Criminal Minds & Cards Against Humanity (2)

TETHERED ⟢ spencer reid x greenaway!reader

greenaway!reader masterlist 🥀

The unsub’s hands are shaking.

He can’t be older than nineteen. He’s too thin for the coat he’s wearing, swallowed by it, shoulders hunched like he’s been bracing for impact his whole life. The rifle looks huge and wrong against him, like a prop someone handed the wrong person. He looks like a kid. He is a kid.

Spencer is ten feet away with his palms up. His voice is low and steady in that way that always makes your chest ache — like he thinks if he stays gentle enough, the world will be gentle back.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says. “I know you’re scared.”

this is so good <33

favorite lines!

part 7: a dream upon waking

— ★ your relationship with spencer is taking its next steps—sharing subway rides, washing his hair, spending time in his apartment, and late night phone calls—all of which reveal new things about the two of you.

masterlist

Spencer stood on the platform of the subway station, his breath forming little clouds in the freezing air. He checked his phone again, worry biting at him. Just as he was about to tap your name on his screen for the third time, you emerged from behind a man in a heavy coat. A small puff of relief escaped him, visible in the air.

“Hi, I’m here,” you gasped, slightly out of breath, snow dusting your shoulders and hair like powdered sugar.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up,” he said as you stepped into his arms. He set the coffee cups down on a bench briefly, his hands coming up to meet you, reciprocating the hug you reached for. His fingers gently brushed the fresh flakes from the shoulders of your jacket.

The snowfall had been heavier than forecasted, turning the roads quite dangerous. Wisely, you’d decided to forgo driving. A call to Spencer revealed he was already at his station, apologizing profusely and already offering to trek all the way back for his car. You’d assured him the subway was simpler, that you’d meet him and ride together. He’d agreed instantly, then immediately ducked into the station kiosk to buy two coffees, missing his original train without a second thought just to wait for you.

“No worries,” you muffled into his scarf. You leaned back, your cold hands coming up to frame his face and stretched up to press a kiss to his lips.

favorite lines!!

tag 9 people you want to get to know better

thank you for tagging me @humongousrunawaytiger <333

reading: the voyage of the dawn treader. i've technically been reading it for nearly a year :')

last series: i just finished s7 of the rookie and i'm re-watching criminal minds as always :)

last film: batman: assault on arkham (because of mgg)

last song: the hand by annabelle dinda

sweet or salty: sweet :))

coffee or tea: coffee, with milk and sugar

working on: school, fic writing, time management

no pressure tags: @jjellecubed @illdiealonelyguy @prestigereid @spencestiel-michelle @stxrs-lvr (not 9 people bc i don't know which of my mutuals are okay with being tagged, i'm sorry </3)

reading: hearts on a page - enemies to lovers (its on wattpad but its a really good read!)

last series: alexa and katie

last film: i don't really watch movies

last song: tattooed heart by ariana grande

sweet or salty: salty

coffee or tea: coffee

working on: studying my music from choir program (only started 2 out of 4 songs)

thank you allie for tagging me :D

no tags because yes (too scared to tag :\ im such a loser)

superstition | s.r.

in which you wake up in a stranger's bed on new years day and nothing is what it seems to be

You were greeted with the bright light of the outside world before you were fully ready to wake up. The sun reflected off the pitiful amount of snow that had accumulated on the ground and made its way into the bedroom of whoever you’d gone home with last night. The beige sheets on the bed didn’t seem familiar to you, and your stomach turned at the thought of having to make small talk while uncomfortably trying to find your way out of an apartment you didn’t recognize. 

Before you could gather your thoughts, you heard a door creak open, and you could feel eyes boring into your back. Eyes that had already seen everything you have to offer the world checking to see if you were awake. Any other guy would’ve assumed you were still asleep from the way you laid still in his bed, but this guy was different, he knew better. “If you’re hungry, I could make you something to eat,” he offered, fingers tapping gently on the door to his room. 

“How did you know I was awake?” You asked, your heart pounding as you fisted the sheets anxiously, waiting to sit up in the bed until you better understood what you were dealing with. 

