#matthew gray gubler characters

[godspeedviper]

Bunker Babe - Spencer x Goth!Reader (18+)

𖤐 Synopsis: You manage to finally convince Spencer to attend a bunker rave with you, but first he’s gotta look the part.

𖤐 Type: domestic fluff || smut || no gendered descriptions || goth reader || very firmly mid 00s

𖤐 Word Count: 1,543

𖤐 Rating: explicit || recreational drug use || semi public sex

𖤐 A/N: OxyContin has the highest bio-availability, orally. While not the same thing as dilaudid, its in the same ballpark and can be used in high quantities to approximate the dilaudid high despite their differing (optimal) routes of administration. ALSO I know this track isn't "technically" hard techno don't come at me over bpm or whatever the song is just here to set the mood.

“Babe, is this really necessary?” Spencer whines as he watches you tear through his closet in search of an outfit for tonight. 

“Yes!” You quip back. “What if someday your team needs you to go undercover at a bar or club for a case? You’re the youngest of the bunch so you know that statistically you’re most likely to be chosen for such a task.” 

He groans and rolls his eyes in defeat. “Okay okay! But only because you have statistics on your side.” 

“Oh don’t be too upset, pretty boy. I’ll make this worth your while.” You wink cheekily. “Promise!” 

At this, Spencer perked up. He watched as you lay out your choice of clothing onto his bed. You were already all dressed up for the night in skimpy black latex and mesh, with your favorite pair of platform Demonias to top off the look. Spencer’s hands were all over you as soon as he opened his apartment door for you, but tonight you had a mission and nothing, not even Spencer, was going to stop you. You sit down at the edge of the bed besides the clothing, and you wave Spencer over. 

“Come here, love.” You purred, and he instantly obliged. “Undress for me, darling.”

Spencer makes quick work of the buttons on his polo, while your hands reach to unbuckle his brown leather belt. He pulls his top off in a hurry, sliding off a pair of beige slacks, till he’s left standing before you in nothing but socks and briefs. You put your hands on his hips and he puts his hands on top of yours. You then tilt your head up, meeting his lust filled gaze. He takes in a sharp breath as you press your lips to the skin just below his navel. You take a gentle bite, and suck, leaving behind a bruise-like mark. 

“Good boy.” You whisper, pulling away from his torso. “Sit here.” 

  You stand up and switch positions with him, so that now Spencer is seated at the edge of the bed, and you’re standing in front of him. First, you grab a shirt off the bed. It was an old Nine Inch Nails tour shirt you got back in high school that was large enough to wear to bed whenever you were too incapacitated to bother changing into proper pajamas. You had left it at Spencer’s the last time you stayed over after scoring together, and it was now serving a greater purpose. You pulled it over his head, lovingly ruffling his head after it poked through the shirt. Your hands then reach back out to the bed and pick up a black pair of denim. Kneeling in front of him, you begin to kiss in between his thighs as your hands grab hold of his ankles, guiding him into each pant leg one at a time. 

“Finish putting these on for me. I’ll be right back.” You give his thighs a teasing smack and giddily make your way to the ensuite. 

“Oh no…” Spencer whines as he notices a hello kitty makeup bag in your hands and a devilish smirk on your lips. 

“Oh yes!” you reply. “Come on, Spencie! We gotta disguise you a little bit if you’re really that afraid of Garcia or her friends running into you. Besides, I have a gift for you in here.” 

You gingerly shake the bag like one would do with pet treats, and you quickly descend onto his lap, trapping poor Spencer beneath you. You unzip the bag and pull out a prescription pill bottle. Oxycodone 80mg, immediate release. 

“Ta da! Take these normally so the effects can kick in when we’re already at the party. This way we won’t risk being caught with it on us.” You wink playfully, shaking out a few green pills from the bottle onto your palm. “Alright now open up!” 

Spencer laughs and complies. You gently toss them into his mouth like m&m’s and watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows the pills, enticing you forth to steal a loving bite. 

“Let's stay.” Spencer gasped out. “Please?” 

Still sitting on his lap you can feel his frustration slowly growing harder. For a moment there you’re tempted, but you quickly remember just how much more awaits you two tonight. 

“Nope, not staying!” You pull away from his neck, breaking the lustful spell.

Spencer pouts. 

 After swallowing a handful of pills as well, you turn your attention back to the makeup bag, rummaging around in search of a short black eyeliner and the accompanying pencil sharpener.

“Look up for me darling.” You say, placing a quick peck on Spencer’s pout and cupping his jaw with your free hand. “I promise you’ll thank me tomorrow. You’re gonna love tonight.” 

The pads of your thumbs delicately rub the skin of Spencer’s under eyes, smudging the charcoal-like pigment around into a messy raccoon eye style. You repeat the process on his eyelids until you’re satisfied. Then you toss aside the pencil and put a finger under his chin. 

“Open your eyes, love.” 

Spencer has beautiful eyes, everyone knows that, you’ve spent thousands of hours staring into those honeyed irises. However, nothing prepared you for the way his eyes seemed to glow in contrast to the darkness surrounding them. It was like staring into a pot of molten gold. 

“Ohh, pretty boy…” Your voice is a breathless whisper. 

Spencer blushes crimson, and he bashfully hides his face against your shoulder. You can feel his smile. 

“Come on, let's get going! I can’t wait to show you off. You’re so beautiful, Spencer.” 

You take his hand and lead him to the door, stopping only so he could slip on a pair of black converse he left by the entrance. The two of you giddily run out into the crisp night air. Goosebumps prickle your skin, the cold bites your cheeks, and your heart is ablaze. It isn’t long before you assume you’ve arrived at the clandestine location, pointing out a few straggling folks dressed as eccentrically as you are and you watch as they soon disappear into an alleyway behind a building. You follow behind, turning into the alley when suddenly you’re face to face with a rather large hole in the ground. Peering in, you see a flight of concrete stairs descending into darkness below. A faint rhythmic thudding can be heard, confirming that this is indeed the place. Spencer grips your hand tightly as you pull him along into the belly of the beast. The thudding grows louder, transforming into powerful kicks as the lights at the end of the tunnel get closer. Standing at the threshold between the tunnel and the large bunker, Spencer looks as if he is staring directly into the mouth of madness, transfixed. You smile triumphantly. You had finally managed to bring him into your element. 

The rest of the night happened in snippets. 

One: You see sprawling concrete walls covered in graffiti, the humidity of the room makes them almost look slick, reflecting the pulsing lights, all throbbing to a sound reminiscent of industrial machinery. There is an inherent eroticism to it all. You look on in awe as Spencer throws caution to the wind and starts dancing to the beat. You’ve never seen him so carefree. His sweat slicked skin glistens like a glass prism beneath the light, flickering through all the colors of the rainbow in the dark. 

