#and in theory I am only missing one female ensemble costume in total

[lightleckrereins]

This is a hamilton ensemble skirts appreciation post because I finally found all of them (I think) only took six years in some cases.

[stunudo]

Something Wicked

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dr. Spencer Reid x Female Reader

My Masterlist // Spencer Reid Masterlist

A/N: I decided to just start writing. I hope you guys like this fun seasonal romp! I started this while drinking, but finished it days later. So you should absolutely hold me accountable for shitty things like spelling and lack of plot. xoxo Stu

You half dashed, half crept around the crowds of people. You knew you were being followed, but you hoped your shortness would be an advantage in the masses of bar-goers decked out in their party store costumes and matte painted faces. You tried not to look back, but the exhilaration of the pursuit was getting the better of you. Finally, after the distance seemed great enough you rounded a small coffee cart and peeked over your shoulder.

The faces were all strangers, indifferent in the brisk night air. Your stomach fell slightly, you hadn’t thought you would make it. That sizzling electricity turned to pins and needles along your covered arms. Your neck snapped up, some movement in your periphery causing your senses to realign themselves. Your body lurched forward, ready to continue on your path of dodging through French Maids and Polyester Avengers.

Instead, your face fell against a soft yet reedy surface. The rags covering the torso were a mossy green, while the face peering down at you was a frozen sneer. The brown eyes shining back at you, the only redeeming feature in an otherwise menacing ensemble.

“Hi Spence.” You sputtered, the heat from your misstep tightening across your cheeks.

Before he could reply, though the smirk was evident beneath his mask. Derek Morgan’s long whistle broke through the night air. Everything came into stark contrast, the heat of your breath fogging with each slow exhale. The way your legs twitched from the sudden stop, every inch of exposed skin was protesting the cold. And a knot had formed securely in your stomach.

“Listen, I know you guys have your own thing going on, but let’s get through the night before you start getting out of hand.” Derek’s playful tone had you rolling your eyes, anything to keep them from locking on to Spencer’s again. Anything from making it obvious how much he affected you.

Garcia sauntered beside Morgan’s bulk, their arms linked, her boots heeled and rhinestoned to perfection. Morgan’s costume was simple, an F.B.I. tee shirt beneath his leather jacket. You didn’t think it was very funny post-freshman year of college, but no one was arguing with those biceps. Garcia was an 80s glam rock diva and had the lace and eyeliner to put most of them to shame. You started walking back down the promenade until you spotted them: Hotch and Prentiss in matching costumes.

Where they found them she would never tell, but Hotch had a loud zoot suit of canary yellow, while Prentiss wore a sparkling, TINY, flapper dress beneath their matching trench coats. This was the BAU after-hours, and you were excited to see them all participating. It felt weird without JJ, but you knew she would most likely be chasing Henry around in a cow costume or something equally adorable.

Finally the moment you had all been waiting for, a pristine stretch limo pulled to the curb, and a hulking driver stepped out of the front. Once he opened the back door you all climbed in, with many gawks and a couple of catcalls from the surrounding crowds. Inside David Rossi was smoking a cigar, a silk scarf loose at his shoulders over his burgundy smoking jacket.

Settled in on the bench seat nestled between Morgan and the wall, your evening had officially begun.

Spencer had felt the twinge of mischief in every glance from Y/N, it was equally spellbinding and alarming. Was this flirting? Is that why is mouth felt dry and his palms were sweaty? She wore a standard Hogwarts Robe and had Garcia do  something with her hair to make it a massive tangle and, somehow, Spencer had never her found her more charming.

The party that Rossi had taken them to was phenomenal, a place unlike anything he had dared to suspect from the older profiler. The frights and the lights sent waves of stimuli through Spencer’s lean frame. The magic of pretend monsters overshadowing any memory of real dangers from their day job. Somehow, everyone was having a good time. Yet, Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that he had a secret, one he wasn’t privy to. The confusion and shame battled through his overzealous mind.

You had been dancing, or what could be described as dancing with the proper time and space away from the crowded hall filled with slutty-what-have-yous and poorly applied grease paint. Everyone in turn had spent a few lively songs on the floor, only you had refused to leave, even when Penelope tried to signal the sacred bathroom break. Prentiss and Garcia each gave you a wilted look, but made for the winding line as a duo. Joke was on them, because you hadn’t even been drinking, much.

“So, you going to keep eyeing Reid or are you finally going to make your move?” Derek had ducked behind you to keep a particular Zombie Football Ref out of your bubble.

“If I am doing anything, Agent Morgan,” You barked against the thudding music. “Is having a good time. I am making myself perfectly approachable, wouldn’t you agree?” You wiggled your eyebrows at Derek before grinning back at Hotch and Reid by the tables near the bar.

