Gideon, who was driving. The two of you were headed to one of the victims' homes in silence, and you used the moment to glance at your phone—only to spot a message from none other than Reid.

spence: I’ve been thinking about what we talked about on the jet, and I think I have a few suggestions that meet all of your conditions.

spence: Sorry for texting, but I’m not sure if we’ll get a chance to see each other today, and I wanted to tell you that.

y/n: tell me

y/n: i mean u should be thinking about the case rn not about me

y/n: but i’m just gonna assume ur brain is multitasking enough to do both

spence: Because it is.

y/n: wow so humble

y/n: so???

y/n: what’s with the pet names

y/n: surprise me, genius

spence: Sorry, I don’t have time to write proper explanations for all of them or explain why I think they suit you.

spence: But a few of them are love, dear, darling.

y/n: sweet, but kinda basic

y/n: anyway up to you

y/n: u’ll be the one saying them

spence: Yeah, but you’ll be the one called them, and it has to be something you like. What do you think?

spence: Maybe something less typical like pumpkin

y/n: pumpkin HAHAHA

spence: ?

y/n: sry, i just can’t picture u saying that out loud

y/n: u browsing some top 100 pet names for ur gf site rn?

spence: No

y/n: i’m telling garcia to check ur browsing history, silly

y/n: don’t even delete it she’ll find it anyway

spence: I admit, pumpkin is awful

spence: I really like daisy, but i know you're allergic to pollen

y/n: how do u know i’m allergic to pollen?

spence: 👍🏼

It was truly an exhausting yet enlightening response. Anyway, you didn’t dwell on it too much. Sometimes he just knew. Together with Gideon, you had already arrived at the right address, so you shoved your phone back into your pocket and got ready to get back to work.

*

The words we are ready to deliver the profile were a milestone in every case you worked on.

They marked a gathering of the entire team, where you would collectively organize the information you had gathered during the investigation. Together, you had managed to uncover the unsub’s identity, but there was still the task of determining their motive and locating where they might be holding their still, as you hoped, victim. 

"The unsub spent most of his life caring for his severely ill, mentally abusive grandfather, of whom he was the only relative, which is why he now targets victims of a similar age," Derek began, crossing his arms over his chest. "He holds them for twenty-three days, mirroring the twenty-three years he dedicated to caring for him."

"He sees it as lost time, wasted. He never finished school, he was socially withdrawn. By repeating the same pattern with his victims, he believes he's getting something back," explained Reid, standing beside you, tapping one hand thoughtfully.

"This is all we have,” you muttered under your breath. ‘But we're missing the most important thing. Where is he? Where is he holding this man?”

“Garcia is working on that,” Hotch reassured you, pressing his finger to the earpiece.

“Give... give me some time,” Penelope asked in a distant tone, drowned out by the sound of keys being pressed rapidly. “ I think I have something... I need to check...ugh, fifteen minutes!”

After those words, she fell silent, leaving you all in anticipation. With a sigh, you crossed your arms over your chest, hoping she would find something. Reid stood by your side, slightly separated from the rest. Yet when he spoke, he lowered his voice to a murmur.

You stepped closer to hear him better.

"Vivi," he said softly.

You frowned at him, and his gaze hesitantly met yours—but once it did, it refused to let go.

"From the Latin vivus," he explained. "Full of life, vibrant."

You remained silent for a moment, savoring the echo his words left behind and the look on his face—just a hint of uncertainty creeping in as he waited for your reaction. If it weren’t for the fact that your team members were bustling around and the circumstances weren’t exactly romantic, you might have slipped under his arm. Instead, you settled for a small, sweet smile.

"That’s really pretty, Spence," you admitted, catching the faint shimmer in his dark eyes. "You think it suits me? Do you like it?"

He nodded slowly. You couldn't shake the feeling that something didn’t quite fit, that it didn’t sound natural coming from him. Maybe it was just your imagination? Or perhaps he was distracted, lost in more important thoughts while you were bothering him with pet names? You didn’t really have time to figure that out. At that moment, Garcia’s raised voice cut through the line, announcing that she might know where the unsub is holding his victim.

In the next moment, you were already on your way to the given address, listening to instructions on how to get inside without causing harm to the elderly man being held captive. When you and Reid reached him, he was loosely tied to a chair with rope, his head hanging limp against his chest. You crouched beside him, checking his pulse. It seemed like a simple loss of consciousness, likely caused by the stress and exhaustion of being held captive for over two weeks.

"Untie him," you said automatically to Reid, even though he had already started doing it before you spoke. "Can you hear me, sir? Damn it, I think we’ll need an ambulance..."

"Since when do angels curse?" A hoarse, weak whisper escaped the man's throat.

You exchanged confused glances with Spencer, momentarily frozen in place. The man's temples twitched before he gently lifted his head. His gaze landed on your face, and very slowly, he began to regain full consciousness.

"I died. And you're an angel, right?" he asked.

You sighed with a certain sense of relief. He was a bit delirious, but it seemed nothing serious was wrong with him.

"Don't worry, you’re not dead, sir. Actually, you’re perfectly fine and will be home soon..."

"Whatever you say, angel."

You saw Reid, who was untying the man, try to hide a amused expression on his face. Even after two weeks spent in captivity, Mr. Murphy managed to muster a bit of stubbornness. He told the arriving paramedics that he would only get into the ambulance if the angel who freed him went with him. And since you felt really sorry for the elderly man who had been kidnapped and whose mind was a bit frail, you did it.

You didn’t get back on the jet until late at night. Throwing yourself into the seat next to Spencer, you struggled to suppress another yawn. You didn’t even realize when your temple lightly rested against his arm, but through your partially closed eyelids, you noticed him closing the book he had been reading and placing it in his lap.

"Long day, huh, angel?" he asked. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, brushing your ears as you leaned against him.

"So, you spent the whole day trying to come up with the perfect pet name and ended up just going with the one some confused old guy called me?"you asked, opening your eyes and turning your head to look at him. Or rather, from the position you were in, at his jaw. "Watch out, Spencer Reid. I might accuse you of being lazy."

"I'm not lazy," he denied. "I'm just looking for inspiration in unusual places. Besides, it fits, don't you think? Angel."

"Mhm. Lazy."

With those words, you closed your eyes again, snuggling against him more comfortably. Spencer shifted slightly in his seat, using his free hand to tuck the hair falling onto your face behind your ear.

"Sweet dreams, angel."

[gf2bellamy]

tipsy — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you're drunk and talking. a lot. content warnings: reader is drunk, mention of a guy hitting on reader a/n: my crush on spencer is getting out of control

The bar was buzzing with music and conversation, the air thick with the scent of liquor and warm bodies pressed too close together. It was loud, chaotic—everything Spencer didn’t particularly enjoy—but he stayed because the team was celebrating.

And because you were here. 

He sat alone in a corner booth, quietly drinking a soda, watching as his teammates enjoyed the night. Morgan was on the dance floor, Emily and Garcia were deep in conversation with a group of strangers, and JJ had already called it an early night. 

Then, out of nowhere, you slid into the booth beside him. 

You practically collapsed into the seat as you scooted closer—closer than you probably realized. 

“Hi, Spencer,” you mumbled, voice heavy with alcohol, but there was something else there too—a hint of frustration. 

Spencer looked over at you, his heart stuttering in his chest before he forced himself to smile softly. “Hey,” he greeted, his voice gentle. But the way you frowned made his stomach twist. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern slipping into his tone. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, your lips pouting just slightly. “No. Pen took away my drink,” you grumbled, sounding genuinely betrayed. 

Spencer huffed out a quiet laugh, though his amusement quickly faded when you scooted even closer, your head suddenly resting against his shoulder. 

His entire body locked up. 

Oh. 

You were close. 

Too close. 

He could feel the warmth of your skin, the soft tickle of your hair brushing against his arm. His heart slammed against his ribs. 

This wasn’t fair. 

Spencer had spent months—maybe even longer—trying to bury his feelings for you. Trying to convince himself that you were just his friend, just his colleague, that what he felt wasn’t real, that he was reading too much into your smiles and lingering touches. 

But now? With you leaning into him like this, drunk and soft and so unbelievably perfect? 

Yeah. He was absolutely screwed. 

Before he could even attempt to gather his thoughts, you mumbled something against his shoulder, voice muffled but heavy with exhaustion. 

“Some guy wouldn’t leave me alone back there.” 

Spencer stiffened. 

His hand twitched against his thigh, resisting the urge to reach for you. “What?” 

Your eyes were fluttering closed now, your breathing slowing. “Some guy,” you repeated, voice hazy. “He kept talking, wouldn’t take a hint.” 

Spencer felt something sharp curl in his chest. 

He swallowed hard, his fingers curling into fists beneath the table. “Are you alright?” His voice was tight with concern now. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, nuzzling your face just a little deeper into his shoulder. “I’m okay now.” 

His breath caught. 

You felt safe with him. 

That realization hit him harder than it should have. 

Spencer barely had time to process it before your voice came again, soft and hazy with sleepiness. 

“I told him I liked someone,” you mumbled, your words slightly slurred. 

Spencer froze. 

His mind stalled for a second before rebooting at double speed. You liked someone? 

His throat suddenly felt dry. 

“You did?” he asked carefully. Then, before he could stop himself, he added, a little more hesitant this time, “…You do?” 

It was almost painful how hopeful he sounded. There was no way you were talking about him. 

No way. 

You nodded, eyes barely open, leaning into him even more. “Mhm,” you hummed, voice low. 

Spencer swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding against his ribs. 

“Yeah, I told him…” You shifted slightly, and Spencer instinctively steadied you with a hand on your waist, brushing your hair gently out of your face. 

“…I told him that the guy I liked was so much smarter than him,” you continued, your lips curling slightly in amusement. 

Spencer's breath caught in his throat. 

He stared at you, heart racing, every fiber of his being begging him to not read too much into that. 

But then— 

“And taller,” you added with a drunken, sleepy smile, your cheek pressing against his shoulder like it belonged there. 

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his lips parting slightly in shock. 

Your fingers curled loosely around his hand, and Spencer swore his entire body short-circuited. 

“You’re warm,” you murmured, lazily tracing the lines of his fingers, running your fingertips over each one like you were memorizing them. 

Spencer watched you, completely and utterly mesmerized. 

He could hardly breathe. 

You were so close, so soft, so effortlessly intoxicating—and you had no idea what you were doing to him. 

And then, suddenly— 

You let go of his hand like it had burned you. 

“Oh no,” you gasped dramatically, blinking up at him with wide, drunken eyes. “I’m sorry, I forgot—hand-holding involves too many germs!”

Spencer huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. Before he could even think about what he was doing, he reached forward and gently took your hand back into his.

“I don’t mind,” he mumbled, his voice softer than he intended.

Your fingers twitched slightly in his grasp before relaxing, a slow, sleepy smile spreading across your lips. Your head was still resting against his shoulder, warm and so unbelievably close, as you started tracing his fingers again.

Spencer swallowed, watching you in quiet fascination—the way your fingertips glided gently over the ridges of his knuckles, the absent-minded way you focused on memorizing the shape of his hand.

Then, out of nowhere, you mumbled, “I also told the guy that you’re so much nicer than him.”

Spencer froze.

His breath hitched in his throat.

Had he just heard that right?

His brain struggled to process the words, replaying them over and over again in an attempt to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

“I—” He blinked rapidly, his heart thudding in his chest. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to react, but he couldn’t help the way warmth flooded through his body at your words.

So he settled for something simple.

“You did?”

You nodded against his shoulder, your eyelashes fluttering delicately against your cheek.

Then, slowly, you lifted your head, pulling away from him completely.

And Spencer missed you instantly.

But before he could mourn the loss of your warmth, you turned to face him.

And suddenly—his entire world stopped.

Because you were staring at him.

Really staring.

Your eyes, soft and unfocused, locked onto his, studying him with open admiration, with a look he had only ever dreamed about.

And then—

“Yeah,” you mumbled, your lips curling into a small, drunken smile. “You’re also so much more handsome.”

Spencer’s brain completely short-circuited.

His lips parted, but nothing came out.

You had to be joking.

There was no way you actually meant that.

Right?

Right?

But you weren’t laughing. You weren’t teasing. You were just looking at him.

Like he was something special.

Like you actually meant it.

Spencer’s throat felt tight, his pulse pounding violently in his ears. He tried to breathe, tried to tell himself this was just drunk talk, but then—

You reached out.