Two: His hands are around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Drenched, Spencer’s auburn curls cling to the skin of his forehead and temples and the tops of his cheeks. The eyeliner has now spread all around his eye sockets, making him look hungry, animalistic, possessed. 

Three: You’re pressed up against a concrete slab, it feels cool against your skin. Your bodies have melted into one another in the high heat, welded together with slick until you couldn’t tell where you ended and Spencer began. The thick beats of hard techno penetrate your bodies, and the two of you thrust in tandem trying to keep up with the relentless rhythm. You cling to Spencer in desperation, as if the mounting pleasure would be enough to make you crumble into nothing but atoms. Your bones rattle as a powerful orgasm reverberates through your body. Your shrieks drown in the music, and everything fades to black.

The next morning, these scenes play out in your mind's eye as you lay awake in bed next to Spencer. You wondered how much longer this would all last. Both of you knew this lifestyle would only end with tragedy, but you didn't know how to live any other way. You're both addicted to the highs and lows of life, to the stress of the job, and to blowing off steam in the worst of ways. Sometimes you feel guilty about supplying Spencer with drugs, and you wonder if he ever feels the same way about you as you turn on the bed to face him. At least here, in this moment, you were both at peace. You always love seeing him sleep, the way all worry dissipates from his visage and all that's left is the beautiful boy you fell in love with.

ao3 || guidelines || WIPs || Ko-Fi

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

Gryfflepuff in the Tardis' Masterlist

All my Works, characters are colored by which Hogwarts House I think they're in. I am a Primary Hufflepuff, Secondary Gryffindor and I genuinely think Hufflepuff is the best and most underrated house. (Since Tumble removed the yellow color, Orange will represent Hufflepuff, except in the condition of Good Omens' Crowley who I am stuck between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. If you disagree, please give me your best argument and I'll offer my insight of David Tennant's Crowley... Since I have nothing written for Crowley and I'm still conflicted about the news on the new "season" (THERE SHOULD BE SIX EPISODES, NOT ONE!) I've added him and other characters I haven't written for YET to my "Who I'm Willing to Write For" post.

I don't do reblogs, just because I feel that when you're searching through the posts, the reblogs clutter up the blog and get mixed with original posts but I am willing to do fan fic recommendations if requested.

You can call me either Gryfflepuff or the Eccedentiast (Not to sound by Lemony Snicket but "a word that means 'someone who hides their pain and tears and sadness behind a smile'.").

Ninth Doctor - Brooding Time Lord Who Tries To Hide His Light with Darkness

Supernova Series/Season One Masterlist (Ninth Doctor/Tenth Doctor) (Delilah "Lillie" Tyler/Princess Supernova played by Katherine Langford)

Campbell Bain - Bipolar Nineteen-Year-Old Walking Ray of Sunshine That Somehow Doesn't Do Well With Girls

Sweet Jane Masterlist (19-year-old Campbell Bain x 18-year-old Traumatized Reader)

Steve Harrington (Stranger Things) - The Hair; Nomenee for Mother of the Year

Killer Queen (Cassandra "Cassie Dare" Henderson played by Zoey Deutch; Pan Henderson played by David Tennant)

Trauma (Emilie Henderson played by Hailee Steinfeld)

Devil Town (Imogen Henderson played by Katherine Langford)

Isaac Lahey (Teen Wolf) - The Abused Puppy With a Heart of Gold Who Only Wanted the Power to Defend Himself and To Not Be Scared

Embers in the Sky Season One (Milo Stilinski played by Katherine Langford)

Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds) - The Genius Pretty Boy

(I have created so many ideas for the initial character, Zoe that I may have to split them up among Spencer Reid main character love interests and because of more complicated reasons I will explain in Valentía)

Valentía (Zoe Noble-Valdez played by Selena Gomez)

Valentía Season Masterlist

Valentía Season One

--------------------

I have created an OC to be the Henderson!OC and Dustin's father and I always choose David Tennant, he just really gives off protective I-will-kill-anyone-who-hurts-you dad vibe and I have a soft spot for an overprotective dad for his daughter (I never had that. My dad wanted a boy--granted the disapproval that's implied is possibly because my mom told me this--and he is ADHD and was always sleeping and then he moved two towns over which was an hour's drive but seemed longer in my ADHD mind but so he could sleep and I could play video games on the Xbox that's memory wouldn't save the game so I continuously had to start over. Oh, and also, there's the fact that a TV fell on me when I was five/six because I didn't understand gravity and I locked myself in the dryer when I was seven/eight. What, is that not normal? 🙄) I'm not a big crier but a father that's willing to do anything for his daughter is your best bet. Sorry for this rant.

[asta-writes-stufff]

Currently accepting requests!!

I've been writing stuff for weeks but I don't like any of my own ideas,, so! Requests are open!

Right now I’m only writing Spencer Reid x reader!

A few other things:

I will not write NSFW

I'm not promising I'll write every/any request I get! If I don't want to write something for whatever reason, I won't

[smartypantsspence]

If not boyfriend? Why boyfriend shaped?

[phantompoguefangirl]

HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK-

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 17: Writing On Skin + Thigh Humping + Frottage

Roommate!Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!Reader

Warnings: writing on skin, thigh f*cking, dry humping (frottage), spencer is a sexy lil shit, brief moment of insecurity, lowkey highkey hand kink, kinda phone/keep quiet sex

Summary: Did your roommate just use you like you’re…a piece of paper? And why does it make you want him to tear into you?

You yawn, outstretching your arms as you exit your bedroom towards the kitchen when you’re startled by a frantic Spencer. He’s on the phone, pacing back and forth in the living room. He perks up at your presence as he mouths and hand gestures for you to find him a pen.

You hurriedly do so, pressured by the urgency. Rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen, you find anything but a pen. You raise your pointer finger in the air, remembering you’d left a permanent marker on the coffee table from your late-night studying session yesterday. Rushing over to hand it over to him, you feel accomplished. But then he sends you a look of indifference, so you shoot him back with a look of displeasure.

“Paper?” He whisper-yells.

“When ya give a mouse a cookie…” You quip but he’s not time for your sassy behavior.

“Just a second, sir.” Spencer says into the phone and before you know it, he’s spinning you around so your back’s facing him.

“Hey! What are you—”

“Shh!” He harshly commands and it all happens so smoothly that you barely have time to process it at all. Bending you over the arm of the couch, his hand swiftly unlatches your bra while the other lifts the back of your shirt up and over your head.

“Ready!” Spencer says confidently and you squeal at the feather touch of the marker gliding along your back.

