#matthew Gray Gubler

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Three-Month Rule.

Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

Summary: The first time you decide to skip the celebration and go to bed early, and the first time Spencer decides to drink and open his heart to you after knowing you're leaving for three months.

Words: 5,5k (very long).

TW: fem!reader. spencer from the first seasons with glasses meow (my fav)+also he is a little drunk and lovesick puppy. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: These two are probably one of my favorites, this felt so warm to write and before you ask, yep, I've been thinking about a part two (maybe even more, who knows).

♡ Enjoy! ♡

I. Moonlight ⏾

The night after closing a case with a positive outcome often involved celebratory drinks and lengthy discussions about everyday topics. For you and your colleagues, it was a rare opportunity for relaxation. It was a way to temporarily distance yourselves from the challenging situations you had encountered. A great way to relieve stress.

Typically, you would choose to remain in the chair situated in the center of the bar and sip your drink at a leisurely pace, allowing it to last all night as you chatted and shared lighthearted banter about various topics, though you would never discuss work. You were always smiling, as if nothing unfortunate had ever happened. And you always looked beautiful, so distant and impossible to catch.

Spencer always looked at you, biting his tongue to keep from sputtering out all the words that struggled to come out every time his eyes fell on yours. He didn't even take a sip of the drinks that were offered to him. As a rule, he didn't drink alcohol at all, and he liked it even less when he knew it could affect how he saw you. So clearly. So real. As if you were the most amazing work of art he'd ever seen, even if he wasn't very familiar with art.

Tonight, sadly, everything was different.

He had not been able to indulge in that particular pleasure of admiring you because you had chosen to return to your room rather than stay with the rest of the team at the hotel bar. It was a lie to say that it had not caught his attention. You had always stayed, even for a glass of water. But now you were...away from everyone. And then he was too.

The time passed rather quickly after he had a couple of sips of different fruity cocktails, which he didn't think would have any effect. Spencer was very mistaken. He found himself walking to the elevator before he had a chance to think things through. It didn't take him long to reach your hotel room. His footsteps were soft but urgent enough to go to the outside of the door. He just wanted to see you, needed to see you, and was already anxious about the reason why he wasn't allowed to do it now.

His knuckles knocked softly on your door with a certain caution, as quietly as possible, but just loud enough for you to hear, as he did his best to keep everyone else from hearing it as well. His hair was slightly disheveled, his glasses were out of place, and the top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his collarbones underneath.

“It's me. Reid.” He spoke just loud enough to be heard through the door, his voice slightly raspy but still as soft as ever. “Can I talk to you?”

The sound of his call echoed too loudly inside the empty hotel room. Everything in the place was silent, still, with no lights or air conditioning. The room was almost dark, except for the streaks of city lights filtering through the curtains that ran over the large windows. You had been lying quietly and staring at the ceiling for no more than a minute and thirty seconds, your eyes blank and fixed on the ceiling after waking up so suddenly.

You gradually rose to a seated position and proceeded to the door. Without hesitation, you opened it to find his eyes filled with concern.

“Is everything okay? Are you okay?” Your voice was a little hoarse, and your eyes were still adjusting to the bright light in the hallway.

“I'm fine,” he replied, barely looking at your appearance. Your hair was a mess, and you looked sleepy. He hadn't realized how late it was. “Oh, sorry, did I wake you?”

Yes, of course. It was two o'clock in the morning.

You couldn’t hide the frown of confusion. It was late—far too late for a casual check-in—and yet here he was, standing before you with an air of unease that was so unlike him. “Don’t worry. What’s up?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe, trying to mask your concern.

Thousands of ideas crossed your mind at that moment. Maybe there was a new case, some new clue that would have reopened the four-day investigation that had just ended a few hours ago, or who knows what. The job was as unpredictable as your coworkers.

“I…” Reid’s words faltered before he even began, as if his thoughts were racing far ahead of him. His eyes flitted between you and the hallway, but he couldn’t seem to find the courage to make sense of his feelings, let alone speak them aloud. The alcohol was doing little to help his clarity of thought. It had been a few small sips; he had convinced himself, but now it was doing its work on his resolve. He was here. And he couldn’t walk away. “I was just…that.”

That's when you noticed something: he seemed a little off-balance, with a subtle flush on his cheeks and a lingering smell of alcohol. “Are you under the influence of alcohol, Dr. Reid?”

Oh. Oh. Oh.

If he was surprised to see you so sleepy, he got even more surprised by that question and by how close you've gotten to him. His eyes slightly widened at the close proximity between you both, his mouth slightly agape, and his brain almost completely frozen for a moment, before he shook his head quickly as an attempt to pull himself together. He cleared his throat before speaking, his words stumbling and incoherent.

“What? No, no, I’m not drunk.” He stammered, shaking his head as though trying to convince himself. “I just took a sip.”

Just a sip, two or three, after mentally rereading that ridiculous article about love he had read in one of the magazines in the lobby. The one that made him think about you and how you made him feel, the same one that revolutionized his emotions and his rational part to the point that he drank out of the wrong glass all night long.

“I see.”

Your gaze seemed to linger on his disheveled hair, unbuttoned shirt, mismatched glasses, and the subtle hint of color in his cheeks. You arched an eyebrow in response and took a small step forward to examine his face more closely. This was a version of him you were not entirely familiar with because Spencer Reid wasn’t a drinker.

“You seem a little nervous and flushed. Are you sure you're not drunk?” You asked with concern, noticing his demeanor.

Reid had to suppress a shiver when you moved even closer, nearly reducing his entire nervous system to a puddle of goo. He was incredibly aware of your proximity, like his brain had suddenly become hyperfocused on your existence and every move you made.

“Ah…y-yes, I'm s-sure I’m not-” He stuttered the words, feeling like a complete mess of nerves.

Something feels wrong…different.