Your hand lifted slowly, hesitantly, like you were testing some kind of unspoken boundary.

And then—your fingers brushed against his cheek.

Light. Soft. Barely there.

Spencer’s entire body went rigid.

He couldn’t move—couldn’t even think—as you traced your fingertips gently along the sharp angle of his jaw, your thumb grazing his cheekbone with a featherlight touch.

His skin burned beneath your fingers.

And you?

You just smiled, completely oblivious to the way you were shattering him.

“Yeah…” you whispered. “So much more handsome.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his mind a complete mess of emotions.

Because you were drunk.

And he was sober.

And this?

This wasn’t fair.

But God…

He had never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his entire life.

[bunnychiffon]

op im convinced media literacy is dead

"but the text never explicitly stated it!!!" hey, so that's actually what they tried to teach you in those english classes you barely passed 😁

[moonstruckme]

hi Mae could do a reader with Spencer (or any boy u want!) where she's feeling super nauseous and throwing up a lot and trying to hide it from him like may be it's early on and she feels embarassed? I went out to brunch with a friend and idk what happened but I think I got food poisoning I've already thrown up twice and still feel so so sick

Ugh food poisoning is the worst, but I hope you're over it now lovely! Thanks for requesting <3

cw: vomitting, nausea

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Part of you thinks you should cancel. You’re not a very good time right now, nauseated and shaking a little from the exertion of walking from your car to the host’s stand. Spencer deserves a date that doesn’t have to scope out bathrooms like escape routes the moment she enters the restaurant. But oh, he’d been so sweet in asking you. All soft eyes and gentle voice, and he’d sent you the menu to make sure you found something you liked before he made the reservation. You know it can’t have been easy to get, at a nice place like this on a Saturday night. Really, at the end of the day, there is simply no world where you cancel on Spencer. 

You paste on a smile for the hostess, wondering if she’d find it odd if you leaned on her stand for support just for a moment. “Hi,” you say. “Um, I’m meeting someone, I think he’s already…” 

A touch at your elbow prompts you to turn. 

“Hi,” Spencer says. 

You go a bit breathless at the sight of him. Spencer in a suit. His hair still messy as if he ran his hands through it after leaving home, the top button of his shirt open like he had it done up all the way and then felt too constricted. He looks handsome and endearing and nice. Your sundress and half sweated-through makeup feel suddenly, hopelessly inadequate. 

“Hi,” you say back. “Sorry, I thought you’d already be sitting down.” 

“I wanted to wait for you,” he replies simply. He turns to the hostess. “For Reid?” 

As she walks you to your table, it dawns on you what an idiot you are. Possibly the only thing you could do to Spencer that would be worse than cancelling on him would be to show up as you are now. Listless and unprepared for conversation. You’re going to have to order either the smallest thing on the menu or nothing at all, and he’s going to think you don’t want to be here with him. And for yourself, you want to experience this—a first date, with Spencer, and quite possibly your only date—with all the appropriate butterflies and nervousness. Instead, you just feel…tired. And sick. 

“This is really nice,” you say as you sit down. 

“Yeah?” Spencer reaches for the carafe in the center of the table, pouring water into your glass and then his own. “I’m glad you think so. I’ve only been here once, but I thought it was good then, so. I hope you like the food.” 

He spills a little bit of water on the tablecloth, missing his glass. Winces as sharply as if he’d shattered it. Oh god; he’s nervous. You’re going to so disappoint him. 

“Sorry I was late.” You take your water, the cool glass against your hand a relief. “I was…” Well, you were vomiting in your bathroom. “I got a bit tied up on my way out.” 

“That’s okay,” he says easily. “You look really beautiful.” 

You wish you could tell yourself he was only a good liar. You feel clammy, and disgusting, and entirely undeserving of sitting across from him, but it’s all earnestness in Spencer’s puppy brown eyes. 

“Thank you.” Your voice has gone soft with sincerity. “You look very handsome, too. I’ve never…I don’t think I’ve seen you in a suit.”

Spencer smiles, bashful. “I should probably wear them more for work. Most of my team does.” 

“I like what you wear,” you say. “It suits you. Very professor-y.” 

Drinking water was a bad idea. You’ve been too greedy for the cool feel of it going down your torn-up throat; your glass is nearly empty already, and already it wants back up. 

“It would probably be more professional if I dressed like the others, though.” He gives a one-shouldered shrug. Adorable. “I am a professor, but I’m also a profiler, so…” Spencer’s smile slips when you swallow against the nausea tightening your throat. “Are you okay?” 

You press your lips into a smile. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t think there’s anything unprofessional about your regular clothes. I like your cardigans.” 

“They’re not…they’re not unprofessional, I guess, but I…” You can see Spencer’s brain working, his eyes moving over your face as you struggle to appear attentive. “Sorry, are you sure you’re okay? You look uncomfortable.” 

You could almost laugh, if you weren’t feeling so awful. Trust Spencer to tell it like it is. 

“I’m okay,” you say. “Sorry, I’m not feeling great, but I’m fine.” 

“You’re not?” Spencer looks troubled. Sad, puppy brown eyes. 

Oh, and there are the nerves you’d been missing. Malicious, evil butterflies turning your stomach into an inhospitable environment. 

You stand, your chair squeaking against the floor. “I’m so sorry,” you say in a rush. “I’ll be right back.” 

You are not, unfortunately, able to keep that promise. You spend the next twenty minutes kneeling in a bathroom stall, trying to convince yourself they probably keep the floors very clean in a nice restaurant like this while your body rejects the water you had and then several phantom meals it suspects you might’ve had while it wasn’t paying attention. When you finally emerge, Spencer is waiting outside the bathroom with a glass of water. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking it from him. You’re wary of repeating your mistakes, but you take a small sip to appease him before simply giving in and pressing the cool glass to your temple. 

Spencer assesses you with his gaze. You resign to it, knowing he’ll have you figured out by now whether you make it easy for him or not. 

“How long have you been sick for?” he asks softly. 

“It’s not contagious,” you want him to know. “It’s food poisoning, I’m pretty sure.” 

“That’s not…what I’m worried about.” Spencer sounds almost hurt, but his touch is gentle as he brings his knuckles to your forehead. “You didn’t have to come if you weren’t feeling well.” 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. You’re too exhausted to pretend at being anything else anymore. “It was stupid. I didn’t want to bail on you, but instead I’m ruining it.” 

“You’re not ruining it.” His first knuckle moves almost imperceptibly, a tiny caress. “This isn’t your fault. We can do this another time. Did you drive here?” 

“Yeah,” you say meekly. 

Spencer frowns. “Can I take you home? You’re too hot to be driving yourself.” 

He flushes instantly, though you weren’t going to say anything. 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“I know.” 

“Here.” He guides you to a bench, his hand ever so gentle on your waist. “Wait here, okay? I’ll grab our stuff.” 

You’ve fully given into wretchedness. You have no shame about resting the side of your head against the wall, closing your eyes until Spencer returns with a touch to your shoulder. He’s carrying his jacket and your bag, and the sympathetic look the hostess shoots you says that he’s conveyed you’ll be abandoning your reservation. 

“You don’t have to drive me,” you say as Spencer leads you outside, one hand at your back like he’s afraid you’ll keel over. “I can get home alright. I don’t want to throw up on your nice suit.” 

“I thought you liked my cardigans best.” If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was teasing you. “Anyway, the idea that you could be sick again this soon isn’t consistent with the idea that you could get home alright.”

It’s so him, the way he reasons this out, like he’s outlining an argument you’d never honestly expect to win. It reminds you that you’re on a date with Spencer Reid, and that makes you feel worse. 

You let him shepherd you to his car and sit you in the passenger seat. He buckles his seatbelt, looks over to see that yours is on, and his hand twitches as if it’s going to reach for yours before rerouting to the ignition. 

“Spence…” 

“Hm?” 

“Just, thank you. And I’m sorry, for making us leave.” 

“It’s okay.” He says it so easily, like a given. He does reach for your hand now, his fingers closing over yours to give the gentlest of squeezes. “You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t ask to be sick.” 

“I’m really sorry I ate that sketchy pasta last night.” 

Spencer laughs. It’s a lovely sound, lovely enough to make you smile despite the roiling of your stomach. 

You say, in a softer voice, “I think it would have been a really nice date.” 

“We’ll find out,” he says surely. “Maybe next week, if you’re not doing anything. We could come back here, or go somewhere if seeing that bathroom again will make you uncomfortable. I know that for some people nausea can be a Pavlovian response. You spent…a long time in there.” 

You stifle a groan, leaning your head against the window and turning your face in humiliation. Spencer’s thumb stroking down the side of your hand makes it all worth it.

[gf2bellamy]

Hey! I have a request, remember the scene in a bar with the real fbi agent? What if the reader flirted with him instead of emily and spencer (they're in a relationship already but no one knows) saw and he started feeling insecure then he realized that she messing with brad and then she comfort him telling him that he has nothing to worry about

classified — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: brad hitting on reader , they're at a bar , spencer being insecure a/n: thank you for your request !! i love that scene its so funny i love the bau girlies sm

The hum of conversation and the music from the speakers filled the dimly lit bar. You tapped your fingers absently against the wood of the counter, your patience wearing thin as you waited for the bartender to hand you your drinks. 

It was a busy night, and you knew that waiting was inevitable, but this was taking far too long. You let out an audible sigh, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. 

Your gaze drifted across the bar, scanning the crowd aimlessly, and that’s when you made eye contact with a stranger.

A man—dark-haired, broad-shouldered, and clearly confident—flashed you a grin, the kind that was meant to be charming but only made you look away, uninterested. You weren’t here for attention.

You were here to grab drinks for yourself and your boyfriend, who was patiently waiting for you at your table. 

Finally, the bartender placed a glass in front of you. But as you reached for it, you frowned. This wasn’t the drink you ordered. 

“Hey, that’s not mine—” you started, but the bartender had already moved on, too swamped with other customers to hear you. 

Before you could call out again or wave him down, someone shifted beside you. Close. 

“Hey,” a voice drawled. “I’m Brad.” 

You turned your head, brows furrowing as you recognized the same man who had just been grinning at you from across the bar.

“Uh…” You blinked, thrown off by his sudden approach. 

“The drink is from me,” he continued, flashing what he clearly thought was a winning smile as he leaned against the bar, making himself comfortable. 

You stared at him, unimpressed. “I didn’t order this.” 

He shrugged. “Consider it a gift.” 

You forced a polite smile. “Okay, thanks.” 

But you didn’t move. Despite the discomfort curling in your stomach, you weren’t about to leave the bar without Spencer’s soda. You had come here to grab drinks for both of you, and no overconfident stranger was going to change that. 

Still, you could feel his body angled toward yours in a way that made it clear he wasn’t ready to walk away. 

“What’s your name?” he asked. 

You exhaled slowly, keeping your eyes on the bartender as you tried to wave him down. “Why?” 

Your tone was deliberately disinterested, but Brad either didn’t notice or didn’t care. 

“Just wanting to get to know you,” he said smoothly, flashing that same grin. 

You didn’t return it. 

The bartender was still busy, so you shifted slightly, trying to create more space between you. “Not really looking to be ‘gotten to know.’” 

Brad chuckled like you’d made a joke. “Come on, no need to be shy.” 

You clenched your jaw. Jesus, do guys like this ever take a hint? 

Still, you kept your expression neutral, hoping that if you didn’t engage, he’d eventually get bored and walk away.  

“I get it now,” Brad said, leaning a little closer. “You probably don’t run into guys like me often.” 

Your brows knit together in irritation. “Excuse me?” 

He smirked. “FBI.” He said it like it was supposed to impress you, like he expected some wide-eyed reaction. “That’s right. I’m an agent.” 

You stared at him for a second, unsure whether to laugh or roll your eyes. He was flexing being in the FBI—to you. 

It was almost too perfect. 

“Oh, really?” you said, unable to help yourself. 

You suppressed a grin, letting your expression shift just enough to seem intrigued. “That’s so cool.” 

Brad’s chest seemed to expand at your sudden interest, his confidence returning in full force. He leaned in slightly, his smirk deepening as he mistook your mockery for flirtation. 

“Yeah,” he said, flashing what he clearly thought was a charming grin. 

You hummed, tilting your head slightly. “So, what department are you in?” 

Your voice was smooth, your body language shifting ever so slightly—just enough to keep him engaged, just enough to make him believe you were hooked. 

Honestly? This was fun. 

Brad, completely unaware of the trap he was walking into, smirked again. “That’s classified.” 