For a moment, insecurity settles and you tense. He’s seen your naked back countless times before in some backless tops and dresses you’ve worn. But this felt…intimate. Especially when his hands would occasionally rest on the folds in your back to use as both support and to keep you from squirming.

Spencer provides you a reassuring touch, sliding his free hand up and down one side of your back for a moment before giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. It’s fleeting motion but you register it, melting away your anxieties as you allow yourself to indulge in the sensations he’s giving you.

God, you’ve stared at those hands on many occasions, worried he’d someday catch you. And admittedly, you’ve fantasized about them around your throat while alone in your bedroom. But now here they are touching a surprisingly sensitive part of you.

Spencer glues his hips against your voluptuous backside and you feel the familiar throb and line of heat against your thin shorts. You wiggle yourself back against him, smacking around his clothed large member between your plush globes. You look back in time to see him biting his lip as he tried desperately to concentrate on writing and not making a sound that would give you both away.

He does a particular thing with the marker where it traces down your spine and into the dip in your lower back that makes you shiver. Licking then biting your lips as if savoring the pleasure on your tongue, you quietly mewl.

He’s becoming impatient, slowly humping your ass until his cock slips between your plush thighs. You gush in the way he grips the back of your neck for leverage, giving a thrust you swear you can feel prodding the soaked lining of your pants. You close your legs around him, fearing that he’d just might enter you through your clothes and you’d certainly end up being too loud.

He fucks his hardened cock through the enclosed space, nails digging into your skin and trailing down your back at how good you feel.

“Yes, yes, yes,” He says into the phone though you know it’s meant for you. “Perfect. I’ll be there right away.”

He punctuates his last note entry into your skin then ends the call. He recaps the marker, tossing it somewhere before he’s creeping over your back to place wet kisses on your supple skin.

“You were perfect,” He whispers. “I wouldn’t mind using you as my canvas again, painting you beautiful with my love.”

He drags his teeth along your shoulder before whispering in your ear, making you arch into him. “Have you ever considered getting a tattoo?”

[viintagefairy]

Every time one of my fictional boyfriend’s appear on the tv I can’t help but sigh and gaze at them dreamily ੈ✩‧₊˚

[dronningreid]

Thank god for sending us men (I'm just talking about Spencer Reid).

[reidiot]

my favorite sub-genre is low quality pics starring matthew gray gubler ♥︎ ˚ ₊ ୨୧

[etfrin]

— ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛɪᴇꜱᴛ ɢɪʀʟ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ | ꜱᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ ʀᴇɪᴅ

✧— ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: NSFW | midsize/plus size! reader, reader is insecure about her body, reader has brown strech marks around her hips and breasts, cunnilingus and Spencer being sweet as fuck, oh and uhh mirror sex, fem! reader | lmk if I forgot anything

✧— ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you feel insecure about your body and Spencer isn't having it

✧— ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1395 words

✧— ᴀ/ɴ: sooo my first plus size/mid size fic! i hope i did writing my own body type justice, i have been getting a lot of comments about my weight irl lately so this is me basically projecting <33

「ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ」

“You’re the prettiest girl I already know,” Spencer whispered gently to you, making you see yourself in the full-body mirror in the bedroom.

You bite your lower lip, feeling inferior despite his sweet words. Recently, everyone around you has been bringing up your weight. Typically you didn't care, you knew you were pretty, but society didn't allow you to feel that way. A recent snide comment made by your family during family dinner had you crying tonight.

Of course, when Spencer comes for work, he sees you. Runny nose and red eyes. You're hiccuping as you explain yourself and you apologize for crying for something so silly. Spencer berates you for apologizing, telling you it's fine to feel insecure sometimes.

“Let me make you feel good,” he said as he cleaned you up and slowly made you stand in front of the mirror. He was right behind you, his head on your shoulder. “You know I love you for your mind, but I also love your body the same way.”

“It's my fault for not letting you know that often.”

You open your mouth to protest but a look from Spencer shuts you up. His hand caresses the curves of your body, stopping to grip the plush of your hips. “I love this,” he whispered, his fingers digging into the fat of your flesh. “I love how pretty your hips look bruised from my hold.”

One of his hands snakes up on your body, his fingers wrapping themselves around your neck. His fingertips rest on your pulse. His eyes meet yours in the mirror. “I love giving you marks here,” he said, his fingers tightening around your neck, making you hitch your breath.

His hand now set your throat free to unbutton the shirt you were wearing. The fabric falls to the ground. It reveals your body to him. The tummy you recently started to hide with overly sized clothes, the stretch marks around your hips and breasts. You weren't wearing a bra.

You close your eyes, unable to look at yourself.

“My favorite are your eyes, I love the way they look at me. I love the way they light up when you see me. Even as you were crying, as soon as you saw me your eyes had brightened. Technically, it is probably a reference to contraction of the orbicularis oculi muscle, which constricts the eyes, raises the cheeks, and produces ‘crow's feet’ wrinkles at the outer eye corners.”

You giggled as you heard him, your eyes opening and you turned your head to look at him. “Spencer,” you breathe out, “You don't have to do this-”

“I love your lips as well. I love how soft they are. It's chapped sometimes, but it's fine. I love kissing you either way. I love the way you say my name. It sounds softer and gentle, it's perfect. It's impossible for something to be perfect.”

“You're perfect,” he said firmly as his hands now began to caress the stretch marks on your hips. He traces the dark brown cracks on your skin. “I love tracing them with my fingers… or my tongue. It's calming to me,” he admits.

“They're mesmerizing.”

Your eyes water as you hear him talk about you with such wonder. What seals the deal is when he softly presses his hand onto your tummy. “It's only recently that society considered skinny to be attractive. In several cultures, overweight bodies are considered to be the beauty standard. Overweight bodies are associated with fertility, kindness, happiness, vitality, and social harmony.”

“So in reality, you're beautiful, honey. If not in your eyes, then you're in mine.”

You turn to him, throwing your hands around him. Tears fell from your eyes as you pressed yourself against him. He was semi-hard. You pepper his face with kisses before you catch his lips. “I love you,” you gasp, as you messily kiss him.

He kissed you back, both of your tongues caressing each other. Spencer moans into your mouth as he gently leads you to the edge of the bed. You sit down, and Spencer presses you onto the mattress.

“Now, let me prove it to you,” Spencer said as he pulled his shirt over his head.

He starts by taking your hand, Spencer kisses all five fingers of yours. Then he pressed his lip to the veins of your wrist, his tongue came out to lick your pulse. You moan, your eyes getting blurry with pleasure as he sucks a mark onto your skin.

He continues to give you kisses until he reaches your shoulder blade. Spencer lets his teeth dig into your flesh, making you gasp. Your hand weaving into his hair. You pull at his strands, making him release a whine.