You stepped forward, your eyes narrowing in on him, still uncertain but unwilling to leave him in such an odd state. “You’re sweating,” you observed quietly. “Come in. Sit on the bed. I have water.”

Without giving him the chance to refuse, you turned and walked into the room, leaving the door open for him to follow. He didn't even have a chance to react before he found himself inside your room, feeling like he was in a whole different world. Even though he was familiar with the space, as his room was exactly the same, somehow yours felt more comfortable and cozy.

Spencer followed you to the bedside table, still feeling a bit shaky. The scent of your perfume and the quiet of the room made him a bit nervous, but before he could say anything, you offered him a glass.

“Thanks.” He said, taking the water and sitting on the edge of the bed.

As he sat down, the bed sagged slightly under his weight, and he felt a surge of nervousness. Being alone with you in your hotel room suddenly felt incredibly intimate, and he found himself taking small sips of water to keep himself grounded. The drink was refreshing, but it didn't do much to calm the pounding of his heart in his chest. He avoided looking at your figure standing in front of him, focusing instead on the glass in his hands, fidgeting and nervously bouncing his leg.

“Okay, I have to ask now. You showed up at my door out of nowhere, looking like you'd just run a marathon, flushed like a tomato, and reeking of alcohol to boot.” You said, sitting down on the bed next to him. “So what brings you exactly here?” Your voice seemed to ring in his ears.

You. Only you. Forever you.

“I, uh, I came here to...I came here to...talk. I wanted to talk.” He managed to stammer, his eyes fixed on the glass of water.

“To...talk?” You repeated, your voice bringing back his attention. He suddenly felt tongue-tied, like he forgot everything he wanted to say right then and there. “About what?”

You, again.

Reid fiddled nervously, bouncing his leg up and down, and he suddenly felt the urge to pull at his shirt, feeling his skin too warm and overheating under his clothes. Why did it suddenly feel so hot in there, in your hotel room? He found himself unable to maintain eye contact again, but this time he found bravery in the depths of his mind and he managed to speak.

“I, uh…” He paused for a moment, his words becoming shaky. “I just...I just wanted to talk about you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, not expecting that answer. But before you could say anything, Spencer spoke again as his thoughts burst out unfiltered.

“You’ve been quiet. I mean, since the case, and you left the bar early. You’ve been...different, sort of...I mean, not different-” His stammering was cut off by a frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. He was rambling, and he knew it; he could feel how warm he was under the heat of your gaze, but he couldn’t stop his words from coming out. “I heard about the job offer in New York that you've accepted.”

In that moment, you frowned, confused by the drama that perhaps the influence of alcohol in his system was bringing. The job offer was more of an internship than anything else, something temporary, just for three months, not a permanent change of scenery. But for some reason, hearing his words made your heart sink.

You hadn't really expected anyone on the team to be so affected by your leaving for a while; everyone seemed too wrapped up in their own business to wish you anything more than a good trip. After all, the world didn't stop spinning, and serial killers didn't stop killing because you weren't around. You didn't consider yourself that indispensable.

“I just, I don't know...” He mumbled, rubbing his face again, tired of his own thoughts. “I just...I feel like...I might miss you a lot.”

His eyes closed for a split second in fear, but then he looked at you and saw that you were smiling.

“You really drank quite a lot today.” Your tone was gentle as you carefully adjusted his glasses and took the empty glass from his hands. He hadn't even noticed that he had already finished all the water.

The feeling of your fingers on his glasses made his brain buzz for a moment, and he found himself wishing it would last for just a few seconds more. But then the glass was gone, and he was left there fidgeting with his hands.

“I know.” He muttered weakly, feeling the heat and alcohol taking a toll on him. His mind felt foggy, his thoughts swirling around and getting more tangled by the second. “But that’s besides the point.”

“Spencer, you’re being impulsive and emotional.” You said it bluntly, leaning forward slightly. “You were drinking earlier; you're all sweaty, and you're rambling. That's what alcohol does to you…you get overly reactive.”

His gaze shifted to the floor, his fingers gripping the edge of the bed as he let out a shaky breath. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe I am being impulsive and stupid, but…it doesn’t make it any less true.”

The weight of his words hung in the air between you. There was a vulnerability in his tone that caught you off guard, like he was peeling back layers you hadn’t seen before. You studied him for a moment—the disheveled hair, the flushed cheeks, the way his shoulders slumped slightly under some invisible weight. This wasn’t the person you were used to—the analytical, composed genius who always seemed to have an answer for everything. This was someone raw, someone caught between logic and emotion, struggling to make sense of it all.

“I’m sure you’re incapable of being stupid,” you offered lightly, your tone tinged with a gentle tease, hoping to pull him back from the edge of his spiraling thoughts.

His head lifted, and his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that took your breath away. “I think I love you,” he said, the words tumbling out in a single breath, unpolished but heavy with sincerity.

Your heart stopped for a beat, your breath catching in your throat. “Oh.”

His confession hung in the air, electrifying the space between you. For a moment, neither of you moved, the words settling like a weight in the room. Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, as if realizing the enormity of what he’d just said, but there was no taking it back now. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he awaited your response, his vulnerability laid bare.

“You can be stupid, then.” You say it in a kind of joking tone, trying to process.

Does he love you? The same person you were afraid to touch so much for fear of making him uncomfortable. The same one who looked at you funny when you tried to fall asleep on the jet after drinking too much tea and said incoherent things. The one who always questioned your words with his statistics and exact data. Does he really love you? Can he do it?

It was impossible. Completely impossible.

“You’re a little too drunk to be saying things like that now,” you added gently, a note of concern creeping into your voice.

Carefully, you stood up, moving closer to him, your heart softening as you saw the way his fingers gripped the bed. He looked like he was already treading on the edge of something, but you weren’t sure he was in the right state to navigate it.

His brows furrowed slightly, a conflicted look crossing his face. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, though his words slurred slightly, and his eyes seemed unfocused. He shifted slightly but his balance was off, and his hand wavered as he reached for the glass that had once held water, only to stop and let it fall back onto the bedside table.