He hummed softly as if your question had amused him, “You breathe slower when you sleep.” When you didn’t respond, he continued, “When you got to sleep your body enters a state called rest mode, which is controlled by the autonomic nervous system, but as a result your body has a reduced oxygen demand and slower breaths. When I came into the room just now, I noticed you were breathing faster than you were when I came to check on you last night, which is how I knew you were awake.”

like real people do | s.r.

summary: in which spencer and his sunshine girl go ice skating

cw: postprison!spencer x sunshine!reader, tooth rotting fluff, cheesy lines probably

wc: 1.7k

a/n: heyyy…..first fic in six months…..pls be nice ok thank u i just missed spencer too much

Spencer would deny any allegation that says he willingly went ice skating.

In what world would he even want to—it’s far too cold on top of the endless snow Virginia has been getting, every time he falls (which is a lot) his knees get all wet and soaked in a sensory nightmare, and even when he does get the hang of it (which is few and far) a little kid skating circles around him cuts him off like an angry driver stuck behind a Prius.

Needless to say, ice skating is not in his top five activities to do on a Friday night, not even top ten.

Maybe top fifty. Maybe.

this is so cute 💝💝

favorite lines :3 !

DANTE'S NINTH

────────────

"I don’t want to argue. I really don’t like it when we do. I'm not… I'm never good at it." Spencer stands, his palms to the air, something akin to pleading. Is it possible to be skilled at arguing? If it is, he doesn't want to be. He doesn't want to be striking. This is what makes him too gentle.

He doesn't quite know how to place himself. It's not kind, the stillness of space between you. He's kind, you're kind, time is not kind.

“He imagines a universe in which he could take sound waves in between his fingertips and soften them, smooth them out, take the sting and the undertone and throw them miles away where only the worn walls of ancient ruins could hear them.” this was written so beautifully :,))

other favorite lines! ⬇️

only angel ❀ s. reid x reader

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: alcohol consumption. college!au. the gang's all here... oral (f receiving). p in v. praise. softdom!spencer probably. proofread by piper! :D

word count: 3.4k a/n: hiii long time no see! this is a ridiculously old draft literally from may 2024 giving nothingburger that i found and decided to clean up. he's probs ooc and i'm so sorry except i'm not because spencer is my bitch and he does what i want (stolen quote from sam. very inspiring). i missed u guys soo much. as always inbox is open for thoughts anecdotes crashouts etc... ok love u!!!!! ♡ ♡

This night could quite possibly be your worst nightmare. It's not the party you hate, no, you love parties. You've been to enough of them since starting college to know you'd choose them over a bar crawl any night. Where the party is that’s the issue. A night at football guys’ share house, when you aren’t sure if you know anybody other than one of the hosts, sounds like your own personal hell.

Yet, here you are.

Derek Morgan's voice is loud as you enter, your best friend by your side, greeting the two of you with a loud shout of your nickname. A nickname you oh so dearly despise, and you grimace at the sound of it amidst the thumping music coming from further in the house. 

"Hi, Derek," you say, side hugging him, before holding up your pack of drinks. "Fridge?"

"No," he shakes his head, "they go in the cooler like everyone else. The fridge is off limits unless you live here."

"I'm your best friend."

"Too bad."

mild case of baby fever

find out more about the undercover mission here

an innocent question at a neighborhood event forces you to confront how easily imagined futures can feel real when you're fake married with the wrong person.

“How many kids are you two thinking?”

Your fork hovers midair, a pale citrus slice trembling at the tip, backlit like some kind of sacrificial offering to the gods of forced small talk. You haven’t even taken a bite, hadn’t even earned the reward for being brave and sociable and wearing sandals.

FACULTY WHISPERS

It starts, as these things always always do, with a whisper. 

Passed from one smirking pair of lips to another, and another, and another, until it's swept across the faculty staff like a whirlwind. 

It isn’t supposed to reach you like this. You'd only been passing through, using this hallway as a shortcut to get to the courtyard, when the hushed conversation drifts to your ears.

In the Interest of Plausibility - S.R

find out more about the undercover mission here

during an undercover operation, you and spencer have to practice kissing so it doesn't look fake in public.

“This is dumb.” 

You say it because your brain can’t think of anything smarter, static drowning out all intelligent thought and leaves you with this, this, the verbal equivalent of a blank stare. It’s all you can manage with his nose nearly brushing yours, lashes soft as moth wings (is that a weird comparison? You think probably) and feathering your cheek every time he blinks.

He laughs in return, not a real laugh, you think, but a breathy little pfft that doesn’t even fully commit. It makes you feel worse, because it tells you he’s fine.

He’s not replaying what he just said six different ways or wondering if his nose looks weird from this angle.

