Spencer Reid X You - Blog Posts

Dangerously In Love

Summary: The long awaited return of your boyfriend makes you realize how in love you are with him. Dangerously in love with him.

Word Count: 776

Warnings: heavy make-out, second person pov, gender neutral reader, inspired by Beyonce's Dangerously In Love

A/N: I'm not sure how much of it makes sense or if it's even like logical. Literally just cooked this up 45 mins ago because i kept thinking about the 'dangerously in love' trend that was on tiktok like a month ago. But hope you enjoy nonetheless.

To say that Y/n was obsessed with Spencer Reid would be an understatement.

Well not obsessed in the bad way. But in the way where you’re so irrevocably in love with him that any chance you get you’re all over him loving him in the best way possible. 

Spencer had just recently gotten home from a 2 week long case in Nevada. The serial killer in question kept real close to his pattern and didn’t devolve until his main stressor had died. But in the end they had caught him and convicted him with no error. 

So when it was 10 pm on a Thursday and Hotch was kind enough to give them that Friday to rest Spencer had never been more delighted to drag his feet through his shared apartment to find you sitting on the couch watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy he’s never felt more at home. 

He toed off his shoes to then place them on the shoe rack that came with you when you moved in. He then took off his messenger bag and placed it on the ground before rounding the couch to sit next to you. 

Now, you weren’t a profiler by any means. Just a simple bookstore owner, but you’ve always had a knack for knowing when your space wasn’t just yours alone. 

So when you heard the front door unlock and open, you knew that your baby was home. You listened to him settle himself back into your home before listening to him approach you.

Spencer looked amazing. He didn’t think so, but having missed him for 2 weeks you couldn’t stop yourself from drinking him in. Said man only meant to bend down and give you a few kisses, a greeting of sorts. But you, you didn’t want to let him go.

So when Spencer bent down from his tall height to kiss your lips, you were quick to pull him into you, causing him to collapse onto the couch to devour him. 

Spencer knew you missed him, the late night phone calls and the constant text messages were enough evidence to prove it. But he must have miscalculated how much you actually missed him. 

Your body had been angled on the couch so one leg was extended and the other was bent in half, but with the added person, your body had shifted enough to accommodate him to where he was pulled onto lap. Spencer was quick enough to catch most of himself from completely falling on top of you. 

But you couldn’t care less. 

Your lips continued to devour Spencer’s. Pulling his lips (mainly the bottom one) into your mouth again and again. Pulling oxygen in with every pull. Making it so he couldn’t pull away at any moment. 

Spencer, who had missed you just as much, kissed back with just as much force. His hand that wasn’t responsible for holding his body weight had cupped the back of your neck to angle your neck up a bit more so he could deepen the kiss. 

His tongue began to dance with yours as you slid your body down the couch so you could make the man you love place his body weight on top of you. He followed suit, leaning down enough to have his chest against yours. Spencer placed his free hand against your waist, grabbing the soft flesh there. 

You began making a move of turning over so you could look down at the masterpiece before you. Your hands, which had been wrapped around his neck and playing ruthlessly with his beautiful hair, dragged themselves down his chest. Feeling everything about him that you’ve missed. 

Spencer was the one to pull back enough to grab a deeper breath of air. His brown eyes glossed over with love. His lips were swollen and glossy. You continued to kiss him, the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, his Adam's apple, the sides of his neck, his collar bones.

His scent alone was driving you mad, the feeling of him just within your hold was enough to satisfy you. 

Seeing his face was enough to make your heart sing. To love him, to hold him, to feel him, to breathe him in, to live him. 

You were dangerously in love with him. Obsessed with him. Enraptured with him. 

You sat back on your calves. Looking and the beauty beneath you. His tousled hair, his swollen and glossy lips, his lidded eyes. 

Your Spencer, looking at you like you were a deity. 

Only for him to see the same look within your eyes. 

“I’m so in love with you.” 

So very dangerously in love.

Not Of The Imagination

Summary: Spencer claims he has a girlfriend. Derek does not believe him at all.

Word Count: 1,614

Warnings: fluff, a bit OOC Derek

Derek Morgan is a ladies man. He knows how to talk to women, charm them into a flustered mess and get a number from them with ease. His charm is a weapon, something he knows how to use better than his gun. 

Spencer Reid is not a ladies man. He rambles people away and becomes flustered so easily that people think his skin tone is red. 

Derek Morgan is a charmer. Spencer Reid is the charmed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday afternoon. Everyone was ready to go home and spend the weekend doing whatever they wanted. Weekend plans were the topic of conversation at the moment with the bullpen attendees.

“So pretty boy, where are you doing this weekend?” Morgan asked. A teasing smile playing on his lips. Derek Morgan wasn’t a bully. He was anything but a bully, however, he was a brother. And brothers are known to tease their little siblings to no end. And Spencer was lucky enough to become Derek’s little brother. 

 “There’s this Korean Film festival happening throughout the next week. All foods, music and movies will be played in korean. Which is exciting since my girlfriend had wanted to brush up on her language skills and I thought this would be a great surprise for her.” Spencer missed the look of surprise on his friends faces when the word ‘girlfriend’ had left his mouth. Especially Morgan’s face. 

“Girlfriend?” Emily questioned softly. She was still a bit new to the team, but this was the first time a girlfriend was mentioned, especially attached to Spencer’s name.

“Wait what! Spencer, you have a girlfriend?” Derek questioned in disbelief. It’s not like he didn’t think that Spencer couldn’t get a girlfriend, but it’s still a complete shock that the shy, can’t talk to college kids his age, stuttering mess actually has a girlfriend. 

“Yeah, Her name’s Y/n. We’ve actually been dating for about 3 years now.” The goofy grin that broke out onto Spencer’s face was convincing enough for the women. But apparently not enough for Derek. 

“Really?” Spencer could hear the disbelief in Derek’s voice. He knew that the proclaimed ladies man, didn’t believe that he ‘scored’. But Spencer really didn’t care if he believed him or not. 

He still had you at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered to him. 

“Okay, what’s her last name?” Morgan asked.

“L/n.” Spencer answered without hesitation. He had a feeling that some of the asked questions are going to be the same that his mother asked him when he confessed that he was seeing someone. 

Derek nodded, trying to look convinced. “What’s her-” 

Before he even had the chance to finish his next question Spencer beat him to it. “She’s working as a barista at the moment because she’s going back to school to be a teacher. We met when we were 20 and started dating at 22. She’s kind and patient. She also really loves me and we are talking about moving in together after she graduates with her masters.” 

The small group was stunned at the flood of information. Emily, JJ and Penelope all began gushing about his girlfriend, happy that their resident genius had found someone that is making him happy. 

Derek, happy for his brother, still didn’t believe him. The girl sounded perfect for him, too perfect. Almost like he had conjured her up. 

“Do you have a picture of her?” Penelope was the first to ask. 

“No, sadly. All the pictures we have together are taken on her phone and they don’t transfer well when she sends them to me.” Spencer explained. The women deflated a bit hearing his explanation. 

“How convenient.” Morgan muttered. Penelope was the one who heard him. She snapped her head in his direction, fixing him with a glare. Derek only held his hands up in mock surrender. 

The group slowly began to disperse when paperwork began to pile up on each of their respective desks. The new shift of conversation began to fizzle out. Everyone now began to focus on the important work ahead of them before they could go home at 6. 

Except for Derek Morgan. The new revelation, still fresh in his brain. The Spencer Reid, the boy genius that stutters when given a simple compliment, has a girlfriend.

He has to see it to believe it at that point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek didn’t get his confirmation until 3 months later. When he had almost forgotten that Spencer had claimed he had a girlfriend. 

A beautiful h/c had walked into the bullpen with a visitor badge clipped to her turtleneck sweater. She had a drink carrier in on hand and a plastic bag in the other. 

She stood near the glass doors, clearly looking for someone. A small frown appeared on her lips as the object of her delivery seemed to not be in the room. 

Morgan saw the contemplation on her face whether she was on the right floor or not. She took a step back towards the double glass doors, before Derek got up to give a helping hand. 

He calmly approached the pretty woman before calling out to her, “Excuse me miss, is there something you need help with.” 

The h/c turned at his voice, Derek could see slight recognition within her eyes. A small smile graced her lips before she spoke, “You must be Derek Morgan.” 

The named man furrowed his eyebrows. He had never met this woman before in his life, even if he had Derek would’ve remembered her face. 

The woman saw the confusion on his face as well as the slight guard he put up after she said his name. The h/c’s realization kicked in and her panic set in. “Oh no, I’m not dangerous. My boyfriend had told me a lot about you. Even showed me a photo of you. Well not of you but a group picture and pointed you out. And I’ve always been good at remembering faces. So when I saw you I just knew that you were Derek Morgan. Again I’m not dangerous.” 

Her lengthy explanation reminded him of the resident genius that was approaching the two of them. 

Spencer was very confused when he saw Derek Morgan speaking with his girlfriend of 3 years. He was even more confused when he saw her panicked expression and the slight wave of her hands as she tried to explain something. 

Spencer pulled open the glass doors to the bullpen and turned towards the interesting conversation that was happening. He didn’t get much of it, just the last bit where Y/n said ‘I’m not dangerous’. 

“What’s going on here?” The brunette male asked. He looked between his favorite people waiting for one of them to answer. 

“Oh, hello love. I was just coming over to see if you wanted to have lunch with me. I had a half day at work for class but then my professor canceled class last minute because he wasn’t feeling well.” Y/n had gestured to the food in her arms at the mention of lunch. 

She had swung by their favorite Thai place. Having not been there for a few weeks because of Spencer’s busy schedule and Y/n’s guilt for eating it without him. Spencer smiled widely at the offer of food and his lover for his break. 

“I’d love to honey. We can eat at my desk if you’d like.” Spencer offered. Grabbing the drinks from her to make the load easier to carry. 

Derek watched the exchange between them. Only putting everything together when you call Spencer ‘love’. 

“Holy shit she’s real.” He had meant to say it in his head. But the statement slipped out, causing the two of you to look at him with confusion. 

“You didn’t think she was real?” Spencer asked.

“Well, no. Just that she sounded really perfect for you so I had a hard time believing it at first. But then I met her and she literally reminded me of you.” Derek tried to explain but it didn’t sound all too convincing. 

Spencer and Y/n looked at each other before laughing. Y/n had just met Derek and he thought she was someone that Spencer made up. Their giggles made Derek feel stupid.

And that’s something he doesn’t feel often (not counting the times Spencer made him feel stupid). 

Y/n had calmed down first before holding out her free hand for Derek to shake, “Hi, my name is Y/n L/n. I’m going back to school to be a teacher but currently I’m working as a barista. I’ve been told I’m patient and kind. Spencer and I have been dating since we were 22 but we met when we were 20.” 

Y/n then spared a glance at Spencer before asking, “Same intro you gave him right?” 

Spencer nodded with a smile before kissing the crown of her head, “Yep same one you gave to my mom.” 

Derek looked between the young couple content on the evidence presented to him. Derek took Y/n’s hand and shook it giving a greeting of his own, “It’s nice to meet you Y/n. I’m Derek Morgan and I’ve become Spencer’s big brother. So don’t you go breaking his heart.” 

The toothy smile was answer enough, but Y/n couldn’t resist her response, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Spencer had excused the two of them to go eat lunch at his desk. Spencer was happy that his lives were starting to blend together.

He’s especially glad that his favorite people were able to meet each other once and for all. Even though one of them thought the other was a figment of his imagination.