“No, you’re not,” you said softly, taking a step closer and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. His warmth was comforting, but it only made you more aware of how fragile he seemed at that moment. “You’re exhausted, and you’ve had too much to drink. You need rest.”

He tried to look at you, his gaze unfocused and blurry. “I don’t want to sleep…not yet. I want to…I want to stay awake with you.” His voice faltered, as if the words were fighting to stay coherent. “Forever with you.”

Did you hear that right? He said…? Really?

“You’re not going to stay awake all night,” you say, talking firmly but kindly. You could see the drunkenness in his eyes, and you knew he needed more than just a glass of water or a few minutes to collect his thoughts. “And you’re staying here for sleep.”

His lips parted in confusion, but you didn't give him a chance to argue. You led him to the bed, supporting him as he swayed slightly. He was too drunk to protest in that moment. Then, you helped him lie down, adjusting the pillows behind him so that he was comfortable. And you also took the time to remove his glasses and shoes, placing them on the bedside table and the floor.

“I’m fine,” he murmured again, but this time it was barely audible, and his eyes were fluttering closed as he relaxed into the bed, his breath evening out. He was fighting sleep, but the weight of his exhaustion was too much for him to push back any longer.

After a brief period of reflection, you sit on the edge of the bed and observe him as he moves slightly. His face appears relaxed, and the tension from before seems to have dissipated. However, there is still a subtle vulnerability in his demeanor: open, unprotected, and exposed in a way you had never seen him before. This only serves to deepen your desire to care for him.

You gently reached over, tucking the covers around him and brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. “You’re too drunk to be making big decisions tonight, genius,” you whispered softly.

His eyelids fluttered open for a moment, his bleary eyes locking onto yours with a faint sense of clarity. “I didn’t…mean to make you uncomfortable,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “I care about you.”

A small smile appeared on your face, your heart aching as you brushed another strand of hair from his forehead. “I know,” you whispered.

His hand reached up weakly, grazing your wrist before falling back to the bed. He blinked a few times, his words coming slower now, as though the weight of sleep was already pulling him under. “I care about you so much,” he repeated, his voice quieter this time, as though he were fading away in the middle of his confession.

You let out a gentle sigh, your thumb brushing his knuckles in a soothing gesture. “I care about you too,” you said, your voice calm but filled with warmth, though you kept your tone soft to keep him relaxed. “But right now, you just need to rest. Tomorrow, we’ll talk about all of this, okay?”

Spencer nodded weakly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Okay...” He murmured, his breathing muffled even more as his body relaxed on the bed and his gaze rested on you, on every feature of your face. “I think you're very pretty, and not just physically by genetics...you're very, very pretty. I could look at you forever, even if, technically, forever doesn't exist for humans.”

At any moment, your heart would leap out of your chest, or you'd probably vomit butterflies. It was too much sweetness in a Spencer way.

You remained by his side, sitting on the edge, keeping watch over him for a few moments. It felt strange, being so close to him in this way. You hadn’t expected this moment, hadn’t expected his confession.

But for tonight, all you could do was let him rest and let him find peace in his sleep. You brushed one last strand of hair away from his face, then, with a soft sigh, you stood and pulled the blankets up around him.

The silence of the room enveloped you as you settled into bed, careful not to disturb him. You remained seated for a moment, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, his features softened by sleep. In the darkness, Spencer seemed different, more fragile, more human. His usual confidence in every word that came out of his mouth, the brilliant mind that made him so formidable, gave way to something more tender.

You cautiously stretched out your legs and leaned against the headboard. Sleep still seemed a long way off, even though the fatigue of the long case closed in the afternoon weighed heavily on your body. But your thoughts refused to calm down and leave you alone for a moment. His confession kept repeating in your mind, driving you and your heart crazy.

Not knowing what else to do, you let out a long, slow sigh, your fingers brushing the edge of the blanket wrapped around him. He stirred slightly, moving closer to your side as if subconsciously seeking your comfort and closeness. He tilted his head in your direction, a faint smile on his lips, and the sight brought a pang to your chest.

“What am I going to do about you, Spencer Reid?” You murmured to yourself, with a curious sensation in your chest.

You leaned your head back, staring at the ceiling as the questions began to tumble one after another. What if he hadn’t been drinking? Would he still have said those things? Did he even fully realize the gravity of what he’d shared, or was it just a moment of emotional release brought on by the late hour and the relief of a solved case?

And then there was your own reaction. The warmth in your chest, the protectiveness that surged when you saw him looking so vulnerable—it wasn’t new. You’d felt it before in smaller ways: a fleeting moment of connection during a case, a shared glance that lingered just a little too long. You’d always chalked it up to admiration or friendship, but now…

Now it felt like the beginning of a bridge you weren’t sure you were ready to cross.

Another sigh escaped you, and you tilted your head to glance at him again. His hand had slipped out from beneath the blanket, resting loosely against the mattress. Without thinking, you reached out and let your fingers brush against his, barely touching. His skin was warm, his presence grounding in a way you didn’t quite understand but didn’t want to question.

II. Sunlight ☀︎

The first thing you noticed when you woke was the soft warmth of sunlight spilling through the blinds, bathing the room in a quiet, golden glow. It was a still moment, the world outside almost silent, save for the faint hum of traffic far below. For a second, you weren’t sure where you were. The unfamiliar bed, the softness of the sheets, the absence of noise..it all felt distant, like a dream you couldn’t quite grasp.

But then you felt it, a slight weight on your arm. You turned your head slowly, your eyes softening as you took in the sight of Spencer still asleep beside you. His face was turned towards you, half-hidden by the pillow, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. His hand lay just a breath away from yours; his body curled slightly, seeking warmth and comfort. The usual lines of stress and guardedness that creased his features during the day were gone, replaced by a peace you rarely saw. He looked unguarded, almost childlike in his vulnerability, and it made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t explain.