(It doesn’t. His nose looks very nice. From all angles.)

Dance Recital // Spencer Reid🎄

synopsis: at your daughter’s christmas dance recital, spencer is there to make sure she knows you’re proud of her no matter what

pairing: dad! spencer x wife! reader

genre: fluff!

wc: 2.2k

notes/tags: the family from doctor’s visit (aka the anxious! dad spence au) but you don’t have to read it first, little references to spence’s childhood as always im sorry, he loves his daughter sm ugh, im super sick rn so i apologise if this isn’t my best work it was written in a cloud of brain fog🙂‍↕️

masterlist // christmas masterlist // pls reblog if you enjoy it helps promote the fic so much !!

————————————🎄———————————

“But Daddy i’m scared.” Charlotte whimpered, letting go of his hand to fidget with the frills of her skirt that were peeking out from beneath her puffy coat.

“I know, honey.” Spencer said tenderly, crouching to her level and smoothing her hair back. “And that’s okay. But I know you’re going to be wonderful.”

The three of you had been stood outside of her school for the better part of twenty minutes. The cold December air was biting at your cheeks, chewing at the tips of your fingers so bad that you had shoved them into your coat pocket, and was gnawing at your nose so that it shone bright red. Yet Spencer remained adamant about staying at his daughter’s side.

“You know, I have to get up in front of people a lot at my job, too.” He said, pulling her wooly gloves up a little higher as they slipped down her wrists. “I have to stand up and talk all by myself to a big room full of strangers.”

“Really?” She asked, staring up at him with big, wet eyes.

“Yeah.” He hummed. “And it made me a lot braver. And you’re going to be having a lot more fun than I do because you’re going to be up there dancing with all of your friends, right?”

Charlotte nodded hesitantly, nervously hopping from one foot to the other as she held his gaze. This was her weakness. She often believed anything Spencer said, and often did anything she could to be just like him, but it wasn’t often that she did anything without him.

“But you won’t be there.” She whispered. Spencer usually thought of himself as fairly resilient, one has to be after the life he’s lived. But here? Standing in the chilly playground of his daughter’s school? Somehow, all it took was five small words to break his heart.

At home, he had spent hours memorising her routine, practicing it with her in any spare time he had. You would often find him, his badge with his pouting young face from many years ago still pinned to his waist and his bag hastily flung to the floor, spinning in circles and twirling her around the living room. You would see the dark circles around his eyes and the tired red lines within them, yet the smile on his face would be so wide that they would seem obsolete in comparison. Before bed, the two of them would be there in their pyjamas prancing around the Christmas tree while the lights in the window bespeckled them in delicate golden glimmers like fairies. It was true that she hadn’t yet had to practice alone. She never really had to do anything alone, not when he was around.

“We’re going to be right there in the crowd.” You reassured her, crouching down beside your husband. “If you get scared you just look for us, okay?”

She whined a little noise of contemplation, shifting her focus between you and the hem of her skirt which still rested in her hands. “What if I mess it up?” She asked quietly, her voice fraying with a fragility that pulled Spencer’s lips into a pitying frown.

“All that matters,” he began, taking her soft, rosy cheeks into his hands as his thumbs automatically began tracing circles into her skin, “is that you try. We’re going to be proud of you no matter what. I promise.”

She let out a dramatic, deep breath, nodding so that her pigtails bounced on her shoulders. “Okay, Daddy.”

“You’re so brave, honey.” He said softly, rising to his feet as he took her hand. “I’m so proud of you already.”

-

Before long you were standing at Spencer’s side, waving off your baby girl as her teacher lead her away to get ready. Her eyes were still big and wary when she looked over her shoulder, but there was a little twinkle of confidence in them now. She offered you a final wave before disappearing around the corner, melting your heart when she blew a little kiss towards you both in the way you always did to her and wrecking you even further when your husband reached his hand out to catch it.

With a sigh he turned back to you, all traces of poise draining from his face and leaving behind the kind of worry that can only be brought on by a sad little girl in its wake. He considered himself to be far better at concealing his emotions these days, but you happened to be somewhat of an expert when it came to profiling him. As he met your eyes, you could see it all. Somewhere in that big brain of his you could almost hear the turmoiled voices bickering and fretting back and forth.