Overshare

Summary: Y/n and Spencer spend the night together after a long case. Next day JJ and Penelope hear all about it. 

Word Count: 2,147

Warning: implied smut, teasing Spencer, Y/n being a chronic over sharer, smooth y/n at the end, heavily inspired by Taylor Swift Wildest Dreams

Heavy breathing and moaning filled the air. The couple had been reunited for 4 hours. 

First hour was Spencer watching Y/n work about within her bookstore. The store Dreamy Books was closing for the night at 11 o’clock. After Spencer had gotten back to the BAU and filled out as much paperwork as he could before he left to meet up with his girlfriend. 

He called her and was told to go home and that she’ll meet him there if he wanted, only for him to refuse and show up at the store anyways. Y/n greeted him anyways and continued to close down for the night, saying goodbye to her employees and reshelving any stray books. 

The next hour they went to get dinner and head home, Thai being one of the only things that sounded good. And once they reached home, the two of them had set up to eat. Spence went and showered and Y/n set up their plates. 

They spent another hour eating and catching up on TV or what they had been doing. Y/n was doing most of the talking since Spencer didn’t want to talk about his case, claiming that it was a bad one. 

She mainly talked about business and having a friend's date with Penny and Jen. Spencer listened intently, happy to be home with his Y/n. His gaze was loving and longing, the unsub’s victims had looked like Y/n. It didn’t help that he could only call her at night, so he would worry all day. Spencer’s smart mind loved to play tricks on him, making him think that all the women were her. 

Y/n had reached across the table, grabbed his hand. She saw the far away look in his eyes like he was lost within his head. “Honey? Are you there?” 

Her voice was sweet, loving, something that he was all too familiar with. He squeezed her hand, coming back to the present. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” Spencer responded, glad to have his rock with him. He tried to sound convincing but it didn’t work. Y/n had gotten up and walked towards him. 

Spencer followed her with his eyes, she ran her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp, making him hum in approval. He leaned into her touch, allowing Y/n to pull him into her. 

His sitting height makes him tall enough to have his head within her breast. Spence inhaled her scent, missing the sweet smell of her perfume. She knew that the case seemed to hit a little close to home. 

“As long as you’re out there taking down the bad guys, I’ll be safe.” Y/n reassured. Knowing particularly hard cases left him spaced. Away from reality, away from her. 

She tilted his head up, meeting each other’s gaze. Spencer’s gaze held love but now they held lust. Being away from his love made him want her even more. 

Y/n’s eyes mimicked his own. She leaned down and kissed him, the first was sweet. The next was also sweet but it had a need. A need that was not ignored. 

Spencer grabbed onto her waist, pulling her onto his lap. He was not going to let go, not for a while. 

The last hour was spent within the bed. Both of them satisfying the need that had built.

Y/n and Spencer had laid together wrapped up in each other's arms. Spencer had his head resting on Y/n’s chest, softly kissing against her skin. 

“Careful now, you might get me going again.” The tease was clear as day within Y/n’s voice. They both knew that they were too tired to have another round. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Spencer replied, his kisses didn’t cease, but they stayed away from her sweet spots. He was tired, he wanted to just fall asleep within her arms for as long as possible. 

Y/n kissed his head and continued to get comfy, she was glad that her Spencer is home. Glad that her bed is warm with his body in it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning light shone through, the sage curtains still being drawn open from the day before. Spencer shifted in his position, not welcoming the sunlight. He reached towards Y/n, wanting to cuddle some more before the both of them had to start their day. 

As his hand patted slightly warm sheets he rose his head and watched as Y/n applied light make up in the bathroom connected within the master bedroom. 

“Hey baby. I tried to be as quiet as possible, hope I didn’t wake you.” 

“No, it was the sun. Where are you going?” Spencer asked, raising slightly. 

“Brunch with Jen and Penny. They were able to spare an hour or two before heading to work and Sophie is opening the store so I can be a little late.” Y/n rubbed her lips together after applying a gloss. She turned towards Spencer and smiled.

He smiled in return, taking in her pretty appearance. Y/n had kneeled on the bed and kissed Spencer three times before leaning back and grabbing her phone on the bedside table. 

“I’ll give you a text when I get there and when I head to the store.” Y/n offered, knowing how paranoid Spence can be. A lot of the victims that he’s seen have been plucked off the streets, he didn’t want that to be her. 

“Okay, I’ll text you when I get into the BAU.” Spencer replied. As much as he wanted Y/n safe, she wanted him equally as safe.

Y/n grinned at his response and grabbed her purse. “Okay, I love you and I’ll see you tonight.” 

“I love you more.” 

Y/n blew him a kiss and walked out, Spencer had caught it as he watched her go. He listened to the front door shut and then laid himself back down. 

Spence checked the time before closing his eyes. He didn’t need to be in the BAU until noon and it was only 10. He closed his eyes wanting to get a little more sleep before having to get up and start his day officially. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n had walked into the small cafe and saw the two blondes at a table waiting for her arrival. Y/n thought she was late seeing that the two were already there.

“Oh, am I late?” Y/n asked, her voice sounding upset. 

“No you're not late, we had just got here. Penelope was first I think.” JJ said. Having known Y/n the longest, the woman’s distaste for being late is something she’s always had. 

“Oh good.” Y/n’s charming smile returned as she placed her purse on her chair and went to give each woman a hug. Penelope’s happy smile reflected her own as the two embraced. A squeeze and a sway was how they hugged. The two giggly at their reunion.

Y/n switched to JJ, careful of the baby bump that’s forming. The two shared a happy hug before the h/c moved to her seat across from them. 

The girls chatted happily about many things from Penelope’s knitting projects to JJ’s baby and how her and Will are doing as well as Penelope and Kevin. 

With the conversation of relationships in the air, both women turned toward Y/n and began the questions. 

“So you mentioned that you started seeing someone a while back,” JJ leaded, making Y/n aware of what they wanted to ask. “What’s he like? Where’d you meet?” 

“Is he good?”

“He’s kind and smart. We actually met at my store, he wanted to try something new, something he’s never read before. So I gave him a fantasy.” Y/n recounted a smile on her face when she remembered Spencer walking in looking lost and flustered. “He finished it in a day. I was so surprised.” 

The FBI agents listened intently to Y/n as she talked. Her happy smile made the two women smile in return. As JJ listened she remembered Spencer reading something during a small break. It was almost like he was drawn to it. 

“Awe, that's so cute. It sounds like a romance book.” Penelope cooed, but her previous question was unanswered and she was not going to give up that easily. “But is he good?” 

Y/n had intentionally ignored Penny. She didn’t want to share too much, but her persistence was annoying and admiral. Y/n flushed a little before she searched for an explanation that could satisfy Penny’s curiosity. 

“Well I’d say he’s real good.” Y/n grinned giddily, still slightly flushed. “We had spent the night together. His hands were in my hair, his clothes were in my room.” 

“No way!” Penelope squealed. It sounded just like a romance novel and Penelope wanted to get her hands on it ASAP. 

JJ listened intently, always wanting to know the latest gossip. She listened as Y/n described her boyfriend, disregarding the sexual details. Even though JJ isn’t a trained profiler, she can put things together. 

And what she found was equivalent to gold. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JJ and Penelope arrived at the BAU around the same time. Both of them discussed what had occurred at brunch, especially since the topic of their discussion had walked right into the bullpen just as they did. 

Spencer walked into the BAU looking at his phone. A smile playing onto his lips, he was texting a reply before putting his phone away. He looked up as he walked towards his desk. He felt the eyes on him only to see JJ and Penelope looking at him. 

His eyebrows frowned before he kept moving. Spencer became comfortable within his desk ready to do a work day. However, before he could even get his coffee JJ and Penelope had swarmed his desk. This caught the attention of Emily and Derek who were actually working. 

“Hey Penelope, didn’t you have fun at brunch today?” JJ asked, she was baiting him, seeing if he’ll put everything together himself. 

“You know what JJ I really did. Especially since we got to meet up with Y/n after so long.” Penelope said, playing along. 

It seemed to be working, Spencer’s head popped up at the mention of his girlfriend's name. He didn’t want to be so obvious but his mind worked faster than most, maybe even too fast. 

“Me too. And isn’t it great that the guy she’s seeing is so kind.” JJ continued, noticing Spencer’s change in posture. 

“She said ‘kind and smart’. That they met at her book store, isn’t that romantic.” Penelope recounted. 

Spencer now knew. He knew that the names of Jen and Penny were nicknames (like he suspected) and those nicknames were for Jennifer aka JJ and Penelope. His co-workers. His girlfriend’s best friend’s were his co-workers and he never knew. 

“Plus she said that he was good.” JJ teased. Spencer flushed, Y/n had a bit of a problem with oversharing. Not that he personally minded but when it came to others he preferred she’d at least keep some information to herself. 

“Yeah, they spent the night together too.” Penelope continued to tease. She saw his flustered appearance. Derek and Emily had caught on already. They watched with amusement as JJ and Penelope teased the kid genius.

This was way better than paperwork. 

“What did she say exactly?” Emily asked. She wanted to see how far this will go before he cracked. 

“‘His hands were in her hair. His clothes were in her room’.” JJ recited. Spencer’s flustered expression had grown even more. At this moment, he wanted to have never left Y/n’s apartment. That the two of them spent the day together instead of doing anything else. 

“What else did she say?” Derek prodded, amusement clear on his face. 

Before anything else could be revealed about himself Spencer spoke, “What was discussed between JJ, Penelope and my girlfriend should be private. So let’s leave it at that.” 

His tone was snippy, wanting to stop everything. The group laughed at his response, knowing he meant no harm. JJ and Penelope gave him a small squeeze of the shoulder and uttered an apology for the teasing. 

Spence waved them off before pulling out his phone and texting the topic of his teasing.

‘I love you so much but do you always talk about our private life with your friends?’ After he hit send, a reply came within 3 minutes. 

‘Sorry my love :( ’ Before he could reply another text was sent.

‘But at least everyone knows you’re my handsome man ;) ’

Spencer grinned and sighed lovingly at his girlfriend’s message, making the teasing almost worth it. His phone buzzed again and in came one more text, one that left him smiling for the rest of the day.

‘You’re something I’ll relieve constantly, like a wildest dream.

Creativity

Summary: Y/n is a photographer and Spencer is a great model.

Word Count: 1,135

Warnings: fluff, kisses, probably false statistics, giggly spence at the end.

November 4th. 

That was the deadline of when Y/n’s assignment was due. 

That date was one week away and she had no idea what the hell she was going to do. The whole class was given three weeks to complete the assignment and Y/n was running out of time. 

She’s an aspiring photographer.

Several of her works have been published in magazines and have won many contests. She even has a website dedicated to her photos as well as other young photographers wanting to pursue their passions. 

However, most of her clients don’t want an amatrue to take any of their photos, hence the course. Even though her boyfriend, Spence, has rattled off statics about not needing classes to become a photographer; it still made her feel better: more official

But now, her photography course is requiring her to submit new artwork instead of some of her old pieces. The professor said he ‘wanted to put their learning to use and catch something they’ve never thought of before.’ 

Y/n hated it. She was hitting deadend after deadend. Everything she’s shot is within her comfort zone, not new. 

With a loud groan Y/n threw her head back on the couch she was perched on. Spencer only rounded the end the moment she was looking up at their light tan ceiling. 

“Still can’t find anything?” Spencer asked. His tone knowing the answer, but wanting to be caring still. 

“Not a thing.” Y/n replied, enunciating every word in the sentence. Spencer looked at her with a sympathetic look. Knowing the frustration not being able to achieve something. 

