𝐔𝐩 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝

You’re not one to believe in miracles, but even this disbelief is not immune to contention. Events from the most recently wrapped case has made you rethink your stance on miracles—your plummet down an unseen ravine resulted in no broken bones (simply a split lip and a handful of nasty bruises blooming across your skin), a bullet narrowly missed your temple because of a coincidental, life altering head turn (Spencer had called for you in an attempt to stop your headfirst pursuit of the armed unsub),  and, arguably the most miraculous of all, Spencer isn’t rambling in your ear and saying I told you to be careful.

(Perhaps to most people, one of these things is not like the other, but if you’re being honest, you weigh Spencer’s concern—and Spencer’s opinions, Spencer’s love, Spencer’s everything, really—with as much value as your own life. Maybe you should talk to someone about that.)

FLOW STATE ➻ spencer reid

➻ You make water droplets race down Spencer's back. He makes your heart race in return.

‘My droplet is winning,’ you murmur, nudging a tiny bead of water just a fraction ahead of the others as it slides down Spencer’s damp back. It sparkles in the warm bathroom light, racing along the smooth curve of his spine.

From in front of you, he gives a breathy little laugh.

‘Pretty sure you just moved it,’ he says, his voice low, still drowsy from the shower’s warmth. ‘That’s cheating.’

FLATLANDS

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader

tags/warnings: 18+, wc: 5.9k, whew, smut, porn w plot, piv sex, unprotected sex, drunk sex, oral sex (both receiving), fingering, soft-dom spencer ish, biting, praise kink, this is so self-indulgent muahahaha, discussions of a case, but nothing too bad it's canon typical stuff, iowa hate idgaf!!, drinking/getting drunk, i think that's it!

notes: this is likeeee. one of my first times writing longer smut. also i did in fact say i would re-upload old re-worked fics before posting anything new but alas! i am a liar! here is something brand new! i spent like. 9 straight hours on this yesterday. and it is currently almost 8 am and i just spent all night finishing it up instead of sleeping. ALSO i am in fact a philosophy major (future barista moment) and my fics get soooo. philosophy-esque. like. every single time. i'm sorry... i am who i am.

✧*̥˚ spencer reid fic recs *̥˚✧ part 6

a/n: do i even have to say anything anymore?

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I my cm masterlist

SWEETER THAN DREAMS — spencer reid

In which Spencer helps you make your wet dream come true.

Spencer wasn’t made for summer weather. He hated how stuffy and thick the air felt. How it seemed to cling onto him, warming his skin like his sweater vests used to do during winter. 

Getting through the day was difficult enough, but the nights? Those were horrendous. 

You had bought him a cooling pillow, knowing how much he struggled in bed. In theory, it should work. They were made of a phase changing material, similar to the ones NASA invented for the temperature fluctuations of astronauts, but it seemed like the one you bought was a total scam. Or maybe he was so hot that he burned right through the fabric. 

He turned his pillow over for the millionth time that night. He kept still as he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and listening to the peaceful sounds of your sleeping in an attempt to find rest again. 

For a minute, it seemed to work. He even closed his eyes, ready to drift off, but then his eyes shot open when he heard a small noise coming from you.

spring into summer

the highest highs and the lowest lows of your on-again off-again relationship with spencer reid, tracked through the seasons of a year.

February 17th

You don’t know when you last blinked. 

Flickering blue and white light washes deep into the backs of your eyes as you stare at some old film without watching it. A knight atop his steed warps and stretches gruesomely under your apathetic observation, and whatever noble speech he’s giving turns to monotone slurry before it hits your ears—old-fashioned English smeared in 1960’s transatlantia. A buzzy drone in iambic pentameter. The sluggish pound and gush, pound and gush, of a failing heart. 

Spencer said you’d love this movie.

“You okay?”

The question draws you from your fugue state, and you turn, eyes so dry they sting when you finally blink. He’s comfortable. You’ve been here for hours—enough time for his hair to tousle, enough time he decided to trade his contacts for glasses. When you look at him, there is only static. 

proposal(s)

aka: the four times Spencer thinks about proposing to you, and the one time he does

The first time Spencer thinks about proposing to you, it’s the day you meet him.

The newest agent on the team. You’re emotionally intelligent in a way he can only dream of being.

You cradle a mug of coffee in your hands. His mug, which stuns Morgan into silence mid-sentence, his conversation with Garcia derailed by the sheer surprise of what he’s witnessing. Your mug had smashed thirty minutes earlier, an unfortunate casualty in the first-day desk unboxing. Spencer, seeing your disappointment, pulled a plain white mug from his top drawer, REID printed on the side.