#bisexual spencer Reid

[reidingandallthat]

the biggest proof of bisexual reid is whatever the hell was going on with that childhood rival of his in s2e18(jones)

[0o-junebug-o0]

Something New and Wonderful

summary: Spencer has some questions he wants to ask you. Neither of you thought it would result in this.

genre: fluff and smut

cw: 18+ mdni! early seasons spencer (season 1 or 2), coming out, talk about sex and relationships, sub!spencer, kinda softdom!reader, dirty talking, praise, use of good boy, begging, couch sex, oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), gn!reader (reader has a vagina but nothing else is specified (the only word used to describe reader's genitalia is clit)), handjobs, cumming in pants, no use of y/n, autistic!spencer reid (because every spencer is autistic!spencer)

wordcount: 4.2k (I finally caved to writing this and surprised myself)

Spencer has been anxious recently. In the time you’ve known him you’ve never seen him act like this. You can see him gnawing on the inside of his cheek in your periphery. You look between him and the TV and you can tell he isn’t paying attention. He always pays attention when you watch Star Trek together. You’re halfway through watching The Next Generation and even though he’s seen every episode multiple times he always looks just as enraptured by it. But not tonight.

You’re concerned for him. Clearly, something is wrong and it must be big for it to be bothering him this much. After a moment of consideration, you reach forward to grab the remote off the coffee table and pause the episode. 

Spencer sits upright almost immediately. His brow is furrowed and he looks back and forth between you and the paused TV with a confused look on his face. “Why’d you pause it?” he asks softly.

You set the remote back down and, tucking one leg underneath you, rotate to face Spencer. He doesn’t speak but you can see the way his mouth contorts slightly as he starts chewing on his lower lip.

“You weren’t paying attention.”

“Yes, I was,” he protests weakly.

You shake your head. “No, you weren’t, Spencer. You weren’t even looking at the screen. You’ve been preoccupied by something, I don’t know what it is but it’s making you nervous. You’ve been chewing on the inside of your mouth all night, you only do that when something’s bothering you. And every time I’ve seen you recently you’ve been anxious.”

He pulls his lip from between his teeth. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry,” he says shyly.

“What? No, no there’s nothing to be sorry for, Spencer. I’m just worried about you, okay? You can—you can talk to me, you know that right? About anything?” 

He nods and you search his face for any sign that he isn’t being truthful and find none. 

“You don’t have to, but if you want to talk about it I’m all ears.” You smile at him, hoping to reassure him. You really want to know what’s been bothering him and if there’s anything you can do to help, but you’re not going to make him talk if he doesn’t want to.

You can see him start to chew on his lip again but he notices himself doing it and stops, wringing his hands together in his lap instead. He bows his head and a strand of hair falls from behind his ear. You have to resist the urge to tuck it back.

“Have you, um, have you ever been with a guy?” he asks, still facing forward and looking down at his lap.

You tilt your head at him, confused. Is this what’s been bothering him? 

“Or–or anyone who’s not a woman?” he continues, nerves making him stutter slightly.

“What do you mean by ‘been with’?” you ask. 

His leg starts bouncing. “Like been in a relationship with. Romantic or sexual. Either.”

“I have. Both, kind of.”

He looks up at you at that. “What do you mean ‘kind of’?”

You chuckle lightly. “Well, I’ve dated a guy. We never had sex though. At least not by the classic definition.”

“Vaginal sex?” he asks simply.

You can feel yourself flush and you have to fight the urge to hide your face. 

“Yeah. We had oral sex though.” You intend to stop there but Spencer is looking at you so intently that you keep talking. You’re not sure why he wants to know this stuff but if it helps him feel less anxious, you’ll tell him. It just feels weird talking about the sex or lack of sex you had with your ex to the guy you have a crush on. “He, um, ate me out like twice, I think. I tried to suck him off but I wasn’t ready for that yet so I just gave him handjobs. Mostly we just made out though. Why do you ask?”

Spencer turns bright red and looks away from you, wringing his hands so aggressively some of his knuckles crack. You reach out and rest your hand on his shoulder.

“Spence?”

He freezes for a moment and turns his head until he’s looking in the complete opposite direction of you. “I think I’m bisexual,” he whispers.

Suddenly this all makes sense. “Okay. Thank you for telling me, Spencer.”

He whips back around to face you. “What?” he asks, surprised.

You cock your head at him, confused. “What?” you parrot.

“That’s it? You’re not—you’re not upset?”

“Of course not, Spencer,” you say. It seems ridiculous that he would even think that was a possibility but you know him and you know he’s been running the worst case scenarios over and over again in his head.

“Oh, okay. Good. Um, that’s good,” he says awkwardly, finally turning his body to face you on the couch.

You smile at him. “Why’d you want to know if I’d been with someone who wasn’t a woman?” you ask.

His entire face turns red and you have to fight the urge to tease him. “I was curious. I wanted to know what it was like,” he admits.

“It was good,” you say honestly. “We dated for a little over a year.”

“And you, um, are you dating anyone now?” he asks nervously.

“No. Why? Do you want to ask me out?” you tease, unable to resist. 

Spencer opens and closes his mouth without speaking and bows his head, fidgeting in his seat. 

Oh. You stare at him with wide eyes. He wants to ask you out? He likes you? Your world feels like it was flipped on its head in the best way possible. 

“Spencer?”

He lifts his head slowly, cautiously, like he’s afraid you’ll run the moment he looks at you.

“Do you want to ask me out?” you ask again, moving slightly closer to him.

“I-I, um, I—“ he stutters.

You plant your hands on the couch just in front of his knees and lean forward until your face is less than a foot away from his. You smile at him and his eyes widen. You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to finish his sentence. When he doesn’t you can’t help but tease him a little. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Spencer’s eyes widen even further and you can see his chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. He looks adorable like this. There’s movement at the bottom of your vision and you dart your eyes down to see Spencer covering his crotch with his hands. You look back up at his beautifully flushed face with a knowing smile. He looks down slightly, clearly embarrassed. 