He thought about the requirements of the assignment, having told him once she first got it. Spence wanted to help, he really did, but it was the first time he’s drawn a blank. 

“I have no clue what to do. All the photos I’ve taken are like the ones I’ve taken before.” Y/n raised her head and looked at her boyfriend of a year. “Nothing new, nothing that’s caught my eye.” 

“You know statically, most photographers set up their master photos. All of them have been staged and made to look candid. A lot of the photographs that I’ve studied since you’ve started your classes I’ve noticed that a lot of the items seemed to be perfectly placed. Just like it was made to be a photoshoot of some sort. While a lot of your works are within the moment, scenery or candid of people.” Spencer rambled. Y/n watched him intently as he talked, never liking to cut him off once he started, “So I believe that your professor is asking you to do something of the sort, to make a piece that you have to stage. I would suggest using someone that you are comfortable with, which will trigger a higher dopamine output as well as a higher serotonin that allows cognitive flexibility and an increase in mood.” 

Y/n looked at Spence. A sparkle within her eye that Spencer knew to be trouble. 

“Comfortable, staged and someone I know.” Y/n summarized, Spencer nodded along enthusiastically, always touched when someone listened to him all the way through. 

“Yep.” 

“Well then, pretty boy, I just found my client.” Y/n said, her eyes sparking with, what Spence can only describe as creativity. And lust. 

The nickname alone should’ve told him that he wasn’t going to like this idea nor was he going to be the most comfortable with it. However, when Y/n had jumped up from her seat and started to set up her equipment with a huge smile on her face, Spence couldn’t really say no. 

Y/n had placed one of their kitchen chairs in the living room (after she moved everything out of the way). Claiming that it was perfect. Her lights and camera were setup to where he supposed was his place in all of this. 

He watched with a little nervousness as he stood in a white button down and some black pants. He was demanded asked to change from his comfortable warm pajamas, into this more serious ‘photo worthy’ outfit. 

“Okay now, I need you to sit in the chair and I’ll be right back.” Y/n commanded, her voice left no place to argue.

So Spencer sat down. Patting his legs while he waited for the final piece of this photoshoot.

About 2 minutes had gone by before Y/n walked out, red lipstick painted on her lips. As well as a tub in her hand. If he looked close enough, he could see kiss marks on her hands, some more faint and one very vibrant. 

Spencer studied the way Y/n walked up to him. Almost like she was trying to seduce in a way. As she got closer, Spence could see a smirk playing on her lips. 

“What are you-” Before the genius could actually ask his question, Y/n had kissed him. 

His brain short circuited. His IQ is now at 60. 

It took a second before he kissed back, before it could get more heated Y/n pulled back. She studied the lipstick print on her boyfriend, liking how well it was placed. 

Spencer’s face had flushed, he stared at her surprised, trying to understand what’s happening. 

Before he could ask Y/n started talking, “The assignment is to do something new. To try and incorporate all of the lessons we’ve learned up into now. As you’ve said all of my past works were either scenery or candid photos. Something that has just happened or there for anyone to see. What I’m doing here is different. This is a photoshoot, not candid. You are normally sophisticated and well cleaned, however at this moment your unshaven and floppy hair. As well as dressed in something more date-casual.” 

Spencer tried computing everything that was said, only to realize what she meant. His flush grew a little as Y/n looked at him for a silent ask, him nodding his answer. 

She started to unbutton the top four buttons of his shirt. Spence started to grow even redder as Y/n started to kiss all over his neck, face and chest. 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, all this attention and kisses making him hot.

But one thing is that he couldn’t stop smiling. Neither of them could. Y/n’s kisses varied in shape and size, trying hard to control the smiles on her face. Spencer giggled and flushed until she stopped. 

Y/n looked at the lipstick marks with a proud smile and a flush of her own. Giddy to take the pictures. 

“Okay hold still.” Y/n commanded, trying to capture him flush and giddy. 

Trying to catch her Spencer, the goof ball that’s in love with her, in a living memory.

Me and Spencer have shared a bed many times before sure it took a while for us to get used to eachother but dating him was truly the best thing that hapened to me

I looked at his sleeping form next to me he was laying on his stomach his bare back exposed to the soft sunlight that peeked trew the window showing off his soft skin

i pushed a few of his curls from out of his face as i admired his features he looked so much softer in his sleep living without the problems of the world it was quiet rare for him to sleep so calmly nightmares often made him stay up so late living off of his sugary coffee

I gently run my fingers trew his hair and down his jawline not wanting to wake him up but wanting to wake him up from his sleep

Sometimes i wonder if there could be a way on the world where i could truly show him the love ive felt for him since i met him feeling the connection that i knew could never be recreated or relived at least not in this lifetime

He never looked more beutifull to me then this moment truly in a peacefull and relaxed state

As i see him slowly opens his eyes to look at me i cant help but smile at how sweet he was deep brown eyes looking at me with nothing but pure love

I could allready feel my cheeks getting hotter greeting him in a softer whispery voice

-good morning handsome

He mumbles something still not fully awake his voice quiet and deep from sleep

-want some coffee hm love?

He nods as i pushed his hair back a bit to kiss his forehead as he tiredly smiles

Not wanting to leave the beutifull sight of him but getting up to make him some coffee and letting him fully wake up

Boy Wonder and the Rockstar | s.r

✩ next part ✩

summary: Spencer and Y/N meet in college after a book search, creating a friendship where opposites attract. But Spencer has to move across the country to pursue his happiness and completely loses contact with Y/N. What if fate decides it's time to meet after 15 years and with a crazy stalker in between? Spencer won't lose to fate again and will do anything in his power to protect Y/N.

warnings: mentions of death, alcohol, drugs, strong vocabulary, as well as talk of heartbreak, disappointment and arguments. It also contains content regarding CM season 13, so it clearly contains spoilers. this is a spencer reid x famous!reader story.

this will be a small series of chapters so here are the general precautions of the series, each chapter will have its own precautions. !!!

words: 3,909 words.

a/n: hey! here alme with a little series i've been planning for a couple of weeks now. as you may know, i've been talking about the spencer reid x famous!reader relationship but as hayley williams, so i decided to set myself the challenge and write a little series called "boy wonder and the rockstar", so i hope you like it. i haven't planned how many chapters it will have yet but i don't want to make it too long, and also patience with each chapter. so, I don't want to make it longer and I'll leave you the first chapter. thank you. ♡

𝟎.𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲.

Spencer always lived under the stigma of being a child genius. His I.Q. was 187, he could read 20,000 words per minute and had an eidetic memory.

Everyone around him told him what to do, from his mother, to his "friends," to his teachers, to his neighbors.

"Hey Spencer, with that brain of yours you could make it in the government" "Spencer you could be part of NASA" "Spencer you could be a mathematical genius like Einstein!" "Spencer you're going to get into the CIA!"

"And where are you going to go to college? Because you know Harvard is already a lock for you" "I bet you'll go to YALE, that's where all the smart ones go" "Princeton is an excellent choice for you!" "MIT could open a lot of doors for you"

Spencer this, Spencer that.

But no one really thought about what Spencer wanted. Maybe he wanted to be a magician and make children happy with his tricks. Maybe he wanted to be a trapeze artist, or a fireman, or an astronaut, or just an ice cream man.

All these expectations of Spencer reached a point where he didn't even know what he wanted in life. He lived under the shadow of the expectations and visions people had placed on him, and he didn't want to let them down. He was just a kid, a kid scared of adult life who had to impose himself because others imposed it on him.

That's how his brain made him skip grades, have to enter high school at age 12, and have to suffer a lot of abuse from the grown-ups for just being a boy genius.

Spencer sometimes wished he could make his brain disappear and have a normal one. Then he could have normal friends, go to a normal school, have a relationship, experience the problems people his age have, and be able to feel the phases of adolescence like any other kid.

But things were not like that.

He had to live the life he had been dealt, with his genius brain and the damn adult problems at 13.

CalTech was a new life he had to accept, but it wasn't as bad as the one he had before. His mind was kept busy for a long period.

He was forced to grow up around books full of equations, chemical elements and mathematical problems, managing at 16 to get his first college degree, which was Mathematics, and the following year to get a PhD in it. But he did not dislike this.

But as they say it is never enough, he kept on studying until he was 21. Thanks to this, he became a doctor of two more degrees, Chemistry and Engineering, in addition to Psychology, Sociology and Criminology.

His social life at the university was not so hectic, in fact, he only stood out for the fact that he was a boy genius, and that was it. To other people, he was a person like any other.

Until one autumn day, in the middle of his 19 years and studying psychology, his paths were interrupted by crossing that of others, and that, probably, is the person who changed his life the last years of college.

It was an ordinary day in the university library. Spencer had been rereading an encyclopedia of human anatomy for two hours. Why you may wonder, well, it was his way of killing time during his free time.

Acquiring knowledge was the best way to keep his brain fed and occupied, according to the boy.

He had eaten his sandwich a couple of minutes ago and let his brain feed on information at that moment, trying to persuade his intrusive thoughts at that minute. Through the pages you could see the muscular system, focusing on the leg and foot areas.

To be honest, it looked quite interesting.

That day, leaves were beginning to fall from the trees, filling the ground with their autumn colors; there was a gentle cool breeze, a strong smell of wet dirt and people were crowded in the warmer areas of the campus. It was no surprise to anyone that the library was one of the most crowded areas, the vast majority of people were gathered around the tables as large college texts lay open on them.

Spencer was sure he had seen more than one student curse at the fact that they couldn't find what they were looking for, and then walk out of the room in exhaustion. It wasn't the first time someone had cursed his name because they found themselves reading the text they were looking for and, besides, they weren't able to approach and ask for it.

He could believe it was cowardly on their part, maybe they were too shy to be able to do it or it was an excuse to put off studying what they were looking for. Even though he considered that the The study methods they had were not very good and, if they started studying earlier, they could increase their grad-

"Excuse me."

A voice interrupted the conversation Spencer was having with himself, pushing away his intrusive thoughts that were beginning to take over his mind. The young man's head turned and he saw a girl, perhaps his age, staring at the encyclopedia in front of him.

"I asked Miss Wellington about the Rouviére and Delmas encyclopedia of human anatomy, and well..." The girl looked over Spencer's shoulder. "She told me that maybe the boy sitting at the back table had it. There are no other tables in the back and you're the only guy sitting here, so I think my deduction is correct and you have it."

"Y-yes, this is the encyclopedia you're looking for." Spencer admitted, looking at the young woman.

More than looking at her, he was admiring her. She was wearing a red skirt and hoodie with some embroidered words on it, her legs were also wearing dark leggings and some rather damaged black converses, over it she was carrying another coat and a backpack; her arms were loaded with medical and anatomy books, plus her hair was disheveled.

"Great! Must be my lucky day that a cute guy has it." Her books fell onto the table and she sat down next to Spencer.

The boy could smell the scent of tobacco and mint mixed with the scent of cherry perfume.

"May I see?" Spencer turned to look at her and, even though he was reading that book first, his head nodded. "Fine! I just want to see..." The sound of the leaves was rapid, as if a fan was moving them. "This... Nervous system."

Suddenly, and as if by magic, a notebook appeared in front of them both and quickly the girl was beginning to write on the blank sheets, even though to Spencer it looked more like a scribble than a resume as such.

"Shit, what is this?" the girl paused to read more closely. "In the central axon, the electrical signal is converted into a chemical signal, and then releases the chemical signal with chemical messengers called neur-neurotransmitters." The sound of the pencil falling on the table made the boy startle.

