summary: spencer attends his college girlfriend’s wealthy family party. when she makes fun of his inability to fit in there, another partygoer is more than willing to make his night better. request?:no pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader category: spicy fluff content warnings:(17+ for suggestive makeout scene), a bit of self-deprecative/insecure thoughts (spencer), language word count:3.6k a/n: we only have one more, and then the reid from the vault collection is officially over. this was a fun one to write, one of the tropes in here is one of my favorites to read and i want to write way more of it later. anyway, i hope you enjoy this i’d love to see what you think!
When Spencer moved to California for school, he never once thought he’d be dating an heiress. It hadn’t ever been a part of his ten-year plan—nor his twenty, or even his thirty. The fact of the matter was, there was no way Spencer could have ever predicted that at twenty-one, he’d be attending a new years’ eve party with some of the wealthiest people in Los Angeles.
But there he was, arm bent at the elbow so Cecile could hold onto him as they made their way around the room. It was her father’s party, of course, so that meant instead of enjoying the night they would be spending the night bouncing from group to group thanking everyone for coming.
“Spencer’s working on his third Ph.D.,” Cecile told everyone they talked to, and each time Spencer would shy away, face looking down in hopes these strangers would know he didn’t like her bragging about it so much.
“Cecile, I don’t think everyone needs to know,” he spoke up after the eighth time she brought it up. Though he was proud of his accomplishments, so much attention being called to him made his skin prickle uncomfortably. Already the outfit was too much—the stiff material of the button-up practically clawing at his arms and the suit jacket doing nothing but limiting his movement. The shoes weren’t as broken in and comfortable as his Converse, instead, a brand new pair of dress shoes from a brand Spencer couldn’t hope to pronounce much less recognize.
“Of course they do, Spence,” Cecile laughed, squeezing his arm, “I want everyone to know how successful you are.”