You widened your eyes in fake fascination. “Oh. That sounds intense.” 

He shrugged, playing it cool. “It is. But, you know, it’s part of the job.” 

You let your fingers trail lazily along the rim of your glass. “So, like… what can you tell me?” you mused, biting your lip just slightly. 

Brad was practically glowing under the attention. “Well,” he started, shifting his weight so he was closer to you, “let’s just say I deal with some of the most dangerous minds out there.” He shot you a sideways glance, as if expecting you to be thoroughly impressed. 

You weren’t. 

But you were thoroughly entertained. 

“Wow,” you murmured, leaning in just a bit.  

As you continued your mockery of Brad, Spencer sat at the table, watching you. 

He knew he shouldn’t feel this way. Insecure. 

But as he saw you lean in, tilting your head ever so slightly, angling your body toward the man beside you, he felt a weight settle deep in his chest. 

He tried to suppress it, to rationalize it away. Maybe you were just being polite. Maybe he was reading too much into it. Maybe— 

He wanted to believe that was the case, but you looked interested. The way you twirled your fingers along the rim of your glass, the way your lips curved just slightly when Brad spoke—it all made his stomach twist. 

What he didn’t know—what he couldn’t know—was that you were mocking the man. That your flirtation was nothing more than an elaborate joke at Brad’s expense. 

But Spencer wasn’t in on the joke. 

All he saw was you, looking at someone else like that. 

And it hurt. 

He exhaled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His logical mind screamed at him to calm down. 

You’re together. She’s with you. 

But the problem was, no one else knew that. 

You and Spencer had chosen to keep your relationship a secret—at least for now. It had seemed like the best option, especially given the team dynamic.

Hotch had rules about workplace relationships. Morgan and Garcia would never let you two live it down. JJ and Emily would have a field day gossiping about it. 

So, for the past few months, you and Spencer had played it safe. Careful glances. Brushing hands that lingered just a little too long.

And yet, here—right now—he was questioning everything. 

He knew he wasn’t like Morgan or Brad. He didn’t have the easy charm, the effortless confidence.

He was just… Spencer. 

And watching you with someone else—someone who didn’t hide his attraction to you, who could openly flirt without consequences—it made him feel so small. 

He looked down at his drink, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

Soon enough, you made your way back to Spencer’s table, now with your own drink in one hand and his soda in the other. Sliding into the booth beside him, you greeted him with a soft, “Hi,” flashing him a smile that was only reserved for him. 

Normally, Spencer would have melted under that smile—his lips would have curled just slightly, his eyes softening in that way they always did when you looked at him like that. 

But tonight, he barely reacted. 

You frowned slightly, glancing around to check on the rest of the team. Morgan was still on the dance floor, probably charming his way into someone’s good graces. Garcia and Emily were off in a corner, deep in conversation with a few strangers. 

Everything was normal. So what was wrong with Spencer? 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the soda from your hand but never meeting your eyes. 

That was weird. 

You nudged his shoulder lightly. “You okay?” 

He nodded, giving you a quick, tight-lipped smile. “Nothing. I’m fine.” 

You weren’t convinced. 

“Spence.” 

His eyes flicked up toward you for only a second before darting away. 

Something was off. 

Quickly, you checked to make sure no one from the team was watching before reaching out, fingers brushing gently through the soft strands of his hair before trailing lightly along his cheek. 

That got his attention. 

His breath hitched ever so slightly, and his entire body stiffened at the sudden touch. His eyes finally met yours.

“Hey,” you murmured, your voice softer now. “Talk to me.” 

Spencer swallowed, shaking his head as if trying to push something away. “It’s nothing. I just…” He trailed off, lips pressing together in frustration. 

Spencer swallowed, shaking his head as if trying to push something away. “It’s nothing. I just…” He trailed off, his lips pressing together in frustration. 

“Spencer,” you said, voice softer now, filled with concern. 

He exhaled sharply and finally looked at you—just for a second—before his gaze dropped again. His fingers fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve, a nervous habit you knew all too well. 

“I just… I didn’t like seeing you with that guy,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You blinked. “Brad?” 

His shoulders tensed slightly, as if just hearing the name made him more uncomfortable. 

A small, amused smile tugged at your lips. You couldn’t help it. 

“Spence, will you look at me for a second?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. 

He hesitated but eventually met your eyes. 

You reached for his hand under the table, letting your fingers brush against his before holding on. 

“Brad was trying to flirt with me by telling me he was an FBI agent,” you explained, amusement creeping into your voice. “He tried to impress me by talking about all the dangerous criminals he’s caught, how important his job is.” 

Spencer’s eyebrows lifted slightly, curiosity flickering in his expression. 

You chuckled. “And the whole time I was mocking him.” 

“Oh.” His expression shifted, embarrassment creeping in as his ears turned pink.

You bit your lip, watching him process it.

“Oh,” he repeated, his voice quieter this time.

You laughed softly, squeezing his hand under the table. “Spence, you really thought I was into him?”

He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… I know you’re with me, but I just… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” you prompted gently.

He let out a breath, finally squeezing your hand in return. “It’s just… sometimes, I worry that maybe I’m not…” He trailed off again, his fingers fidgeting against yours.

Your heart clenched. You knew what he meant, even if he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. That insecurity, that tiny voice in the back of his head telling him he wasn’t enough.

And you hated that it still crept in, even now.

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Spence.”

He looked at you hesitantly.

“You are enough. More than enough,” you said firmly. “You’re the smartest, kindest, most incredible person I know. And I love you—you. Not some random, fake FBI agent. You.”

His shoulders dropped, his entire body relaxing as the weight of his earlier insecurity lifted. 

“…I love you too,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

A small chuckle escaped him, and you felt the last bit of tension melt away. 

Spencer squeezed your hand again, this time with more confidence. “I’m sorry for being an idiot.” 

“You’re not an idiot,” you corrected immediately. “You’re just…” You tapped your chin playfully. “What’s the word? Adorably overanalytical?” 

He rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the warmth in them. 

You leaned in closer, your voice just above a whisper. “For the record… you are the most impressive FBI agent in this bar.” 

Spencer’s lips twitched. “Statistically speaking, I’d argue that Morgan’s ability to—” 

You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

His breath hitched slightly, and when you pulled back, his face was completely flushed. 

You grinned. “No more overthinking, okay?” 

He sighed, but it was lighthearted now. “Okay.” 

[minswriting]

need spencer reid's mf GORGEOUS fingers inside me and i want to watch and he'll be watching too but not because of his fingers...

nsfw | mdni | spencer reid x reader | fingering, mirrors, etc.

spencer was great at many things. he was highly intelligent, an excellent profiler, an amazing magician. any task that he put his mind to, he succeeded at it. the one thing he did greatly that you absolutely adored was pleasure you. and he seemed to love that too.

you were sat on the floor, facing the mirror with your legs spread, leaning your back against spencer’s chest as he had one arm wrapped around you and his other hand on your pussy. he had two fingers buried inside of you, fingering you with precision. his middle and ring fingers were curled inside of you, hitting your g-spot dead-on with each thrust.

your lips were parted as you moaned, eyes focused on the mirror in front of you. spencer was looking at you with a small smirk on his lips, his eyes fixated on your pussy. “you’re so mesmerizing,” he murmured into your ear, his voice soft. you could feel his bulge pressing against your lower back. “i could watch your pretty pussy all day.”

you whined, eyes fluttering shut as spencer’s digits moved faster inside of you. “s-spencer,” you moaned, throwing your head back onto his shoulder.

spencer tsked, his free hand moving to your chin and gently moving your head off of his shoulder. “eyes open, baby,” he said, licking his lips as he watched you. “don’t look away.”

the tone of his voice sent sparks down your spine as you whimpered, opening your eyes to look at yourself. you looked like a pornstar with the way your legs were spread and how your pussy was glistening with how wet you were. your eyes blown out in pleasure as the sounds of spencer’s fingers moving in and out of your cunt filled the room.

and spencer? he was staring at you like you were sent from the heavens. his doe brown eyes were watching your every move. every moan you let out, every twitch of your limbs as you writhed in his arms, the way your pussy fluttered around his fingers.

“i-i’m so close,” you whimpered, feeling that familiar feeling inside of you.

“god, yes, baby,” spencer breathed out, his breath fanning your neck. “go ahead and cum for me.”

and that’s all you needed to let go as you came with a loud moan, eyes closing, back arching, and thighs clenching around spencer’s hand. spencer fingered you thoroughly through your orgasm, watching your every move in the mirror.

it was safe to say that he didn’t stop there.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Calamitous Love.

Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

Summary: After an accident, many memories are wiped from your mind. Luckily, your fiancé is always by your side...but were you planning to break off the engagement before the accident?

Words: 3,7k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. mention of injuries, serial killers, memory loss, traffic accident. SO bittersweet. angst with open ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I am just like Matthew and sometimes I love to traumatize Spencer, I’m sorry but I miss the one shots.

Spencer Reid was the perfect man. His bright brown eyes, warm and impossibly sincere, never lied. His thin lips had a special way of puckering when he thought too much, a telltale sign of his mind working through puzzles only he could solve. And his heart, the purest you had ever known, overflowed with kindness, empathy, and a love so profound it felt almost unreal. Spencer Reid was smart, brilliant beyond measure, with a mind that held an entire universe of knowledge. He could recite the most obscure facts with ease, analyze the most complex theories in seconds, and yet, the most precious thing about him was his willingness to learn how to love you the way you needed to be loved. He observed, listened, and adapted, making sure every touch, every word, and every glance was precisely what would make you feel cherished. Because Spencer Reid was everything anyone could wish to have, and yet, against all odds, you were the lucky one who had him.

You happily reminded yourself of that every single day as you looked down at your engagement ring, the one he had given you, a tangible reminder that he had chosen you just as wholeheartedly as you had chosen him, for a lifetime together.

When you thought of marriage to him, it wasn’t just about the idea of forever. It was the depth of what that forever would mean. You remembered the moment he knelt before you, hands trembling slightly, asking the question you’d only ever dreamed of hearing. You didn’t just picture him standing at the altar, waiting for you to approach in your beautiful dress. No, you thought about everything that would come after, how it would feel to swear to love each other through all of life’s trials, even beyond death. You imagined growing old by his side, sharing the quiet moments as the years went by, and how those ordinary moments would become extraordinary in his presence. You thought about starting a family, building a life together, and raising children in a home filled with the same love and devotion you had always dreamed of.

Together through thick and thin. That thought echoed in your mind, looping over and over as you slowly drifted back to consciousness. The first thing you registered was the dull ache spreading through your body, a heavy, lingering pain that made every breath feel just a little too sharp. The sterile scent of antiseptic flooded your senses, mixing with the faint, artificial coolness of the hospital air. The steady beeping of machines provided a rhythmic pulse to the silence. Blinking against the dim light, your gaze slowly adjusted to your surroundings. The faint glow of a monitor, the crisp white sheets draped over you, the IV taped to your arm. But none of it answered the one question that burned in your mind. What happened?

Then, your eyes found him.

Spencer.

He was curled up on the couch beside you, his head leaning against the backrest, his posture weighed down by exhaustion. His long limbs were awkwardly folded, his body hunched forward in a way that made it clear he hadn’t moved in hours. Dark circles bruised the delicate skin beneath his eyes, and yet, even in sleep, he remained tethered to you. His fingers barely grazed the edge of your gurney, as if even unconscious, he needed to be close. Needed to feel you were still there.

Your gaze drifted lower, catching the soft gleam of metal on his finger. The engagement ring. A silent promise. A future you had once envisioned so clearly. And without thinking, you glanced at your own hand, expecting the comforting weight of your matching ring. But all you found was the sterile chill of the IV line taped to your skin. Your heart stuttered. A small, uneasy pit settled in your stomach. Where is it?

You looked up just as Spencer stirred, his body shifting as he slowly blinked awake. A groggy hand dragged across his face, fingers rubbing at his tired eyes in an attempt to shake off the haze of sleep. And then, his gaze landed on you.

Relief hit him like a crashing wave. His posture snapped upright, exhaustion momentarily forgotten as his entire focus narrowed in on you. The sheer intensity of his expression sent warmth flooding through your chest, his eyes roamed your face as if memorizing every detail, as if needing to reassure himself that you were really okay.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, his voice rough from sleep, yet thick with emotion. His hand moved toward yours instinctively, but then he hesitated, hovering for just a moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, as if he feared you might pull away. But when you didn’t, his fingers brushed against your skin, hesitant yet desperate for contact. “How do you feel? Are you in pain? Should I get a nurse?”