"Nervous system?"

"That's right, I have a lecture in three days and I'm still trying to associate concepts in the nervous system. Like my nervous system isn't nervous anymore."

Spencer chuckled to himself, the girl had a funny sense of humor.

"In fact, when the brain interprets that we are in danger, it produces a rush of adrenaline that activates the heart and muscles to place them on alert, but if prolonged, it can lead to health problems such as cardiovascular disease like heart attack and is associated with hypertension and arrhythmias and is the enhancer of other cardiovascular risk factors." Spencer turned to look at the girl, who looked quite interested in what he was saying, jotting everything down in her notebook. "But it's not that your nervous system is 'nervous', it's that it interprets that it's in danger and so it sends that kind of stimulus to your body that makes you anxious."

"I see you know about the nervous system, much more than I do." The girl scanned him from head to toe. "Are you a medical student?"

"No, CalTech doesn't have a medical degree, but I am a doctor." The boy admitted.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"Shit, and you already have a doctorate?"

"Actually I have three."

Silence stretched between the two, caused by the woman's shock.

"Are you some kind of alien or is your brain too big that it stores more information than I can retain?"

"Well, I have an IQ of 187 so I can read 20,000 words per minute, plus I have eidetic memory. But I prefer the concept of being more advanced than others."

The girl stared at him.

But to his surprise, the young woman only let out a giggle.

"You're funny, I like it." No one had ever told Spencer that he was funny. In fact, he thought that adjective didn't directly relate to him. "I'm Y/N, Y/N L/N."

"Spencer...Spencer Reid." Y/N denied.

"No, you're not Spencer."

"Excuse me?"

"You're Dr. Spencer Reid." Spencer smiled, she was right. "Well, it's nice to meet you, dr. Reid."

"Nice to meet you, Miss L/N." They both smiled.

"Well, now that I know your name, dr. Reid, we can start our friendship."

Spencer never thought making friends was so easy, even though he knew it was because the girl had gone to the trouble of calling herself his "friend," without even knowing him.

But that didn't bother him, in fact, he found it nice that someone had decided to be his friend.

Overnight, Spencer's evenings began to become more colorful, smelling of tobacco and mint, and filled with questions from Y/N, his new friend.

Although, at first, Spencer didn't seem comfortable around the girl, he quickly got used to it. He had learned several things about Y/N over the days, such as that she was a medical student at Pasadena City College, a college a couple of blocks from CalTech; she was the youngest in the family and had an older brother who had been diagnosed with leukemia a couple of years ago.

He had also learned that she was very into fashion, lived in an apartment complex nearby, smoked a couple of years ago, and only liked menthol tobacco cigarettes. Her favorite color was orange, but she didn't think it looked good on her, and she didn't see herself going to medical school, but she wanted to be a singer.

The first time Spencer heard Y/N sing was during a kermes in Pasadena City, she had been invited to sing on behalf of the medical school. Spencer never liked the idea of being around so many people, let alone at a kermes which was as unsanitary as possible, but his new "best friend" had begged him to go.

He couldn't say no.

He remembered perfectly how her hands shook with nerves, how she bit her lip as she cleared her throat and watched her bandmates, aka Y/N's other friends, rehearse with their instruments.

He knew she had practiced for this moment a bunch of times, had more than once arrived at Spencer's dorm wet from head to toe from running in the rain after a rehearsal, and hummed the songs under her breath every time they studied together in the library.

She was more than ready, but her own fears sometimes made her afraid of her talent.

Reid's eyes were on her, smiling confidently to convey that feeling as a guitar began to play the first chords, and announced the start of her performance.

Spencer didn't know what song it was, he wasn't even sure if the song was to his taste, but when he heard Y/N's voice he knew it had become his favorite song.

“Her name is Noelle

I have a dream about her, she rings my bell

I got gym class in half an hour

And, oh, how she rocks

In Keds and tube socks

But she doesn't know who I am

And she doesn't give a damn about me”

Their gaze was on each other, as if they were the only ones in that large space. The few times the eye contact was broken was when Y/N closed her eyes.

The song ended successfully and an avalanche of applause greeted Y/N, who thanked the audience for their attention. Soon another band filled the stage and for a few seconds, Spencer lost sight of Y/N. He wanted to tell her how great she had turned out, how all her effort and practice had made everything come out perfectly and that she looked like a total rockstar on stage.

"Spence! How was it, did you like it?" Y/N hugged the boy's arm, who turned to look at her with a sweet smile on his face.

"It was amazing, Y/N. Everyone loved it." Affirmed the boy.

"I was so nervous, I was so afraid it wouldn't go well, but I saw you there, and I felt like I could do it. You're my lucky charm, Spencie."

Spencer felt something jump in his chest.

"Let's get something to eat, I'm dying for some corn-dogs." Said the opposite.

"Y-yeah, let's get something to eat, my treat."

The day Spencer was accepted into the FBI academy was probably the most bittersweet day of his entire life.

At 22 years old, and in the middle of finishing his college semester for what felt like the fifth time, a letter arrived in his dorm room.

A letter of acceptance.

He could feel that all his hard work had been rewarded by whoever was up there. He quickly put on his sneakers and ran a marathon to the medical building at Pasadena City College.

His best friend's short red hair he could quickly visualize as he saw her smoking by the entrance, she seemed to be listening to something on her MP4 and bobbing her head to the beat of-who-knows-what song.

"Y/N! Y/N!" Spencer's voice sounded agitated, trying to get her best friend's attention.

The, now, redhead removed her earpiece and turned to see the tall boy running towards her.

"Spence?" From her mouth came the tobacco smoke, causing her to let the cigarette burn between her fingers.

"I made it, I got into the academy!"

The two big hazel eyes made contact with those of the girl, who dropped the cigarette to the sidewalk and hugged her friend tightly.

"I can't believe it, Spence! You did it! You did it! My goodness, I couldn't be prouder!" The younger girl began to do some jumping jacks as she didn't let go of her grip on his embrace.

"Thank you, Y/N. I couldn't have done it without you, you were the one who stuck with me through this whole process."

"You don't have to thank me, dorkie. I knew you'd make it, they couldn't leave out a genius like you." Soon they both disengaged from the embrace and the girl looked at the boy's face. "W-where is the academy? Tell me."

"I don't know, I-I didn't fully read the letter." He admitted embarrassed.

"Then read it! Go on." The girl took him by the arm and forced him to sit down on the faculty stairs.

Slowly, Spencer began to read the letter while Y/N listened intently to every word.

"The course begins on September 23rd of the current year in..." A pause.

Y/N looked at Spencer, who had stopped reading the letter.

"Where, Spence, what does it say?"

"The course begins September 23rd of the current year in Quantico, Virginia."

Y/N felt like a bucket of cold water had just been dropped on her.

Quantico? That was on the other side of the country!

"Q-quantico? Spence, that's on the other side of the-"

"Country, I know Y/N. I-I... I can't do it, I can't."

"What the fuck are you talking about!" The girl stood up startled, looking accusingly at her best friend. "No, I refuse. You have to do it, it's your dream, Spence! What you've always wanted for the last three years that I've known you, I refuse to let you back down now, I won't allow it!"

Spencer looked up from the letter, watching Y/N who was looking at him with her face burning with anger.

"You know I can't do that, what's going to happen to my mom? You know what's going on with her and her schizophrenia, I can't leave her alone."

"She would want you to go, Spence. Her happiness is where yours is, you know she'll be able to do it, there are plenty of options to help her." A long silence settled between the two of them.

Spencer didn't want to leave California, he didn't want to leave his mother or Y/N, he couldn't.

"Spencer Reid, I know what you're thinking right now, but I won't let you let this opportunity pass you by. You have dreamed of this exact moment for years, for as long as I have known you you have always wanted to go to the academy and you have done everything in your power to do so. Now they are offering it to you on a silver platter, you have to do it, there is nothing more you can do here in California. You've already studied all the existing careers in the world, you've already done what anyone in 50 years would have done and at your short 22 years you're already a doctor of three careers." The girl settled back down beside him, letting her icy hand wrap around Spencer's warm one. "You can't just limit yourself to staying here just because you have an engagement, the world has to know who Dr. Spencer Reid is like I know him, you have to go."

Spencer drew an elongated smile, feeling his body fill with that feeling of sadness that pervaded him from head to toe.

The redhead's words were true, it was his dream. But he didn't want to leave the only thing that made him happy on the other side of the country, he would love to carry it in his pocket to Virginia and have his dose of serotonin after each day.

He didn't want to stop smelling her tobacco and minty breath, the cherry smell coming off her clothes and the blueberry smell coming off her hair. He wanted to keep seeing the reddish locks of hair on his clothes and the cheesy paper notes in his pockets every time they met. He wanted to keep listening to the music on Y/N's MP4 every time he went to her apartment and drink coffee with lots of sugar that she made for him, keep hearing her voice in the shower and get biology questions at three in the morning every time she had a test.

He wanted to go to thrift stores to try on printed T-shirts and watch Y/N's camera fill up with pictures of the two of them, keep going to her shows with her band and eat frozen pizza after every gig.

He wanted to keep being with her.

But if she was letting him go, then he had to let her go too.

"I think I can go on living without hearing your bad jokes." Spencer's words lifted Y/N's spirits, who gave him a playful smile.

"Hey! My jokes are the best, last time you laughed for two hours."

"Because it was stupid."

They both laughed, letting the tension of the moment go with the last echo of their laughter.

"So you'll go across the country to make me proud?"

"Yes, I'll go make you proud."

Y/N's arms wrapped around Spencer's body, resting her head in the space of his shoulder and chin.

"I'm glad you didn't make a dumb decision."

Staying here with you isn't a dumb decision, Spencer thought.

They both pulled apart.

"Well, screw the skeleton. Let's go to the library and write your answer."

The girl's small hand imprisoned the boy's large hand, guiding him to the library to write what would be Spencer's fate.

The flight from California to Washington was five hours.

Five hours where Spencer and Y/N would be separated, and they would have to accept that fate had something different in store for the two of them.

Despite California being a sunny paradise, that day he wanted to keep the two friends company as they said goodbye at the airport.

"You already know my number, you know you can call me whenever you want." Commented the girl, who was in charge of carrying the book she had given him to read during the trip.

"I'm not such a fan of technology, you know that."

"There are pay phones over there too, Spence. It only costs a couple of cents to call me, plus they must have landlines there, and you have my email." The girl stopped in front of the door that separated goodbyes with new beginnings. "And if not, you can send me a letter. You know my address."

"A letter doesn't sound bad at all, in fact, for centuries, it was one of the most widely used means of communication by human civilizations since man began to write and whose importance transcended nations. The oldest courier service ever found was in Egypt in 2400 B.C. and in 1840, Sir Rowland Hill created the first postage stamp, which was called Penny Black, which was a profile drawing of Queen Victoria of England that had the rate 'One Penny' written on it."

"Oh Spence, I'm going to miss your fun facts about absurdly boring things." Commented the girl before she could hug him.

Spencer felt his heart clench.

"I'll miss you listening to me." They both turned in an embrace so tight it could take all the oxygen out of their bodies.

Neither wanted to be the first to say goodbye, neither was ready to leave the other. Their hearts were bound together like puzzle pieces, and just as when you lose one, the puzzle will no longer be complete.

"Now, you must go, your flight is about to leave." Y/N commented, separating from the young man as she wiped away the small tear that escaped from her eyes. "Miss me a lot, huh? And show off how pretty your best friend is."