You can’t have him doing that, not when you want to see his pretty face.

You reach up and hook your fingers under his chin, gently lifting his head to look at you. “C’mon, baby, what happened to that big brain of yours?”

Spencer gasps and whimpers quietly and you have to fight the urge to kiss him right then as arousal pools in your gut. 

His mouth opens and closes soundlessly like he’s unable to think of what to say or even remember how to speak. God, he looks gorgeous like this. You notice his gaze fall to your lips and you crawl across the couch, stopping just before climbing into his lap, waiting to see if he's okay with it. You don’t want to push him or make him uncomfortable, that’s the last thing you want to do. 

Spencer’s breath hitches in his chest and his hands dart from his lap to gently grab your hips. “Please,” he whispers desperately.

You have to swallow a groan at the sound as you settle onto his lap, straddling his thighs with your own. His fingers dig into your hips and it’s a struggle to not grind against him. You reach up and tuck the loose strand of hair back behind his ear before draping your arms around the back of his neck. “Do you want to take me on a date, baby?” you ask. “Yes or no?” 

Spencer nods frantically, his eyes roaming all over your body like he can’t get enough of looking at you. The thought turns you on more than you can believe.

“Words, baby,” you tease. You want to hear him say it. You want to know for sure that he wants you. You’re also curious just how much he’ll surrender himself to you. How easily he’ll let you take control.

“Y-yes,” he gasps. His mouth hangs open and you can feel the rise and fall of his shoulders with each panting breath.

“Good boy,” you say, and he outright moans. Fuck. The sound goes straight between your legs. “I’d love to go on a date with you, sweetheart.” You stare directly into his eyes. “Do you want me to kiss you? Yes or no?”

“Please,” he whimpers. Unable to resist any longer you cup his head in your hands and pull him into a kiss. He kisses you back hungrily. Like he’s been starving for it. God, how is he so good at this? His hands twitch awkwardly at your hips before he seems to find a bit of confidence and slides them up to your waist, hiking up your shirt slightly. You gasp into his mouth at the feeling of his hands touching your skin. You’ve been dreaming about this for months. 

You slide a hand from his cheek around the back of his head, curling your fingers into his hair. You don’t even pull but Spencer lets out an almost pathetic whine and starts kissing you with desperate, open mouth kisses. His teeth nip at your bottom lip and you open your mouth.

You kiss him back just as hungrily, tugging ever so slightly on his hair. Spencer’s head falls back, breaking the kiss, as he moans desperately. The sound of his moan and the look on his face has heat building fast between your legs and you can feel your underwear starting to get wet. You pull him into another kiss and rock your hips against his.

His back arches and one of his hands slides up your back to press you closer to him, hiking your shirt up to your chest. The other slips down to your thigh, gripping you tightly just inches away from where you want him. You moan into his mouth as his hips buck up slightly. You continue to rock your hips and drop your hands to his chest to start fumbling with the buttons of his shirt without breaking the kiss. He gasps into your mouth as you unbutton his shirt as quickly as you can. You need him now. You’ll have him in whatever way he’ll let you but you have to have him.

Eventually, you manage to finish unbuttoning his shirt and he leans away from the arm of the couch so you can slide it off his shoulders and toss it to the side. “Please,” he whimpers into the kiss. You pull away and grind your hips harder against his dick, relishing in the way his head falls back and his eyes flutter closed as he moans. 

“Please what, baby?” you tease because he seems to like it.

His eyes open and he stares at you, his pupils blown wide with lust. His eyes dart down to your chest as he slides his hands to your sides, slowly pushing up your shirt. “Can—can you take this off? Please?” he pants.

You smile at him and grab the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head. You toss it somewhere to the side and when you look back at Spencer he’s just staring at you, his hands hovering just above your skin. He’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

The brief pause gives you a chance to look at him too. He’s gorgeous. His hair is messed up and sticking all over the place. His lips are wet and swollen and his face and neck are flushed red. He’s thin but toned and the only body hair you can see is a small happy trail leading down into his pants. You press your palms against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with each gasping breath he takes, and rub your thumbs over his nipples.

Spencer gasps and his eyes snap shut as his head falls back with pleasure. His hands quickly find their way back to your waist and hold on tightly.

You maneuver him until he’s lying down fully with his head resting on the throw pillow against the arm of the couch, your fingers never leaving his nipples. He whines and gasps desperately, arching his back and bucking his hips, causing his bulge to rub up against you. You moan softly with each thrust of his hips and grind back down against him once you have him situated. 

You lean forward until your mouth is hovering next to his ear. You roll your hips down against his and press a brief kiss behind his ear. “So pretty,” you whisper. 

“Please,” he begs in a whimpering voice. “Don’t stop.”

You chuckle lightly against his ear before pressing kisses along his jaw and neck. “Of course not, baby,” you say. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

You move yourself down and latch your mouth around one of his nipples, pinching the other between your fingers. He lets out a pathetic moan as you toy with him. You groan in response and shift your hips so that each thrust rubs his dick against your clit. You can feel your underwear soak through and wetness sticking to your thighs. Arousal pools in your gut and you can feel the heat climbing up your back as pleasure shoots through your body.

“Fuck! Feels so good!” Spencer gasps. You pull your mouth away and start kissing your way back up his chest and along his neck, until you reach the shell of his ear. You nip at his earlobe and his hips buck up hard, pressing right into your clit and you moan into his ear. His hands reach around you to grab your ass and push you back down against him. “The things I want to do to you,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Please!” he begs. “Tell me! Please!���

You smile and nip again at his ear. “I want to fuck you until the only thing you can do is scream my name. I want to make you feel so good, baby.”

Spencer groans loudly. “Fuck, please. I want that. Please fuck me. I want you so badly. I need you. Please.”

God, the way he’s begging. You love how desperate he is, how needy. He wants you so badly he can’t even control himself. You want to see just how desperate you can make him, see how long it takes until he’s begging you to let him cum. You roll your hips against him, groaning at the thought and the jolt of pleasure that shoots up your spine—another time. But you will make him beg for you.