For a moment, you just watched him, your mind replaying the events of the night before. Especially the way he’d reached for your hand, even in his half-conscious state, like it was instinctive and natural.

And now, here you were, lying next to him, watching him sleep like it was normal and meant to be.

You shifted your position slightly, being careful not to disturb him, and sat up, propping yourself up on your elbow. The room was silent, except for the faint hum of traffic. That stolen morning moment felt intimate to you, and you found yourself wondering how much Spencer would remember when he woke up.

Would you regret it? Would you want to go back and erase it all? Would he stop talking to you forever?

But then, it was almost as if he was meant to give you all those answers because he stirred. His hand moved, his breathing changed, and slowly but surely, his eyes opened. At first, Reid was dull and unfocused as he blinked in the morning light, feeling a sharp headache. Then, as he realized where he was, you saw his expression change: confusion, a flash of concern, and finally recognition.

“Morning,” you said softly, trying not to startle him.

He blinked again and frowned, feeling a twinge in his head. “Morning,” he replied, his voice groggy. He glanced around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, the tangled blankets, and then you.

You were sitting on the bed next to him—the first thing he saw when he woke up and the first person to greet him. It was just like the kind of dream he'd been having lately—only this time he wasn't asleep.

A brief silence fell as the pieces seemed to click into place in his mind. His lips parted slightly, his eyes widening just a fraction. “Wait,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Last night…”

You gave him a small, reassuring smile, though your heart was racing, unsure of what he might remember, or worse, what he might regret. “You remember?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady.

His hand came up to rub his forehead, trying to shake the lingering fog of sleep. “I think so,” he said slowly. “We finished the case. We went to the bar.” His voice faltered, and his eyes dropped to the bed, as though searching for something solid in the scattered blankets to steady him. “I came here and said…some things, didn’t I?” His words hung in the air, filled with hesitation and a growing sense of discomfort. His cheeks flush, and he quickly looked away from you, almost embarrassed.

You tilted your head, your smile softening. “You said a lot of things.”

Spencer’s cheeks deepened in color, his hand dragging down his face as if that could somehow shield him from the weight of the moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean to put you in that position.”

You frowned, leaning forward slightly. “You don’t have to apologize. Not for talking to me.”

His eyes flicked to yours, searching your face for any hint of reproach or discomfort, but all he found was warmth. Still, he hesitated, his fingers playing nervously with the edge of the blanket. “I was drunk, and that’s so embarrassing,” he murmured, his tone tinged with self-reproach. “I don’t even know if what I said came out right.”

“It came out right,” you assured him gently, reaching out to cover his fidgeting hand with yours. The touch stilled him, his wide, uncertain eyes locking onto yours. “And it was just the alcohol talking…I know, don’t worry.”

He stared at your hand covering his, his throat working as if trying to form the right words. He didn’t pull away; if anything, he seemed to steady himself in your touch, though his voice wavered when he finally spoke. “It wasn’t just the alcohol,” he said, his tone quiet but firm. “I don’t want you to think that it made me say something I didn’t mean. Everything I said was true.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the vulnerability in his eyes made the words catch in your throat. He held your gaze, his fingers unconsciously brushing against yours as though grounding himself in the moment.

“I’ve felt this way for a while,” he continued, his cheeks still faintly pink but his voice growing steadier with each word. “I didn’t know how to tell you. And then last night, I guess…I couldn’t hold it back anymore.”

His honesty was like a punch to the chest, leaving you breathless and unsure of how to respond. You hadn’t expected this level of candor, not so soon, and certainly not first thing in the morning. You pulled your hand back gently, needing space to think, though the warmth of his touch lingered like an echo.

He really meant every word.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice cracking. You bit your lip, searching for the right words. “I don't know what to say. It was all so sweet and nice to hear, but I'm not sure I'm ready to find out what this means, especially not with–”

“The distance,” he finished for you, his voice soft but resigned. He looked down, nodding slightly as though he’d anticipated this. “You’re leaving for New York soon.”

You exhaled slowly, relieved that he understood but also pained by the way his shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly. “It’s just three months,” you said gently, though the words felt hollow.

“I know, since I found out I did the math, and it's three months and four days.” He pointed out, almost not noticing that your cheeks had flushed slightly. “What I need to know is if you...if you have feelings for me, as more than friends.”

“Yes, I do.”

At that moment, it seemed that after almost a year of hiding his heartbeat for your sake, he could finally let his heart beat as much as he wanted.

But then you talk again.

“But it’s not fair to either of us to make any big decisions now, when I have to leave soon. I don’t want to risk ruining what we already have if we…if something doesn’t work.”

He looked at you, his expression serious. “But what if it works well?” Reid asked, his voice barely above a whisper. There was no despair in his tone, only quiet hope. “What if it's so much better that we have between us now? Isn’t that worth the risk?”

His question settled between you, heavy and unanswerable in the moment. It wasn’t desperate or pleading—it was simply Spencer, laying his heart bare with a quiet hope that made your chest ache.

“I'm not sure,” you replied, your expression thoughtful. “Three months is a significant amount of time,” you added, striving to acknowledge his feelings while maintaining a degree of caution.

“I can wait if it's for you. I can.” He replied without hesitation.

The unwavering certainty in his voice and the calm patience he offered you were more than you expected. Perhaps even more than you thought you deserved.

“You shouldn’t have to wait for me,” you said softly, your gaze falling to the sheets. “It’s not fair to ask that of you.”

Spencer shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You didn’t ask,” he replied gently. “This is my choice.”

“What if the distance changes things? What if we lose this…connection?” you asked, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice steady but kind. “Like I said, it’s not like I haven’t done the math before. Three months isn’t forever, and if what we feel is real, then it won’t fade.”

In that moment, it was like a light bulb went off in your head, and the perfect solution just came to you.