"Always. Remember that wherever you are, whatever you do or whoever you're with, you'll always be in my heart."

A pout settled in Y/N's mouth, who felt like she was letting a part of her go with Spencer.

"Don't forget about me, because I will never forget about you." Demanded the girl, who was pushing the boy to go for his flight.

"It's impossible for me to forget you, I have an eidetic memory." He said laughing, waving goodbye as he received the book the girl handed him.

The two met in a final embrace, where Spencer could smell the girl's cherry and menthol tobacco scent for the last time.

"Write me!" Y/N vociferated, waving goodbye to the boy who nodded and disappeared behind the airport doors.

Y/N and Spencer didn't know that at that moment fate would place them on trial, causing their paths to diverge for many years until, magically, they would come together again.

“When two souls are meant to meet, fate brings worlds closer, erases distances, joins paths and defies the impossible.” Anonymous.

@alexa-33 | @ahhhhyesk | @imthefuckingleader | @narmothewraith | @kneelforloki | @niyahwhoreworld | @lexie0037 | @deadunicorn159 | @corpsebridenightamare | @preciousbabypeter | @sakuramadae | @zzz000eee | @runefirestarter | @sebastiansstanswhore | @whateverrrrrrrrs | @xsarcasticwriterx | @chris-seb-marvel | @bellaramseygfsblog | @lillysbigwilly | @dezibou | @astrophileous | @ily2lia | @sophiario | @valenftcrush | @oxace-of-heartsxo | @spencerrxids | @w31rdg1rl | @ineedsomezzz | @yeehawbitchs

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

i was thinking of a good story where it's "the reader and Spencer's wedding they are having a good time and Penelope wants to congratulate them but can't find them, she walks around and finally spots reader she is resting against the wall of a cleaning closet, they talk for a bit and she leaves, when Penelope leaves spencer comes from out of readers dress, and says that that was a close one"

Wedding Bliss | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summery: The post-wedding bliss hits differently after the ceremony, and Spencer and you intend to make the most of it.

Warning/s: just tooth rotting fluff, allusions to smut that happened, wedding, marriage, Penelope's crying, short fic, possible grammar and spelling mistakes, and just all of the love

Author's note: this is just too freaking cute, I just changed the part where Penelope and the reader are walking around, hope that's okay.

You knew that you would remember this day for the rest of your life and all of the feelings that this day had brought you.

The feeling of you walking down the rose filled aisle with bouquet in your hands as the back of your long dress was trailing behind you slowly. The feeling of the rose petals of your bouquet against your fingers. The look on Spencer's face as you got closer and closer to him standing with Morgan by his side. The lone tear that rolled down his face once he saw you. The smiles on Emily's and JJ's faces. The proud look that Rossi was wearing. The little smile on Aaron's face as he waited in the middle of the aisle to get Spencer and you married to each other. Penelope's pink handkerchief with which she wiped her tears away.

Once you finally reached Spencer, you turned around to give your bouquet to Jack before you turned back around only to see Spencer holding his hand out for you to take. You took it without any hesitation.

Aaron's speech and Spencer's and yours vows were exchanged, the rings were placed and before you knew it you were kissing the love of your life, your soulmate, the one that you married.

The ceremony after the wedding was just perfect. Everyone was very excited and had so much fun. The cake was cut, and the bouquet was thrown, and after the first dance between Spencer and you, the two of you disappeared once you noticed that everyone was dancing, too.

Penelope was looking everywhere for the two of you as she wanted to congratulate Spencer and you one more time. However, as much as she looked around, she didn't see you anywhere.

Thankfully, she saw Derek with a glass of champagne in his hand, talking to Hotch and laughing with him. So she decided to quickly come over and as soon as she did, Derek noticed her.

"Hey, baby girl," he turned to her and smiled, "What's up?"

"Have you seen Mr. and/or Mrs. Reid anywhere?" Penelope asked him as she looked around for you. "I looked everywhere for them, but I didn't find them."

"I think I saw them sneaking around behind the reception so I think that you probably-", Derek talked, but Penelope quickly interrupted him.

"Thank you so much, hot chocolate, bye!" She said before she ran off to look for you, not even looking over her shoulder at Derek.

"-shouldn't look for them." Derek finished with a smirk as he lookedat Aaron. "Well... they're busted I tell you what..."

Penelope walked around until she finally reached her destination. She stood there and looked around for you once more before she called out your name. The call of your name was followed by the rustling and extremely quick and quiet whispers. So quiet, she almost missed them.

"Y/N?" she asked as she found herself standing right in front of you. You were leaned against the white cleaning closet, and you seemed to be a little put of breath.

"Oh, hi, Penelope!" you exclaimed, trying to desperately cover the fact that you were out of breath and flushed.

You then noticed that she was probably going to ask you more questions about the fact that your cheeks were burning red and you were out of breath, so you took a deep breath and asked her if she needed anything. A desperate attempt to get her to change the topic.

"Yes!" Penelope smiled at you, "Yes, I did. I just wanted to say "congratulations" once more to Mr. and Mrs. Reid."

"Awww, Pen," you spoke softly, feeling like you're going to cry. "I love you so much."

"I love you to, sweet cheeks," she smiled at you before she suddenly turned serious, standing up straighter. "Now, I know why you are here."

You panicked.

"Y-You do?" you asked her, slowly.

"Yes, I do," she continued, "to get some peace and quiet from the guests and the whole ceremony."

"I-I am!" you felt like you were washed by the wave of relief that went straight through you at what she said. "I just need some peace, yes."

"I knew it!" she pointed her finger at you jokingly before she frowned her eyebrows as she looked around. "But where is Spencer?"

"Oh, he just went to the bathroom." you quickly came up with a lie as you felt yourself get flushed again.

"Oh," Penelope paused before she continued, "Well, I guess I’m going to congratulate him again a bit later than. I'll leave you to it."

You felt yourself freeze once you saw her going in for a hug, her arms wrapped tightly around you. You were a little stiff as you hugged her, but luckily, she didn't even notice.

And with that and a small smile, she walked away.

Once she walked away far enough, you tapped the back of your long dress. "She's gone."

Lifting the back of your dress up, Spencer got up from underneath your dress. You continued to lean against the wall of the cleaning closet as you watched his also flushed cheeks and his hair that was now even messier than it was before.

"Thank God she didn't suspect anything." Spencer said as he ran his hand through his hair, catching his breath.

"Yeah..." you sighed, "... thank God."

"Now," Spencer said as he walked over to you before slowly lowering down on the ground. Right at the spot where he was before Penelope looked for you, "I hope that you didn't think that we are done here."

"I-I... am..." you stuttered as you watched his eyes filled with lust, but also love, as you watched him watch you.

"Lift your dress back up, love."

Send me Spencer Reid requests I SWEAR!! That man is so fineee 😫

Criminal Minds Masterlist

✭ - smut

♡ - fluff

➳ - angst

۵ - hurt/comfort

☆ - headcanons

°

Spencer Reid

“I don’t believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute. Yes, I’m a genius.”

Call It What You Want - You lost your reputation, but you gained something so much better. [➳♡]

Wedding Bliss - The post-wedding bliss hits differently after the ceremony, and Spencer and you intend to make the most of it. [♡✭]

Call It What You Want | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (singer!reader)

Summary: You lost your reputation, but you gained something so much better.

Warning/s: angst, fluff later on, hostage situation, online bullying, hate comments, stalking, reader has a stalker, famous reader, mentions of guns and knives (light use too), marriage, pregnancy, about babies and birth, in this the song is referred to as Y/N's song (that's not true of course), pet names (pretty boy, gorgeous, love...), also skipped a few parts of the song (sorry)

Author's note: So reader basically entered her Reputation era, but with a happy ending. That's it.

Y/N - your name

Y/L/N - your last name

My castle crumbled overnight

I brought a knife to a gunfight

They took the crown, but it's alright

All the liars are calling me one

Nobody's heard from me for months

I'm doing better than I ever was

The cold breeze of the night in the middle of the giant city as you walked perhaps wasn't doing doing you any favors at all. The coat that you wore wasn't really doing its job. It was supposed to keep you warm during the nights out like this one, but it was anything but. You felt yourself crossing your arms in hopes to pull your coat tighter to yourself so you could gain some warmth, but sadly it wasn't working.

With a disappointed, quiet sigh you swang the bag you had in front of yourself hunting for your keys as you walked along the secured parking lot. You passed a whole lot of cars as you continued to trash through your bad, but not one of those cars was yours.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally reached your car, the sound of your keychain juggling as you tried to get a hold of the key properly.

The whole time you were walking over to your car you felt an overwhelming sensation of the feeling that something, or rather someone, was following your every step. Panic was drowning you as you tried to get into your car as fast as you possibly could.

However, once you finally managed to put the key in due to your shaking hands, you felt a hand covering your mouth. The last thing you heard was your own terrified scream before you drifted into unconsciousness.

°

The coldness of the uncomfortable chair send a million of shivers down your spine. Your head was pounding so much that it started to be unbearable. At that moment you tried to bring your palm onto the side of your head, but you couldn't move your hands. At that moment you noticed the tight rope with which you were tied up in a chair.

You felt a sense of panic wash over you as you pulled against the ropes, but it was no use. It wasn't working like you hoped it would.

Suddenly, though, you heard a sound that you were sure would haunt you forever if you ever got out of there. The laugh of the person that took you hostage.

"Don't worry, my love," The vile man smiled at you. "Now you can finally be mine forever."

It sickened you.

The way he approached you, the way he slowly reached out to you to place his hand on your cheek as he talked to you. You felt like you could throw up at the sight of it alone.

"How- how did you..." your voice trembled as you spoke, trying to hold your ground, but to no use. "Why did you do this?"

"I've been watching you for a while, gorgeous," He said, rubbing circles against your cheek. "You are simply gorgeous, I just had to have a pretty thing like you."

You were terrified because at that moment you realized that it was over. You were never getting out of this. Your stalker would make your life a living hell just because of the way you looked and the fact that you did what you loved since you were a child.

He slowly let go of your cheek as he stepped back, not once breaking the eye contact with you. You couldn't help but let one tear slide down your cheek. It was over for you.

And just as you began to drown in your own sorrows, the door of the basement in which he held you were broken down.

"FBI!" Someone yelled out, the flash of the lights that filled the room were too bright, you couldn't see the FBI agents that entered. "Don't move!"

The guns were held up, surrounding your stalker who was, thankfully, weaponless.

Your head was hurting you even worse than it did before because of the flashing lights, but you had never felt a bigger sense of relief washing over you than at the moment when they forcefully entered and you felt someone moving to you.

"Are you okay, miss?" You turned your head slowly, in fear that your head was going to ache even more. The last thing that you wanted was to faint now.

"Y-Yes," You barely whispered to the man who was untying you as fast as he possibly could. "Thank you."

"Reid!" You heard another man shout, his voice ringing with authority. "Get her our of here now."

Perhaps you were still frozen from the shock, but you didn't know exactly how you suddenly got outside. You were sat down as the paramedics checked over you. Your head was still spinning and everything was hurting you, but it could've been worse.

At that moment, Spencer stood aside watching over you silently. He couldn't help himself. He simply couldn't help but to admire you as the paramedics did their job.

"What's up with you, pretty boy?" Derek came over to him, his voice hinting that he was really for teasing. "You have a crush on our singer, huh?"

"W-What? No, of course not." Spencer felt himself flush and Derek stared to laugh at the genius.