After he finishes his painting of love bites on your neck, he drags his lips down to your chest. His mouth finds your nipple, he makes sure to lick the bud, giving it the attention it deserves.

Meanwhile, you run your hand through his hair, encouraging him on. You keep releasing sounds of pleasure as Reid sucks a tad harder. It makes you gasp, your back arching. Spencer does the same treatment to your other bud. He then let his tongue trace the stretch marks around your chest.

He then goes further down your body. He reached down your tummy, making sure to kiss the path. Spencer slowly pulls your panties down, his knees on the floor. He licked his lips, swallowing down the headiness as he looked at your pretty cunt.

“Sit up,” he whispered, “Look at the mirror as I worship you, sweetheart.”

You do as he says. You sit up, seeing yourself bare with his head buried between your thighs. “Fuck,” you whispered as you see yourself in a new light. You were sexy, you were pretty. And Spencer always goes above and beyond for you. Your fingers find themselves weaving into his brown locks. You slowly pushed his head deeper within you, watching him getting buried beyond your legs. His lips touch your cunt. He lets out a whine, as you moan.

His tongue begins to lick your pussy with several broad strokes, coating his taste buds with your juices. Spencer groans as he continues to use his tongue to please you. But, it was more for him than you truly. He devoured you as his tongue got faster with focused, quick flicks across your clit.

Spencer wraps his lips around the pearl. You moan in ecstasy. You begin to grind your hips, his hands digging into your thick thighs. You fuck his face with your pussy, making his face a mess with your juices. He fucks you with his tongue, the invasion of his wet muscle inside of your hole makes your eyes roll back.

He continues to push his tongue further down your walls. He uses his thumb to draw fast circles on your clit. You cry out his name. You feel the heat build up in your lower stomach. Your pussy begins to spasm around his tongue.

You were so close.

Spencer pulls back to take a deep breath before he dives in again to have his meal. He goes even faster, his pace never faltering. He's desperate to make you cum on his face. The way you're pulling at his hair spurs him on.

“Baby,” he whines, the vibration of his sound sending jolts of pleasure down your body. He lets his fingers join in, his tongue focusing on your clit again as his digits begin to push into your walls. He finds your g-spot, and he never pulls out his fingers completely as he thrusts them back in to keep pressing at the sensitive spongy spot.

“I'm so close!” You cry out.

Spencer nips at your clit. The mixture of pain and pleasure is enough to push you over the edge. You begin to paint Spencer’s face with your juices, the lower half of his face covered in your arousal. Your pussy cums around his fingers and he keeps thrusting them throughout your orgasm.

He finally stops the delicious torture when you pull at his hair to get him away from your oversensitive pussy. Spencer wipes his face, before licking his lips to get remnants of your taste.

“Delicious and so pretty,” he whispered to you, looking straight into your eyes.

He looks hungry for more.

[mythic-rose]

❝ — “Evil can’t be scientifically defined. It’s an illusory moral concept that doesn’t exist in nature. Its origins and connotations have been inextricably linked to religion and mythology.”

rose's 100 favorite fictional muses — 30/100: Dr. Spencer Reid

[godspeedviper]

REBLOG TO BOOP THIS SOPPING WET LITTLE MEOW MEOW

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

Who I'm Willing To Write For

I don't know if I'm being paranoid but people seem to be not liking my posts as they usually do. So I'm going to simplify my Masterlist because I haven't written for most of these.

So I'm going to add these here. Remember the characters are color-coded by what Hogwarts house I think they're in and since Tumblr removed the yellow color, Orange will represent Hufflepuff except in the condition of Good Omens' Crowley who I am stuck between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. If you disagree, please give me your best argument and I'll offer my insight of David Tennant's Crowley.

Ninth Doctor - Brooding Time Lord Who Tries To Hide His Light with Darkness

Tenth Doctor - Hyperactive Time Lord Who Is Always Being Slapped Born From His Love For a Human Who Tries To Hide His Darkness and Trauma With Light

Metacrisis Doctor/TenToo (My Headcanon is that he chose the surname "Noble")

Fourteenth Doctor - The Face That Returned, now arguably more Hyperactive and Traumatized

Campbell Bain - Bipolar Nineteen-Year-Old Walking Ray of Sunshine That Somehow Doesn't Do Well With Girls

Alec Hardy (Broadchurch) - Grumpy and Broody Scottish Detective With a Heart Condition yet a Heart of Gold (Doesn't Know He's a DILF)

Emmet Carver (Gracepoint) - The American Version of Alec

Crowley (Good Omens) - A Hyperactive Drama Queen "Vaguely Sauntered Downward" Angel Turned Only Demon with an Imagination

Barty Crouch Junior - The (Possibly Bipolar) Misunderstood Boy Who Never Got His Father's Love and Was Manipulated By Voldemort (I think I read that he was actually a Ravenclaw but I do see a lot of Hufflepuff in him, his insistence of a fair fight and honesty and loyalty)

Peter Vincent (Fright Night) - Hyperactive Alcoholic Magician/Vampire Hunter with a Heart of Gold

Dave Tiler (Single Dad) — The sweetheart dad with too many children with so much love in his heart who fate was so cruel to.

Kilgrave (I've never seen Jessica Jones, I just feel like with him having the same accent and looks the same, it might ruin David Tennant's Doctor for me, and I love David Tennant as the Doctor.)

Cale Erendreich (Bad Samarian; Haven't Seen This Either)

Steve Harrington (Stranger Things) - The Hair; Nomenee for Mother of the Year

Isaac Lahey (Teen Wolf) - The Abused Puppy With a Heart of Gold Who Only Wanted the Power to Defend Himself and To Not Be Scared

Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds) - The Genius Pretty Boy

Raymond Wadsworth

Chip Taylor (68 Kill)

Kyle Orfman

Lesley Juniment-Smith

Thornton "Thorn" Adams (King Knight)

Joe Harper (The Band of Robbers)