“How does Morgan move his hips like that without losing balance? The physics of that stance don’t add up,” Reid muttered. Hotch knew his team members were on the edge of a knife tonight and with Prentiss in something little more than lingerie he felt himself slipping along a similar blade. Maybe it was the atmosphere, around every hidden corner there were dark deeds and roaming hands. Something seemed off, as if a storm was brewing and no one was seeking shelter. They were just waiting to be washed away with the tide.

Emily’s hand found his forearm as the tempo fell, leaving a current from her footfalls to the soles of his shoes and eventually racing over every nerve of his body. He followed her blindly, leaving Reid to talk to thin air. Or if he was as smart as he claimed, to go kiss the girl.

Rossi smirked in the corner at the way the night was unfolding. He nodded briefly at Morgan before turning back to the night’s hostess, a stunning and single, best-selling horror author.

The chase had been lost, nervous energy had eaten away any playfulness the night had stirred within him. Spencer was almost panicking now. Why had he come, even on Halloween these events were always too loud for proper conversation? Words and tangents, those were his lifelines in social situations. Now he was just feebly standing alone in a room full of intoxicated strangers. It was a familiar nightmare, replayed backwards and with fewer fire arms.

Just as he was going to abandon the night’s festivities, a determined poke assaulted his shoulder blade.

“Come on, Creature Feature, your turn,” Y/N’s voice was garbled with the cacophony around them. When Spencer didn’t reply, she grabbed his gloved hand and dragged him with her to the center of the dance floor. She wiggled one monster fist from his hand and then the next, shoving them roughly into the bag she kept beneath her cloak. Spencer didn’t know what to say that would convince her this was ultimately a mistake, one that would leave one, if not both, of them injured or crestfallen. So he just watched her, reminding himself that he still had his mask, that he wasn’t on display. Tonight there was just a monster standing in front of a witch, with total lack of reason and rhythm.

He was overly aware of his heartbeat and how it pulsed through his ears as if his anatomy had been reconstructed as well as his ability to form thoughts. Suddenly, his bare hand was underneath her robe and touching the warmth of her waist, radiating through her button down blouse. She raised her eyes at him, but he missed the message. She sighed, grabbing the other hand and slipping it on the opposite side. Her hands locked behind his neck, forcing his face downwards as she started to sway.

“Spence, you’re going to have to look at me, eventually.” She called up to him, there was no anger or malice in her voice, yet he still recoiled at the broken bubble of perplexing silence.

When he finally met her gaze everything rushed in and then disappeared. Noise, light, oxygen, everything seemed to shoot away from them, as if placing them in a pocket dimension, locked in only by each other’s hold.

They were the same eyes he had studied when she would ask a question or pose a theory. The same eyes that were gentle and apologetic when she had to go back to her desk. The same eyes that were playful and engaging whenever a new statistic left his mouth. But there was something else in their depths tonight. And it took everything in Spencer’s consciousness to swallow once he saw it.

You hadn’t thought it would be this difficult. Clearly, there was chemistry and yet he seemed distant if not disinterested all together. Some profiler you were. When the song changed and there was no rational reason to be clutching to him like a brace-faced teenager, you stepped back. The expectations realigning themselves in your mind so not to become overly self conscious or make a scene. Please, don’t make a scene, Y/N. But then it happened, like someone pushed you into oncoming traffic, you just reached up and took off the mask.

Spencer’s eyes bulged, distrust and shock flooding his chocolate eyes. You didn’t stop there. The second your palm wrapped around the rubber texture of his faux face, you knew you couldn’t be stopped. Once the barrier was removed and your path was clear, you pounced. Heels popped off the ground and your arms flew up, mouth latching on to Spencer’s impossibly pink lips. And you were flying.

Just as quickly as you met your target, you were both falling. People backed away, as Spencer and you went crashing to the floor, the heckling sounds of Monster Mash bursting from the distant speakers.

“Oh my god, Reid, are you okay?!” You scrambled to check on him, touching his hair and rubbing his back, attempting to dampen the pain by spreading pressure. 

“Nothing broken, except any ounce of pride I had left,” Spencer moaned. Slowly you began to notice all the people staring at you both, knowing their attention would only make the matter worse for him. You reached back and grabbed his mask where you had dropped it, shoving it over his face.

“You want to get out of here?” You asked out of the side of your mouth, watching the crowd like a cornered animal watches a pack of wolves. You stood with him, half blinded and sluggish, behind you.

“Please.” That was all he had to say, then Derek and Rossi broke through the ranks, and before the amused glint from Derek’s lips could register in your mind you were ushering Spencer out through the crowd.

“Go! Spence! Go, googogogo!” You squealed with laughter when you made it to the exit, dodging the security guards with graceless flamboyancy.

You stood, breathless on the house’s front path. Spencer ditched the mask, eyes bright and mouth open. You both froze, waiting for the rush to quell.

It never got the chance, because then he kissed you.

And it was delicious.

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