"Really?" Morgan mockingly put his hand on his chest to express that he didn't believe anything that came out of Spencer's mouth. "Because, if I'm being honest, pretty boy, your staring kind of gave it away."

Spencer was growing more red as the seconds passed. He kept quiet up until Derek stopped laughing and looked at him.

"You should ask her out." He suggested.

"I don't know." Spencer whispered so quietly that Morgan almost didn't catch it.

Before Morgan could say anything else the voice of one of the paramedics announced that you were free to go, and Spencer felt himself suddenly walk over to you without even realizing it as Morgan continued to watch with amusement.

"Hey."

You turned around at the sound of Spencer's voice and Spencer felt like his breath was knocked out of his lungs. Your eyes were sparkling brighter than the stars that covered the cold night sky and he felt himself getting flushed again.

"Am... I- I was wondering i-if you would like me t-to take you home." Spencer stuttered a bit as you made eye contact with him, listening to him speaking."

You smiled at him, he was truly, utterly gorgeous. "That's really sweet, but I don't want to bother you."

"Please, it would be a pleasure to make sure you come home safe."

And so, after a while, you accepted his request and made a promise in front of the door of your apartment to keep in touch with the FBI agent who saved your life and will continue to save your life for as long as there is air in his lungs and the stars in his eyes.

'Cause my baby's fit like a daydream

Walkin' with his head down, I'm the one he's walkin' to

So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to

My baby's fly like a jet stream

High above the whole scene, loves me like I'm brand new

So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to

After all that happened to you with your stalker that was now put into prison, you decided to dissappear from the public eye for a while. You yearned for a break that was much needed. But with the break that you publicly announced and a promise to dissappear for a while you had to be more careful.

The trips to the simple places like grocery stores were yet another opportunity to dress up so no one could possibly recognize you. At that time, the number of the baseball caps, and a whole bunch of oversized hoodies, seemed to drastically increase and it continued to do so.

But there was a minor slip-up after 6 months since you disappeared.

It was a surprisingly quiet night. Spencer returned from the case earlier and you decided to take a walk around the town after visiting a local coffee shop.

You were so wrapped up in each other, soaking up every moment you had with each other. Sharing a whole lot of stolen kisses, looks, his hand nested itself on your shoulders, sharing laughter and smiles, eyes spanking. They were full of happiness and utter joy every time you were with him.

What neither of you expected was for Penelope practically tearing down the whole conference room, almost breaking down the door the next day just so she could get to Spencer.

Spencer was sitting at his chair, looking over the files along with everyone else when he found himself being startled as he watched Penelope waving the newest copy of today's newspaper as she practically screamed in excitement.

He was rather confused by her suddenly excitement even though it wasn't unusual for her. But once he saw her slamming the newspaper in the middle of the desk he felt himself getting pale.

Spencer and you made a cover of today's news. The headline, written in overly dramatic big letters with the fine print, read "AFTER 6 MONTH SHE MADE AN APPERCEIVE! FAMOUS SINGER Y/N Y/L/N SEEN WITH A MYSTERIOUS STRANGER!!"

Just below the headline there was a picture of him and you from the night before. His arm was placed over your shoulders, bringing you closer to warm you up and keep you safe. His face was somehow, somewhat, covered by his hair because of the wind that couldn't be contained that night. Your hand was holding his that was slang over your shoulders. Your smile was radiant, your eyes shining as you kept your gaze on him. He couldn't help but smile a little at the photo.

"Explain yourself now, Spencer Reid!" Penelope shrieked, her voice getting higher each second. "What the hell are you doing with freaking Y/N Y/L/N!!"

He started stuttering so much, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation, but his nerves got the best of him. Suddenly, he felt a hand slapping his back sending him forward a bit as Morgan laughed.

"Good for you, pretty boy." Morgan smiled at him, teasingly. "Good for you."

All my flowers grew back as thorns

Windows boarded up after the storm

He built a fire just to keep me warm

All the drama queens taking swings

All the jokers dressin' up as kings

They fade to nothin' when I look at him

Pretty soon a year had passed since the hostage situation which included you being in danger.

A year since you met Spencer, a year of nothing but love and happiness.

Spencer opened the door of his apartment and held it like that so you could get into the apartment before him.

You stepped into the apartment, shaking the snowflakes that stuck to your head on this, quite cold, night in late November. You stood still for a moment, admiring Spencer as he removed his purple scarf before quickly lighting up the fire in the fireplace so that the warmth could spread around your home.

However, you noticed the slight change in his demeanor as you sat yourselfs on the couch near the fireplace. You, however, decided to not say anything because you knew that he would say what he wanted to once he was ready. You didn't want to put more pressure on him, but the plain fact that he was nervous made you extremely so, too.

Finally, Spencer took a deep breath before he turned to you.

"I know that this might seem sudden," Spencer started as he shyly looked into your concerned eyes that watched him talk carefully. "But I feel like I know you for longer than a year. I feel like I've known you my whole life. You complete me in every possible way one person can complete another. You bring immense joy in my life every single day. You show me that life and even people can be good every single day and I believe you despite all of the horrible things I see every day."

You were deeply touched by his confessed, but you were slightly confused because you could quite figure out as to why he was saying all of this to you right now.

"I can't imagine not waking up to you every moment," Spencer confessed, looking longingly into your eyes and you found yourself surprised when the sudden realization that he didn't stutter once drained on you. "I can't imagine seeing you every day, listening to your voice and admiring everything that you do."

Suddenly, he stood up and slowly lowered himself on one knee in front of you. He held out a small box in his hand before he continued to speak. You felt like you couldn't breathe once you realized what was about to happen, what was already happening.

"I simply can not imagine my life without you in it," Spencer continued as tears gathered in your eyes. "Will you make me the happiest man on this planet and marry me?"

"Yes!" You spoke up after you had gotten over your frozen state of shock. "Yes, of course I'll marry you, Spence!" You said, voice full of love as he slipped a beautiful ring onto your finger.

As you sat there by the fire, you knew that you had found the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. The snow continued to fall outside, but you knew that nothing could beat the warm feeling in the apartment and in your heart.

And I know I make the same mistakes every time

Bridges burn, I never learn, at least I did one thing right

I did one thing right

I'm laughin' with my lover, makin' forts under covers

Trust him like a brother, yeah, you know I did one thing right

Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night

Two years flashes by to fast for you to keep up it seemed like.

Spencer and you got married as fast as you possibly could. You love each other more than anything and you were ready so you figured why not do it immediately. The life had been a bliss. And just when it seemed like it couldn't be better you found out that you were pregnant.

Spencer was overjoyed. He always wanted to have children, he always wanted to be a father. And now he could do it with the person he most loved, admired and cared for. He truly felt like passing out the moment he found out. And he did, but would always deny it with a blush glued to his face every time Morgan brought it up to tease him.

The moment your water broke all hell broke loose. Luckily, Spencer was at home so the only thing you had to do was to grab your hospital bag, keys and head to the car. You were 100% prepared for this.

However, you always felt like the moment it happened and it was finally time to go to the hospital you would be the one who would go into a panicked frenzy. So it was safe to say that you were genuinely surprised that once Spencer and you managed to stumble into the car and were on your way, you were the one who had the role of comforting the one who was in panic. Spencer was gripping the wheel so tightly you were scared that he would break it. It would be rather amusing if you weren't in so much pain already.

But after hours of labor and excruciating following hours of birth once you felt limp against the mattress, still holding onto Spencer's hand which you gripped so hard, but he never once complained, bless his heart, everything truly was worth it once you heard the loud yet at the same time soft cries of your baby girl.

Now, as you laid in the bed in another hospital room you couldn't move your eyes away from the sweet sight of Spencer sleeping in the chair right next to your bed with your baby girl in his arms. It was truly the sweetest sight you had ever witnessed. Spencer's messy hair was spread everywhere as his arms tightened around your little bundle of joy, but not to tightly to hurt her. The moment he got her in his arms, he wouldn't let her go. You guessed that he was afraid thay something unexpected would happen even though you gave your best to reassure him.

After hours of sleeping once you woke up, you could fall back asleep for some reason. Not that you complained.

You heard the door open and you turned your head that was still pressed against the pillow on the bed at the direction of the door. It was JJ, trying to enter as quietly as she possibly could while carrying a few cups of coffee.

"How are you, mama?" She whispered softly as he took a seat on another chair on the other side of your bed.

"Still a bit sore, but fine." You gave her a small smile that she softly returned. "I'm just so glad that this happened." You confessed quietly as you looked at JJ.

"I made a lot of mistakes in my life," You said as she listened to your every word. "But having our daughter with him... I know that I did one thing right."

I want to wear his initial

On a chain 'round my neck, chain 'round my neck

Not because he owns me

But 'cause he really knows me

Which is more than they can say, I

I recall late November

Holdin' my breath, slowly I said

"You don't need to save me

But would you run away with me?"

Yes (would you run away?)

A few months later another headline was released in many newspapers and magazines. There were a bunch of articles all over internet, too.

The newest addition of the People's magazine was laying on Penelope's dest by her screens. Derek soon enough entered the room with a curious look.

"Hey, baby girl," He greeted as he pressed a kiss on Penelope's cheek, looking over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the newest addition of the magazine. "What are you up to?"

"Why hello handsome," she greeted with a smile before she brought the attention back to the magazine. "Look who made the cover."

And sure enough, on the front cover of the magazine, at the very top, there was a headline written with big, capital letters saying: Y/N Y/L/N MARRIED!? THE MUSIC STAR WAS SEEN WITH HER HUSBAND AND HER BABY OUT ON THE WALK FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER!!"

Below the dramatic headline there was a picture of Spencer and you holding hands, dressed in warm clothes as you walked around the city on a cold, snowy November night. In front of you there was a stroller in which your daughter, Annie, was in. Your hand was quite visible along with the ring that was clearly a weeding ring. Spencer had his arm around your shoulder, showcasing his ring as well.

On the bottom of the cover there were some other news that were in slightly smaller font. You also released the new song after a long while. The song was called "Call It What You Want" and it said to turn the page 13 for the full lyrics and Derek did just that.

Penelope couldn't help but to let out a screech after she practically showed the magazine in his face. And just as Derek finished reading the lyrics to the song he couldn't help but to smile.

"Good for you, pretty boy," Derek pointed out, happily. "Good for you."

"Give me the magazine back," Penelope excitedly ordered him. "I'm gonna frame this now."

My baby's fit like a daydream

Walkin' with his head down, I'm the one he's walkin' to

(Call it what you want, call it what you want, call it)

So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to

My baby's fly like a jet stream

High above the whole scene, loves me like I'm brand new

(Call it what you want, call it what you want, call it)

So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to

Call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want

To

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JOIN THE TAGLIST HERE!!

listen, the ‘suggested communities’ better lower their voice

I am going to (respectfully) rip his clothes off, (respectfully) leave hickies on his neck and jawline, then (respectfully) pamper him.

Im going to eat him arm. Right now.

i don’t even need to say anything. just READ ITTTT

Love Letters in the Margins

MASTERLIST

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Summary: Spencer has a habit of leaving handwritten notes in the books you borrow from his personal collection. One day, you finally write back.

Pairing: Reader/Spencer Reid

Spencer Reid’s personal library was nothing short of magnificent. Towering shelves filled with well-loved books lined the walls of his apartment, their spines worn from years of eager reading. When you had first started borrowing from his collection, you had done so carefully, treating each volume like a fragile artifact. But what you hadn't expected to find—hidden between passages and prose—were his words.