Fred Weasley

Yes, there are a lot of David Tennant characters. I don't want to write for the actor himself, I just feel a little creepy doing that. In my numerous Steve Harrington fics, the more recent ones (The OC is always Dustin's older sister, except in one) I think he is the best Doctor and I think he should officially be titled as the biggest Doctor Who Fan ever. (He became an actor because of Doctor Who, he says he thinks he underplays how much he loved Doctor Who, he became the first regenerated Doctor and the first one to last more than one season on the revived Doctor Who, he met his future father-in-law, like a year before he met his wife, Ty Tennant, Georgia's oldest son and David's now adopted son, in 2008, considered the Tenth to be his favorite, and hilariously, his grandfather was nowhere on the five-year-old's list--then David Tennant met Georgia (at the time) Moffat on the set of Doctor Who as she, the daughter of the Fifth Doctor, played the daughter of the Tenth Doctor, I heard that David Tennant met Ty on the set, and according the Peter Davidson, Georgia didn't even realize that he liked her when they started going out (apparently he was offended when she said she hadn't seen any Shakespeare), then David Tennant counts as the unofficial twelfth regeneration (there was the War Doctor who the Doctors deem as not worthy of having the name of the Doctor), then he adopted Ty Tennant and married Georgia; he returned for the 50th and 60th anniversary (and I hope he never stops returning), now is the Fourteenth Doctor, that's three official regenerations, and Good Omens is full of Doctor Who references. I don't think anyone can beat him for the biggest Doctor Who fan. His life like revolves around Doctor Who in a way that every fanboy/fangirl dreams of. *(Can't pinpoint what house Alec Hardy and therefore Emmet Carver would be in, the only blog I've found on it, discussed how he may be a burnt Hufflepuff (just google it, it'll send you to the tumble immediately) but discusses his desperation in season two suggests Gryffindor, also implying his ignoring of his heart condition but he's aware that he has it, so he's gone to the hospital and he takes pills, he's just aware that the doctors told him that he may not survive his surgery to have the pacemaker put in and he feels like he owes it to the families to get the closure they deserve, so it doesn't strike me as impulsive but more dedicated, determined, and "unafraid of toil". Then the blog argues that his need to protect people he views as in his care and how he related to the Sandbrooke case as Slytherin but I don't see that. I think perhaps a "Burned Hufflepuff" is accurate.*

[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9

MDNI----------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid

summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, brightest member

warnings: implied smut, evelyn annoying the fuck out of hotch

Chapter Eight:

The coffee machine gurgled in the quiet of the break room as Evelyn filled her cup, her hands carefully cradling her favorite pink mug as the steam raised in delicate swirls. The rich aroma of the freshly brewed substance wafted through the air, Evelyn was moments from savoring her first sip when Spencer made his entrance. 

He moved with an awkward grace, his lean frame wrapped in a sweater, the morning light casting a scholarly glow on his thoughtful expression. Evelyn took a moment, as she often did, to admire the earnest curiosity etched into his features. She pivoted gracefully, a playful glint in her eye, the corners crinkling in silent laughter.

"Morning, Dr. Reid," she chimed. "Joining me for the most important meal of the day?"

Spencer offered a small, hesitant grin, casting a wary glance over his shoulder as if anticipating an unwelcome audience. When he turned back, finding the coast clear, his gaze couldn't help but sweep over her, a slow, involuntary trail from her eyes down to her heels and back up again.

"Did you know caffeine can actually increase cortisol levels?" Spencer inquired, his tone shifting to that of a lecturer as he warmed to the subject. "Cortisol is secreted by the adrenal glands and plays a critical role in regulating various bodily functions. While it's essential for survival, elevated cortisol over prolonged periods can lead to a host of issues. So, while that cup of coffee might seem like a good idea, it's worth considering the potential endocrine implications."

Evelyn closed the distance between them with a playful step, her eyes gleaming. "I love when you talk nerdy to me, Dr. Reid," she started. "But if you deprive me of my morning coffee, I won't be the only ones suffering the consequences."

Spencer's hand reaches out, almost involuntarily giving Evelyn's ass a quick, teasing tap. She arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a feigned expression of shock. 

"In the workplace, Dr. Reid?" Evelyn chided, her voice laced with mock scandal.

Spencer's chuckle was a soft counterpart to the florescent hum of the break room. Evelyn stood there, the light catching the subtle highlights in her hair, her smartly tailored suit accentuating her figure.

"Speaking of which, and presuming your neurons are adequately myelinated for the day, how about those ground rules?" Spencer's question came with a half-smile.

"I'm going to pretend for a second that myelinated is part of my daily vocabulary," Evelyn retorted with a playful roll of her eyes. "Upstairs is all clear," she tapped her temple for emphasis before taking another step towards the genius, "but after last night, I can't say the same for downstairs."

Spencer cleared his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck as memories of the previous night flickered through his mind. "Don't start with me."

"Me? Start with you? Never," she said, her eyes dancing with humor. "But in all seriousness. This," she gestured between them, "stays between us. We can't do anything here."

She straightened up, her expression mock serious. "I'm already juggling enough with these legacy rumors. If I start adding 'sleeping with my mentor' to my resume, I'll need to write a survival guide."

Spencer's response was quick. "I can do that," he said, his eyes accusing. "As long as you behave."

"I'm always on my best behavior, sir," she declared with a sly smile, her voice trailing off as she sauntered out of the break room, "my place or yours tonight?"

Spencer's hand instinctively went to the bridge of his nose, squeezing gently as if to ward off an impending headache, the universal gesture of a man both charmed and utterly undone by the woman before him.

--

The tech lab was alive with whirring machines and the subtle glow of displays. Evelyn glided into the room, her steps light and her grin spreading. 

The hum of computers and the soft glow of screens set the backdrop as Evelyn breezed into the tech lab, her steps light and her smile wide. She found Garcia, the queen of all things digital, her dominion sprawling before her in an array of flickering pixels and streaming data.

"Hey, P! Need your magic fingers to trace a number for me. And maybe sprinkle a little of that fairy dust to make the results come faster." Evelyn says with a lighthearted twinkle.

With a flourish, Garcia twirled in her chair, her clothes a riot of color that defied that room's monochrome sterility. She peered at Evelyn over the top of her pink-rimmed glasses, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

"Sweetie, you're radiating more energy than my entire tech setup. What's got you bouncing off the walls? Extra shot of your coffee or just high on life?" Penlope questioned, her voice laced with humor as she watched Evelyn practically vibrating through the room.

"What? No, I'm not. It's just a good day, that's all," Evelyn laughed, the sound bubbling up effortlessly.

Garcia tilted forward, a teasing glint in her gaze. "Uh-huh. You can't fool me, Miss Sunshine. You've got that 'I just got laid' glow," she pushed, "spill it. Who's the lucky guy?"

"Garcia, quit it," she giggled, brushing off the insinuation with a wave of her hand. "There's no guy. Just... work stuff, you know?"

But Garcia remained skeptical, playfully wagging a finger bedecked with a glittering ring. "Oh, come on! You've got that look. The one that says, 'I did not get my eight hours, but boy, was it worth it.'"

Laughter spilled from Evelyn, a rich sound that reverberated against the walls. "Seriously, Penelope, drop it. I'm just happy. Can't a girl have a good day without an interrogation?"