Your lips parted to answer, but the words didn’t come immediately. Your throat was dry, and your mind was sluggish, struggling to pull itself together. The memories that flickered in your mind felt like fragments of a broken puzzle, pieces that were out of reach, not quite forming a whole picture. The last thing you could clearly recall felt distant, blurred at the edges like a forgotten dream, slipping through your fingers as you tried desperately to hold onto it.

You cleared your throat, your voice low, barely above a whisper. “What…happened? Why am I here?”

Your fiancé's expression shifted instantly, relief giving way to something heavier, something uncertain. His fingers curled slightly against your hand, his grip featherlight yet steady, as if afraid he might hurt you. He exhaled a slow, measured breath, gathering his thoughts before answering.

“You were in a car accident,” he said softly, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of the words, though he kept his gaze steady on you.

A car accident.

The words felt foreign, distant, like they belonged to someone else’s reality, not yours. Of all the ways you could have been hurt, this was the least likely, the least expected. Your life was a constant dance with danger, chasing monsters through dark alleyways, walking into crime scenes still heavy with the ghosts of violence, facing down men who thrived on fear. Those were the risks you understood, the dangers you had accepted long ago.

But this? This was ordinary. This was the kind of thing that happened to people who weren’t constantly looking over their shoulders, to people who weren’t trained to anticipate threats before they struck. You weren’t reckless. You weren’t careless. You didn’t lose control.

“You abandoned the way,” he continued softly, watching you closely. “They said you must’ve lost control, maybe got distracted…or something. Your car went off the road and crashed into a ditch.” His voice faltered, just slightly, as if saying the words out loud made them more real. It was as if almost for a moment, a trace of guilt had escaped in his tone.

A cold chill ran through you, a sense of vertigo pulling at your chest. You stared at him, eyes wide, trying to process, trying to understand. But your mind remained blank, an empty canvas where everything should have been. There were no fragments of memories of the accident. No flashes of panic or the sudden jolt of the car swerving out of control. No sensation of the crash itself, just a void, a sharp nothingness.

“I don’t remember,” you whispered, the words slipping out as you blinked, as though trying to will the memories back into place.

“That’s normal,” he said, his voice soothing, though there was an unmistakable trace of worry beneath it. “Memory loss can happen after a concussion. It might come back soon.”

A concussion. The dull ache in your skull suddenly made sense. You lifted your free hand instinctively, but he was quicker, catching your wrist before your fingers could brush against what you now realized was a bandage wrapped around your head.

“You hit your head pretty hard,” he said, his thumb absently tracing over your skin, as if grounding himself as much as grounding you. “But the doctors said you’re going to be okay. You just…need time.”

Time.

It should have been comforting. But all you could think about was the emptiness of your memory, the lost hours, the lost moment when everything must have gone wrong, and the exact reasons why. You didn't usually drive alone, you didn't like the silence of the car, and you took your fiancé with you wherever you went. However, he seemed unharmed and just tired. You felt very confused, pressured, and lost as you remembered the ring that was missing from your finger.

You swallowed hard, trying to push past the dizziness that seemed to rise with every thought, trying to steady your racing heart. Your voice came out steadier this time, though there was still a tremor in it. “Where’s my ring?”

Spencer blinked at you, clearly taken off guard by the question. “What ring?” he asked, his brows furrowing, confusion flickering in his eyes.

“The most important ring in the world, love,” you whispered. “My engagement ring.”

The silence that followed seemed eternal, the tension palpable, thick in the air between the two of you. Spencer's eyes widened when he realized what you were speaking, and his breath caught. He blinked, as if trying to understand why the absence of the ring you'd taken off yourself had bothered you so much, why you'd called him “love” after two months of not doing so, why his touch suddenly didn't seem to bother you. Something wasn’t right, and it was all too clear to him now. Something was wrong with you.

The realization hit him like a bolt, but before he could say anything, you broke the moment, the tension too much to bear. “This sucks,” you muttered, your voice quieter now but tinged with frustration. “My head hurts.”

The sudden shift in your tone startled him, pulling him back to the present. His concern resurfaced, his gaze softening as he quickly leaned closer, his hand still holding yours. “How much? On a scale of one to ten?” he asked, his voice anxious, the worry evident in his eyes.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the pressure in your skull making everything feel worse, as if you could feel your brain pulsing in rhythm with the pain. Your fingers tightened around his hand. “Eleven,” you muttered, trying to force the words out with a breathless chuckle. The ridiculousness of it wasn’t lost on you, but you didn’t care. The truth was that it hurt, and you needed something else. Anything to make the ache go away.

His expression darkened with concern, and you saw his muscles tense as though he were already preparing to leave and find a nurse, a doctor, anyone who could help you. But before he could move, you caught his hand in yours, your fingers curling around his. “No,” you said softly, shaking your head. “Don’t call a doctor.”

He hesitated for a moment, still unsure of what to do, but his eyes never left you, his worry so palpable that you could practically feel it like a weight pressing down on both of you. “Then what do you need?” he asked gently, his voice soft, almost pleading. His thumb brushed lightly across your knuckles as if trying to comfort you, as if trying to bring you back to something you could hold onto.

You didn’t answer him right away. Instead, you let out a shaky breath, still feeling the tension in your body, the unease that gripped you. Your fingers slid to the side of his face, the touch so light it almost felt like a dream, and you tilted your head to meet his gaze.

“Give me love,” you whispered, the words escaping your lips with a sudden tenderness, an unexpected vulnerability. You needed him. Not just in the way your body craved the relief of his touch, but in the deeper, more desperate way that your soul was aching for connection, for his warmth.

Spencer blinked, his breath catching as he looked at you, clearly surprised by your request. He took a small, confused step back, his brows furrowing in bewilderment. “What?”

“Kiss me, fool,” you murmured, your voice lower now, almost teasing, trying to make light of the moment even though everything inside you felt like it was unraveling. You could see the hesitation in his eyes, the way he was torn between the confusion that had settled in his mind and the longing in his chest.

The way you’d spoken to him, the way you’d touched him, it was all too much. Yet too little, too fragile, and too desperate at once.

“You…you want me to kiss you?” His voice was quiet, still unsure. But you could see the faintest shimmer of hope in his eyes, a flicker of something that made him believe, just for a second, that maybe things weren’t as broken as they seemed. That maybe you were still you, still his, still something real, even if everything else had changed.

“Don’t tell me my face looked that bad after the accident,” you teased, your voice weak but laced with a dry humor you hoped might ease the tension hanging between you both.

“No…you’re perfect, pretty as always.”

You tilted your head slightly, still feeling the remnants of confusion and loneliness swirling in the space between you both. “You said that because you love me,” you murmured, a small smile playing at the corner of your lips, but it was tinged with a vulnerability you could no longer hide. “Now I want a mirror.”

“A mirror?” He repeated, his voice soft but curious, unsure of where this was leading. He glanced around the room as if expecting a mirror to appear out of nowhere, but the expression on your face made it clear that wasn’t the answer you were seeking. His eyes turned back to you, searching for more understanding.

“Or a kiss,” you added quietly, the weight of the words making your chest tighten. “Hug, touch? I need physical affection.”

Spencer’s breath caught again. His fingers twitched slightly as if wanting to reach out, but still, something held him back. Something about the rawness of your request, the way you were looking at him with that strange mixture of vulnerability and need, made him pause. The last few months, the distance, the silence, the space, it all came rushing back, threatening to collapse in on him, on both of you. He didn’t know how to bridge the gap, but here you were, asking for something he hadn’t dared hope for, something real, something close.

You needed him.

His eyes softened, and for a brief, fleeting moment, the world outside of the hospital room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. His heart ached with the weight of everything unsaid, everything that had been left unspoken for too long. “You…you need physical affection?” he whispered, almost as if testing the words on his own tongue, seeing how they felt.

Reid swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he processed your words. His mind was spinning, struggling to reconcile the warmth in your voice, the softness in your gaze, with the cold, distant reality he had been living in for the past two months. The reality where your hands no longer reached for his, where your voice had lost that teasing lilt whenever you spoke to him, where you had looked at him with something closer to exhaustion than love. But now, now, you were here, in front of him, looking at him like this, touching him like this, speaking to him like this. And he didn’t know what to do with it.

His fingers twitched against yours, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. Not when you were looking at him with that quiet plea in your eyes, not when your touch was so familiar, achingly so.

“You need physical affection?” He repeated it, almost as if saying it aloud would help him believe it. “From me?”

A small frown creased your forehead, as if the question itself was absurd. “Of course, from you,” you murmured, your thumb tracing the back of his hand in a slow, lingering movement. “Who else would I want it from, if not my future husband?”

Spencer’s mouth opened as if to speak, then faltered, the words caught somewhere in the space between his thoughts and reality. For a brief moment, everything clicked. It all made sense now.

You didn’t remember more than the accident.

You didn’t remember the nights you had spent on opposite ends of the apartment, the silences that stretched longer than either of you could fill. You didn’t remember the fights that had grown from whispered frustrations into full-blown arguments, the sharp words that had cut deeper than either of you had intended. You didn’t remember the moment you had taken off your engagement ring, the way you had placed it on the counter with trembling fingers, saying, I don’t know if this is working anymore, Spence. You didn’t remember that you had been on the verge of leaving him.

And yet now, here you were, lying in a hospital bed, looking up at him with those same eyes that once held every piece of his heart, asking for him. Asking for his love, his touch, his kiss, as if none of it had ever been broken. As if nothing had changed.

His chest ached.

He should tell you. He should tell you the truth. He should remind you of the distance that had grown between you, the hurt that had seeped into every corner of what you once were. He should remind you that you had been slipping through his fingers for two months now, that this moment, this closeness, was something neither of you had shared in what felt like forever.

But God, how could he? How could he break this? How could he take away the way you were looking at him, touching him, and loving him when it was the only thing he had wanted for so long?

You smiled softly, a small, teasing glint in your eyes, the same expression he had missed more than he could admit. “I don’t need another doctor,” you said, your voice light but filled with need. “I just need my doctor Reid. I need you now.”

His breath caught.

God, how many nights had he stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, wishing to hear those words again? How many times had he replayed every conversation, every argument, trying to pinpoint the exact moment everything had started slipping through his fingers? How many times had he wished you’d look at him like this again, like he was your home?

“Do you…” He hesitated, then swallowed. “Do you remember the last thing we talked about? Before the accident?”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown by the question. “No, I—” You paused, thinking. Then, after a moment, you laughed, rolling your eyes. “Probably something dumb, like what we should have for dinner.”

You didn’t remember. You didn’t remember the raw, biting argument that had escalated, the way words that were meant to heal had instead poisoned the air between you. The cutting words you had both thrown at each other, the ones that lingered long after you had left the apartment, your heart pounding with regret and pain. You didn’t remember that you had almost walked away for good.

But now? Right now, you were looking at him like he was still your safe place. Like he was still yours.

“I…” He inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself, the words lodged in his throat like shards of glass. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, his voice breaking with the weight of his own uncertainty.

“You’re not hurting me.” You let out a small, breathy chuckle, squeezing his hand. “The only thing hurting me right now is this damn headache.”

Spencer exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. This was dangerous. This was reckless. He knew that. But when he opened his eyes again and saw you, saw the way you were still waiting, still trusting, still his, something in him cracked.

Slowly, hesitantly, his free hand lifted, fingertips grazing the side of your face. You leaned into his touch instantly, and he felt his heart stutter, his breath catching in his throat.

God.

How could he let go of this?

His grip on your face tightened slightly, barely noticeable, but you still felt it. Your expression softened, your thumb grazing over his knuckles, grounding him. “Spence?”

He inhaled sharply, trying to push back the lump in his throat. He should tell you. He needed to tell you. But the words wouldn’t come. Because right now, in this moment, you were still his. You were looking at him like he was your everything. Like you wanted him.

And selfishly, pathetically, he wanted to hold onto that. Just for a little longer.

So instead of answering your question, instead of pulling away like he probably should have, he did the one thing he knew he shouldn’t do.

He gave in.

He leaned forward, his movements slow, hesitant, his fingers tightening around yours. His free hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek, as if memorizing the warmth of your skin. And when your lips parted slightly, your breath mixing with his, he closed the space between you and kissed you.

Soft. Tentative.