“Exactly.” You pointed out with a small smile. “You know the three-month rule?”

Never before had you seen Dr. Reid confused, denying knowledge of any subject. It was as if the alcohol of the night before had caused a circuit breaker in his brain, or else you had no explanation for having to explain something he didn't know, and you did.

“A few weeks ago, I was drinking coffee and overheard a woman at the next table talking about how the first three months between two persons are enough to indicate whether they have a future or not.” You began to explain quickly, feeling a bit strange at how the usual roles between you seemed to have been turned upside down. “You know, if they're going to make it as a couple.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he considered your words. “You mean…is like a trial period?” he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.

You nodded, feeling a flicker of nervous energy coursing through your entire body. “Yes, that's exactly it. So we don't have to put a label on it right away or rush into it. But we could call, text, talk, maybe visit...just see how it feels. And when I officially come back, we'll know if it's something we really want to pursue.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes studying yours as though weighing the sincerity in your suggestion.

“Okay,” he said, his voice soft but resolve. “Three months. We’ll figure this out.”

Relief flooded you, though it was tempered by the uncertainty of what lay ahead. “Three months,” you repeated, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “And we’ll talk. Be honest. No expectations and the assurance that we can be friends again if we want.”

Spencer’s smile grew a fraction, and this time, when his hand reached for yours, it was deliberate. “Honesty,” he echoed, his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles. “I can do that.”

For the first time that morning, the tension between you eased, replaced by a fragile but undeniable sense of hope. It wasn't a resolution, not quite, but it was a step forward, a promise to try. And for now, that was more than enough.

Because night before, you'd gone to bed early, thinking you didn't have much of a future at the BAU. But now you had Spencer with you in a way you'd never thought possible, and everything feels right.

[nerys2]

CBS Fall Premiere 2010

[nyckthefox]

just finished watching this, wanna kill myself.

Matthew Gray Gubler as Adrian in “Endings, Beginnings” (2019)

[bohemianblasphemy]

Okay well now I need to know what’s written on the “paperwork” Spencer drops off at work. 😳 Tell me bestie, I need to know. I NEEEEEDDD!

Secrets in Ink

Based on a headcanon from this post ✨

(Also thank you cas for your help 🥺🖤)

There were perks of working at the BAU with your partner- being around each other for the working hours, spending breaks talking about your day; a downside however is having to keep your hands to yourself.

And man, was it difficult with Spencer Reid is your partner.

The day was dragging, and it seemed that the pile of loose papers and files to be sorted wasn’t getting any smaller.

A small frustrated groan left your mouth, rubbing your dry tired eyes as you tried to keep yourself awake.

Spencer observed you from his desk, seeing your weary demeanour and he frowned a little bit- trying to think of a way to make you feel better.

And of course, with that IQ of 187 and knowing you like the back of his hand, he pulled out a blank sheet of paper and acquired his pen.

He took his time to write you a note- carefully obscuring what he was composing to any wandering eyes that may be present, wanting to create something that was going to make you shiver and look forward to your… after work activities.

With a small, satisfied smile he signed off of the sweetly sensual letter- folding it neatly in half as he stood up to make his way over to you.

You were so deep in your paperwork, not noticing the tall figure walking toward you- not until he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey sweetie…” he whispered, observing you as you had broken out of your trance. You looked up at him, seeing his small smile and tousled curls, god he looked good- he always did.

“Hey Spencer… more paperwork for me?” You chuckled half heartedly, gesturing to the folder piece in his hand.

“Not work related… just a little something for you.” He smiled, placing the paper on the desk in front of you. Spencer’s hand gently reached your cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb.

“Just to make you feel better…”

That gentle gesture… fuck it did things to you.

“Thank you Spencer…” you leaned into his touch, gazing up at him with a small twinkle in your eye.

He gazed back at you, as though you the centre of the universe - the centre of his.

Spencer bent over slightly to whisper in your ear.

“Read it, but make sure no one else sees it. For your eyes only.” His gentle yet firm words were followed up with a sweet kiss on the cheek, seeing the blood rush to them as he pulled away and began to walk back to his desk.

Your curiosity overwhelmed you, unfolding the piece of paper to see what he had been written…

My sweet girl,

I don’t think you realise how hard it is to keep my hands to myself as I see you across the room, wanting to take you into one of the vacant offices and absolutely enrapture you.

The mere thought of bending you over on that empty desk, hearing those sweet sounds that you make as I take you from behind- makes it hard for me to control myself.

It should be a crime that I can’t touch you while we’re on cases; the temptation to let my fingers wander under your skirt and play with you whilst we fly in the jet - the added risk of getting caught whilst doing so making it all the more thrilling.

All I crave everyday is your lips, your touch, the taste of you between your thighs.

Once we are home tonight you are mine; to take care of, to love, to make you cum…

Yours,

Spencer

The fire that burned within you created a deeper red flush to surface on your skin as you finished reading it.

His words stirred desire through you, biting your lip as you thought of them and glanced back at him- cocking your eyebrow suggestively at him.

Spencer smirked as he saw your flustered expression , knowing that his words affected you greatly - but that changed when he noticed Garcia sneaking behind her, her eyes trying to focus on what’s there.

“Whatcha got there, sunshine?” Garcia grins, pulling you from your focus on Spencer. Your eyes widened, rapidly folding the sheet in half and shoving it into your bag on your desk.

“N-nothing- nothing at all Pen.” You replied, clearing your throat to try to seem inconspicuous.

“Mhm sure honey, I know that look, and Spencer’s not exactly making your case any better.” She teased- waving at Spencer across the way in which he returned with a sheepish expression.

After giving you a wink, she turned to walk back to her office- her heels clicking on the floor as you look down at your desk in a flustered manner.

You looked back up at him, not being able to keep a straight face as you started to giggle, which in return made Spencer smile in adoration for you.