Garcia shot her a knowing glance, but she conceded with an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, alright. I'll let you off the hook... for now. But I've got my eye on you. Now what's this number you need traced?"

Evelyn passed a slip of paper across the table, her grin unwavering. She offered a swift thanks and retreated to the bustling bullpen. 

Evelyn's desk was a splash of color in the otherwise muted tones of the bullpen. Pink post-its fluttered like flags, each scrawled with affirmations and tiny tributes to her teammates. Amidst this cheerful chaos, Hotch stood, his hands clasped behind him as he surveyed the landscape of girlish whimsy.

At the sight, Evelyn's steps hastened, she darted forward to intercept his gaze, positioning herself squarely before him. "Hotch, sir, hi! Can I help you with something?"

Hotch met her gaze, his eyebrow lifted in mild inquiry, the shadow of a smile on his face. "I was looking for the Simmons report. You were supposed to turn in it yesterday." He tried to peer around her, amusement flickering in his eyes at the sight of her cluttered workspace. 

His eyes settled on the pen holder, an extravagant display of sparkle and faux gems. He remarked with dry wit, "Does that... fit the bureau's decor standards?"

Evelyn's smile was unapologetic as she shrugged lightly. "Mm, probably not. But it brightens up the place don't you think?" She rifled through the stack of papers, her face a canvas of sheepish charm. "About that report... I, uh, totally forgot. But it will be done, pinky promise."

She extended her pinky towards him. Hotch regarded the small gesture, his features betraying no reaction. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, but his stance was unwavering. "I'm not going to do that," he declared, eyes flicking to her upheld finger. "I expect the report on my desk by the end of the day."

Evelyn snapped to attention, grin never faltering. "Aye, aye, captain," she chimed cheerfully. "You'll have it before you can say 'bureaucracy'."

With a parting nod, he moved back to his office. In the corner, Morgan, JJ, and Prentiss stood in a tight knot, their quiet conversation floating in the air near the water cooler. 

"There's no way," Morgan asserted, his head moving in a firm denial, his eyes reflecting staunch disbelief.

"I told you soooo," Prentiss crooned, her voice dripping in smug satisfaction.

"Huh?" Evelyn's question hung in the air as she swiveled towards the group, her eyebrow arching in a silent demand for clarity. "What are you talking about?" 

"There's an ongoing bet to see how long it'll take you to really get in trouble with Hotch," JJ confesses, her grin spreading as she looked towards the other.

Evelyn's voice rose in protest. "What? I do get in trouble!" she insisted. "Did you not just see that? Or when I went rogue on my first takedown?"

Prentiss let out a soft chuckle, her eyes meeting Morgan's knowingly. "Please that was 'Evie trouble.' It's like being scolded by a teddy bear."

"And what does that even mean?" Evelyn asked, her laughter rising through the room as she shook her head.

"Baby girl, your definition of trouble with Hotch is a lot different than ours," Morgan said with a playful wag of his finger. "You barely get a slap on the wrist, while we'd get the whole paddle," he teased.

"That is so not true!" Evelyn's giggle bubbled up uncontrollably, her shoulders bouncing with each note of disbelief. She playfully rolled her eyes, dismissing the notion with a shake of her head.

As if summoned by the very topic, Rossi and Reid appeared in the doorway. They caught the end of the conversation and, with impeccable timing, chimed in together, "It's true."

"If I forgot my paperwork, I'm pretty sure I'd be relegated to coffee duty for a month--minimum," Spencer said as he gave a small, resigned shrug. 

"I'll have you know, I can get into trouble," she declared, puffing up in feigned offense. "I'm always getting under Hotch's skin."

Skepticism was written all over their faces, each look a playful jab at the very ideas. "Oh, we're sure you're a regular rebel," Morgan said, his tone heavy with irony.

"Yeah, right. They day you get a real scolding is the day I'll dye my hair pink," Prentiss declared, her laughter softening the edges of her sarcasm.

"And I'll wear a feather boa to work," Rossi added, the twinkle in his eyes suggesting he found the image as ludicrous as it sounded. 

"Statistically speaking, Evelyn, the probability of you inciting Hotch's ire is remarkably low," Spencer articulated, his brows furrowing in thought. "Considering the standard deviation of workplace interactions, it's more probably likely for an asteroid to graze our atmosphere."

Evelyn rolls her eyes, taking their words as a challenge. "We'll see about that."

Noon struck, and with it, a cast of golden rays pierced through the blinds of Hotch's office, painting the surfaces with a light hue of daylight. Evelyn, her arms cradling a stack of tardy documents, sauntered into the room. Her hair, a cascade of chestnut waves, framed her face, and her eyes, sharp as flint, scanned the room.

"Special delivery!" The announcement echoed off the walls, as Evelyn, framed by the doorway, held the papers aloft like a trophy. "The prodigal paperwork returns." Her smile was a bright flash in the subdued light.

The click of the mouse ceased as Hotch's gaze lifted slowly from the computer, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts. "Thank you, Evelyn," he uttered, each word measured. "I was beginning to think it had gone into witness protection."

The room was filled with the sound of Evelyn's giggle as she perched against the doorframe. Her smirk was a playful twist of her full, rose-tinted lips. "Oh, you know me. I like to keep things interesting. Life's too short for bureaucracy. "

Hotch's fingers moved methodically through the stack, each page turning with a crisp snap. His eyes, sharp and calculating, never strayed as he spoke. "Interesting isn't quite the Bureau's motto. We prefer efficiency."

"And yet, here I am, brightening your day with my inefficiency," she teased.

The folder landed softly on the desk as Hotch straightened, his gaze piercing as it met Evelyn's. "Evelyn, is there something else you needed?"

"Just checking on my favorite unit chief," she declared with a shrug, "making sure you're not bored under a mountain of dullness."

Hotch's eyes took on a sharper focus, an almost accusatory gaze. "I'm quite capable of digging myself out, thank you," he stated, the hint of a smile lurking beneath his serious expression. "Now, if there's nothing else, I have work to do."

Evelyn's smirk was unwavering, a silent ally as she acknowledged his words with a graceful nod. "Of course, sir. Duty calls."

--

The bullpen thrummed with life, agents weaving through the maze of desks, papers shuffled, and phones rang, the air buzzing with the collective focus. Evelyn's presence was a silent counterpoint, a different mission in mind. Her fingers sifted across the documents in front of her. With a feigned slip of the hand, she accidentally exchanged the contents of two folders. As she handed Hotch the Thompson report, masquerading as the Henderson case, she could barely contain her amusement.

Evelyn glanced up at Hotch with feigned surprise, her eyes wide with mock innocence. "Oh, did those get mixed up? That's totally on me," she said, her voice dripping with faux contrition as she sat perched on the edge of her chair.