The first time it happened, you had borrowed Pride and Prejudice. Nestled in the margins, in neat, slightly slanted handwriting, was a comment next to Elizabeth Bennet’s sharp-witted retort to Mr. Darcy.

“You remind me of Elizabeth—sharp, observant, and far too intelligent for the company you keep.”

You had stared at the note for minutes, heart pounding. Spencer had written this long before you borrowed the book, hadn’t he? It wasn’t meant for you, was it? The thought of confronting him about it seemed daunting. Instead, you traced his words with your fingertips, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest.

That discovery led to another. And another.

In The Picture of Dorian Gray:

“You would never be swayed by vanity. Your soul is too kind.”

In Jane Eyre:

“If I were Rochester, I wouldn’t have kept secrets from you.”

Each annotation, each carefully placed comment, felt personal. They weren’t just general observations; they were thoughtful, tailored to you.

Days passed before you gathered the courage to respond. You chose one of the books Spencer often reread—The Great Gatsby. As you turned the familiar pages, you found a passage underlined in Spencer’s careful hand:

“He had been full of the idea so long, dreamed it right through to the end, waited with his teeth set, so to speak, at an inconceivable pitch of intensity.”

And next to it, in his delicate handwriting:

“Longing is a difficult thing to master.”

You exhaled deeply, running your fingers over the ink. If Spencer had been leaving these notes for you, maybe he had been waiting for a response, just as you had been waiting for a sign. With a rush of courage, you picked up a pen and, in the same margin, wrote:

“I wouldn’t need a green light. You’ve always been within reach.”

When you returned the book, carefully placing it back on his desk at the BAU, you felt the weight of your silent confession settle in your chest. What if he never noticed? What if he saw it and said nothing? The uncertainty gnawed at you, but it was too late to take it back now.

The next day, Spencer found you in the bullpen, book in hand, his expression unreadable. Your heart leapt into your throat.

“You…” he started, voice soft, reverent almost, as he flipped open The Great Gatsby to the exact page where your response was written. His fingers traced your words like they were delicate, precious.

“I—” you faltered. “Was that okay?”

His eyes locked onto yours, something unspoken passing between you. Then, he smiled. Not just any smile—one of those rare, genuine smiles that lit up his entire face, the kind of smile that made your stomach flip.

“You wrote back.” His voice was breathless, in awe.

You swallowed hard. “I was wondering when you’d notice.”

For a long moment, Spencer simply stared at you, the book clutched to his chest. It was as if he was processing every possibility at once, and you could almost see the thoughts racing in his brilliant mind. Then, before you could panic, he took a step closer.

“I—” He hesitated, clearing his throat. “I’ve been leaving those notes for you.”

Your breath caught. “You have?”

Spencer gave a short, nervous laugh. “For a while now. I didn’t know if you’d ever see them or if you’d—”

“I saw them,” you interrupted, a smile tugging at your lips. “And I loved them.”

His shoulders relaxed, relief washing over his face. “Really?”

You nodded, warmth spreading through you. “Really.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, Spencer exhaled, flipping the book open once more. “So… does this mean I can keep writing to you?”

You tilted your head playfully. “Only if I can write back.”

His smile widened, his fingers brushing against yours over the worn edges of the book. “I’d like that.”

From that day forward, every book exchanged between you contained more than just stories. Between the lines of famous literature, nestled in the margins of classic texts, you found something even more precious:

Love letters in ink, waiting to be read.

The notes continued, hidden within the pages of literature both of you adored. A stolen thought in Wuthering Heights, a whispered confession in Les Misérables. Each time Spencer handed you a book, your fingers would brush, lingering longer than necessary, and his eyes would search yours for recognition.

Then, one evening, as you flipped through Anna Karenina, you found a note in the final pages, underlining a passage about fate.

“Sometimes, love is written long before we even know it exists.”

And below it, in a nervous, yet determined script, Spencer had added:

“I think I’ve been in love with you longer than I realized.”

Your breath caught, your heart hammering against your ribs. This wasn’t just a passing thought, an intellectual observation. It was real.

Without hesitation, you reached for a pen and, with steady fingers, wrote beneath his words:

“Then it’s about time we stop reading between the lines.”

That night, when Spencer saw your response, he didn’t just smile.

He kissed you.

And for the first time, there were no more words left unwritten.

The notes continued, but they became something different now—love notes, secret confessions, playful teases. You wrote to him in the margins of history books, and he replied with riddles in the pages of mystery novels. The space between you had once been filled with unspoken words, but now it was a novel of its own, each sentence a promise, each underline a touch.

One day, Spencer handed you a book without a title on its cover. Puzzled, you flipped it open to the first page, where a single line was scrawled in his familiar handwriting:

“Every great love story deserves to be written.”

And beneath it, in smaller letters:

“Will you write ours with me?”

Please support my work with like and comment

The cage is open, you can walk out anytime you want (Why are you still here?),

S2!Post!Hankel Spencer Reid x gn!BAU!reader

Angst (hurt/comfort). Autistic Spencer (you know the drill). Perhaps some traces of fluff if you’re like…. masochistic. Heavily implied happy ending.

— Explorations of Spencer’s (very glossed over) addiction. Love confessions? Half love confessions? Spencer admits it mentally, Reader implies it through actions. What am I saying? They’re sooooooo in love it pains me.

Warnings: *cracks knuckles,* okay…. —heavy depictions of drug addiction, mentions and allusions of suicide, previous mentions of being held hostage (Hankel). PACKED with Greek mythology references (sue me, i study classics as a degree), perhaps some light biblical imagery? Spencer being at rock-bottom. he’s kinda bitchy. he also disses hotlines (they do save lives, don’t listen to Spencer!!! he’s being a dick). mentions of childhood bullying.

w.c: 3.2k

a/n: title so long it’s basically a midwestern emo song.

────────────

There’s intimacy in being fragile. Spencer knows firsthand, has romanticised his Glass delusion. The fear of shattering, fragmenting on impact, like jagged, sliced glass. He thinks of Charles VI, (1380’s King of France), what he felt when he refused touch. When he reinforced himself, shielding behind excess clothing, in the fallacious fear of dismantling.

Spencer does the same, hides behind fabric, shies away from human contact. Because— because being careful is better than being impetuous. If he can make himself so small he no longer takes up space then maybe they’ll be kind to him.

Monachopis. Has he always been this out of place? Has it always felt this way? Will it ever stop?

12 years old. Curling inward to shield himself from the ache of cracked fists. You’re not here, you’re not here, you’re not here. He still feels like that kid, the one bleeding across the school yard, smashed glasses, bust lip, new bruises to hide from mom.

Perhaps he should blame genetics. Find something to point the finger at. Mentally distort the truth, until it’s no longer a paling face he sees, drawing the first needle into his arm, forcing him to take what he never asked for. No longer that, but a bigger issue, a concern that cannot be personified, a larger statistic in the minefield of human psychology.

Those with ASD have a doubled risk of substance use.

He never stood a chance. Did he?

So just like Charles, he covers his arms. Veils the track marks that penetrate skin. Pretend they’re not there, pretend you’re okay. Okay? Okay, nobody has stopped to ask him if he is ‘okay’ since ‘the incident.’ When the shock wore off, and attention strayed, everyone lost interest.

He feels like an outlaw to his own team.

How do you move on from being bound, tied, degraded to something beneath human?

How did everyone else?

He understands now— the pull of addiction. The way it mimics, artificially replicates home. Something soft, in that one, life-ruinously warm moment between the first hit and the inevitable come down.

But just like everything good. It dies. Turns ugly. Disfiguring, decaying. What once was simple, a fleeting temptation, a way to starve off lonely withdrawal, has derailed into desperate, insatiable hunger. To reproduce the first time, to appease the way he palpates in the wake of something tiny—

Call it what it is. Not an analgesic agent, not a semi-synthetic, not a simple narcotic utilised in the medical field. It’s an opioid, two to eight times greater than that of morphine. Given to those dying, to help alleviate Cheyne-stokes breathing, to reduce pain before the end.

It binds to the opioid-receptions in the central nervous system.

He is no superior than those on the street. Begging for loose change to shoot up and placate the cold.

2AM. The phone connection is faint. Do you feel like killing yourself? Is the noose already tied, is the rope choking you? Do you need to breathe? Do you even want to? He wonders what it would be like, to call into those bullshit hotlines, to hear the detached, sharp-bladed sympathy of some stranger.

Instead, when the phone picks up, the blaring beep of a dial dissipating, he hears you instead.

“You know how it’s believed that Artemis killed Orion?” He starts. He cannot begin with hi, I’m scared of the dilaudid burning through my veins. Do you still love me? (Presumptuous of him to believe you loved him in the first place, he certainly wouldn’t.)

He doesn’t let you answer. Maybe he’s scared, or maybe he can try and satiate your concern by fact-dumping so extensively that you automatically revert back to oh yeah, boy genius is talking again. “Well— there’s this other interpretation, that she… y’know didn’t. Instead, they were hunting companions, and it was because of the animals he slaughtered on Crete, that Gaia. Mother ea— yeah, you know who I’m referencing. Okay.”

Even at his worst, he is conveniently a social disaster. They could poke holes in his brain, drag the sharp edge of a blade through the tissue lining of his stomach, and his mouth would still find a way to run:

‘You’re missing major arteries here, c’mon — I know you can push harder than that. Aim for my descending aorta, that will do the job correctly.’

It would be funny if he wasn’t the biggest screw up to ever exist. Social ineptitude has never looked worse.

“Anyway, um… so— disturbed by the blood-bath, and feeling repentant — she summoned this scorpion. Humans are no match for the gods, obviously. So any creation with intent will—“ he sighs, finding new ways to hate himself. “Basically he died. Yeah— dead. To… uh, sum it up?”

“And what?” Oh, there you are. He’s surprised you’re listening, that you didn’t hang up the moment his morbid rambling begun. He’s always surprised, surprised that you listen, that you stay, even when you shouldn’t. It would be romantic, if he wasn’t so flawed in believing you could never want someone like him.

“Well— Artemis gathered up the remnants of Orion and placed them in the sky. Yknow,… hence the constellation.”

There’s shuffling — a moment of uneasy silence. “Spencer—“

He keeps going. Shock-horror. “I’m not sure science would agree with that myth. It certainly counters the Big Bang theory. And the whole schtick regarding— look… it doesn’t,… it doesn’t hold any truth, of course. The gods aren’t real,” (if they are, they must spit at the flawed creation of him), “I just— it was on the forefront of my mind. Made me think of you.”

It’s innocent. If you don’t take into account the stored vials he keeps stashed in his cabinet sink. If you pretend you’re just two people, two old, weary friends, who are insomniac and restless. Then again, where Spencer is concerned, everything is innocent. He’ll bare the weight of existence with no expectation of a return favour. So willing to give give give. Always taken for granted. Tossed to the sidelines. You’ve watched the team ignore his plans, call rain check after rain check, incessant excuses for something so diminutive. Even now, they can’t see what’s right in front of them. The blunt of the truth.

The aftermath of the Hankel case.

“Bad night?” You ask. Like you don’t feel it in your ribs.

He sighs, head spilling back against the wall. Throat bared, it would be so easy for hands to wrap around the unmarred skin, to put him down. “Aren’t they all?”

You’ve both been trained to pinpoint human behaviour. Discern threat from over exaggeration. You don’t hesitate, he knows you don’t— he’s seen you behind the weight of a gun. Dominant hand curved around the grip, aligning the front and rear sight. Firing pin striking the primer of the cartridge, no recoil— he’s watched you no more than blink when the bullet penetrates.

He always anticipates a flinch that never comes.