Tonight couldn’t come any faster…

[venusbyline]

Goddess ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 27, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Spencer Reid x girlfriend!reader

— type: smut, fluff, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: dacryphilia

— summary: You have decided to go on a sex strike as punishment after an argument with Spencer, but he soon turns into a whining mess.

— word count: 1.4k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 27th day, female!reader, boyfriend!Reid, dacryphilia, crying, mommy kink, degradation, dry humping, sex strike, dumbification, verbal humiliation, punishment, makeup sex, female pubic hair, oral sex (female receiving), body worship, face slapping, hair-pulling, begging, fluff and hurt/comfort, body insecurities, argument, curse words, corporal punishment mentioned, strap-on mentioned, pegging mentioned, handjob mentioned, cum eating mentioned, oral (male receiving) mentioned, implied dry orgasm, soft!Reid, jealous!reader, masochist!Reid, sadism, brat!Reid, brat tamer!reader, fluffy ending, mentioned Derek Morgan, mentioned Lila Archer, past Spencer Reid/Lila Archer, long hair!Reid, pet names (mommy/boy), sub!Reid, dom!reader, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

"I need to cum... Please, Mommy." Spencer sobbed as he rubbed himself against your ass.

You had been very self-explanatory during the last argument you two had. If Spencer kept acting like a brat in public and trying to get under your skin on purpose, you were going to go on a sex strike for over two weeks. You figured he would understand the weight of the threat and and give up that behavior, but most of the time genius agent Doctor Spencer Reid was nothing more than an attention-starved, a pathetic little slut, always wanting to push your buttons until you got angry and punish him when you got home.

Almost always the punishments were not really unpleasant. He could handle fifty slaps on his ass, or ten lashes on his back, or even the damn cock ring stopping him from cumming while you fucked him from behind, making him drool all over the sheets while your big strap-on fucked deep his tight asshole, filling the room with his whimpers and loud moans.

Spencer could handle any punishment that caused pain, since despite everything, his pain linearity was quite strong. However, he did not have any boldness when it came to punishments that limited physical touching, especially when they limited full sex. He was already dealing with germophobia before he met you, so physical touch ended up being one of the parts he loved the most about your relationship. Spencer was addicted to worshiping your body. Intertwining his hand with yours when both of you were busy and in public. Caressing your waist and kissing your neck when you two were cooking. Licking your wet pussy and rubbing his nose on your swollen clit. Kissing your cum-filled hands when he came after a handjob...

Spencer was addicted to worshiping you and thanking you for giving him so much pleasure.

But here he was, crying with his hard cock tightened into his white boxers, tears flowing every moment he tried to find relief from just rubbing against your skin. Spencer loved your ass as hell... He loved it so much. And yet he could not even touch it right now. He could not touch you. Spencer felt like he was going to explode at any moment and he knew he deserved it.

"You're so fucking noisy and annoying when you cry." You finally complained after almost forty minutes of listening to him whimper in your ear and beg you to let him touch you.

Spencer nodded, not caring about the insults that came his way. He just needed to beg your forgiveness. "Fuck, Spencie. You're crying like a pathetic whore." You chuckled while you turned around, noticing how your boyfriend looked even more handsome during that crying fit, even if you refused to admit it. At least for now.

"Y-yeah, I am." Spencer pouted sadly after sobbing again. "I'm your pathetic whore, Mommy. Please..." His voice sounded so trembling that your heart sank and your pussy began to get wet. You did not want to give in to a mere sad face, but you could not deny that the punishment was starting to be painful for you too. Not because you felt sorry for him, but because now you also wanted him to touch you immediately.

Taking a deep breath and taking advantage of the fact that you was now lying facing him on the bed, your hand went straight to his long hair. "You were an idiot that day, you know that?" You muttered, rolling your eyes when Spencer nodded silently and reprimanded him with a rough slap across the face, which drew a groan of pain from him and a few more tears, in addition to the red mark of your hand stamped on his wet cheeks. "Say it, Spencer. Admit what an idiot you were and apologize to me."

Your order was like a blessing from the Gods, even if he did not believe in any of them. He knew you were giving in little by little. "I was such an idiot, Mommy. I shouldn't have joked with Morgan about Lila Archer being a good kisser, about me wanting to lose my virginity to her and about her having... nice boobs."

You rolled your eyes again at the memory of the guys' teasing. Even though your retroactive jealousy was stupid, you hated knowing about Spencer had considered losing his virginity to that busty blonde bitch. You did not even know him back then, but all of his BAU's friends always made a point of reminding him of the sudden fling he had with her during a case every time she was mentioned on a TV show. "But... so you think her body is hotter than mine?"

You did not want to let the vulnerability and insecurity show in your tone, so you looked away after your question. Spencer was smart enough to finally understand where so much anger came from when choosing his punishment for the joke. It was not just because you were jealous, it was because you were feeling inferior to Lila.

"What?" Spencer asked with wide eyes, standing up and climbing on top of you, not with a sexual way, even though the white fabric of his boxers was already damp with his pre-cum after trying so long to cum without success. "Of course not! Mommy, you're the hottest person in this whole world."

You huffed immediately, your hands wiping the tears from Spencer's face. He was so cute when he was like that, looking so miserable like a sad bunny. "You only say that because you're my boyfriend and you're desperate to cum too."

Your self-deprecating tone and attempt at slight degradation caused Spencer to grimace and he shook his head, his body still on top of yours. "Maybe I'm really desperate to cum, but you know that I really know you're the most perfect woman there's. I love your body, your face, your taste... I wouldn't trade you for anything or anyone, you know that. There's no one prettier than you." He reaffirmed, stroking your hair as you sighed, relieved by his words, your gaze still turned to the wall so as not to appear too emotional in that situation. "Hey. Look at me, baby..."

His submissive tone disappeared for a little while and you frowned, before blushing when you saw how his eyes shone as he watched you, as if you were the most expensive and incredible work of art inside a museum. "If I weren't your boyfriend, I would be very jealously of the lucky man who would have the pleasure of loving you and being loved by you, the pleasure of worshiping you..."