Hotch's hand clasped around the correct folder, his gaze drifting across Evelyn's features, a wordless pause hanging in the air. It was a look that lingered just a beat too long before he finally looked away.

With a serene composure, Hotch handed back the folder, his words deliberate and clear. "Please double-check your work in the future." 

"Absolutely, won't happen again, sir," Evelyn responded.

Watching Hotch disappear behind his office door, Prentiss and JJ, couldn't help but shake their heads. "You are playing with fire."

With a playful toss of her hair, Evelyn responded, "It's what I do best." Her wink sailed across the room to the women as she swiveled back to her desk.

Later, she sent Hotch on a wild goose chase for a non-existent file. Hotch reappeared, the absence of the file evident in his empty hands and the slight crease of annoyance on his brow. His irritation was barely veiled by his professional composure and the sight stirred a warmth across her cheeks and spread through her. It was as if the air had thickened, her body responding with a clench of her thighs. 

Evelyn snapped her attention back to her task, letting out an exaggerated gasp, her eyes widening with feigned realization.

Evelyn's eyes lifted to meet Hotch's, a flutter of her lashes accentuating her apology. "Oh, my mistake. It's actually for next week's briefing. My apologies, sir."

A collective gaze tracked Hotch, the team's faces etched with a blend admiration and disbelief at the boldness. Hotch's head shook slightly as he closed the door behind him. 

With a subtle lean, Morgan caught Rossi's attention, a smirk playing on his lips. "You seeing this, Rossi?" he asked, his voice low, carrying the weight of disbelief.

"Hard to miss," Rossi mused, "she's got guts, I'll give her that," he admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smile, "but she's doing a great job of proving our point."

"Hey," Evelyn's whisper was a soft accusation, a conspiratorial murmur that barely reached between the three of them. "Just you wait, I've got more up my sleeve."

With a gentle head shake that sent his curls swaying, Spencer loomed over her desk. "At this rate," he said, looking down at her with an amused glint in his eye, "you're going to need your own section in the employee handbook."

--

The bullpen fell into an abrupt hush, the agents' heads turning as Hotch's commanding tone sliced through the idle banter. Without missing a beat, he looked eyes with Evelyn. "Gideon, my office. Now."

The team's eyes flickered from one to another, the collective oooh sounding more like a drawn-out sigh as Evelyn got to her feet. The air seemed to still as she offered a nod, her face the picture of innocence. With a gentle tilt of her head, she responded sweetly. "Of course, sir."

Hotch stood behind his desk, the stern set of his jaw softening despite his best efforts. His words came with struggle, weighted with disappointment rather than anger. "This isn't like you, Evelyn. Misplacing evidence is a serious offense."

With eyes wide and innocent, Evelyn held her poise, her hands neatly folded in front of her. "I'm so sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

The room felt smaller as Hotch sighed, his authoritative demeanor dissolving into a softer, more approachable one. His voice lowered, tinged with an unexpected warmth. "What's going on with you today?"

"Hotch," Evelyn burst out, the playful strain in her voice belying the seriousness of her words. "I've been an absolute terror today--don't I deserve a better scolding that that? Everyone thinks you go easy on me."

Hotch's eyes sharpened, the hint of annoyance seeping through his demeanor. "So that's what this has been about? You've been testing my patience all day because of what--some office wager?"

Evelyn watched, a spark of mischief in her eyes as Hotch's composure began to fray. The fabric of his suit jacket tensed, subtly outlining the firm set of his shoulders. His jaw worked silently, a clear sign of his growing irritation, a detail she found inexplicably enthralling. 

"See, right there!" she exclaimed, her finger jabbing the air with theatrical emphasis. "That's what I'm talking about--that's the look!"

A barely perceptible quirk of his lips betrayed him. "You're unbelievable."

Evelyn's eyes sparkled with sheer desperation shimmering within. "Hotch, can you please--pretty please--pretend to yell at me? I need to win this bet."

"At this point, Evelyn, I don't think I need to pretend."

She offered him a pout, her lower lip protruding just so, a silent plea.

He exhaled a deep sigh, a reluctant white flag. "Fine. Shut the door."

"Thank you, thank you!" Evelyn sang out, her mind already racing ahead. "Oh, wait, I need to look scared, right?" She whirled around, her hand hovering over the door handle as she caught the team's collective gaze, wide and expectant, peering through the blinds.

Hotch positioned himself with his back to the window, his silhouette casting a commanding shadow across the room. With a flourish, he gestured towards the scattered paperwork on his desk, his voice booming just enough to be heard through the glass.

Evelyn's lip caught between her teeth, an effort to rein in the giggles that bubbled over. Her shoulders trembled, betraying her struggle as she dipped her head, a strategic move to conceal from the curious glances beyond the glass.

"Evelyn, you're terrible at this."

"I-I know, I'm sorry," she sputtered between fits of laughter. "But I think they bought it."

"I doubt it."

"You're the best boss ever, Hotch," Evelyn beamed.

Hotch's head gave a slow shake, the barest hint of a smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

"Too much if I cry on the way out?" she teased, feigning distress as she inched towards the door.

"Just go, Agent."

--

The day was winding down with the low hum of the office, Evelyn glided through the bullpen, her smirk as loud as the click of her heels. She tossed a bag onto Prentiss's desk, the contents clicking softly. The bag, clear and plastic, revealed the pink hair dye inside.

Evelyn leaned closer, the bag crinkling between them. "For your new look, Em," she teased with a wink. "I want to see a brand-new you by tomorrow."

Prentiss examined the dye, eyebrow raised in playful defiance. "Dream on, Evie," she chuckled. "This going in your Secret Santa gift."

Next the feather boa found its new home around Rossi's neck, courtesy of Evelyn's hands. "This is non-negotiable, Rossi," she declared. "Your suit needs a touch of pizzazz."

"But let's be real, Evie," Morgan chuckled. "You didn't really win the bet, did you?"

Evelyn gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "Whaaaatt?" she uttered. "I have absolutely no idea what you're implying."

"Oh, come on," Emily scoffed, "we all know what Hotch looks like when he's chewing someone out. And that, my friend, was a performance worthy of an Oscar."

Evelyn's eyes widened, her act faltering under the team's knowing looks. "Oh! You know, I-I totally forgot, I have that thing I was totally supposed to do."

--

Evelyn was in her own world, surrounded by the familiar end-of-day bustle. As she slid her laptop into its case, her phone chimed--her eyes lit up, a smile curving subtly as she read the message from Spencer: My place. 8 pm.

Evelyn's gaze lifted, catching Spencer's eye across the room, a knowing look shared between them. She typed her response with haste: I'll be there. No sooner had she done so than Hotch's voice sliced through the buzz of the office. "Evelyn, my office."