Part of him knew that he was doing the right thing. That it was healthy for kids to challenge themselves, to go out and experience life and make memories. But a part of him, a younger, more helpless part of him in thick glasses too big for his small face, was panicking. That part of him had always tried his best and it had never been enough. Endless sports practices and games, never to hear the words ‘I’m proud of you’ and never to reap any benefits for it. That part of him wanted to take Charlotte home, wrap her up in her favourite blanket and keep her safe at home forever.

“She’s going to be just fine, you know.” You said softly, nudging his arm with yours.

“I know.” He offered you a small smile. “I know, it’s just…” He started, but the words fled from him quicker than he could chase them.

You smiled back, gentle and understanding, before taking his hand in yours. “I know.”

-

The bustle of the auditorium was a warm welcome as you walked in to find your seats. The walls were lined with colourful bunting and tinsel, stringed lights making them glimmer and gleam as you passed them. Light, holiday music rang out from a speaker somewhere, jingle bells chiming with each step you took until you reached your seats in the centre of the room. Ahead of you, teachers ran about to and fro making sure everything was ready and set up before the children took to the stage, which quite frankly looked like a winter wonderland come to life.

Beside you, Spencer took your coat, draping it over the back of your seat before tending to his own and with a thankful smile you sat down at last.

“She’ll be able to see us from here, right?” He asked, concern marking his brows as he mentally calculated your distance from the stage.

“We’re pretty much dead centre of the room.” You answered as you looked around, offering a sympathetic smile when you turned back to him and were met with a frown that demanded certainty. “Yes, Spence. She will.”

“And we have something to film it on?” He continued, patting his pockets as if one of them would magic a camera into existence.

“Right here.” You waved your phone in your hand before adding, “you know Penelope would kill us if we didn’t get a video.”

He sighed, leaning back into his seat. “It would kill me if we didn’t get a video.”

You opened your mouth to respond when the lights suddenly flickered, indicating the start of the show. Like a flip had switched, Spencer straightened up immediately, eyes laser focused on the stage in front of you as you readied your phone. You glanced over at him, at his nervous hands fidgeting in his lap as if he were the one performing, and at the eager jump of his brows when a loud, Christmassy jingle rang out across the room, and your heart leaped. This was a man who had visited every museum within his reach, who had gone to every art exhibit he could, who had seen endless documentaries about every wonder under the sun, and who had read book upon book upon book of magical lands and fantastical stories, yet you were certain you’d never seen him look as awestruck as right now as your baby girl took to the stage.

In his eyes, she shone like the Polaris star, guiding his gaze wherever she wondered. Her frilly chestnut dress was now paired with a pair of reindeer antlers nestled within her curls, and a bright red painted nose matched her rosy mary-jane shoes. The routine was wobbly in that way children’s dancing often was, little feet pattering in a circle as they twirled and little arms waving uncertainly as they fumbled through the choreography, yet a great grin blossomed on Spencer’s face all the same. Tears pricked his eyes as Charlotte danced, her pigtails bouncing with every hop and jump. Beaming, you glanced over to find his own arms moving automatically, subtly following the routine as he had practiced it so many times over in your living room like he didn’t even realise he was doing it.

He had never known how much he yearned for this until he had you. He’d gotten comfortable, or rather convinced himself he had, in roughness. He’d tell himself the quiet was worth the loneliness, that some people just aren’t meant for anything more. That some of the greatest minds in the world had been just like him, solitary. He’d never let himself think he deserved gentleness, that he could have the kind of love that comes unconditional, that he would be able to one day see all the good parts of himself he didn’t think existed reflected within small brown eyes that looked just like his. He’d certainly never pictured that he would ever be here in a dark school auditorium, wearing funky mis-matching Christmas socks and watching a herd of little reindeer twirl about on stage. And he certainly never would’ve thought he’d enjoy it so much.

Too soon, the music slowed to a halt, and little feet stopped pattering. As the applause rang out, Charlotte spotted you both where you sat. A toothy grin pulled at her face, cheeks pink as they dimpled, and she waved high above her head as your husband beside you waved back just as enthusiastically before she disappeared off of the stage again. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him swallow as he wiped a tear from his face, and when his eyes fluttered shut for a second you knew he was replaying the moment already.

-

“Mommy! Daddy!” A cheery voice shouted as your little girl dashed towards you. In an instant she was in the air as Spencer lifted her into a hug, spinning her around as she squealed and giggled.

“Woah, honey you were awesome!” He beamed as he settled her on his hip.