“Good boy,” you whisper. His back arches, pressing his chest against yours. You shift until you’re only straddling one of his thighs and reach down between your bodies to palm him through his slacks. His hands fall from your ass and scramble frantically at the couch cushion.

His hips buck up into your hand and a long, raspy moan falls from his lips, his eyes fluttering shut. “Thank you! Thank you!” he gasps. At the sound of his pleasure, you start rocking against his thigh, unable to stay still with how turned on you are.

You smile and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Such a good boy, using your manners.”

“Fuck! Please! Please!”

“Please what, baby? Use your words, remember?”

“Please touch me!” he gasps.

“Aww, but I am touching you,” you tease.

He shakes his head frantically and stares at you with desperate, hooded eyes.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Spencer.”

“Please touch my cock!” he gasps. The sound of him saying something so dirty makes you moan and you grind faster against his thigh. 

“Good boy, Spencer,” you praise, undoing his belt and slacks. “Such a good boy for me. I’ve got you, baby, don’t worry.” 

You slip your hand down the front of his pants and the moment your fingers touch his cock he whimpers pathetically. He’s so wet that your hand glides up and down him with ease and the thought that he’s this turned on because of you drives you crazy. His hands shoot up from the couch and pull you down into another deep and hungry kiss. 

You continue to stroke him quickly despite the awkward angle of your wrist, swallowing all the whimpers and moans he makes. His hips buck up into your hand rapidly until he’s practically fucking your fist. He pulls away from the kiss to breathe, gasping like he can’t get enough air. With each stroke he lets out breathy little moans that go straight between your legs. You groan as you grind against his thigh in time to the movement of your hand.

“Oh fuck!” he gasps. “Please! Please! I’m gonna— I’m so close! Please! Please can I cum?”

You lean forward and press a kiss right below his ear. “Good boy,” you whisper. “Come for me, baby.”

As soon as you finish speaking, as if he was holding it back until you gave permission, he cums crying out your name. His head tilts back and his mouth falls open as his eyes screw shut and his face contorts. And fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. His thighs shake and his hips jolt as you stroke him through it, kissing gently all over his face and neck. “Such a good boy,” you whisper. “Did so good for me.”

You keep stroking him, only pulling your hand away once he starts to squirm. He stares at you with big wet eyes. “Th–thank you,” he gasps weakly, turning his face into your neck. “That—that was amazing.

You smile and press another kiss to his jaw. “I–I’m glad, baby,” you say, your voice catching on a groan as you grind your clit onto his thigh.

His hands slide to your hips and hold them tightly, moving with you as you rock against him.

“What about you,” he asks softly. “You haven’t cum yet. Do you want me to touch you?”

You gasp at his words and bury your head into his neck. Yes. You want that so badly, more than you’ve ever wanted anything. But you don’t want him to feel obligated.

“O–only if you want to,” you gasp.

“I want to,” he insists. “Please. Can I touch you? I want to make you feel good.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as a spark of pleasure shoots up your spine at his words. “Fuck,” you groan. “Please.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Spencer stills your hips and guides you off his thigh. You open your eyes in surprise and groan at the loss of friction, rubbing your thighs together to try to make up for it. He gently flips your positions until you’re lying on your back across the couch and he’s settled between your thighs in just his briefs. At some point while he flipped you he managed to get his pants the rest of the way off. He looks so beautiful. Your eyes trail down his chest to the wet patch at the front of his underwear from where he came in his pants. Your hips buck against the air, desperate for him to touch you. 

His hands rest at the waistband of your shorts, his thumbs just barely slipping under the elastic as he rubs soft circles into your hips. “C–can I touch you?” he asks nervously. 

You nod frantically and lift your hips as he slowly pulls down your pants and underwear. You curl your legs up to allow him to pull them off fully and his breath hitches when he sees you. He rubs your thighs and guides your legs back down around him. As soon as you’re flat on the couch, he reaches up to tug at your nipples and presses his thigh between your legs. You moan loudly, grinding against him, desperate for any kind of friction. 

“So pretty,” he whispers, sliding one hand down your stomach. It slips between your legs and you moan as he rubs gentle circles against your clit. 

You pant heavily, overwhelmed with pleasure as he touches you so perfectly.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asks, sounding pleased with himself.

“Yes! Yes! Please! Feels so good!” you cry, rocking your hips up into his hand. He smiles sweetly at you and your stomach flutters. He presses a kiss to your chest and slips further down the couch until he’s lying on his stomach with his head between your thighs, just inches away from your clit. He looks at you for a moment, gripping your thigh hard with one hand and continuing to touch you with the other.

You stare at him with wide eyes. Is he really going to eat you out? You never imagined that would be something Spencer would want to do with his aversion to germs. Part of you is worried that he’s just doing this because he thinks he should but that concern is swept the way the moment he whispers a desperate and needy, “Please?”

Your eyes practically roll back into your head and you nod frantically. Spencer immediately removes his thumb to wrap his lips around your clit. You gasp in pleasure at the feeling of his mouth on you. His tongue darts out and swirls around your clit before he pulls it back and sucks gently. Your hands shoot to his head, your fingers curling into his hair, making him groan against you. The vibration of his moan against your clit causes your hips to buck into his mouth and in response, he drapes one arm over your waist to hold you down. The action makes you dizzy with arousal. With his other hand, he gently presses one finger inside you. 

You moan loudly as he laps at your clit and slowly thrusts his finger in and out of you. “Oh, fuck, Spencer!” you cry out. “So good! Such a good boy!”

He moans around your clit and slips another finger inside you. The combination of sensations makes you whine desperately. Arousal coils in your gut and jolts of pleasure shoot through your body. You can feel heat rising up to your neck and you can tell you’re getting close. You’re about to tell him when he curls his fingers up and hits the spot inside you that you’ve never been able to reach yourself. The words disappear from your mind and the only sound you can make is a broken moan. Your thighs shake with pleasure as he continues with his mouth and hits that spot with his fingers over and over again. His tongue swirls around your clit and somehow you manage to gasp, “F-fuck, baby. I’m so close.”