Sometimes, he has this dream, where he’s got the same Hornady branded bullet, lodged through his chest. Sometimes he wakes up and still believes he’s bleeding out.

He can hear your keys, the clattering that fades into the grating, confirmative slam of a door. You’re out of the apartment complex, and what? He’s too busy thinking about some warped manifestation of his subconscious?

Will he ever live outside of his mind?

The call doesn’t end (5 dragging minutes of heavy breathing and awkward silence), until you’re standing right here, flesh and bone, in his kitchen.

He’s making himself small again. Sat against cold tile, he shields his face from view. As if that alone will incrimate him. He knows you know. And it’s scary; to be so raw in the face of someone you love.

When you drop to your knees, it feels like tending to a wounded animal.

“You didn’t need to come,” he mutters, obstinate.

“So what?” You brush it off, ever the hero. Spencer thinks they should marbleise you in the Vatican. “I still did.”

You came. You called. Spencer fucking hates that cliche. Except, no.. no he doesn’t. Sometimes, he wants to make himself sicker, just so you have reason to touch him.

Reaching up, he feels your calloused palm, the way it cups his jaw, coaxing his face to lift. He thinks, knows, you’re disturbed by the sight. Red-rimmed eyes, and waxen features. Skinnier, hollow. If he is Leander, then he prays you don’t suffer the same fate as Hero.

‘Geniuses are never happy,’ they told him as a child. Detailing the cyanide found in Viktor Meyer’s stomach, Wallace Carother’s affinity for Potassium Cyanide. Hans Berger, Valero Legasov, Alan Turning. Some things hurt more than can be described.

Is it really so startling that he turned out the same? When that’s all he’s ever known?

Spencer stares. He tries to look through you, but it doesn’t work. Not when you’re warm, and real, and if the come down is configuring you into reality, and you’re not really here, then so be it. He’ll take what he can get. “You’ll find Dilaudid in my bathroom. Left turn from the hallway. I suggest you call 911. Report drug possession. They’ll take it more seriously if you say my name, emphasise the doctor in the title.”

“No.”

“Yes—“ indignantly, he huffs, “Yes. You will. Otherwise you’re guilty by association. The FBI will fire you, take away your credentials. You’ll be ruined.”

“That’s if they find out.”

He can’t comprehend why you’re covering for him. There’s decency, empathy, general human kindness, and then there’s this. “You’re supposed to be an upholder of the law.”

“Pft,” you scoff, brush it off. “Yknow, in Alabama, you can’t play cards on a Sunday. Alaska, no moose on sidewalks. There’s also a ban on wearing masks in Georgia. California has—“

“I get your point.” He cuts off, “Well— no, I actually don’t. Considering they’re dumb laws that waste time. Drug paraphernalia, in contrast, is not.”

“Even high, you’re a stickler. Guess old habits die hard?” you push up, and he chases your touch. “C’mon, golden boy. You’re getting a cold shower and some water. Gonna flush that shit out of you the old fashioned way.”

“I wasn’t aware there was a modern alternative…”

He doesn’t let you see him naked. Partially because, it’s his body. This vessel that feels so alienated from the better part of him. He’s never let someone undress him before, see behind the meticulous layers. But, mostly.. well, he has a firm belief that the first time you take off his clothes, it will be in better circumstances. If that ever transpires.

You’d probably think him deranged: hi, i’m saving myself for you, because any touch that isn’t yours makes me sick.

He’d rather rot alone than string someone along who could never fill the void of you.

The shower is methodical. Skin recoiling from the harsh rivulets of water. 3 minutes spent standing there, staring outwards not in. Complete disregard for the mirror, he’s all soft features and freshly-washed pyjamas when he pads into the bedroom. Corduroy pants, thermal-wear socks, some dumb science print embellished onto the front of his shirt. (‘Never trust an atom, they MAKE UP everything’ — yeah, he hates himself.)

You don’t talk. Not until he’s consumed his body weight in water. He fights off the urge to warn you about the dilution of sodium content in blood. Hyponatremia. Fatal, with a likelihood of seizuring and long-flight comatose. You’d probably just laugh at him, considering it was two glasses, a litre at best.

He’ll use his intellect to hurt. And you’ll counter him with little regard.

Even at his ugliest, you still stay.

“I’m fine,” he protests— hating the way you look at him when he’s so raw.

It’s that gaze. That same sinking, pity-warped gaze he received when he talked about his mom, about the kids at school. Adolescent meat-heads who pushed him into lockers, and beat him between class. Its— suffocating sympathy that he no longer has room for.

“No you aren’t,” this might be the worst you’ve ever seen him.

Would you have known? If he didn’t make the call? Cassandra complex. Disambiguating. A psychological phenomenon where an accurate prediction of a crisis is dismissed. Silent concern, the intuitive awareness that he never recovered, it was only going to lead to this—

Oh fuck it. You knew. The entire team did. You’re just the only one who cared enough to help.

You’re not like the rest of them. Maybe they can blanket suspicion, play pretend, refuse to get their hands dirty. But, there’s a reason you’re better. You don’t sugar-coat reality. You act. You react.

He’ll see your name on a wall one day. An award adorning your efforts.

“You’re exhausted, lie down.”

Spencer fights the urge to scowl. Since when were you in charge? Admittedly, he knows the answer to that: since you spitballed into his apartment, better yet, since you spitballed into his life. So, like the good, propitiated loser he is, he complies. Shock horror…

“What are you gonna do? Tuck me in?”

“You wish.” Instead, you force your way onto the right side of the mattress. “Get comfy, you’ve got your own, free of charge, narcotics anonymous sponsor tonight.”

“You’re not great at the whole ‘tough love’ thing.”

“Then call someone else next time.”

Vulnerability feels like being ripped open at the seams. Like some botched Pygmalion creation — stitched wrong, still breathing. He wants to fall asleep, to just… fade into himself. But— you have this uncanny, accursed ability to make him honest.

You, draped over his bed, does little to appease the sickness in his mind.

“I never asked for this,” he starts, “I didn’t— I didn’t even want it. How is that fair? I never got to decide, I wasn’t even given the anatomy to choose. Now—“

The words rip free like Prometheus’ daily punishment: inevitable, agonizing.

He laughs. Cold. Something ugly that doesn’t belong to him. “Now, if I’m not thinking about my next hit, I’m thinking about how you see me. How the team must see me. It’s— it’s the disappointment. I just— I don’t know why you stay.”

It’s all so tentative. The moments before, when you extend your hand, run it across the curvature of his jaw. All it takes is the touch and he’s crashing into you. Like there is no feasible option but to submit to the basic human need of contact. Face pressed into your shoulder, he feels like dead-weight. Something unworthy of labour.

Stop pushing that boulder up the hill, Sisyphus. Let it fall. Let him fall.

His hand knots tighter in the fabric of your top. Like if he lets go, he’ll spiral into Tartarus itself.

Why? Why would you do this—

“You think I’m going to cut and run just because you’re inconvenient? Pft, i’m too stubborn for that. And, well…” there’s a sigh,… “I care about you too much. Alright? So be inconvenient. Fuck, call at 3AM. Call at 5AM. Make me drop everything and come over. I don’t care. I want to carry the burden. I want to carry your burden.”

His touch lingers near your lower back. Drawing soft halos there, faint and uneven. “I hate you,” comes out muttered, something muffled by skin.

“No you don’t.” you counter, immediately.

“No I don’t,” just like that, he breaks. Cease-fire. How could he ever hate you? The statement was deflective, at best. Some way to make you ache the way he aches. At least then it would be a level paying field.

“I hate who I am when I’m like this. I hate— I hate my mind. It’s not… it’s not accurate, the way people romanticise it. I can’t be what they all expect of me.”

You’re doing that thing. The one where you don’t respond. Where you just listen, without interjecting, without cutting through his incessant monologues.

Sometimes, he feels like he dreamed you up. Like you don’t even exist, a stowaway in his brain, something to re-mantle whenever he’s lonely. Real people aren’t this good — this good to him.

“I don’t get to make mistakes. I need to have the answers every single second of the day. I can’t be me. You’re the only one, how are you the only one who notices? I’ve tried so hard, I’ve been so good—“

He’s tangled into you now, tethered like Daedalus’ forgotten son trying to stitch his broken wings back together mid-fall. If he could, he’d crawl into you. Find somewhere warm to safely exist. Without hurt.

“This isn’t just, I’m not like this just because I need you. Please— please remember that. I miss you always, even when I’m sober. Even before— before everything. I’m not in some—“

“What?” you finally (mercifully) interject. “Some drug-infused decline? Where you‘ll lean on anyone that will give you the time of day?”

Spencer flinches — not because you’re wrong, but because you’ve drawn blood from a wound he didn’t know he still had.

He hates that you’ve distinguished him as some mischaracterised energy vampire. Like you could ever be nothing. Like you’re just the closest fix he can find beyond a chemical high. Designer drugs, manufactured in a lab, they say Heroin feels like a hug from God.

Until your body becomes gluttonous for a hit that never appeases.

You— you are not a hollow high. You are slow and real and catastrophic.

Oh, you’re dependable, a want that morphed into all-encompassing devotion over slow dragging time. “Yes, to the former. No— no, definitely no to the latter. You’re not just some emotional crutch to me. You’re, I don’t know, you’re just… everything.”

Spencer swallows, pulls back, feigning composure. “I should be able to do this alone,” he mutters, “Normal people can. I should be—”

“C’mon, Spence. You’re not a machine. You were never built for that.”

Another sharp laugh. It pierces— you can almost taste the blood this time.

“I’m so tired,” he says in defeat. “I’m so tired of trying to be someone worth saving.”

Pressing your forehead to his, you’re kind to not mention the tears. To just let them occur, free fall. “You don’t have to be anything,” you murmur into his hair. “You just have to be. That’s enough. That’s enough for me, and i’ve got you. Okay? I’ve got you. Always.”

“Will you stay with me?” He doesn’t mean tonight, you know that well enough. “Will you stay with me through it all?”

You’re aware of the burden it would imply, the jagged, ugly reality of withdrawal. The toll, sweat-soaked skin and cold fevers. Irrational begging, pleading for god, just one more fix. The way it would change him, change your untainted perspective of him. When you agree, it is not misguided.

You know what you’re signing up for.

“Yeah. I’ll stay. Through it all.”

If this is love, true unvarnished love, reciprocal and real, then he’s sorry he found you at a bad time. Give it, give me, a few months, he thinks, and i’ll spend the rest of my life giving you everything.

Emily: i can't find my pen. are you sitting on it again?

Y/n: no.

Emily: stand up.

Y/n: i don't want to.

Emily: why?

Y/n: *mumbling* because i'm probably sitting on your pen 😔

Derek: are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Emily: i'm the knife

Jj: *from across the room* she's the little spoon

Spencer: I've been struggling with drug use after being kidnapped and nearly dying.

The team:

Cat: You're in Spencer's DM's, I'm in his police report

Cat: We are not the same

Spencer: You're the love of my life, my best friend. I would do anything for you.

Y/n: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a descent sleeping schedule.

Spencer: Absolutely not.

Stfu I'm reading fanfics about little subby bitch boys

when ur enjoying a fic then y/n gets a name and a race out of nowhere

(do i seem like a suzie to you????)

when they can’t fill out their sleeves

i’m afflicted with

onlylikingsubbyand/orpath-eticmenosis

(omg…)

(me right now)

the duality of man

*teary eyed* “i love you both so munch— i mean much”

why can’t I find a boy my age?

my type:

when your types a nerd