“You were the best dancing reindeer I’ve ever seen!” You added with a wide smile, fixing her antlers where they’d begun to slip down.

“I was brave like Daddy said.” She boasted, wrapping her arms around his neck as he cuddled her close.

“Yeah, you were.” He pulled back slightly so that they were face to face once more. “My brave little girl.”

“And you danced so beautifully,” you praised softly, “I knew you would.”

“Well she had an excellent rehearsal partner.” Spencer smirked, arching a smug brow at you. “Isn’t that right?” He said as he nudged her on his hip slightly, sending her into a flurry of airy giggles that rang in his ear like magic. For once he began to doubt all the science he knew, because surely this was what serotonin was made of.

“What do you think, Charlotte?” You teased, poking her gently as she continued to laugh and squirm. “Should Daddy join you next time?”

“You think I’d make a good reindeer?” He grinned as she pulled the antlers off of her head, clumsily tucking them in his own bed of curls instead. The band was tight, made for much smaller heads than his, as it clung to his skull and pinched him behind the ears, but he didn’t dare complain. Not when she was beaming up at him like he’d handed her the world. And he would, if she asked. You pulled out your phone again, snapping a sneaky photo.

“Hey, do you know what reindeer really like?” He continued, dropping his voice lower as if he was letting her in on a secret. “Hot chocolate.” Still in his arms Charlotte gasped, eyes widening with a shared mischief that reflected in her father’s.

“Oh yeah?” It was your turn to arch your brow at him.

“At least this one does.” He shrugged, nudging the littler reindeer once more. “And I know this one does too.”

Spencer pressed a kiss to her forehead, to her cheek, and to the tip of her nose as she erupted into a fit of laughter before setting her down on the ground and crouching to her level. His nose scrunched up ever so slightly, and he took her in with a shaky gaze as he tried to hold back another wave of tears. “We are so, so proud of you.” He said, quieter now and with a sincere thickness to his voice. “You know that?”

Charlotte nodded eagerly. She always knew. There wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t remind her. Gently, Spencer cupped her face like he had done before, and he let himself wonder for a moment just how he had gotten so lucky. He’d spent too many Christmases alone to ever think he would get a miracle such as this, such as you and the life you had given him. He rose to his feet, taking one of the little reindeer’s hands in his as your hand found the other, swinging her arms either side of her as you began to head home.

-

bonus

“Spence, are you coming to bed?” You yawned, eyeing him where he’d been sat on the sofa for the past thirty minutes.

“Hm?” He hummed, glancing up from your phone in his hands like he hadn’t even realised you’d been watching him. “Oh. A few more minutes?”

You chuckled at him asking for permission, lazily tossing yourself on the cushion beside him as your body automatically tucked itself into his side. “How many times have you watched this now?” You asked, watching Charlotte tip-toe around the stage on your screen.

“Five times.” He answered quietly, voice laced with adoration before the video came to an end and the screen went black. “Six.”

Spencer turned his head towards you, eyes wide and pleading like a puppy as his finger hovered over the screen. Your heart lurched, fingers reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ears before you leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Fine.” You said warmly, laying your head on his shoulder. “One more time.”

-

part 6: one door closes

— ★ following your first kiss, you and spencer learn how to be together. particularly spencer, who is still learning how to let himself love and be loved after prison.

masterlist

Four days. That's how long the case lasted. Yet, Spencer's mind had only one recurring subject. You.

Four days was an eternity for a genius and it provided far too much time to overanalyze. Every night, as he laid in his hotel bed, he replayed the memory of kissing you. He could still recall the softness of your lips and the little sigh you’d made.

But that same brilliant mind, trained to anticipate worst case scenarios, was quick to tarnish the moment. He had doomed you. By crossing that line, by giving in to an impulse he’d fought for so long, he had irrevocably changed your friendship.

You had seemed so genuinely happy in the moments after and that was the part that both thrilled and terrified him the most. It suggested you wouldn’t want this to be a one time thing. (Not that it was just one kiss. By his count, it had been three, maybe four ).

Instead of heading to his own apartment, he went straight to yours from the airport, the keys you’d entrusted him with feeling heavy in his pocket. He pushed your door open slowly, knocking on the wood to announce his presence. He didn’t want to startle you.

Your bright voice immediately called out, “Come in!”

The sound twisted a knot of guilt in his stomach. He hated the thought of disappointing you.