A kiss that held every unsaid word, every unshed tear, every moment he thought he had lost you for good. It wasn’t hurried or desperate. It was slow, tentative, almost like he was afraid you would pull away, that you would remember everything you had wanted to forget. But you didn’t. You melted into him, sighing against his lips, your fingers curling around the fabric of his sleeve, holding him close.

For the first time in months, Spencer Reid didn’t feel like he was losing you. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to believe, just for a fleeting moment, that maybe he hadn’t lost you at all.

[vigilante-3073]

Obsessive Compulsivity

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Y/N has OCD and often struggles with her disorder in the workplace. Spencer looks out for her and ensures that no one is able to mess with her.

TW: Mentions of OCD/compulsions/feelings/panic attacks, disrespectful behavior, pranks, Spencer being a sweetheart.

Y/N had been diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder when she was only fifteen years old. Y/N had struggled with her compulsions for years before she was able to get on medication. Y/N lived with a persistent feeling of intense anxiety and distress, the medication helped but the side effects seemed to outweigh the good ones.

Y/N had been in psychotherapy since her diagnosis and was able to cope with her condition, but it still effected her day to day life.

Y/N had a few particular compulsions that Spencer kept an eye on. He noticed that she gave into her compulsions more when she was stressed or upset. In their line of work it was important to look out for one another and he tried to be there for her as much as he could.

Y/N needed everything to be in threes.

She checked her door three times to make sure it was locked, washed her hands three times, clicked her pen three times in a row and a few other things. Her apartment was spotless, all the cans were facing out in her pantry, hangers were equally spaced in her closet and book spines were all aligned on her shelves.

Y/N cleaned her apartment every day, unable to rest until everything was in it's proper place. Her desk in the bullpen was spotless, everything aligned properly in perfect symmetry. It really bothered her when other people touched her things, but she tried to be kind about it.

Morgan tended to take advantage of that.

He stood in front of Y/N's desk in the bullpen, shifting around the items on her desktop while she was in the office with Hotch.

"What are you doing?" Emily asked, Spencer looked up from his paperwork.

"Wind her up and watch her go," Morgan smirked.

"You're an ass," Emily said, shaking her head.

"I'll bet you twenty bucks that she doesn't make it a minute without putting everything back like it was," Morgan said.

"I'm not betting," Emily replied.

"Why not?" Morgan questioned.

"Because it's mean and juvenile," Spencer stated.

"It may be juvenile, but it's not mean, it's- Oh, here she comes," Morgan said, quickly returning to his seat as the door to Hotch's office opened.

Y/N walked down the stairs and made her way over to her desk, she froze in place as she stared at everything. Morgan watched her out of the corner of his eye, glancing over to Emily.

Y/N's eyes flickeed from item to item as she reached out and adjusted things. She returned the items to their proper place, tapping them three times as she moved them.

"Stop touching my things, Morgan," Y/N said, pulling out her chair and sitting down.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, sweetheart," He replied.

Y/N huffed, setting her files down and looking around at her things. Spencer watched her spend the next hour adjusting her items minutely, unable to focus on anything else until it was fixed.

Y/N was far too nice to do anything to get back at Morgan, but Spencer was always willing to help out a friend.

..

Later that day Spencer loosened the screws on the back of Morgan's chair, waiting patiently for him to return to his desk. Spencer almost felt giddy when he saw Morgan make his way over to his seat.

He sat down in the chair and leaned back, the backrest popped off and Morgan flailed his arms in the air as he fell onto the ground.

Morgan landed on his back, legs caught up on the seat of his desk chair as he looked around with a confused look on his face.

Emily laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as JJ sprang up from the edge of Emily's desk. Y/N turned around in her chair quickly and Spencer allowed a satisfied smile to settle on his face.

"Are you okay?" JJ asked.

Morgan stood up, "Somebody messed with my chair," He stated.

"He's fine," Emily smiled, shaking her head and returning to her paperwork.

"Who screwed with my chair?" Morgan asked.

JJ bent down and picked up the backrest of his chair from the floor, "The whole back fell off," She said.

JJ looked down at the floor, noticing the set of black screws on the carpeted ground, "Even the screws came out," JJ stated.

"You must have really pissed someone off," Emily said, not looking up from her desk.

Y/N looked over at Spencer, "Did you do that?" She asked quietly.

Spencer shrugged, "Just seems like karmic justice to me," He replied, sending her a wink.

Y/N felt her cheeks flush as she turned her attention back to the case files on her desk.

Over the next few months, Spencer became Y/N's avenging angel whenever Morgan decided to mess with her. Morgan tended to push the envelope with Y/N and Spencer absolutely hated it.

Y/N was a bit of a pushover and had always allowed people to walk all over her without a peep. Y/N deserved to have someone stand up for her and Spencer was happy to be that person.

Spencer expected Morgan to back off after a few innocent pranks, but he just wouldn't back down and Spencer chose not to either. He had changed out the sugar for salt in Morgan's coffee, added itching powder to his clothes in the locker room and had even superglued his pens to the top of his desk.

Spencer was honestly starting to get tired of thinking up new ways to mess with him. Y/N knew that Spencer was continuing to look out for her, she asked him to let it go, but he couldn't stand the idea of Morgan using her condition for his own amusement.

...

Morgan did not understand her condition until he saw how it truly effected her while they were out on a case.

The team had been on a case that required them to locate an unpredictable and dangerous unsub. Theories were thrown around and a long list of suspects gradually became smaller as more information was uncovered. The team finally reached the most likely suspect and a few searches from Garcia proved that they had their man.

The members of the BAU found themselves surrounding the man, snipers set up in the building across the street. Y/N had been trained in hostage negotiation and de-escalation, the unsub suffered from delusions and the team thought that Y/N may be able to get through to him.

Y/N was a profiler and did not carry a gun, she worked in the office and only went out into the field when the team deemed it necessary. Hotch ordered her to stay close to Morgan, putting her in a bulletproof FBI vest to ensure her safety.

The conversation had been going well and Y/N was beginning to establish a rapport. Suddenly a loud noise from nearby made the unsub jumpy and he became aware of how many officers surrounded him. He drew a weapon and everyone yelled at him to drop it, the man ignored them and charged towards law enforcement.

The sniper took aim and fired a shot, sending the unsub's blood splattering onto Y/N. She froze, eyes glossing over with tears as a nauseous feeling settled in her stomach.

Morgan stepped in front of her, looking her over for injuries, "Are you okay?" He asked.

"It got on me," Y/N stated softly, her hands were trembling as her breathing began to speed up.

"Are you hurt? Are you injured?" Morgan repeated, hand cupping her cheek and pulling her gaze away from the body.

"There's blood on me," Y/N mumbled shakily, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You need to breathe, Y/N. C'mon, baby, you're fine, it's just blood," Morgan said, attempting to comfort her.

"Here, I've got her," Spencer said, tucking his gun away and moving over to them.

"Spencer," Y/N mumbled.

"You're okay, you're safe," He assured, one hand holding onto her wrist while his other settled on her waist.

"It's on me," Y/N said, staring down at the speckles of blood on her skin.

Spencer nodded, "We'll clean it off, okay? I'll help you, but first I need you to slow your breathing down," He said, Y/N nodded stiffly.

She was hyperventilating, breath coming out in panicked puffs as she looked around wildly. Spencer took off his vest quickly, taking her hand and settling it on his chest.

"Focus on me, alright? I need you to copy my breathing," He said, holding her hand against his chest over his heart.

"I can't," She hiccuped, shaking her head.

"You have to. Just close your eyes and stay with me," Spencer instructed.

Y/N sobbed, "Just close your eyes and focus on me," Spencer repeated, his other hand settling on her waist again and pulling her closer to himself.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, "Copy my breathing, okay? Nice and slow," He said.

Spencer took a deep breath in before releasing it as a slow exhale. Y/N struggled for a moment before slowly settling into his calm breathing pattern after a few breaths.

Her eyes fluttered open, glossy eyes meeting with his, "Let's get you cleaned up," He said, she nodded.

"She okay?" Morgan asked.

Spencer nodded, "I need to take her home so she can get cleaned up," He said.

"I'll let Hotch know," Morgan nodded.

"Thanks, Morgan," Spencer replied, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Spencer wrapped his arm around her and led her over to the SUV, he settled her in the passenger seat before he drove her home.

Spencer walked her up to her apartment, sittin on the couch while she got herself cleaned up. Y/N scrubbed at her skin roughly under the scalding hot water, desperately trying to remove all traces of the blood.

Y/N felt like she couldn't get clean, sobbing as she continued to scrub her skin raw. It took almost an hour before she had finally calmed down enough to shut off the water and step out of the shower. She dried herself off and got dressed, but her entire body still felt dirty.

Spencer stood from his seat on the couch as the bathroom door opened, "You didn't have to stay," Y/N mumbled with a soft sniffle.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Spencer said.

Y/N nodded, eyes glossing over with tears again, "I can still feel his blood on my skin," She admitted shakily.

The skin of her arms, neck and chest were red and irritated from where she scrubbed the skin raw.

Spencer made his way over to her, "Can I touch you?" He asked, she nodded.

His fingers wrapped around her wrist gently, lifting her arm up to inspect her reddened skin. Spencer brushed his thumb over her pulse, "How can I help?" He questioned.

"I don't know," She replied.

"Can I give you a hug?" Spencer asked.

Her lip trembled and she nodded, Spencer let go of her arm and stepped closer to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her body against his chest gently. 

The smell of his cologne and the soft beating of his heart was calming. Y/N felt something break within her as she sobbed, tears rolling down her cheeks and soaking into Spencer's shirt as she slid her arms around him.

Y/N pressed herself closer to his chest, crying until her lungs ached and her eyes burned. She gripped onto the material of Spencer's shirt, he rubbed her back gently while murmuring words of encouragement into her hair.

It felt like an eternity before her sobs changed to shaky breaths, her tears drying on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Y/N mumbled against his chest.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Spencer assured.

Y/N reluctantly pulled away, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear gently.

"Thank you," Y/N mumbled, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Spencer asked.

She shook her head, "You've done more than enough already, Spencer," Y/N stated.

"I can stay if you don't want to be alone," He offered.

"You'd do that?" Y/N asked.

"Of course, I'd do anything for you," He answered easily.

[reiding-writing]

Well, basically, it would be a "Spencer × female reader" One Shot and in it, the reader should be a woman (as I already said) the same age as Spencer. She is not an FBI agent, though. She is a stay-at-home mom and together, she and Spencer have two kids, a 2-year-old twin girls (you pick the names, just keep the age and gender the same. I picked age 2 because I love that age and I'm also about to start to work with kids that age). And Spencer arrives home after working on a case on his birthday. He is exhausted and isn't expecting to get anything, but his wife and daughters welcome him with cake and presents. It's not exactly a party, but they are all together and that's what matters to him. What do you think about this idea? I think it would be cute, so if you'll write it, thank you🙂. — @lucreziaq2001

SURPRISE! — S.REID

what better thing for spencer to come home to on his birthday than his girls?

spencer reid x wife!reader | 1.5k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — fluff was promised, and fluff has been delivered 🙂‍↕️

Spencer had seen many things in his life—more than any one person should ever have to witness.

His job as a profiler meant he spent more time immersed in the darkness of human nature than anyone should. Yet, despite the chaos and the constant threat of danger that shadowed his every step, Spencer knew there was one thing that made it all worthwhile: you.

You weren’t an FBI agent. You weren’t involved in his cases, never surrounded by bloodstained evidence or haunted by the victims’ stories. You were a stay-at-home mom, and together, you and Spencer had built a life that brought him peace.

His mind was always working, always calculating, always trying to figure out what made people tick. But when he came home to you, when he saw the sparkle in your eyes and felt the warmth of your touch, the world slowed down. It was a calmness he treasured.

And tonight, after a long and exhausting day of chasing down leads, after the case had gone longer than expected, Spencer was coming home to something more precious than any solved mystery.

—

As Spencer pulled into the driveway, he noticed the house was dark. It was almost 9 PM, and he knew his girls, Julia and Ava, would be sound asleep by now.

You, too, would likely be tucked into bed, content to have a quiet evening after the chaotic day of caring for the girls. It was a routine that worked for you, the silent and subtle balance of home life.

You had everything under control while Spencer was gone.

He hated that he wasn’t there more, but he made it work. He made it work because he loved you and the girls more than anything else in this world.

Opening the front door with a quiet turn of the handle, Spencer slipped inside, trying not to make a sound. The house smelled faintly of vanilla and lavender, the scent of candles you liked to burn in the evening.