He pulls his mouth away from you slightly but keeps it close enough that you can feel his breath against you. He continues to thrust his fingers in and out of you, hitting that spot every time. “Cum for me, baby, please,” he whispers. “I wanna taste you.”

His mouth latches back around your clit and with a moan you come hard, clenching around his fingers and curling your hands into his hair. You gasp and tremble with pleasure as he works you through it. When you finally come down, he removes his hand and presses a soft kiss to your clit that makes you gasp before kissing his way up to your neck. You roll onto your side and move over slightly so he can slide between you and the back of the couch. He brings the fingers that had just been inside you up to his mouth and licks them clean with a groan. 

“Fuck, Spencer,” you gasp with shock. “You can’t just do that.”

“Do what?” he asks innocently but with a smile that shows he knows full well what you mean. He chuckles softly. “You just taste so good, I couldn’t help it.”

You can feel your cheeks burning and you bury your head into his neck with a groan. He laughs at your embarrassment.

“That was amazing,” he whispers and you nod in agreement. “You’re so beautiful. I wish we could stay like this forever.”

Butterflies swarm in your stomach. You smile and press a kiss to his neck. “Me too, baby. You’re gorgeous.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I never want to get up,” he whispers, almost whining.

You laugh and pull back to look at him. “Well, you’re going to have to if you ever want to go on that date,” you tease.

He smiles at you and you feel your heart melt. “Where do you want to go for our date?”

“Tonight?” you ask, surprised. 

“If you want to.”

You nod. “How does Indian food sound?”

Spencer’s eyes light up at the suggestion and he presses a soft kiss to your lips. “That sounds perfect.”

______________________________________________________________

ok, so I've never written smut before but this was just tumbling around in my brain. hopefully I did alright

[confusionmeisss]

i mourn the loss of canonical lesbian emily prentiss & bisexual spencer reid everyday. but they could never erase the queer energy they give off! u have to pry their queerness outta my cold. dead. hands.

[boywonderloverr]

Spencer Reid headcanons pt.2

part 1

🕊️☕

-his favorite animal is the jellyfish

-garcia treats him like her own personal dress up game and he is happy to let her. she braids his hair, paints his nails, tries out makeup looks on him, etc

-he owns so many grandpa sweaters

-he's bisexual. i am choosing to believe this is canon and goes without saying but I'm saying it anyway

-sometimes he uses noise cancelling headphones while working to focus better, feel less overstimulated by noise, and let others know he doesn't want to be interrupted

-he isn't great at expressing affection verbally or in 'traditional' ways, but the BAU have caught on to how he does express it. they know that it's his way of saying "i love you" when he brings them coffee and snacks unprompted. when he tells them random facts about things he knows they like. when he stays at the office late and organizes their desks for them. when he remembers all their schedules and tasks and unnecessarily reminds them of what they have going on that day

-he eats ice

-struggles with spacial awareness and motor skills; can be very clumsy

-he is IMPOSSIBLE to beat at rock paper scissors. every member of the BAU has tried dozens of times and he wins every time. they cannot figure out how to beat him

-he eats mac n cheese with ketchup

-he has a journal where he writes his thoughts and reviews on books he reads

-he sneezes a lot

-he cracks his knuckles and fingers all the time and it drives JJ nuts. sometimes she'll just grab his hands and hold them hostage to get him to stop and it makes him laugh

-he gets shampoo in his eyes almost every time he showers

-he giggles. hes a giggler

-all his pens and pencils are covered in bite marks cuz he chews on them while he thinks

[bucker3911]

i'm thinking orchids or a jasmine flower crown OR sunflower crown 🤭

(please someone draw this)

[criminalmindsfanantic]

Emily: Make her pussy wet not her eyes.

Derek: Make his dick hard not his life.

Reid: Break his bed not his heart.

JJ: Play with her boobs not her feelings.

Penelope: Get on their dick not their nerves.

Rossi: Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

[femboyspence]

hmmmm maybe spencer invites reader over one day to his apartment so they can hang out and talk, and maybe spencer starts rambling about a topic you know nothing about, he of course wastes no time scratching every surface airing out every possible fact there is

and of course what can you do besides sit there and listen and watch as he goes on and on about something you can barely comprehend but thats just how he is, so smart and knowledgeable

it was no secret that you had been crushing on spencer, and it was no secret that he felt the same way, the both of you had been going back and forth signaling each other for months to make a move

you decided why not make that move for the both you

finally you begin to move closer to him and stare deep into his eyes making sure he knows that he’s your target as you slide your fingers across his thighs slowly staring at his lips while he continues hesitantly with his rambles

as you move closer and closer his voice becomes shakier and his words come out scrambled this only makes you want to move closer to him to see what kind of reaction he can give you next

suddenly your fingers make their way to his waist as you both sit near each other on his couch, you finally place your hand low on his back rubbing back and forth while you signal him to keep talking

he blushes at the affectionate expression and continues with scattered words, before you came this close he was able to look you in the eye and talk with his hands to give emphasis on his words and now all he can do is look back and forth between you and the walk behind you while you fixate on him and only him

he talks faster the closer you get, once you’re face to face so close where you can feel each other breathe you kiss him and for the first time since you stepped into the profiler’s apartment, there was silence, nothing but your combined breathless kisses filled the room now

he kissed you back as you raise your other hand and place it on the back of his neck pulling him deeper into the kiss and for once spencer had nothing to say, he let himself fall into the kiss breathing you in as much as he can

you kiss him desperately guiding his body closer to you until he’s sitting on top of you his hands gripping your face while you pull your hands down to hold him by the waist ever so slightly pushing him back forth against your cock you can tell he’s desperate for more once he starts grinding on his on

“god”

he whispers between the kiss driving you mad as he lowers his face into your neck while grinding, you kiss his ear and grind back against him controlling the friction between the two of you

you whisper sweet affections into his ear while he whines into yours

“just like that baby” as he returns for more kisses, leaving you breathless as the beautiful man absorbs you with his gentle touch, you break the kiss and gaze into his eyes as you tuck a thin strand of his soft brown hair behind his ear time standing still for what seems like hours

“you’re so beautiful” you tell him with full adoration as his eyes hang low and his cheeks become more flushed, you both stare into each other eyes lovingly reuniting in a soft gentle kiss

[wereoz]

like im gonna see this and not say ‘cool, stylish bisexual gf w/ her well dressed but in a ‘college student that moonlights as a folk singer’ way, also bisexual, nonbinary gf’ . . . get REAL

[reidfucker]

reid puts the bi in fbi and the sub in unsub

[violetrainbow412-blog]

DOES THIS LOOK STRAIGHT TO YOU????