She breezed in, her retort poised on her lips. "You didn't call me in here to actually yell at me, did you? Because, despite popular belief, I'm about as good with confrontation as a cat is with a bathtub. I'd probably start crying, it'd be this whole thing, and--"

"Evelyn." Hotch's voice was firm, a verbal full stop that demanded attention.

"Right. What's up?"

"Miami. Next week. A conference on behavior analysis," he began. "I want you there, presenting your research on the correlation between language patterns and criminal behavior."

"A paid trip to the beach? Count me in!" Evelyn squealed.

Hotch's reply came as a dry gust. "This is a business trip, Evelyn. Not a vacation."

She nodded, her grin undiminished. "Sorry, what? My mind's already sunbathing in Miami," she teased, twirling on her heel.

"Oh, and Evelyn?"

"Mhm?"

"The team's right," he confessed. "Don't let it go to your head."

next

taglist: @nonamevenus@aceofspades190

[rreidsdream]

Empty Office

Summary: Spencer had a secret crush on you and he finally confessed to you.

Paring: Spencer Reid x reader

CW/Tags: shy!spencer, secret crush, fantasizing, public!make out session

WC: 1.1k

It was a quiet afternoon at the BAU office. The hum of computers, the faint sound of typing, and the occasional murmur from agents discussing cases filled the air. Spencer Reid sat at his desk, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, as he worked through his paperwork. His mind, however, wasn't entirely on the task at hand. No, Spencer was distracted by you.

You had always been different from everyone else. The way you carried yourself, the sound of your voice, the way you leaned over his desk when you came to ask him a question-it all made his heart race. Even now, as he pushed his glasses up his nose and tried to refocus, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. The mere sight of you had this effect on him.

The rest of the team teased him endlessly about it, calling him "genius" as they shared knowing looks whenever you were near. Spencer wasn't oblivious to the tension between the two of you, but he was far too shy and awkward to ever act on it. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself.

But today, you walked into the office with that mischievous smile on your face, your eyes searching for him.

When you spotted him sitting at his desk, head buried in his papers, you sauntered over. Spencer felt you before he saw you-your presence was like electricity in the air, and suddenly, the room felt ten degrees warmer.

"Hey, Reid," you said, sitting on the edge of his desk. "I'm bored. Finished my work, and now l've got nothing to do."

Spencer froze, his hands halting over the keyboard. He looked up at you, his throat dry. "Oh, um, that's... that's good.

I mean, not good that you're bored, but good that you're, uh, finished with your work."

You smiled at him, your eyes twinkling. He was just too cute when he got flustered like this. "Do you have anything for me to do?" you asked, leaning forward just slightly, your presence intoxicatingly close.

Spencer swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. His mind scrambled for a response. "I-I have this book," he stammered, reaching into his bag and pulling out a worn paperback. "I think you'd like it. It's about... uh, probability theory. It's really interesting, I swear."

You raised an eyebrow but took the book from his hands, your fingers brushing against his. That small, innocent touch sent a jolt of heat through Spencer's body, and he felt himself blush furiously. You didn't seem to notice, though, as you settled back beside him, flipping through the pages.

He tried to focus on his work, but the sound of you reading next to him, the way your eyes moved across the pages, the way you occasionally bit your lip in concentration-it was driving him insane. He could feel himself getting more and more flustered, his mind wandering to thoughts he really shouldn't be having in the middle of the office.

His imagination took over, unbidden. He imagined leaning over, taking the book from your hands, and pulling you into him. He imagined kissing you, feeling the soft warmth of your lips against his, the way you'd melt into him, the way your fingers would tangle in his hair...

He snapped out of it, blinking rapidly.

This was ridiculous. He couldn't just daydream about you like this. Not here.

Not now.

But you were so close, so impossibly close. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension, the kind that made his skin prickle with anticipation.

He had to say something, had to do something before he completely lost control.

"Hey," he said, his voice shakier than he intended. You looked up at him, your eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Yeah?" you asked, your voice soft, a little teasing.

Spencer's heart pounded in his chest.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He hesitated for a moment, glancing around the office. Everyone else seemed occupied, busy with their own tasks. He took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of courage he had.

"I-I need to talk to you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Privately."

You looked at him, surprised, but intrigued. Without a word, you slid off the desk, and he stood up, his movements awkward and hurried. He led you to an empty office at the end of the hall, his hands trembling slightly as he closed the door behind the two of you.

As soon as the door clicked shut, the tension exploded between you.

Spencer turned to face you, his eyes wide and filled with uncertainty, but also with something darker-something more primal.

"I can't-" he began, his voice cracking.

"I can't keep pretending, I-"

Before he could finish, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you. You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to meet your lips in a searing kiss. Spencer let out a soft, startled sound, his hands instinctively coming up to rest on your hips.

He kissed you back with more intensity than you'd ever expected from him. His lips were soft but insistent, moving against yours with a hunger that had clearly been building for a long time.

You could feel his heart racing as your bodies pressed together, his hands gripping your waist like he was afraid you might disappear.

The thrill of it all-the secrecy, the risk of being caught-only made everything more electric. Spencer's usually shy demeanor made the way he kissed you, the way he held you, all the more thrilling. His hands were gentle but eager, roaming over your back as he deepened the kiss, his breath coming in quick, ragged gasps.

He pulled back just long enough to look at you, his face flushed, his glasses slightly askew. "I-l've wanted this for so long," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't know how to tell you..."

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. "I've wanted it too, Spencer," you murmured, your voice low and seductive.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He pulled you closer, his lips finding yours again as the kiss grew more passionate, more heated. His hands slipped under your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine.

The thrill of being in an office, the possibility of someone walking in at any moment, only heightened the intensity of the moment. Every touch, every kiss felt more dangerous, more forbidden.

Spencer's normally shy and awkward nature only made it more exciting-the way he hesitated for a second before touching you, the way his breath hitched whenever you made a sound.

It was everything you'd both wanted, everything you'd both been too scared to admit. And now that it was happening, neither of you could stop.

The world outside ceased to exist as the heat between you built to a fever pitch, the only sound in the room the soft moans and gasps of your shared desire.

Spencer might have been the genius, the shy, nerdy guy with the glasses, but right now, he was everything you wanted — and more.

[catharticconsolation]

new bot:

Spencer Reid

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

oblivious

Spencer and you are a perfect match, everyone in the bullpen can see it. Apart from the two of you. You try to shoot your shot on a snowy, cold day, when the heater in the office is broken.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

this bot has been out for about a week or two now but I didn't get the time to make the announcement post. whoops!

read here

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·