As he stepped deeper into the house, he could hear muffled voices coming from the kitchen. Curious, he followed the sound, silently walking down the hallway.

When he reached the kitchen, he stopped short, blinking in surprise at the scene before him.

There you were, standing near the kitchen table, smiling up at him with that warmth in your eyes he could never quite get enough of. And in front of you, perched on high chairs, were Julia and Ava, both girls grinning from ear to ear with cake smeared on their faces and hands.

“Happy birthday, Daddy!” Julia called out, her little voice echoing with excitement. Ava immediately chimed in, “Happy birthday!” The two of them clapped their hands in unison, giggling in the way only two-year-olds could.

Spencer’s heart swelled at the sight. He had been expecting nothing. He was used to spending his birthday alone, at the office, working cases that kept him up late into the night. But this—this was the last thing he expected.

You stepped forward, holding a small cupcake with a single candle flickering brightly atop it. Your smile was soft and genuine, your eyes filled with love and adoration.

It was the kind of birthday celebration Spencer had never allowed himself to want, but the kind he realised he needed more than anything.

“I’m sorry it’s not much,” you said, your voice warm with affection. “I know you’ve had a long day, but we wanted to make sure you knew how much we love you,”

Spencer’s chest tightened, his throat going dry as he took in the sight of you and the girls. The exhaustion of the case, the stress, the dark thoughts of the day all melted away in an instant. It wasn’t much, but to him, it was everything.

“Mommy helped us make cakes!” Ava announced proudly, her voice still full of excitement.

“Wish, Daddy!” Julia urged, her eyes wide with innocence.

Spencer blinked and then looked down at the cake, its candle flickering gently. He felt a lump form in his throat as he made his silent wish, his heart full of gratitude.

You had done this for him. After everything, after a long day and the stress of his work, you had taken the time to create something small and beautiful to remind him of what truly mattered. His family.

Spencer blew out the candle, not taking his eyes off the girls as they giggled and clapped again.

“Wish, Daddy! Wish!” Julia repeated, her voice high-pitched with excitement.

“I did,” Spencer said quietly, still caught in the beauty of the moment. “I can’t tell you though, because then it won’t come true, hm?”

The words were barely out of his mouth before both girls came charging toward him, arms outstretched. He kneeled down to meet them, his arms opening wide as they both threw themselves into his embrace.

The smell of their baby shampoo filled his nose, the soft warmth of their little bodies against his chest filling him with an overwhelming sense of love.

“I missed you both so much,” he murmured, pressing his face into their soft hair.

“You’re home, Daddy,” Ava said, her voice filled with contentment as she pulled back to look at him.

Spencer’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, just taking in the feeling of them in his arms. The world outside didn’t matter here. The cases, the crimes, the endless work—it all faded into the background. What mattered was this. What mattered was the family he’d come home to.

You were standing a few feet away, watching them with a soft smile on your face, arms folded over your chest. You were so beautiful in that moment, so at peace, that Spencer couldn’t help but stare at you.

It didn’t matter that he was tired, that his brain was fried from the long day. The sight of you and the girls filled him with a sense of calm that no case could ever take away.

“This is all I ever needed,” he said quietly, his voice full of sincerity as he looked up at you. “You and the girls.”

You walked over to him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder gently. “I know,” you replied, your voice soft with affection. “We know you’re always thinking about us, Spencer. We think about you too,”

Spencer smiled up at you, his heart racing with love. “I don’t deserve you,”

You shook your head, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Yes, you do,”

Ava tugged on his sleeve then, her little hand reaching up toward him. “Cake, Daddy! Please?” she demanded, her voice all but pleading.

Spencer laughed, nodding as he stood up to cut the cake. Julia helped him by handing him a fork, and the three of them made sure to pile his plate with an obscene amount of cake, all of them giggling as they served him.

The cake was messy—mostly frosting with a little bit of cake in between—but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except that they were all here together.

As Spencer sat down to eat with his girls, you watched from the side, your heart swelling with love. You hadn’t planned anything extravagant, no party or guests to help celebrate. But you didn’t need to.

Spencer’s happiness wasn’t found in expensive gifts or big gestures. It was found in moments like this: quiet, simple, and surrounded by love.

The evening passed slowly, filled with laughter and stories as the girls played with their toys and Spencer told them about his day—filling in the details in a way they could understand. As tired as he was, Spencer was so thankful to be home. To be with you.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, leaning toward you after the girls had started to doze off, their energy finally fading after a sugar-induced high. He kissed your forehead gently. “This was more than enough. This... is everything,”

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you leaned into him. “I’m glad you’re home, Spencer,”

[raidermomma]

HAHAHA HAHAHA!

" We're looking for a white male, approximately mid to late 30s, between 5"6 to 6"2 "

" wheels up in 30 "

[hotgeniusreid]

I like the way you kiss me

Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Mentions of: Kissing (lord all I ask for is to kiss this man), Oral (m and f receiving bc we all about equality here), Sex, P in V (no protection used), squirting, not proofread (we die like men)

!!!NSFW/MINORS DNI!!!

If you asked Dr. Spencer Reid what his favorite pastime was, he would most likely express how much he enjoyed reading, sure he read 20,000 words per minute and had an eidetic memory, finishing a book in less than 10 minutes. But that was before you came into his life.

If you were to ask him that same question now, his answer would be kissing you.

Soft sighs and gentle moans filled the living room, the soft ‘mwuah’ of lips meeting, tender passionate kisses, no rush, no hurry, as your bodies molded together on the couch, Spencer’s book discarded next to you, his fingers tangled in your hair, urging your impossibly closer.

Normally when Spencer would come home from a case, he was hurried to get you to bed and let go of his and your frustrations, but these rare days where there was no desperation and nowhere to go were your favorite, where you could take time exploring each other's mouths, the best part? When Spencer would get confident and slip his tongue into your mouth, a surprised gasp left your mouth, instantly returning the gesture, letting your tongue dance against his.

You parted from him briefly, resting your head against his, both of you panting and out of breath, “I love you.” He murmured, his hands trailing down your hips, “I love the way you kiss me.” He whispers, hand coming back up to cup your cheek before leaning back in and pressing his lips back onto yours, before trailing kisses from your jaw down to your neck, soft mewls escaping your mouth at the feeling.

Kissing Spencer was nothing like you had expected it to be, you never knew what it felt like to be worshipped, and Spencer intended to show you just how much he truly loved you.

His hands traveled downwards, gently gripping your ass, an ‘mmhn’ erupting from your throat, taking it as a sign you grind your hips down on him, feeling the way the grip he had on your ass tightened. “Baby… Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He murmurs, placing more open mouth kisses on your neck.

You trail your hand up his chest until your hand wraps gently around his throat, feeling his pulse under your fingers, you make him look you in the eyes, “I’ll never not want you, Spence.” You mumble as you bring your lips back to his once more.

The kiss becomes desperate, teeth clashing, spit dripping, grinding against each other as you unbutton his shirt, exposing his toned chest. “Let me make you feel good baby.” You murmur, removing yourself from his lap, you drop yourself down to your knees in front of him. Spencer looks down at you and lets out a hum, he loved seeing you like this, on your knees, pupils dilated and eyes lidded from your arousal, he also knows just how turned on you are, knowing that if he were to remove your bottoms you would be soaked.

You press kisses from his happy trail down to his bulge that is concealed by his pants. You unzip his trousers and pull them down with his boxers, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach, the tip angry and red, you press a sloppy kiss to his tip, letting out a ‘hmm’ at the feeling of precum staining your lips. You press kisses down his throbbing cock, and Spencer has never seen a more beautiful sight, you on your knees in front of him kissing his cock as if it were your turn to worship him.

You kiss his tip once more before opening your mouth and suckling on his tip, you hear a hiss of pleasure from Spencer before you feel his hand in your hair, you look up and meet his gaze, and take more of his thick length into your mouth, his head lolls back against the couch, “Fuck you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” You pull off of his cock with a ‘pop’ and stick your tongue out, he takes this as a sign and grips the base of his cock with his other hand, slapping his cock against your tongue and smearing pre all over your mouth.

You take him back into your mouth, swallowing down the inches of his cock, you would never admit it Spencer, but the weight of his cock in your mouth made you feel like you could cum untouched, your eyes flutter closed as you will yourself to take the rest of his cock down your throat, a satisfied ‘mmm’ vibrates again his cock as you take him to the base.

His hand comes down to your throat, feeling the bulge his cock created and he lets out a growl, “Good girl baby look at you.” He coos, petting the top of your head, you pull off of him, gasping for air, a string of saliva dripping from your lips, Spencer leans forward, once more pressing your lips to his, lips still connected, he stands, grabbing your hand, a signal for you to stand.

He grabs you by the waist, turning you and having you lay back against the couch, “My turn to repay you yeah? Since you did such a good job.” He murmurs, his turn to drop to his knees, pressing light kisses up your thigh, hooking his fingers on the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling them down, and tossing them somewhere in the living room.

He parts your legs and coos at the sight before him, he found it so hard to believe that just pleasuring him and sucking his cock made you so aroused, bringing his face closer you can feel his hot breath on your cunt, and you let out a whimper at the feeling, he spreads your folds with his thumbs, and licks a stripe from your hole to your clit, at the feeling of his tongue on you, your back arches, “M-Mmm Spence, feels good, a-ah!” He continues his attack on your cunt, dipping his tongue into your tight hole, his nose rubbing against your clit, he ate you as if you were his last meal.

His mouth latches to your clit, sucking on it, as he inches two fingers into your wet heat, instantly curling his fingers to find that spot that never failed to make you see stars, you let out a gasp, biting your lip and rolling your eyes, a cry of his name falling from your lips and you grind your cunt against his mouth, feeling the waves of pleasure building up, you clench around his fingers, he lets out a hum, the thrust of his fingers speeding up against your g-spot, you let out a squeal, you instinctively try to close your thighs, but he stops you, his free hand gripping your thigh to stop you.

You can feel it coming, the coil tightening more and more, and Spencer can tell too, he feels the way your cunt is clenching around his fingers and can see your slick dripping down his fingers, “You gonna cum baby? Wanna see you make a mess on my fingers.” You nod fervently, babbling out “M’so close, feels s’good!” Your moans becoming louder and louder. He suckles on your clit and curls his fingers and it’s your undoing, you cum with a loud cry, your back arching and your cunt spasming around his fingers.

You feel like your floating, you slump back against the couch, panting and trying to catch your breath, Spencer comes back up, his lips on you once more, you can taste yourself on him and it spurs you on more, you bring your hand down to his cock and grasp it, you jerk him off before lining him up with your hole, Spencer pushes in and you gasp, grasping at his shoulder, still sensitive from your orgasm, your nails dig into his shoulder and he inches his cock into your sopping hole, “Shit baby, always so tight for me.” He hisses, looking down to watch his cock being swallowed by your tight hole.

Finally, his hips are flush against yours, and your eyes are closed shut at the feeling of being filled to the brim, he presses a kiss to your forehead before pulling out and thrusting back in, setting a steady pace as you feel your brain turning to mush, his cock hitting that spot that had you cumming moments before, Spencer is not fairing any better, trying desperately to hold back his orgasm just from the feeling of you spasming around his cock, he brings his thumb down to your clit, messily tracing his name against your clit and it sends you spiraling, “Spencer’m gonna cum again!” You squeal, a moan that turns into a sob, feeling that coil about to snap again, tears are freely flowing from the pleasure.

All it takes is a few more thrusts and him thumbing at your clit before your cumming again, you blackout, your cunt forcefully pushing him out, and you gush around nothing, Spencer pushes back in, fucking into you faster before he’s cumming, hot white ropes of cum spurting into your cunt and he lets out a low groan. You both come down from your highs, both of you trying to catch your breaths, he pulls out slowly, and you whine at the feeling of his cock slipping out of you.

“You did so good for me angel, let’s go take a shower and clean you off yeah?” He presses a kiss to your shoulder, picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom, “What about the mess I made on the couch?” He chuckles, “I’ll take care of that later, right now we’re gonna take care of you.”

[mytherapyisreading14]

can you write a reader x professor!spencerreid? Reader is a Student & they meet the night before classes start & immediately hit it off😏 iykyk

kinda like aria and ezra from pretty little liars but with much more spice🌶

And the storyline kinda follows them through the semester, pls make it a bit angsty 🤏 BUT with happy ending 🥺🙏

Unexpected Surprise

Summary: You find out that the man you hooked up with last night is your new Professor.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Smut (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, sexual harassment, fake dating, age gap, kissing, dirty talk, use of pet names (baby etc.), praise kink, choking, fingering, oral sex (f & m), orgasm denial, spanking, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), dom!spencer (If I missed any warnings, please tell me)

Word Count: 5,8k

Author’s Note: Hey, I hope you like the way it turned out. I was also planning to write a story where they meet before and then find out that he’s her Professor, so your Request came in just in the right time :)

The club is loud, the bass booms through the room and the lights flicker in time with the music. You're at the bar, sipping your drink as you take a little break from dancing. The sweat clings to your skin and you just need a moment for yourself. The air is heavy, mixed with alcohol and perfume and you consider going out to get some fresh air.

Suddenly you feel someone standing next to you. You smell the strong alcohol on his breath before you even see him. The warmth of his body is already reaching you across the room, and you have to lower your gaze to keep him from seeing you rolling your eyes. You know what’s about to happen. You feel his presence, and it's uncomfortable as he moves even closer to you.

“Babe, you look so hot. Do you want to spend the night with me?” The words come out of his mouth sharp and dirty, and he puts an arm around you as if he had already won you. An unpleasant feeling spreads through you and you try to avoid it, turning your body away from him. “No, not interested,“ you say, calmer that you‘re feeling right now.

But he doesn't let go, strokes your back, moves even closer to you and his voice becomes more urgent. “Come on, I can help you relax a little bit." It happens so quickly, you barely have enough time to breathe when you feel a new presence behind you. You turn to the side and see a man standing in front of you. His eyes are hazel brown and his long, curly hair falls over his forehead. His posture is confident, almost a bit protective.

“Let her go. She said no.” His voice is deep and calm, a contrast to the urgent tone of the man at your side. The guy next to you stares at the new man now looming in front of him. You can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s scared. You can practically see how small and insecure he feels as he moves away from you. He mutters something that sounds like an insulting comment, but he quickly turns around and disappears into the crowd again. You breath out relived.

For a moment everything remains silent, only the distant noise of the music can be heard. You look at the man who just saved you. His big brown eyes meet yours, and for a moment everything else around you disappears. He looks incredibly good. Then, realizing he got you out of the awkward situation, you send him a grateful smile.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice softer now. “Can I buy you a drink?” It somehow feels right to make this gesture to show your gratitude. He nods, a small, almost shy smile crossing his lips, and you can't help but notice how charming he seems. “Gladly,” he replies. You turn to the bartender and order two drinks as he sits down on a bar stool next to you.

You hand him the drink and introduce yourself. It’s really hard to stop staring into his beautiful brown eyes. “I’m Spencer. I’m really sorry that this asshole bothered you,” he says. You shrug unimpressed. “Sad truth is, I’m used to it. At least he backed off quickly now, thanks to you,” you say and smile. The night suddenly feels less chaotic as you continue talking to your unexpected savior.

The loud music in the background seems to fade more and more, as if you are immersed in your own little world. The conversation with him feels light and relaxed, almost like you've known each other forever. You've been talking about books for a while now, the two of you found out that you both love reading.

“And what was the last book you read?” you ask with an interested smile as you look at him. Spencer smiles and leans back a little, his gaze becoming thoughtful. “The last book I read was Bare Reflections.”

You take a sip of your drink and grin when you hear the title. “Sounds… not exactly like what I expected from you.” The alcohol creeps into your head and makes you a little braver than usual, so you decide to tease him, “I didn’t think you’d read a book like that. You seem far too decent for that.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow, and for a moment you're not sure if he's irritated or amused. Then he folds his arms over his chest, his posture becoming a little stiffer. "I had to read it for a case we were working on," he says, his voice still calm but now also slightly challenging.

“And what impression do you have of me? Do you think that I might not have interests in that direction? That I'm not able to take control in situations?“ A smile spreads across your face as you feel the tension in the air shift. You can't help but grin. It's a mix of amusement and a little challenge.

“Well, at least not like that,” you reply, looking at him cheekily. “Feel free to convince me otherwise.” And you wink at him, the words sound almost like a game. You see his pupils dilate as he looks at you. A little spark jumps between you. He pauses for a moment, as if considering how to react.

Then his posture changes, he moves a little closer, leans forward and indicates with his hand that you should lean a little towards him. You do, curious to see what comes next. As you lean closer to him, you feel his breath on your skin, and he whispers to you in a voice so deep and quiet that it gets right under your skin. “Let me convince you otherwise.”

-

Your alarm goes off way too early, but you just turn to the side and turn it off. You squint against the bright sunlight shining through the blinds. The last bit of sleep still clings to you as you slowly push yourself up and put your head in your hands. It takes a moment but then the memories of last night kick in. Spencer. The thought of him brings a smile to your lips. Last night was perfect. He was good. Very good actually. The best you've ever had. Luckily you still remember everything.

His lips against yours, his tongue inside your mouth. His body as he pushed you against the wall. His big, rough hands that squeezed your breasts, wrapped so perfectly around your throat and reached all the spots inside you that you never could. The way he manhandled you so perfectly, rough but somehow also gentle and caring in the right moments. The way he fucked you and used you for his own pleasure, making you a moaning mess. He ruined you for every other man.

But now he is no longer here. You glance at the other side of the bed, it's empty. No trace of him. Just silence. He left when you were still asleep. A little bit of disappointment stirs within you. You were hoping maybe he would stay after all. Maybe have a coffee with you, or just… be there.

The sex was good but there was more. You really enjoyed talking to him. But then again, it was only a one night stand. Today it's the first day at university anyway, it's better to leave early in order to be there on time. If he had stayed here longer you certainly wouldn't have come on time. With a sigh, you push the covers back and swing your legs out of bed.

The floor is cold. You take a look at your phone and check the time. It’s 10:45 a.m. Your first lecture is in just over an hour. You quickly put on a light jacket and then, half asleep, you make your way to the bathroom. You are still tired but the feeling from last night remains. At least this day is off to a semi good start.

You pack your bag, throw in everything you need, your iPad, headphones, lip gloss, some chewing gum and all the other stuff. You rush out of the apartment, bag on your shoulder and keys in hand. You get on the bus that takes you to university and the fresh morning wind blows in your face. It's the first day. You can't wait to see what it brings.

-

You sit at the front of the lecture hall, the place is comfortable, the view of the board is perfect. Your iPad is in front of you and you're doodling on it out of boredom. The conversations of the other students still chatting sound like a distant murmur to your ears. You are excited and nervous. The first day of the new semester, the first lecture.

The room is slowly filling up and the last students are still finding their place. It‘s almost 12 o'clock and you’re still waiting for your friend Finn to arrive. He slept in and you told him you’re going to safe him a seat. You hear the lecture hall doors open, but you hardly notice it. You are lost in your thoughts, thinking about how hard it will be to concentrate on the lesson when Spencer is the only thing on your mind right now.

Then, suddenly, everything becomes quiet. All the conversations around you fall silent immediately. It's like someone flipped a switch. You look up, not sure why, and then you see him. Your new Professor. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet his. Spencer. He is standing at the entrance to the lecture hall. For a moment time stops.

The Spencer you had in your bed last night, the Spencer who gave you orgasm after orgasm, the Spencer who made you scream his name is now suddenly your professor. A look of confusion crosses his face, but then he quickly catches himself, puts on his serious expression, and turns away as if he's trying to ignore you.

The tension is thick in the air, but Spencer makes no move to pay attention to you. You bite your lip, anger rising inside you. It hurts. You never thought he would just dismiss you so coldly. You try to concentrate on the lecture, but Spencer, now Professor Reid, brings back memories of that night. And you wonder how he manages to act like there's nothing between you.

Nothing happens throughout the entire lecture. No look. Not a single word. You fight your anger as he explains the first topic and requirements for the exams in a calm voice, but you don't hear anything. Your thoughts only revolve around what happened earlier. Why is he completely ignoring you? Does he think you’re not going to keep this a secret?

Finally, after what feels like forever, the lecture is over. The room slowly empties and you remain seated in your row while the other students leave the lecture hall. Your pulse is racing, but you need to know what's going on between you now. You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about you spilling this secret. You can't just go home and let it go now.

You get up, pack up your things and walk towards Spencer. You have the feeling that every step you take now echoes throughout the room. "Spencer… I mean, Professor Reid, can we talk?" you call but before you even get to the front he has already packed all his things and leaves the room without paying any attention to you.

You stop, angry, hurt, disappointed. The lump in your throat keeps getting bigger. You feel empty, like the ground has been pulled out from under you. What is he thinking? Why is he acting like this now? Why can't you just clarify the problem? With one last look at the door, you leave the lecture hall and know that this is far from over.

-

The next few weeks are not different. He avoids you, ignores you completely and you hope your grades won't be negatively affected, but you're willing to take him on if it comes to that. You're on your way to your next lecture when suddenly someone calls you. You turn around and see Finn. You met him during your first semester and have been friends ever since.

Finn sprints a few steps until he is next to you and holds out your headphones. “You forgot your headphones in the library earlier,” he says. “Oh, thanks! I already looked for them, I thought I just forgot them at home again.” You take them out of his hands and quickly put them in your bag.

As you stroll through the hallway together, you suddenly hear Spencer's voice and automatically turn around. You see him holding a coffee and talking to another student. She laughs and you can clearly see her getting closer to him, flirting and throwing herself at him. You immediately feel panic rising within you.

Every girl you knew has a crush on him. You can’t blame them, he’s attractive after all, but you can’t help but feel jealous. He ignores you but lets other students hit on him. This is too much. Why does he play this game with you like nothing happened while he behaves like this towards others?

Suddenly he turns around and meets your eyes. It's the first time that your eyes cross again since he came in on the first day. You can see a fleeting grin on his face before he turns away again. He leans down to the student who is showing him her notes, and you can see her leaning even closer towards him. The knot in your stomach tightens.

Finn follows your gaze and raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued and with a look that almost seems too amused, he asks, “Are you okay? You look… hurt?” You shake your head. “I’m fine,” you say, even though you feel the fear bubbling inside you. You’re afraid he found someone better than you. "Let's go."

You enter the lecture hall together but you can't concentrate. Spencer is in your head the whole time, and the more you think about the scene, the angrier you get. And then suddenly an idea comes to you. A plan. A very good plan. Maybe you can play this game too and make him jealous, but on your terms.

After the lecture, you stay with Finn and wait until most of the other students have left the room. You look around once to make sure no one is listening before you whisper, “I need your help. But you have to promise me you won’t ask any questions.” Finn looks at you curiously. “Okay, what’s this about?”

You sigh and look him straight in the eyes. “I wanted to ask you if it would be okay with you if you helped me make someone jealous. Pretend you’re interested in me and dating me,” you explain to him.

Finn grins, a slight smile spreading across his face. “Of course I can do that.” Then he tilts his head slightly. “But I do have one question. Does this whole thing have something to do with Professor Reid? I can tell something happened between you,” he asks with an amused look.

You immediately blush and try not to get caught. “Shh, keep quiet,” you whisper, looking around nervously. “And I said no questions. So, are you in or not?” Finn laughs, shakes his head and raises his hands as if to apologize. “Okay, okay, I understand. Sure, I can help you.” You breathe out a sigh of relief and grin at him. "Thanks!"

-

A few days later you can finally carry out your plan. Finn sits down next to you in the lecture hall and as soon as Spencer enters the room, Finn leans closer to you and casually puts an arm around the chair next to you. Then he whispers in your ear. "I'm curious to see if that works."

Even though you said he shouldn't ask any questions, you told him what happened between you and Spencer. You know you can trust him and he would find out sooner or later anyway because he plays along with this whole thing.

You giggle softly. "I really hope so. Thank you for taking part in all of this,” you say quietly but you get interrupted immediately. "If you think you need to talk while I'm teaching, you can leave straight away. I expect everyone to be quiet,” Spencer says and when you look up you can see his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. You lean a little further away from Finn and can't help but smile.

That went faster than expected. You notice that he is no longer ignoring you. His eyes keep wandering over to you to see what you are doing, if Finn is getting closer to you. The atmosphere is not as relaxed as it used to be, everyone can tell the he is not in a good mood today.

When the lecture is over you pack your things and as you leave the room Finn puts an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. You can feel Spencer’s gaze following you and you're annoyed that you didn't think of making him jealous sooner. But it doesn’t matter now, you’re happy your plan works.