[0o-junebug-o0]

My criminal minds sexuality headcanons (for the characters I’ve met so far)

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Leaving a Mark

Summary: Spencer’s been sent to interview his secret boyfriend at a bar.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Male!Reader

Category: Angst/fluff

Content warnings: some internalized homophobia, smoking

Word count: 2k

Spencer tugs on his collar while in the passenger seat, hiding the small bruise that peeked over it. The streetlights rolled over the windshield and might as well have felt like a spotlight. Derek hasn’t given up twisting his arm about it all day, which is why he insisted on driving him.

“You know J.J. could’ve snagged you some concealer when we were at that drug store.”

Spencer sighed, still messing around with his collar. “I mismeasured the size of—”

“Your game?”

“No!” His frustration is as audible as his embarrassment, given the strain in his voice. “The length of the collar to the—well, the—doesn’t matter. We’re here.” Spencer grabs a handful of fliers before preparing to exit.

Derek takes a spot on the street. Queen is muffled but easily heard outside the glass doors. He tends to stick to classical music but fell into the rock scene months ago thanks to certain influences. But Spencer pretends the sound is unfamiliar, resisting his head dipping to the beat of Somebody to Love as Derek meets him on the sidewalk, humming the tune.

Spencer knows this location. He already sees his friend chatting with guests while she wipes down the bar. When Derek’s phone buzzes and he answers it with the classic “Talk to me, Mama,” he’s hesitant to even inch near the door. But with Garcia’s voice at high speed on the other end, Derek encourages him to go in anyway.

Again, Spencer hesitates, but he scooches in as if the place is crowded. The regular groups of friends and couples gathered at their own tables while some loners sipped at the bar. An array of pride flags and rainbow lights hang from the ceiling. His eyes meet with the girl behind the bar, and he watches her face light up. He gives a brief wave as well as a strained smile with wide eyes. She gestures him over.

He’s quick to point to the files cradled in his arm. She gives a thumbs up and points to the far right of the room before going back to her business.

Meanwhile, Spencer tries not to stare when he sees you. You’re lugging equipment from the floor to the stage like you were built to do so, despite the smudging liner around your eyes and the sweat stains evident on your dark tank, which clung just enough to your abdomen. Spencer tried not to stare, but he then snapped out of his trance when the breeze of mid-fall hit the back of his neck, and Derek was behind him once again. “Garcia says the guy we're looking for is likely to be in some kind of band that plays here on the regular. Probably best to ask around.”

“Uh-huh,” Spencer says. And before he has the chance to turn back to Derek, he’s already spotted the two same people.

“Well, this shouldn’t be difficult. But you seem a little nervous, kid.”

Spencer swallows dryly, the worst convincing chuckle escaping his throat. “Nervous? How so?”

Derek laughs, a palm coming down on his shoulder. (Spencer swears his knees were going to give in, but somehow they did not). “How about you question the bartender, and I’ll question Mr. Brightside over there. ”

Spencer scoffed. “What? No, I can do it. Don’t worry. I can talk to him.” Spencer keeps the stack of fliers close to his chest.

Derek looks at Spencer, his notable eyebrow forming from a wave to a defined arch. Spencer does his best to maintain some sort of confidence and neutrality. “Okay. You go ahead. Let me know if you need me.”

Spencer merely nods before making his way over. He’s lucky none of his regular friends are here, and no one at the tables recognize him, though they are definitely wary at the sight of him, given the gun hanging on his hip. He would’ve had more shame around it if you hadn’t spotted him at just the right moment. Your smile beamed, despite being yellowish (he has been trying to get you to stop smoking for weeks). Spencer clamps his lips closed as he approaches. “Hi,” he meekly says.

“Well, hello there.” You put a hand on your hip and lean against the amp. “Very rare for you to be visiting me before rehearsal.”

“Yeah.” Spencer finds breathing difficult for a different reason now. He takes a flier from his hold. “There’s, uh, there’s a reason for that. Unfortunately. We’re looking for someone.”

“You’re on the job right now?”

Spencer nods slowly, his eyes pointing toward his gun.

The yellow grin shifts to your sharp jaw twitching from side to side as you look over Spencer’s shoulder. You spot Derek. Your dark brown eyes seeped into Spencer’s heart (and not in the usual way). “So, you show up here as a cop and bring your friend, who is a cop, to a gay bar. Where people are unwinding for the night? Do I need to remind you how that went down in the sixties?”

“I know, I know. It’s just that…” Spencer finally hands over a flier. “There’s a reason why I’m here specifically.”

You take the flier, and Spencer doesn’t need to be a profiler to examine the changes in your face as you read. “This is—”

“I know.”

Your bassist. Spencer met him first when he was introduced to the whole band a few months ago. Apart from you, he was the first to buy Spencer a drink as a warm welcome to the group. And Spencer learned quickly that night: You don’t bring boyfriends around the band. Yet they all spoke to Spencer like they had known him for years. It was a comfort to find such acceptance. And now he’s in his safe space, feeling guiltier than ever (the irony hurts).

“Why would he be a suspect? What’s the case? Murder?”

“That’s usually what we’re called for. Three is the minimum.”

“Christ.” You crumple up a portion of the paper with your fist, and Spencer can tell it’s taking everything to keep your cool. “He would never murder anyone. He was in with some bad people, but that was years ago, babe, you know that. You’re a cop, and he still told you that.”

“It’s only for questioning, I promise. No arrests. Nothing on his record.”

The frustration on your face is minimal (for you), but Spencer sees it all unfolding in front of him. He wants to grab your hand, so it may unfold from a fist and calm you down. But he doesn’t, because Derek might see. Spencer looks behind him, despite all his anxious thoughts persuading him otherwise. All he sees is the back of his head, with some rainbow lights reflecting off the shine as he jokes with the bartender. Thank God she’s good at on-the-spot conversation. So good that he even took a whiskey on the job.

“He still doesn’t know, does he?”

Spencer turns back around. “What?”

“I wasn’t a boy genius like you, but I know you can’t play dumb. Especially not right now.” You cross your arms; the black and gray piece of your old Sphynx cat is hidden. “So, he doesn’t know about us. He doesn’t know you know me.”

Spencer sighs. “No.”

“So they could say you’re withholding evidence.”

“Technically, yes, I am.”

“What would you call it un-technically?”

“You can just say ‘plainly’.”

And you respond with a plain face. Spencer tries not to correct your grammar. And sometimes he forgets. “I’m trying to keep you guys safe.”

“Or are you just protecting yourself?”

“Wait, that’s not—”

“Don’t manipulate this into sounding like you’re doing me a service, Spence, okay? You’ve made it clear that this is your family. Your mom, and then these people. The way you speak about them, clearly they love you. Yet you look over your shoulder as if that one is going to charge over and kill us both for speaking.”

Spencer tries not to sound insulted when he says, “Derek wouldn’t kill us.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Spencer opens his mouth but says nothing. He sees the pack of cigarettes outlining your black jeans as you pull them out. Ever since your drummer gave you a Newport, it’s what you’ve stuck to. You’ve gone through half of the pack in the past two weeks. Spencer doesn’t have to say anything in regard to his feelings about it, especially since you know his mother still smokes. The band mentioned he used to smoke more in high school.

“Six minutes, right? That’s what you used to tell your mom?”

Spencer shifts in his stance, keeping a grip on his fliers. “More like eleven now.”

“Oh.” You let it hang between your lips. “Why’s that?”

“You’re seriously manipulating me into outing myself to stop you from smoking one cigarette?”

“No, of course not. That's cruel. And pointless.” You push yourself off the amp and pull out your lighter from the same pocket. “But as far as certain people in here know, we are strangers. You’re just a cop asking me about a suspect, and I’m just a singer in desperate need of a smoke. You don’t know anything about me, and I don’t know who left the hickey on your neck. So I can lie and say I’ve never seen him before, and we can go on with our nights until you text me you’re home and lonely.” You crumple up the flier to toss it at Spencer’s chest (which he miraculously catches) and start heading for the back exit, your typical smoking hideout. “So, I’m sorry, Agent Reid, but I’ve never seen this man in my life.”

But Spencer reaches for your hand, and you hear the fliers hit the floor, some flatly while others sweep across the wood. Spencer doesn’t dare look at Derek, even though his eyes are most definitely on him. On both of you. “I’ll tell them.”

You pull away your arm, but you slowly turn around. Your head to the side.

“Not now, but soon. We’ll all get dinner.”

You inhale sharply through your pierced nose. You take the cigarette out of your mouth as you cross your arms once more. “I do like dinner.”

“So… you’ll call him?”

“Nothing’s going to happen to him?”

“Nothing. When they know I know him, they won’t let me in the interrogation room, but I’ll be watching. We don’t have DNA evidence that leads to him, if that makes you feel any better.”

You nod. “I’ll call him tonight.”

“Good.”

You and Spencer exchanged a lingering gaze, reminding him of one of your performances where you winked at him throughout the night. Words were unspoken, but Spencer needed the trust you grew together to stay strong. So, with a gentle smile, Spencer leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. When pulling away, he mouths a quiet “thank you” before turning to gather the papers. He moved with a newfound confidence (mixed with nerves, though, no doubt). But there was still a weight to his steps, a gravity that spoke then.

Once the fliers were neatly organized again in his hold, Spencer gestured to Derek, signaling that they could leave. At the car, Spencer gathered everything into his assorted manila folders and satchel before getting in. Hearing Derek’s footsteps around the car, Spencer says, “He’s in the band. He’s going to call him tonight. Knowing the bassist, it’d probably be best to expect him between 9:30 and 10:00. At the earliest, at least.”

Derek leans over the top of the car. “Knowing him, huh?”

“Yeah, they’re all night owls, if that wasn’t obvious enough.”

With everything stowed away, they climb in. Derek twists the key, letting the engine hum to life. But he doesn’t drive. Spencer looks at him.

“You know you could’ve told me about him, kid. I wouldn’t have harped on you so hard if this was something you were nervous about.”

“No, no, I planned to. It just never seemed like the right time, you know, with this job.”

Derek grins. “Well, clearly, you care enough about him to withhold information. But I won’t tell Hotch that part.”

They both shared a laugh, easing the tension that had built up throughout the evening. As they drove away from the bar, the anxiety in Spencer’s chest lifted a little.

[confusionmeisss]

y’know what they should do if spencer comes back in s17 have that mf come back with a boyfriend in tow

[bucker3911]

idc what you say or what you think but this is 1000% true. stfu

[air--so--sweet]

Something I will never not be angry about is finding out that Spencer Reid was meant to be bisexual and the network shut it down. I was an autistic queer teenage boy who was neither aware that he was autistic or a boy and who loved Criminal Minds and specifically Spencer Reid (who in case you haven't noticed is heavily autistic coded). At that time I used the label bisexual and I was desperate for representation. Bisexual Reid would have changed my whole fucking life. Fuck whatever network execs said he had to be straight.

[lightandheatao3]

The Bunker - Criminal Minds

Chapter 12: The Man

Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up in a locked bunker to find half the current BAU and two of its departed members unconscious on the floor. The old team is back together but the reunion is not what any of them would have wished for. An Unsub from their past has decided it's time they all stop keeping secrets, even if it means exposing them by force.

Hotch and Derek have been pulled back into a world they tried to escape. Emily, Rossi, and JJ are doing their best to keep it together. Spencer is falling apart.

AKA a found family is reunited and forced to go through the most nightmarish version of family therapy imaginable.

Set months after the end of Criminal Minds: Evolution. Evolution referenced, but not necessary to understand the story.

Chapter Summary: Spencer wakes up somewhere new.

Read chapter 12 on AO3 or under the cut. Please check AO3 for content warnings. All comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated <3 I would love to know what you like about the story :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Darkness.

His eyes were open, but there was darkness.

A laugh of relief burst out of his dry, scratchy throat.

How long had he dreamed of opening his eyes to anything but cool, flickering fluorescent light? How could an absence be so beautiful?

“What’s so funny?” came a cheerful, gravelly voice behind his head.

In an instant, the comfort of darkness shifted to terror as it all came rushing back to him.

He wasn’t dead.

He could decipher his feelings about that fact later.

He jerked up, trying to put distance between himself and the voice.

A sharp burst of pain through his injured arm alerted him to the restraints. He was lying down, strapped to a bed of some kind. It was thin and uncomfortable, wobbling as he moved. Likely a camp bed or similar.

“Calm down. We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself,” the voice mocked.

It was masculine. He tried to tilt his head back and get a glimpse, now that his eyes were adjusting to the low light. Whoever it was, they were just out view, but judging by the direction of the sound, they were tall. Or the bed was just low to the ground.

“What’s your name?” asked Spencer.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said with a laugh.

There was a hint of southern drawl.

He mentally skimmed through the profile they had been working on, readying himself to put it to the test. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” he said as dismissively as he could muster. “You’re not in charge here. Where is she? I want to speak to the woman who’s calling the shots.”

A hand came down, gripping his injured forearm. An agonizing, burning sensation shot through his entire arm and up to his shoulder, causing him to yelp in pain. Was that infection? Nerve damage? The bolt had been rusted and ragged, it could easily be both.

He took a moment to appreciate the small mercy that he was up-to-date on his tetanus shots.

A face leaned over him from behind, upside down and fitted with an N95 mask. The man was white, he thought. It was hard to tell in the lighting and with half his face covered. He was balding. He was a big guy, almost as tall as Spencer, but stocky and muscular.

The hand continued to press into the unhealed wound. What was that sensation? Gloves, he realized. The man was wearing gloves.

“It's just you and me. Is that not good enough for you?" he taunted, raising a dark eyebrow.

“Do I know you?” he asked, doing his best to sound uninterested.

“No, but I know you,” he said. He leaned away, letting go of Spencer’s arm and disappearing out of view. “You should be grateful. She’s got a soft spot for junkies and fags,” he said from somewhere further away, a sort of awe in his voice at the unthinkable benevolence of this mystery woman. “You’re all scum, far as I’m concerned.”

A dagger of ice drove its way into Spencer's chest. Was that a taunt, or did they know? Just how long had they been watching him?

He could hear rummaging. Clinking glass and plastic. “Why are you risking yourself for her? You don't have a stake in this,” he said. “Tell me what you want and I might be able to help you get it."

With every passing second he became aware of some new ache or pain. His head was pounding, probably dehydration from the blood loss. Where was the other Unsub? Had the others overpowered her? Were they safe? Is that why she wasn’t there?

“What I want,” said the man, suddenly standing by his side, giving him a clear view of his full height and weight, “is to make her happy. Lucky for you.”

The gloved hands were softer on his uninjured right arm. Not gentle by any means, but precise. It was only when the man started checking the IV that Spencer noticed he had one.

As he took stock, he realized it wasn't the only tube going into his body. A catheter. It was a pretty unmistakable sensation. He groaned.

The man held a needle up to the port just below the IV bag. Spencer tried and failed to flinch away. “What is that?”

The man tutted. “Don't pretend you don't want it.” Spencer tried to sit up, to see better, to fight. The man's free hand grabbed onto his hair, pulling tight and slamming his head backwards onto the bed. "Stop it before you rip your stitches," he commanded.

He depressed the plunger and pure panic flooded Spencer’s system. It could be anything in that syringe. Anything.

It didn’t matter how many times he had injected things into his own body. It was different when he was doing it to himself. When he was in control.

All of a sudden, he was tied to a chair in a cabin in a graveyard. “No!” he shouted, too late to do anything about it. He felt something in his cut up left arm tear open as he fought against his restraints.

Then…

Bliss.

His mind slowed. Every muscle in his over-stressed body relaxed, sinking deep into the thin padded bed beneath him. He breathed out and let his eyes droop closed.

There was a hand in his hair, but this one wasn’t pulling. It was stroking gently. He couldn’t help but lean into it. ‘No,’ he thought, fighting to gain clarity. He tried to move away from the touch, and after a moment it stopped.

“He’s too much trouble. We still have the others,” said the gravelly voice, as if from the bottom of an echoing well.

His heart sank.

The others didn’t make it out.

They were alive. He had to hold onto that. At least they were all alive.

“What if they had given up on me?” came another voice. It was soft. Gentle. Feminine. “I never would have met you.”

He latched onto the voice, trying to sift through his memories and connect it to a face. It was like wading through mud. He felt himself slipping.

The talking continued, but he couldn’t follow the words. Slowly, he drifted away.

When he woke again, his mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

For a fraction of a second, he was waking up in his apartment after taking too much the night before, like he had so many times. His body tingled and ached and felt impossibly heavy. Then he tried to raise his hands to rub at his eyes, and the harsh reality dropped on him like an anvil.

He jerked against the restraints. His injured arm was stiff, but it didn’t burn like it did before. He tilted his head up and tried to look at it.

It was bandaged. The white cloth wound all the way from the bottom of his wrist to the crook of his elbow. The image of raw, open skin pouring blood flashed in his brain.