You laughed lightly, trying hard to deny it. However, Spencer smiled and began to spread kisses down your neck, one of his hands going down to your panties, caressing the hairs you had forgotten to shave recently. Spencer just lowered himself between your legs when he realized that you were considering apologizing due to the hair on your crotch, very embarrassed despite he being the one released from a severe punishment. "Don't do that, please. I love them like that. I swear, it's so pretty and horny." Spencer assured you, opening your legs and kissing the inside of your thighs, focusing on licking your unshaved crotch and taking the opportunity to appreciate how the drops of your juices left the hair wet and with a delightful sweet taste.

"S-Spencie... You don't have to do this. Your punishment is already over..." You argued between moans when your boyfriend rubbed his nose against your pussy, adding drops of his tears to your sensitive and very wet core.

"This isn't a punishment, Mommy. Trust me, I love doing this and I love your hairs. This is just part of my forgiveness, I wanna taste you." Spencer smirked looking up, using the pointed part of his tongue to rub your clit with circular motions. Now, it did not matter if you were planning to punish him by leaving him without sex for weeks. It did not matter if he had cried for so many minutes. It did not matter if he was cumming in his own underwear and messing the fabric and the sheets. Now, everything that mattered to Spencer was getting back to being your good boy and eating you out until you were completely satisfied. Until you truly believed that you were the only Goddess he believed in and he would always worship.

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[spencahreadreid]

i love all cast images but these always get me

[reidology13]

Deep down he's just a tumblr boy

[jareaau]

hiii! would you mind making some gifs of spencer on 5x17? please and thank you!!

5x17 "Solitary Man" ( @endearng )

[lliz0rd]

i know without a doubt in my heart that if mgg ever met me he'd fall in love with me and he'd realize we're soulmates and propose on the spot and we'd skip into rainbows and sunshine and puppies and sparkles

[milla984]

MGG as Spencer Reid Criminal Minds S01E06

@matthew-gray-gubler-lover @cynbx @reidsbookclub @spookyspemilyreid @kissesforspence

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

»— Masterlists links in bio —«

[reidsstargirl]

Emotthew😔🖤⛓️

[reidsdimples]

Confession

18+ ❤️‍🔥MDNI‼️

Original character x MGG

What happens when a fan gets a shot with Matthew ?

A/N: nothing depicted here is real, please never attempt to contact him. This is a fictional confession, set of events, and outcome. I write darker novels, so I enjoy the deranged inner monologue trope. I have no intentions of ever contacting or harming Matthew. This is a work of FICTION ‼️

“Alright Father, this is my confession.

When it started it was just for fun, a joke. Not many people know that celebrity phone numbers are in the public domain if you know where to look. I was bored, so I looked.

I was certain when I found my current hyperfixation’s phone number, that it was an out of date number or something. I had no way to confirm it was Matthew Gray Gubler’s number and I wasn’t about to dox him or harass him.

So there it sat, a screenshot in my phone, saying nothing for months as life lulled on.

Then as I was cleaning out my photos, I decided to add it to my contacts with a smirk, feeling a weird sense of power by having this information, even if it could be outdated or flat out wrong.

My workday continued as normal and then I got a Snapchat notification:

Your New Contact: MGG is on Snapchat!

I paused. This was it, it would be like when my friends got new phone numbers and someone made a snap account with their old ones. The contact in my phone would be linked to a strangers snapchat. I assumed this would be confirmation that this phone number was outdated; that the current Snapchat attached to it would be some John Doe I’ve never heard of. So I opened it.

My mouth hit the floor.

The Snapchat username was a version of his name, with “Matthew Gray Gubler” as the account name.

Fuck.

This number I was uncertain of… was his.

Again, I did nothing. For so long, I did nothing.

Until I did something, wholly stupid and inappropriate in a drunken stupor that would surely urge him to change his phone number, the only true connection to him I had. Even if he didn’t know I existed.

I rolled off my bed the morning after a night of drinking until I was black out drunk with the girls. I couldn’t tell them about the phone number, it was insane. I knew that, I wasn’t a stalker. I’m not a stalker.

Right?

I opened my phone that morning to see a text message from the forbidden number.

(1) New Message: MGG

My heart lurched in my throat, and the last remains of alcohol from the night before became acquainted with my carpet.

I panicked, he couldn’t have texted me, I never texted him.

Or so I thought.

Apparently, in my altered state, I thought it would be a good idea to send this perfect fucking stranger the following picture and message:

Me: feral for you.

I cringed at myself, too terrified to move my fingers which covered his response.

He responded?!!!

MGG: Well hello :)

It was then that I threw my phone, mortified of my actions.

I didn’t respond, I wanted to, but it was wrong. Wrong to have his number in the first place, wrong to send him that text, wrong that I didn’t remember it. Wrong wrong wrong.

Easily six weeks passed and then he texted me.

MGG: Hi

Hi, just hi. Six weeks later. I became giddy, amazed that the photo I sent him stuck with him for six weeks and he decided to text me because if it, a perfect stranger mind you.

I debated ignoring him. But lost that battle. I needed him.

Me: Hey :)

He responded fairly quickly that day. A trait of his I’ve since learned comes and goes.

MGG: so, was that previous message meant for me?

Me: Depends, is this Matthew?

Pretty sure my jaw stayed on the floor for those first few messages. Maybe I’m still in disbelief at the entire situation. Who knows.

MGG: Yes

Me: Proof?

MGG: You texted me first.

Me: true

MGG: your real name and I’ll send you a picture to prove it’s me. ‘Feral girl’ won’t do

Me: Nora

MGG: We haven’t met in person have we? Here’s your proof,

MGG: is this the Matthew you seek?

Me: it is indeed the Matthew I seek. No we haven’t met in person.