-

Unfortunately you weren't able to carry out your plan any further this week. Spencer has been missing the rest of the week and you assume he is busy working on a case with the team. It felt like the week wasn't going to end at all and when you go to the library with Finn on Monday morning, you hope that Spencer is coming back now.

You sit down at the table together with a coffee and start writing on your essays, using the free time to get ahead with it. You're completely focused on your work until Finn suddenly bumps into you with his leg under the table. You look up confused before he places a hand on your thigh and leans forward. He whispers in your ear "Your favorite professor is back.”

You nod and lean in closer too, you don't want to look in Spencer’s direction so that he thinks you haven't noticed him. “Is it okay if we kiss?” you ask and Finn nods. You try to ignore Spencer as much as he ignored you. But you can still feel his gaze fixed on you.

Finn leans forward and places a quick, gentle kiss on your lips. When he leans back he can see Spencer’s angry look. "He didn't look happy with it,“ he says and you laugh. "Then I did everything right. I hope that this was not too much. I'm sorry then." You say but he just waves it off. "It's all good, I agreed to the whole thing. I just hope that it works out for you in the end,” he says and winks at you.

The two of you stay a little longer and continue learning and working on your essays but after a while you decide to leave. You turn to Finn. “I'll leave now. I can't concentrate anymore anyway. And thanks for helping me out again.” You say, packing up your things. "No problem. I'll stay a little longer and use the time I’ve left. I'll see you tomorrow then,” he says and you nod. "See you tomorrow.”

-

It feels like a small victory as you leave the library. Not only have you made progress with your learning, but you have also been able to continue putting your plan into action. If you and Finn keep it up, Spencer will definitely talk to you about it soon.

Now you just want to listen to music and get rid of the remaining tension and you look for your headphones in your bag again. They must be somewhere between the notes and other things, you're sure you packed them this time. “Where the fuck are they?” you mutter under your breath and continue digging in your bag.

But then you suddenly feel a movement in front of you. You look up and freeze. There he stands. Spencer. Arms crossed, eyes sternly fixed on you. You immediately tear your eyes away from his and want to walk past him without saying a word, but he notices what you're up to. He's getting in your way.

“What do you want now?” You try to keep your voice calm, but inside your heart is already beating a little faster. The look he gives you is hard, almost annoyed.

“You will come with me,” he says. You cross your arms over your chest and looking at him as if you are really annoyed. "What's that supposed to mean? I have to go home.”

He shakes his head. “You’re coming with me now. We need to talk.” You roll your eyes. "Oh, do we now? And what exactly do you want to talk about, Professor?” Your voice sounds sharper than you planned. “You’ve just been ignoring me for the last few weeks. Do you even know my name anymore?” you ask him. “Why should I have forgotten your name?” he asks and raises an eyebrow.

“Because you‘ve been ignoring me since our first day here! I understand, I'm your student now, but I -“ you start but he interrupts you. You see his face harden, his expression becoming even more serious. “Not here. Come with me, now.” You feel a mixture of anger and nervousness building up inside you. You just want to brush him off, but somehow you also feel like challenging him.

“Make me,” you say, your voice challenging, almost mocking. You look him straight in the eyes, watching what he'll do next. He barely blinks, glancing quickly down the hall as if to make sure no one sees you. Then he suddenly grabs your arm. It‘s not a gentle hold, he grabs you firmly, dragging you behind him without another word.

“You should really stop messing with me.“ He sounds angry. “I like trouble,” you say with a smirk and try to pull away. But you feel his hand holding you tight. One last thought comes to you before you're dragged down the hallway. What the hell does he actually want from you now?

-

A few minutes later you are standing in front of his office and he unlocks the door. You go in and look around. It's the first time you're here, you never went to his office hours. There are a lot of books lying around and you take a look at the titles. Spencer, on the other hand, locks the door behind you. You're about to reach for a book, but he interrupts you.

“I want to talk to you. Sit down,” he says and points to the chair on the opposite side of the table. You think about it for a moment, but decide against it. Instead you stay in front of his table with your arms crossed. You want to get back at him for treating you like that, even if it's hard because you want nothing more than for him to kiss and touch you again.

“Oh now, after weeks, you want to talk. In case you haven't noticed, Professor, I've been wanting to talk for a long time. You were the one who disappeared straight away when I approached you,” you say and roll your eyes again. You are curious to see how long he will let you continue like this before he snaps.

He stands up and walks towards you in long, slow steps. When he stands in front of you he lifts your chin. He finally touches you again you feel a shiver run down your spine. His pupils are dark and you can see the lust in them you already saw the night you first met.

“Do you want to know why I didn’t talk to you, baby?” he asks and you can’t help yourself and nod. You need to know what he is thinking. He leans down and his mouth is directly against your ear. Being this close to him again turns you on immensely.

“All I could think about after this night was you - your gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock, your pretty pussy taking me so well and your sweet moans when I made you come. It was a shame that I couldn't stay longer in the morning to fuck you again. You've been on my mind the whole time after that night. And then I come in, for work, and you're sitting there. All I wanted was to bend you over my table and fuck you again,” he says before he leans back to look into your eyes again.

“But I was overwhelmed by the whole situation. It was my first day as a professor and I didn't want to risk getting fired. That's why I avoided you. I saw how much it bothered you and I have to admit, I liked seeing you so jealous when I was talking to other students, to see that I have this effect on you.” His face suddenly hardens again. “Until you thought you had to play this game with me too and make me jealous with your friend. I knew it from the beginning.”

You grin and decide to continue playing with him. “Oh, that doesn’t really matter to me. It still worked, didn’t it?” you say and then he finally snaps. He takes a step towards you and puts a hand around your throat, pulling you closer to him. "You've taken it too far. He kissed you, touched you, held you in his arms." His grip tightens, but you realise there is some hesitation, he’s still careful because he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“I can do whatever I want, professor. I am not your property,” you breath out and give him a challenging look. “No? You will be soon.“ He lets go of your throat, turns you around and bends you over his desk. “Actions have consequences and you will now see what yours have.” His words send a shiver down your spine and you shutter in excitement.

He notices and chuckles before he flips your skirt over and exposes your underwear. His hands roam over your ass, squeezing it before he pulls back and suddenly his hand comes down onto your ass. He just spanked you. You can feel a stinging sensation and it turns you on even more. “I’m going to remind you who you belong to. You’re going to count and take your punishment like a good girl, do you understand?” he asks.

You nod and he pulls you back by your hair. “Words, baby,” he says. “Yes, I - I understand.” He lets go of your hair and his hand goes back to your ass, grazing the spot he just spanked before and without a warning his hand comes down on the other side. You whimper and begin to count. “One.” His hand rubs the spot almost soothingly before he continues. You are getting wetter with each strike.

“You’re enjoying this. I can see how wet you are. I bet you missed me in the last few weeks, am I right?” he asks. “I did,” you admit before his hand comes down again. “Two,” you continue to count. “Tell me, did you touch yourself at night, thinking about me? How good I fucked you? How I made you come again and again, on my tongue and on my cock?”

He leans down to whisper in your ear again. “Because I did. I stroked myself at night, wishing it was your hand, your lips or your pussy wrapped around my cock. I couldn’t wait to finally have you again.” He admits before his hand comes down on your ass again. “Three. Yes, I - I did. I couldn’t stop thinking about you either,” you say and he chuckles.

“Just like I thought,” he says before he continues with his punishment. He turns your ass red and decides after ten strikes that you have enough. “I’m proud of you baby. You took it like the good girl we both know you are. You just need someone that discipline you sometimes. Isn’t that right?” he asks. “Thank you. That’s… that’s right Sir.”

Spencer grins and turns you around, finally pressing his lips against yours again. He taste likes coffee, toothpaste and cinnamon. It’s addictive. His tongue explores your mouth and you moan against him, pressing your body against his, roaming you hands over his chest. You remember every spot and every muscle like it was yesterday. It’s no surprise though because you had to think back to the night you spent together every evening.

Spencer starts kissing down your neck, making sure to leave a hickey there, just like he did the first time he fucked you. Your hands run through his soft hair, pressing him closer to you and when you give them a thug he growls. “Please, touch me. I need you,” you say, desperate for more. “Eager, aren’t we?” His hand slides between your legs and up your thigh.

When he finds your soaked panties he chuckles. “You’re soaked, baby. All this, just for me. Do you want me to help you out? Make you come on my mouth or my fingers again?” he asks and you nod before you breath out “Both please.” He laughs. “You really need me that badly? Then beg for it,” he says with an amused look on his face.

He’s clearly enjoying this. You don't care if you sound pathetic, you listen straight away to what he asked you to. “Please, I want you to make me come. Please fuck me with your fingers. Eat me out. I need you,” you beg. “Good girl,” he praises before he reaches for your panties and slides them down your legs.

As soon as you step out of them he grabs them and puts them in his pocket. Then he places you on his desk, presses your back down and leans forward to lick a stripe up your pussy. You moan and immediately reach for his hair again, pressing him closer to you. “Please, more,” you moan. His thumb teases your clit before he pushes two fingers into you.

Your eyes roll back and you bite down on your lip to keep quiet, which is really hard because he’s just too good. You feel everything, his tongue, his lips and the stubbles of his facial hair as he eats you out like a man starved. The combination of his tongue and fingers is overwhelming. You’re losing yourself in the pleasure quickly, feeling how your climax approaches.

Spencer however notices too and pulls back, his lips glistening with your arousal. “I didn’t give you permission to come,” he says and you whine. He just laughs quietly before pushing his fingers in your mouth. “Clean them,” he says and you obey. He watches you very closely and you decide to tease him more, the tip of your tongue strokes his fingertips. “Fuck me Sir, please,” you say and look straight into his eyes.

You can see the lust in them and he wastes no time and reaches for his belt, pulling his cock out. He strokes himself a few times and you can’t keep your eyes off him. “You like watching me, don’t you? Do you want to watch while I make myself come and leave you with nothing?” he asks and you immediately shake your head. “No, I need you.”

“Didn’t expect anything else from my little slut,” he says and slides his cock through your folds. You wrap your legs around him and he finally pushes in. You moan and he clasps a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. “Shh, be quiet for now. I’m gonna make you scream my name tonight, but not here.” Your eyes widen. So this is not going to be the last time he fucks you.

You feel the relief, but you don't have time to think further about his words because he starts to pound into you. You missed this feeling so much and get lost in the pleasure. His hand wraps around your throat again, squeezing it, just the way you told him you like it. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. I missed this. I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that night. And now I finally have you again. You’re all mine. Say it.”

“I’m - I’m yours. Only yours,” you say and pull him in for a kiss. You can still taste yourself on his lips. When he pulls back he slides out of you, flipping you over and bending you over his desk again. A few seconds later he’s already back into you, fucking you from behind. He slaps your ass again and you inhale sharply. It stings more than before now, you’re sensitive after the spanking.

He lets you forget about the pain though when he keeps hitting your g-spot over and over again. The new angle makes you see stars. “God, you’re perfect. So thight and wet. I could fuck you all night,” he says while his fingers keep digging deep into your hips, holding you thight. “You should see yourself. So pretty with your ass spanked red and bent over my desk, taking my cock like a good girl.”

You can feel that you’re slowly losing control. You just want to come, especially after he denied you earlier. “Can I - can I come now please?“ you whisper while he keeps thrusting into you. “I can’t hear you. Ask again,” he says and you can tell that he’s teasing you. “Can I come?” you ask again, louder this time. “Ask nicely, baby,” he says, driving you crazy. “I want to come, can I - can I please come?” you ask again, making sure to speak loud enough this time.

“No,” he simply says, pulling out of you and pushing you on your knees. “Open,” he says and you obey, taking his cock into your mouth. He pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail and fucks your throat. You can feel his cock twitch and a few seconds later he comes inside your mouth. You swallow everything and look up to him, begging him with your eyes to finally let you come now.

He pulls you up and lifts your chin with his hand before kissing you again. “You did so good, baby. But you have to wait until we’re home. Because when I make you come again, I want to hear you scream my name. Can you do that for me?” You clench your legs together in excitement. “Yes. But can we leave right away then?” you ask and he laughs. “Of course baby.” He helps you collect all your things before the two of you sneak out of his office and through the hallways to his car to drive home.

[pillowprincess4logan]

the team is chasing the sickest murderers to ever live meanwhile these two on the phone sexually harassing each other

[lyd1a-star1ght]

spencer w derek and emily

[tomcriuse]

Criminal Minds 3.07 'Identity'