Had he really done that to himself?

“You’re gonna have one nasty scar,” said the man in the mask cheerfully, appearing at his side.

Spencer dropped his arm, laying back on the bed. There wasn’t much else he could do.

“How long are you going to keep me here?”

“Do you have somewhere else to be?”

“Why not just keep me unconscious? Why let me wake up?” he asked, ignoring the bait.

“You tell me, Doctor,” he said, spitting the word like it was an insult.

He grabbed Spencer’s arm and prodded at the bandage, then circled around and checked the levels in his IV.

“I’m not that kind of doctor,” said Spencer, keeping his tone light. Challenging him didn’t get him very far last time. Maybe a different approach would work. “I don’t understand.”

The man looked at him like his teachers used to look at him. The ones who didn't know what to do with him, and resented him for being alive and daring to make it their problem.

“Last time we needed to know you hadn't fucked yourself up so bad you couldn't wake up. This time, I have questions. Don’t worry, you can get your precious fentanyl soon,” he said derisively.

Spencer swallowed. “That isn’t what I want.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying,” he said, and he meant it. The thought of being left unconscious with this man again sent chills down his spine, even as his body itched for the drug. He could feel how much the man loathed him. “Please, no more.”

“I know your type,” he said. “Used to deal with you all the time. You think cause of your job and your friends and the letters in front of your name, you’re better, but a junkie is a junkie.”

He swallowed again, wishing for a sip of water. “You’re right. I’m a junkie. But I don’t want to be,” he said, though even he couldn’t tell if he meant it or not. “You said you had questions? I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

The man looked him up and down with his dark, piercing eyes. Spencer felt exposed. Whoever this man was, he was not unintelligent or submissive like they had profiled. Whatever was going on here was a lot more complicated than that.

“Why did you slash your wrist?”

He winced. It still didn’t feel completely real. He saw Emily, her frantic, frightened eyes. He heard JJ scream.

“I wanted to talk to you and your partner. I couldn’t see another way.”

“Liar,” said the man again, exaggerating both syllables.

“I’m not lying,” he insisted.

“You wanted to die. That’s alright. I would too if I were you,” he said coolly. “Are you going to try it again?”

“No. I didn’t want to do it the first time. You forced my hand.”

Liar, his brain supplied even as the man stayed silent. You wanted it.

He tried and failed to pull away as the man put a hand on his cheek, pressing his thumb down into his throat, threatening to squeeze. He leaned in, speaking low and cold.

“You try it again, and your friends are going to pay the price. Do you believe me?”

Spencer couldn’t speak. He just nodded, hoping it was enough. He caught a glimpse of a jagged scar on the side of the man’s head, half hidden in his thinning hair.

The man released him and he sucked in a breath. “Why doesn’t she want us to know who she is?” he asked, rasping a little, knowing he was running out of time. “She’s already won. We can’t get out. Nobody knows where we are. Why hide? Doesn’t she trust you to protect her?”

The man narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond. He walked over somewhere behind him, and he heard the clinking glass that told him he was preparing a syringe.

He looked around the room, taking in as many details as possible. No windows. Lamp light only. He couldn’t find a door, it must have been behind him. The room was small. Smaller than the bunker. He saw a vent in the roof similar to the one they had in there. So, same facility? The entire place was likely underground. Industrial? Disused basement of a building? It looked old, possibly built in the 80’s. There was residue on the wall the indicated it had once been wallpapered.

The bunker was not built for them.

The thought hit him like a flash bomb. This was not a purpose-built facility. It was not made by the Unsubs; it was merely being co-opted by them. That meant there were likely records, somewhere, of the building’s existence. Which meant there would be a trail between the location and the Unsubs.

Somewhere, there was a connection that Penelope, Luke, and Tara could find.

It wasn’t much, but it was more than he’d had before.

The man was by his side again, syringe in his hand, ready to empty its contents into his IV. His stomach twisted in a sick combination of equal parts terror and anticipation. It was the same thing he’d felt by day two with Tobias Hankel, when he’d already started to want it.

“Why are you drugging me? I thought this was all to teach us a lesson. What does this teach me? That I’m an addict? I already know that,” he said. “I can’t fix it if you keep doing this to me.”

He couldn’t see the man’s mouth beneath the mask, but his eyes creased like he was smiling. “The truth isn't about fixing you. It’s about finally being who you really are. That's what you did for her. That's what she did for me.”

And with that, he depressed the plunger.

Despite his protests, Spencer was more grateful for the feeling flooding his veins than he would ever care to admit.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was to the cool fluorescent flicker that had come to haunt him.

He sat up with a jolt, coughing and scrambling back. He saw an all too familiar gloved hand in his peripheral vision, recapping a jar of smelling salts.

He turned to face the man, trying to stand from where he had been placed on the concrete floor. He was woozy and off balance. He was high, he realized. Really fucking high. He slumped to his knees, placing a hand on the ground to stop himself collapsing completely.

He caught a glimpse of his left arm. The arm that he’d cut open. He was seeing it uncovered for the very first time. However long they’d kept him unconscious for, it was long enough that the open wound had closed over and any stitches had been removed.

It was angry, red, and jagged. He stared at it, fascinated, struggling to comprehend it as a real part of his body.

The man laughed. “They’ll be waking up in a minute. If any of you fuck this up, I can hurt you all in ways you can’t imagine,” he said, sounding very much like he was salivating to do just that. “You tell them that.”

The man was out the door faster than Spencer could react, shutting it behind him with a loud clang.

He looked around, struggling to focus his eyes.

There they all were, laying unconscious, placed with a strange degree of consideration on thin foam mattresses. In fact, all of the previous amenities that had been taken from them had been returned, including the door. In the center of the room was a brown paper bag.

An alarm blared, coming from somewhere on the roof. He slammed his hands over his ears, curling in on himself.

The others stirred.

The alarm continued for another ten seconds, and by the end of it, there were five wide open sets of eyes, all looking right at him.