MGG: but you have my number?

Me: friend of a friend gave it to me

That was the first lie I told him, but seriously. I couldn’t say I searched his number out like a deranged fan, I was not deranged. I was perfectly… ranged (?)

It was days before I heard from him again.

MGG: Where do you live?

Me: New York, west village

MGG: send pic of you?

Father, you must understand that the fangirl inside of me was so far gone at this point… I see that now. Once he started texting me, I couldn’t go back.

So I sent him a picture and before I knew it we were planning to meet in person. He was no bullshit as far as what he wanted this to be and I wasn’t protesting. I also was not forthcoming with the truth of how I knew him, I couldn’t tell him I was a fan that found his number. The friend of a friend thing seemed to be enough for him.

Again, wrong, so wrong. But I was so far gone.

I met him for dinner at a high end restaurant, and gods he was charming, I was so brain dead and overwhelmed by the reality of the situation that I could barely talk. He didn’t seem to mind that I was nervous, he’s so animated and talkative that he was able to keep our conversation flowing smoothly.

But gods, I couldn’t stop watching his hands. He talks with his hands you know? And every intricate movement of his fingers…. I didn’t know whether to watch those move or his lips.

He was intoxicating, from his cologne to his voice, his height, his easy confidence, and his humor. I was drunk on his presence and unsure if I’d ever sober up from simply being around him.

I genuinely asked god to give me strength to walk away… he didn’t. Everything I wanted was somehow right in front of me and… I couldn’t walk away.

“You’re funny, I like that,” Matthew smiled after I told a joke. He gently brushed my hair from my face and the chills that went through me at his touch? I was done for.

I wish I could say that what happened in that hotel room was a blur, but I remember every second of it.

I remember what he was wearing, the red pants and airplane button down. Quirky, cute, casual.

More than that though, I can still hear his breathy moans, the way he exhaled as he settled himself into me. The noises he made alone are etched into the depth of my mind.

His curls woven into my fingers can still be felt there, I can pinpoint the gentle pressure I applied because it caused him to suck air through his teeth. The way he rolled his narrow hips to work himself deeper and deeper until I could only arch my back and gasp. I’m still in disbelief at how sinful he looked with that primal look in his eyes and his bottom lip in his mouth as he focused.

“Go ahead baby, moan for me.”

I can still hear his words as he angled himself to hit that delicious spot inside of me, beckoned me to climax with his fingers expertly placed on my clit. We moved together desperately. We were so hungry and so full of need that I met him thrust for thrust, grunt for grunt.

To my surprise he loved it when my nails clawed into his back… I never would have guessed that. But it spurred him on and eventually he got off of me and pulled me down onto him.

Then I was riding him, taking his length deep into me and I never wanted to let him go.

He threw his head back to absorb the pleasure as I gripped his shoulders, focused on giving him the fuck of his life. I can still see his lazy eyes drifting closed, his throat bobbing on a moan. Fuck.

He rolled his hips up into me, not giving me a choice but to take every inch and I’ve never felt more full, more complete. I had already had two orgasms at this point and my legs were shaking but I couldn’t stop as sweat began to glisten on his forehead. He was drunk with pleasure and I was so far gone, so lost and him that I never wanted to be found.

But, it was when he guided my hands up and around his throat, when he threw his head back like the feeling was an answered prayer. Like I was his god, that sent me over the precipice and crashing into the biggest orgasm I have ever experienced.

He urged me to squeeze harder.

“Good girl, just like that. Choke me harder.”

And still my view of this bouncy positive man warred with his pain driven pleasure that I was bestowing upon him.

“Nails,” he huffed.

So I did, I dug my nails into the sides of his throat and a small laugh/groan escaped him and I was sure he’d fall apart in my hands, I was so certain this daydream would fade away.

But he was real, he was there, he was groaning and bucking into me, and fucking me like his life depended on it.

I lost track of time, of reason. Then we were on the floor and I was on all fours screaming for him. I caught a glimpse of us in the mirror and I still couldn’t believe it, even as I moaned his name.

“Matthew, yes.”

And he begged me to say his name again, to say aloud who was fucking me, and it was like he knew that I wasn’t who I said I was. But I couldn’t care because the ecstasy of him inside me rolled on throughout the night.

The man could finish and keep going, and that’s a red flag but I didn’t care! Everything in the way he treated my body showed that he had done this dozens of times, that his body and his mind had been trained through experience to fuck like that for hours.

He didn’t stop until his third climax, hours later. It was animalistic, it was unbelievable. My entire body was spent from orgasm after orgasm, squirting for him and on him as he commanded my body to do so. He was the conductor of my body.

My mind has never been so into someone and my body showed him that, showed me that.

We destroyed that hotel room, we ravaged each other, and then….

Well. That was six months ago.

That’s how I got here. That is my confession.”

“That’s not what got you here… tell me why you burned his house down.”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of him being with someone else. I followed him, for a month, and he took a girl home,” I shrug against the strait jacket. “I still intend to ensure he ends up with me.”

“Nora, it’s time to go,” the orderly retrieves me from the confession box where a speechless priest sits mouth agape.

“I couldn’t let him go. He pressed charges because he couldn’t accept the way he feels about me. He couldn’t admit it to himself. That’s how I lost my mind, Father,” I grin and follow the orderly back to my hospital room.

I hope they never let me out of here. Something snapped within me when I crossed that line.

[fallenangelkay]

one thing abt me is i will find the nerdiest loser boy in everything ever and fall in love. a show? a band? celebs? irl? folded!!! sue me!!!

[confusionmeisss]

i fear i will always fall victim to a pretty boy 😔

[mariechristine00]

He‘s so pretty!

we sexualise matthew way too much we need to talk about how genuinely beautiful this man is

[mggslover]

taylor was so real when she said “if you’ve got a girlfriend, I’m jealous of her. But if you’re single, that’s honestly worse, ‘cause you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts”